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Sara found that the days her mother and sister went to court to be simultaneously the most boring, and the most freeing days. On the one hand, she had the freedom to do as she pleased without prying eyes. This was excellent for the activities that her mother found less than savory for her youngest daughter, such as digging in the flower beds to carefully extract something she wanted to try to grow in her room. On the other hand, without Tasia around, she lost her immediate playmate since everyone that could be at court usually was. Tasia, technically, shouldn’t have been allowed to go either – but Meena had apparently decided that her elder daughter looked old enough. Besides, they were part of Prince Irakles house and that gave them some ability to bend the rules a little. Not for Sara however, as she still very much acted like the child that she was.
She wandered the archonitko, sometimes running or skipping as she went – playing games of make-believe with her imaginary friends. Sometimes she was a charioteer holding the reins of wild stallions as they raced to the finish, or perhaps she was a captain of a great ship managing her crew as they tried to escape pirates. Her imagination was a vastly wild thing, the tendrils of it reaching out like vines climbing an archway seeking the sun. Still, even children grow tired of their own games and thus she was left looking for something else to do.
Her father’s office was not exactly off limits to the young Mikaelidas, but she most certainly was not allowed in it when her father wasn’t present. Still, her feet found the familiar path that led her to the doorway and she carefully pushed the door open just enough for her to see in. Her delight turned to dismay as she saw her father at his desk. Her mother had told her that he was not feeling particularly well today and that she should leave him alone to rest as she went to the court. She thought that by resting that meant he would be in his quarters, not here in his office. Frowning, she quietly pulled the door shut again as she turned to run back towards her room.
A few moments later she returned, her arms full of one of the large blankets from her bed. It trailed the floor behind her, causing the servants to turn their heads as she walked. They all knew better than to ask the child if she needed help, she did have her mother’s stubborn streak but it was permanently stuck in kindness rather than a desire to social climb. Sara pushed the door to his office open again, this time the door creaking to announce her entry. She shuffled the large blanket inside, leaning her head around to beam a bright smile at her father. ”Papa…” She said with a slight disapproval in her tone. ”Mama said you were going to be resting today?”
It took a few moments of wrestling the blanket through the doorway before she could close his door behind her, crossing the space towards his desk. ”Can I help?” She asked, coming over to him. She dropped the majority of the bundle so that she could pick up the edge, holding it out for him – unsure if he would want her to cover him. Her young face betrayed her desire to help him. ”I want to help so you can rest, papa.” She said, quite serious about the offer. She would probably be more of a hinderance than a help to him, but she was determined that he should accept her help so that he didn’t have to worry about so much.
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[Aged 11]
Sara found that the days her mother and sister went to court to be simultaneously the most boring, and the most freeing days. On the one hand, she had the freedom to do as she pleased without prying eyes. This was excellent for the activities that her mother found less than savory for her youngest daughter, such as digging in the flower beds to carefully extract something she wanted to try to grow in her room. On the other hand, without Tasia around, she lost her immediate playmate since everyone that could be at court usually was. Tasia, technically, shouldn’t have been allowed to go either – but Meena had apparently decided that her elder daughter looked old enough. Besides, they were part of Prince Irakles house and that gave them some ability to bend the rules a little. Not for Sara however, as she still very much acted like the child that she was.
She wandered the archonitko, sometimes running or skipping as she went – playing games of make-believe with her imaginary friends. Sometimes she was a charioteer holding the reins of wild stallions as they raced to the finish, or perhaps she was a captain of a great ship managing her crew as they tried to escape pirates. Her imagination was a vastly wild thing, the tendrils of it reaching out like vines climbing an archway seeking the sun. Still, even children grow tired of their own games and thus she was left looking for something else to do.
Her father’s office was not exactly off limits to the young Mikaelidas, but she most certainly was not allowed in it when her father wasn’t present. Still, her feet found the familiar path that led her to the doorway and she carefully pushed the door open just enough for her to see in. Her delight turned to dismay as she saw her father at his desk. Her mother had told her that he was not feeling particularly well today and that she should leave him alone to rest as she went to the court. She thought that by resting that meant he would be in his quarters, not here in his office. Frowning, she quietly pulled the door shut again as she turned to run back towards her room.
A few moments later she returned, her arms full of one of the large blankets from her bed. It trailed the floor behind her, causing the servants to turn their heads as she walked. They all knew better than to ask the child if she needed help, she did have her mother’s stubborn streak but it was permanently stuck in kindness rather than a desire to social climb. Sara pushed the door to his office open again, this time the door creaking to announce her entry. She shuffled the large blanket inside, leaning her head around to beam a bright smile at her father. ”Papa…” She said with a slight disapproval in her tone. ”Mama said you were going to be resting today?”
It took a few moments of wrestling the blanket through the doorway before she could close his door behind her, crossing the space towards his desk. ”Can I help?” She asked, coming over to him. She dropped the majority of the bundle so that she could pick up the edge, holding it out for him – unsure if he would want her to cover him. Her young face betrayed her desire to help him. ”I want to help so you can rest, papa.” She said, quite serious about the offer. She would probably be more of a hinderance than a help to him, but she was determined that he should accept her help so that he didn’t have to worry about so much.
[Aged 11]
Sara found that the days her mother and sister went to court to be simultaneously the most boring, and the most freeing days. On the one hand, she had the freedom to do as she pleased without prying eyes. This was excellent for the activities that her mother found less than savory for her youngest daughter, such as digging in the flower beds to carefully extract something she wanted to try to grow in her room. On the other hand, without Tasia around, she lost her immediate playmate since everyone that could be at court usually was. Tasia, technically, shouldn’t have been allowed to go either – but Meena had apparently decided that her elder daughter looked old enough. Besides, they were part of Prince Irakles house and that gave them some ability to bend the rules a little. Not for Sara however, as she still very much acted like the child that she was.
She wandered the archonitko, sometimes running or skipping as she went – playing games of make-believe with her imaginary friends. Sometimes she was a charioteer holding the reins of wild stallions as they raced to the finish, or perhaps she was a captain of a great ship managing her crew as they tried to escape pirates. Her imagination was a vastly wild thing, the tendrils of it reaching out like vines climbing an archway seeking the sun. Still, even children grow tired of their own games and thus she was left looking for something else to do.
Her father’s office was not exactly off limits to the young Mikaelidas, but she most certainly was not allowed in it when her father wasn’t present. Still, her feet found the familiar path that led her to the doorway and she carefully pushed the door open just enough for her to see in. Her delight turned to dismay as she saw her father at his desk. Her mother had told her that he was not feeling particularly well today and that she should leave him alone to rest as she went to the court. She thought that by resting that meant he would be in his quarters, not here in his office. Frowning, she quietly pulled the door shut again as she turned to run back towards her room.
A few moments later she returned, her arms full of one of the large blankets from her bed. It trailed the floor behind her, causing the servants to turn their heads as she walked. They all knew better than to ask the child if she needed help, she did have her mother’s stubborn streak but it was permanently stuck in kindness rather than a desire to social climb. Sara pushed the door to his office open again, this time the door creaking to announce her entry. She shuffled the large blanket inside, leaning her head around to beam a bright smile at her father. ”Papa…” She said with a slight disapproval in her tone. ”Mama said you were going to be resting today?”
It took a few moments of wrestling the blanket through the doorway before she could close his door behind her, crossing the space towards his desk. ”Can I help?” She asked, coming over to him. She dropped the majority of the bundle so that she could pick up the edge, holding it out for him – unsure if he would want her to cover him. Her young face betrayed her desire to help him. ”I want to help so you can rest, papa.” She said, quite serious about the offer. She would probably be more of a hinderance than a help to him, but she was determined that he should accept her help so that he didn’t have to worry about so much.
Usually, Irakles would always make sure to escort Meena and Tasia whenever there was a court session. Afterall, it was a necessity for him to attend as well, being the Head of House for Mikaelidas. The man had to keep up to date, and while most of the time court sessions made up of more gossiping then actual discussions (which was saved for the convening of Senate where less of the woman were around), some of the information said within the session could occasionally be useful.
However, as his age caught up with him, certain days, his less then robust health would cause him to have to sit in instead of attending court, and today happened to be one of those days. While Irakles would very much like to ignore his sniffling nose and slight ache in the back of his head, his mistress happened to be far more convincing, and failing which, simply reminded him that it would do him no good should he faint in the middle of a court session. And she knew it was something Irakles abhorred, appearing weak. If he wanted his newly formulated plan to work (even if it would be years yet before it came to fruition), he needed to start now, and that meant appearing healthy and generous to the people.
So despite what he wanted, he had ended up within his office as Meena went off with Tasia to court. Tasia still had a year before her age allowed her in court, but it was rare for anyone who went against what Meena said could or could not be done, so his mistress had begun bringing her elder daughter to occasional court sessions since the start of the year when she turned thirteen this year.
While he knew Sara was still somewhere within the household, Irakles didn't intentionally seek her out. It was why he hired all the servants and nursemaids, was it not? He did his duty by ensuring Tasia and Sara received the same education as any other daughter of a noble, with private tutors and etiquette lessons. There was no need for him to take an active part in raising them, so Irakles played the role of an absent father for the most part. to him, he was far too busy functioning as Head of household and a prince of the realm. Despite being a retired General, much of Zenon's decisions in term's of their troops and wars was still things that Irakles made sure to take active participation in.
A man unable to sit still for long, he had long since started working in his office. Even if there was an ache in the back of his head, sitting down wouldn't harm him, would he? He had plenty of missives from the barons of the Mikaelidas provinces to go through, so he could just do it in that quiet spot of the day.
That was, until the door squeaked opened.
Irakles looked up, intending to berate whichever servant had saw fit to disturb him, but his irate look turned to one of confusion when he didn't see someone immediately. Only when he looked down slightly, did he realize the slight form slightly covered by the armful of blankets she carried - Sara. His youngest had always had her own way of thought, somewhat like Meena, but with a different inclination. Even at her precarious age, Irakles could see Sara being far different from Tasia and how the elder daughter had taken after Meena's conniving attitude. Sara had all of Meena's streak of stubborn, but none of her mother's wish to climb the social ladder. Funnily enough, much like his own sons - yet unlike the two boys he had, even after eleven years, Irakles was surprised to find that he had yet to feel the same disappointment for Sara as he did for Achilleas and Emilios.
To a certain extent however, he did have to ensure she was brought up properly. With her soft outlook on life, Irakles was sure she would be eaten alive before she turned the age to start attending court.
The soft call of "Papa" was unfamiliar - it was something only Sara called him. His sons had long been trained to call him only 'Father', as did Tasia. But as it's been said before, Sara was stubborn, and Irakles somehow never found the time nor space to correct her, and merely allowed it. Yet he also knew his youngest had to understand he was not to be disturbed when he was doing his work. Did he chase her away? How? He didn't particularly want to cause her distress, funnily enough.
Watching with an unreadable expression on his face as she closed the door behind her, internally hiding a heavy sigh. It would be unsightly for him to huddle with a blanket - he wasn't that ill, merely a heavy head. But even despite himself, Irakles gingerly took the edge of the blanket she held out to him, seemingly quite clueless on what to do with it even as she surged forward to offer her help. "Not... really, Sara." he murmured, a tone Achilleas would probably be surprised to hear him use. "This is formal work, nothing you would be able to do for now."
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Usually, Irakles would always make sure to escort Meena and Tasia whenever there was a court session. Afterall, it was a necessity for him to attend as well, being the Head of House for Mikaelidas. The man had to keep up to date, and while most of the time court sessions made up of more gossiping then actual discussions (which was saved for the convening of Senate where less of the woman were around), some of the information said within the session could occasionally be useful.
However, as his age caught up with him, certain days, his less then robust health would cause him to have to sit in instead of attending court, and today happened to be one of those days. While Irakles would very much like to ignore his sniffling nose and slight ache in the back of his head, his mistress happened to be far more convincing, and failing which, simply reminded him that it would do him no good should he faint in the middle of a court session. And she knew it was something Irakles abhorred, appearing weak. If he wanted his newly formulated plan to work (even if it would be years yet before it came to fruition), he needed to start now, and that meant appearing healthy and generous to the people.
So despite what he wanted, he had ended up within his office as Meena went off with Tasia to court. Tasia still had a year before her age allowed her in court, but it was rare for anyone who went against what Meena said could or could not be done, so his mistress had begun bringing her elder daughter to occasional court sessions since the start of the year when she turned thirteen this year.
While he knew Sara was still somewhere within the household, Irakles didn't intentionally seek her out. It was why he hired all the servants and nursemaids, was it not? He did his duty by ensuring Tasia and Sara received the same education as any other daughter of a noble, with private tutors and etiquette lessons. There was no need for him to take an active part in raising them, so Irakles played the role of an absent father for the most part. to him, he was far too busy functioning as Head of household and a prince of the realm. Despite being a retired General, much of Zenon's decisions in term's of their troops and wars was still things that Irakles made sure to take active participation in.
A man unable to sit still for long, he had long since started working in his office. Even if there was an ache in the back of his head, sitting down wouldn't harm him, would he? He had plenty of missives from the barons of the Mikaelidas provinces to go through, so he could just do it in that quiet spot of the day.
That was, until the door squeaked opened.
Irakles looked up, intending to berate whichever servant had saw fit to disturb him, but his irate look turned to one of confusion when he didn't see someone immediately. Only when he looked down slightly, did he realize the slight form slightly covered by the armful of blankets she carried - Sara. His youngest had always had her own way of thought, somewhat like Meena, but with a different inclination. Even at her precarious age, Irakles could see Sara being far different from Tasia and how the elder daughter had taken after Meena's conniving attitude. Sara had all of Meena's streak of stubborn, but none of her mother's wish to climb the social ladder. Funnily enough, much like his own sons - yet unlike the two boys he had, even after eleven years, Irakles was surprised to find that he had yet to feel the same disappointment for Sara as he did for Achilleas and Emilios.
To a certain extent however, he did have to ensure she was brought up properly. With her soft outlook on life, Irakles was sure she would be eaten alive before she turned the age to start attending court.
The soft call of "Papa" was unfamiliar - it was something only Sara called him. His sons had long been trained to call him only 'Father', as did Tasia. But as it's been said before, Sara was stubborn, and Irakles somehow never found the time nor space to correct her, and merely allowed it. Yet he also knew his youngest had to understand he was not to be disturbed when he was doing his work. Did he chase her away? How? He didn't particularly want to cause her distress, funnily enough.
Watching with an unreadable expression on his face as she closed the door behind her, internally hiding a heavy sigh. It would be unsightly for him to huddle with a blanket - he wasn't that ill, merely a heavy head. But even despite himself, Irakles gingerly took the edge of the blanket she held out to him, seemingly quite clueless on what to do with it even as she surged forward to offer her help. "Not... really, Sara." he murmured, a tone Achilleas would probably be surprised to hear him use. "This is formal work, nothing you would be able to do for now."
Usually, Irakles would always make sure to escort Meena and Tasia whenever there was a court session. Afterall, it was a necessity for him to attend as well, being the Head of House for Mikaelidas. The man had to keep up to date, and while most of the time court sessions made up of more gossiping then actual discussions (which was saved for the convening of Senate where less of the woman were around), some of the information said within the session could occasionally be useful.
However, as his age caught up with him, certain days, his less then robust health would cause him to have to sit in instead of attending court, and today happened to be one of those days. While Irakles would very much like to ignore his sniffling nose and slight ache in the back of his head, his mistress happened to be far more convincing, and failing which, simply reminded him that it would do him no good should he faint in the middle of a court session. And she knew it was something Irakles abhorred, appearing weak. If he wanted his newly formulated plan to work (even if it would be years yet before it came to fruition), he needed to start now, and that meant appearing healthy and generous to the people.
So despite what he wanted, he had ended up within his office as Meena went off with Tasia to court. Tasia still had a year before her age allowed her in court, but it was rare for anyone who went against what Meena said could or could not be done, so his mistress had begun bringing her elder daughter to occasional court sessions since the start of the year when she turned thirteen this year.
While he knew Sara was still somewhere within the household, Irakles didn't intentionally seek her out. It was why he hired all the servants and nursemaids, was it not? He did his duty by ensuring Tasia and Sara received the same education as any other daughter of a noble, with private tutors and etiquette lessons. There was no need for him to take an active part in raising them, so Irakles played the role of an absent father for the most part. to him, he was far too busy functioning as Head of household and a prince of the realm. Despite being a retired General, much of Zenon's decisions in term's of their troops and wars was still things that Irakles made sure to take active participation in.
A man unable to sit still for long, he had long since started working in his office. Even if there was an ache in the back of his head, sitting down wouldn't harm him, would he? He had plenty of missives from the barons of the Mikaelidas provinces to go through, so he could just do it in that quiet spot of the day.
That was, until the door squeaked opened.
Irakles looked up, intending to berate whichever servant had saw fit to disturb him, but his irate look turned to one of confusion when he didn't see someone immediately. Only when he looked down slightly, did he realize the slight form slightly covered by the armful of blankets she carried - Sara. His youngest had always had her own way of thought, somewhat like Meena, but with a different inclination. Even at her precarious age, Irakles could see Sara being far different from Tasia and how the elder daughter had taken after Meena's conniving attitude. Sara had all of Meena's streak of stubborn, but none of her mother's wish to climb the social ladder. Funnily enough, much like his own sons - yet unlike the two boys he had, even after eleven years, Irakles was surprised to find that he had yet to feel the same disappointment for Sara as he did for Achilleas and Emilios.
To a certain extent however, he did have to ensure she was brought up properly. With her soft outlook on life, Irakles was sure she would be eaten alive before she turned the age to start attending court.
The soft call of "Papa" was unfamiliar - it was something only Sara called him. His sons had long been trained to call him only 'Father', as did Tasia. But as it's been said before, Sara was stubborn, and Irakles somehow never found the time nor space to correct her, and merely allowed it. Yet he also knew his youngest had to understand he was not to be disturbed when he was doing his work. Did he chase her away? How? He didn't particularly want to cause her distress, funnily enough.
Watching with an unreadable expression on his face as she closed the door behind her, internally hiding a heavy sigh. It would be unsightly for him to huddle with a blanket - he wasn't that ill, merely a heavy head. But even despite himself, Irakles gingerly took the edge of the blanket she held out to him, seemingly quite clueless on what to do with it even as she surged forward to offer her help. "Not... really, Sara." he murmured, a tone Achilleas would probably be surprised to hear him use. "This is formal work, nothing you would be able to do for now."
Sara understood to some extent that her father preferred to be quite hands-off with all of them. Meena had tried without much success to keep the youngest away from the older man, but somehow Sara still found ways to be close to him. She also thought his aloof nature was common of fathers, having never seen it any other way. So while she had been bold to bring him one of her blankets, she was careful about touching him -- lest she upset the delicate balance of relationship between them. When he took her blanket, but looks unsure, she hesitated -- glancing at his face to make sure he wasn’t about to scold her, before carefully helping by tugging it up to cover his lap. It wasn’t likely to be seen if he did it right, which she wouldn’t have realized. She was not going to insist that he wrap it around himself like she might have done for herself. She was young, but she’d never seen her father do that. Even though it was the best way to use a blanket.
Her young eyes met his, noting the subtle changes in his face. He did look a little tired to her, but she was not sure she’d ever looked at him so closely. Her concern was clearly on her face, blue eyes sharp as he told her that she couldn’t help him. She frowned, opening her mouth to protest but then closing it again. He was probably right, and arguing with him would probably only make him more tired. She reached down and adjusted her small chiton, stepping just a little closer to lay her hand over his in concern. ”Okay. Can I keep you company for a while?” She said, sounding genuinely discouraged that she couldn’t do anything to help him with his work. ”What is formal work?” She asked, pulling back so that her touch didn’t linger.
She glanced around his office, trying to think of something she could do to be helpful but she was honestly coming up a little short. ”Did Achilleas and Emilios go to the court too?” She asked, swaying lightly on her feet as if she could not stay in one place for long. ”Emilios hasn’t come over to see me lately.” She said, shrugging.
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Sara understood to some extent that her father preferred to be quite hands-off with all of them. Meena had tried without much success to keep the youngest away from the older man, but somehow Sara still found ways to be close to him. She also thought his aloof nature was common of fathers, having never seen it any other way. So while she had been bold to bring him one of her blankets, she was careful about touching him -- lest she upset the delicate balance of relationship between them. When he took her blanket, but looks unsure, she hesitated -- glancing at his face to make sure he wasn’t about to scold her, before carefully helping by tugging it up to cover his lap. It wasn’t likely to be seen if he did it right, which she wouldn’t have realized. She was not going to insist that he wrap it around himself like she might have done for herself. She was young, but she’d never seen her father do that. Even though it was the best way to use a blanket.
Her young eyes met his, noting the subtle changes in his face. He did look a little tired to her, but she was not sure she’d ever looked at him so closely. Her concern was clearly on her face, blue eyes sharp as he told her that she couldn’t help him. She frowned, opening her mouth to protest but then closing it again. He was probably right, and arguing with him would probably only make him more tired. She reached down and adjusted her small chiton, stepping just a little closer to lay her hand over his in concern. ”Okay. Can I keep you company for a while?” She said, sounding genuinely discouraged that she couldn’t do anything to help him with his work. ”What is formal work?” She asked, pulling back so that her touch didn’t linger.
She glanced around his office, trying to think of something she could do to be helpful but she was honestly coming up a little short. ”Did Achilleas and Emilios go to the court too?” She asked, swaying lightly on her feet as if she could not stay in one place for long. ”Emilios hasn’t come over to see me lately.” She said, shrugging.
Sara understood to some extent that her father preferred to be quite hands-off with all of them. Meena had tried without much success to keep the youngest away from the older man, but somehow Sara still found ways to be close to him. She also thought his aloof nature was common of fathers, having never seen it any other way. So while she had been bold to bring him one of her blankets, she was careful about touching him -- lest she upset the delicate balance of relationship between them. When he took her blanket, but looks unsure, she hesitated -- glancing at his face to make sure he wasn’t about to scold her, before carefully helping by tugging it up to cover his lap. It wasn’t likely to be seen if he did it right, which she wouldn’t have realized. She was not going to insist that he wrap it around himself like she might have done for herself. She was young, but she’d never seen her father do that. Even though it was the best way to use a blanket.
Her young eyes met his, noting the subtle changes in his face. He did look a little tired to her, but she was not sure she’d ever looked at him so closely. Her concern was clearly on her face, blue eyes sharp as he told her that she couldn’t help him. She frowned, opening her mouth to protest but then closing it again. He was probably right, and arguing with him would probably only make him more tired. She reached down and adjusted her small chiton, stepping just a little closer to lay her hand over his in concern. ”Okay. Can I keep you company for a while?” She said, sounding genuinely discouraged that she couldn’t do anything to help him with his work. ”What is formal work?” She asked, pulling back so that her touch didn’t linger.
She glanced around his office, trying to think of something she could do to be helpful but she was honestly coming up a little short. ”Did Achilleas and Emilios go to the court too?” She asked, swaying lightly on her feet as if she could not stay in one place for long. ”Emilios hasn’t come over to see me lately.” She said, shrugging.
Irakles had, for most of his life, been an absent father. Oh, he provided well enough. His children would never have want for food, lodgings or the bestest quality material to make their outfits, and for that, Irakles provided well. But to him, that was all he needed to do to be a good father. So long as he made sure none of them were starving to the brink of death, he's done his job. A father need not care for their children - afterall, the children were to inherit his wealth and success. But to get there, one needed to have those things to begin with.And that's what his duty was to do, to be able to ensure a proper legacy was passed down.
As such, Irakles did not have much time for much of his children, and the care of his sons and daughters were mostly left to his wife or mistress, or to nursemaids he hired solely for that purpose. It was likely that his sons had saw more of their tutors and nannies then they had Irakles, and even less so now that they've grown up.
For that matter, Irakles rarely took a close look at his children, other then the perfunctory nod as a greeting when he entered the dining chamber to take his meals. He had faintly noted Achilleas and Emilios growing up, as he did to Tasia and Sara, but other then height and face, he barely noticed them ageing. The man usually had far more important matters for his attention to linger on, but when it came to his youngest daughter, Irakles found it difficult to say no to. Something about how different Sara was as compared to Tasia.
Achilleas and Emilios were men, and as such they were not supposed to feel weak, or even show such matters. Tasia had taken much after her mother, and Irakles found no need to worry for her, confident she'd be able to take care of her own. Yet Sara had taken much of Meena's stubborn streak without her mother's zeal to one-up the rest of the members of court, which meant Sara was someone who could easily be manipulated - a matter Irakles frowned when he thought of. That she would likely be his last child only drove it further home, and as such, Irakles merely gave a non-commital grunt when Sara asked to keep him company.None of his children ever 'kept him company' when he worked - Achilleas only stayed because Irakles insisted he learn the ropes. But Sara was offering?
"Work that is required, Sara." he replied in a tone that would have come off irritated to some, but would perhaps wash off the young girl's ears. Yet, the irritation was bolstered a little as the touch of her small hands on his arm still lingered. Had they always been that small? "I need to submit this to King Zenon tomorrow." She would know her uncle, but perhaps not very familiar with the king. Afterall, his brother frowned upon Irakles's very openly taking in a mistress and having Myrto stay with Achilleas in his barony, so he had never brought Tasia and Sara to see his brother before, even if they had heard of the king.
His scrawl of his nib over the parchment filled the silence as Sara glanced around, but it paused when she asked. From the corner of his eye, Irakles turned to watch her momentarily, turning back before she could see it as he answered. "Yes. They have to. They are lords. Emilios is likely busy, Sara. You shouldn't ask for them to come see you so often."
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Irakles had, for most of his life, been an absent father. Oh, he provided well enough. His children would never have want for food, lodgings or the bestest quality material to make their outfits, and for that, Irakles provided well. But to him, that was all he needed to do to be a good father. So long as he made sure none of them were starving to the brink of death, he's done his job. A father need not care for their children - afterall, the children were to inherit his wealth and success. But to get there, one needed to have those things to begin with.And that's what his duty was to do, to be able to ensure a proper legacy was passed down.
As such, Irakles did not have much time for much of his children, and the care of his sons and daughters were mostly left to his wife or mistress, or to nursemaids he hired solely for that purpose. It was likely that his sons had saw more of their tutors and nannies then they had Irakles, and even less so now that they've grown up.
For that matter, Irakles rarely took a close look at his children, other then the perfunctory nod as a greeting when he entered the dining chamber to take his meals. He had faintly noted Achilleas and Emilios growing up, as he did to Tasia and Sara, but other then height and face, he barely noticed them ageing. The man usually had far more important matters for his attention to linger on, but when it came to his youngest daughter, Irakles found it difficult to say no to. Something about how different Sara was as compared to Tasia.
Achilleas and Emilios were men, and as such they were not supposed to feel weak, or even show such matters. Tasia had taken much after her mother, and Irakles found no need to worry for her, confident she'd be able to take care of her own. Yet Sara had taken much of Meena's stubborn streak without her mother's zeal to one-up the rest of the members of court, which meant Sara was someone who could easily be manipulated - a matter Irakles frowned when he thought of. That she would likely be his last child only drove it further home, and as such, Irakles merely gave a non-commital grunt when Sara asked to keep him company.None of his children ever 'kept him company' when he worked - Achilleas only stayed because Irakles insisted he learn the ropes. But Sara was offering?
"Work that is required, Sara." he replied in a tone that would have come off irritated to some, but would perhaps wash off the young girl's ears. Yet, the irritation was bolstered a little as the touch of her small hands on his arm still lingered. Had they always been that small? "I need to submit this to King Zenon tomorrow." She would know her uncle, but perhaps not very familiar with the king. Afterall, his brother frowned upon Irakles's very openly taking in a mistress and having Myrto stay with Achilleas in his barony, so he had never brought Tasia and Sara to see his brother before, even if they had heard of the king.
His scrawl of his nib over the parchment filled the silence as Sara glanced around, but it paused when she asked. From the corner of his eye, Irakles turned to watch her momentarily, turning back before she could see it as he answered. "Yes. They have to. They are lords. Emilios is likely busy, Sara. You shouldn't ask for them to come see you so often."
Irakles had, for most of his life, been an absent father. Oh, he provided well enough. His children would never have want for food, lodgings or the bestest quality material to make their outfits, and for that, Irakles provided well. But to him, that was all he needed to do to be a good father. So long as he made sure none of them were starving to the brink of death, he's done his job. A father need not care for their children - afterall, the children were to inherit his wealth and success. But to get there, one needed to have those things to begin with.And that's what his duty was to do, to be able to ensure a proper legacy was passed down.
As such, Irakles did not have much time for much of his children, and the care of his sons and daughters were mostly left to his wife or mistress, or to nursemaids he hired solely for that purpose. It was likely that his sons had saw more of their tutors and nannies then they had Irakles, and even less so now that they've grown up.
For that matter, Irakles rarely took a close look at his children, other then the perfunctory nod as a greeting when he entered the dining chamber to take his meals. He had faintly noted Achilleas and Emilios growing up, as he did to Tasia and Sara, but other then height and face, he barely noticed them ageing. The man usually had far more important matters for his attention to linger on, but when it came to his youngest daughter, Irakles found it difficult to say no to. Something about how different Sara was as compared to Tasia.
Achilleas and Emilios were men, and as such they were not supposed to feel weak, or even show such matters. Tasia had taken much after her mother, and Irakles found no need to worry for her, confident she'd be able to take care of her own. Yet Sara had taken much of Meena's stubborn streak without her mother's zeal to one-up the rest of the members of court, which meant Sara was someone who could easily be manipulated - a matter Irakles frowned when he thought of. That she would likely be his last child only drove it further home, and as such, Irakles merely gave a non-commital grunt when Sara asked to keep him company.None of his children ever 'kept him company' when he worked - Achilleas only stayed because Irakles insisted he learn the ropes. But Sara was offering?
"Work that is required, Sara." he replied in a tone that would have come off irritated to some, but would perhaps wash off the young girl's ears. Yet, the irritation was bolstered a little as the touch of her small hands on his arm still lingered. Had they always been that small? "I need to submit this to King Zenon tomorrow." She would know her uncle, but perhaps not very familiar with the king. Afterall, his brother frowned upon Irakles's very openly taking in a mistress and having Myrto stay with Achilleas in his barony, so he had never brought Tasia and Sara to see his brother before, even if they had heard of the king.
His scrawl of his nib over the parchment filled the silence as Sara glanced around, but it paused when she asked. From the corner of his eye, Irakles turned to watch her momentarily, turning back before she could see it as he answered. "Yes. They have to. They are lords. Emilios is likely busy, Sara. You shouldn't ask for them to come see you so often."
Her father’s gruff tone was of little concern to the girl, and she tucked her hands behind her back as she wandered the confines of his office. She knew he was a busy man, so she would try not to fill his ears with useless prattle. She felt that she had done her duty as a daughter to care for him in the ways that he would permit, so now she would linger just to make sure he actually kept the blanket in his lap. It wouldn’t surprise her at all for him to discard it once she left, and she was sure that the blanket could help. Even if it did nothing but serve as a reminder of her care for him. She stood on the tips of her toes to look at shelves that she couldn’t quite see over, scanning the titles with interest. Her fingers were kept to themselves, not quite sure if she should pilfer a book while he was watching.
She read things that perhaps were well beyond her years or unbefitting a woman of her station -- unstable as it might be. She loved to work with her hands, but no just with instruments and mending but in the dirt too. She liked to grow things, and had a special interest in remedies -- something that she wasn’t sure she could use but if nothing else it was fun. Her smile was soft as she let her attention wander, finding her way to a window seat and helping herself to it.
She was like a cat sometimes, liking the warm sunny spots. She knew very well that she could curl up here and go to sleep. He had answered her question about her brothers but he didn’t seem to like that she had asked about them, telling her that she should not ask for them. She frowned, but turned her face away so that he would not see it. Her palm wiped away the evidence of hurt from her eyes as she took up her post in the window, looking out over the grounds.
”I don’t bother him if I know he’s busy.” She said in a small voice, her tone slightly defensive. ”It would be easier if they lived here with us.” She shrugged. ”Why don’t they?” She wondered, turning to glance at him. Her eyes were a little red, the flush of tears coloring the tops of her cheeks and over the bridge of her nose. She was fairly sure he hadn’t seen her wipe them away though, and she was trying to be better about not letting her father’s sternness make her cry so much. When she was younger, she had been ignorant to it but as she’d become more aware she had become more sensitive. And that sensitivity was unwelcome, she wanted to be strong like her sister or her mother. They didn’t cry so uselessly.
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Her father’s gruff tone was of little concern to the girl, and she tucked her hands behind her back as she wandered the confines of his office. She knew he was a busy man, so she would try not to fill his ears with useless prattle. She felt that she had done her duty as a daughter to care for him in the ways that he would permit, so now she would linger just to make sure he actually kept the blanket in his lap. It wouldn’t surprise her at all for him to discard it once she left, and she was sure that the blanket could help. Even if it did nothing but serve as a reminder of her care for him. She stood on the tips of her toes to look at shelves that she couldn’t quite see over, scanning the titles with interest. Her fingers were kept to themselves, not quite sure if she should pilfer a book while he was watching.
She read things that perhaps were well beyond her years or unbefitting a woman of her station -- unstable as it might be. She loved to work with her hands, but no just with instruments and mending but in the dirt too. She liked to grow things, and had a special interest in remedies -- something that she wasn’t sure she could use but if nothing else it was fun. Her smile was soft as she let her attention wander, finding her way to a window seat and helping herself to it.
She was like a cat sometimes, liking the warm sunny spots. She knew very well that she could curl up here and go to sleep. He had answered her question about her brothers but he didn’t seem to like that she had asked about them, telling her that she should not ask for them. She frowned, but turned her face away so that he would not see it. Her palm wiped away the evidence of hurt from her eyes as she took up her post in the window, looking out over the grounds.
”I don’t bother him if I know he’s busy.” She said in a small voice, her tone slightly defensive. ”It would be easier if they lived here with us.” She shrugged. ”Why don’t they?” She wondered, turning to glance at him. Her eyes were a little red, the flush of tears coloring the tops of her cheeks and over the bridge of her nose. She was fairly sure he hadn’t seen her wipe them away though, and she was trying to be better about not letting her father’s sternness make her cry so much. When she was younger, she had been ignorant to it but as she’d become more aware she had become more sensitive. And that sensitivity was unwelcome, she wanted to be strong like her sister or her mother. They didn’t cry so uselessly.
Her father’s gruff tone was of little concern to the girl, and she tucked her hands behind her back as she wandered the confines of his office. She knew he was a busy man, so she would try not to fill his ears with useless prattle. She felt that she had done her duty as a daughter to care for him in the ways that he would permit, so now she would linger just to make sure he actually kept the blanket in his lap. It wouldn’t surprise her at all for him to discard it once she left, and she was sure that the blanket could help. Even if it did nothing but serve as a reminder of her care for him. She stood on the tips of her toes to look at shelves that she couldn’t quite see over, scanning the titles with interest. Her fingers were kept to themselves, not quite sure if she should pilfer a book while he was watching.
She read things that perhaps were well beyond her years or unbefitting a woman of her station -- unstable as it might be. She loved to work with her hands, but no just with instruments and mending but in the dirt too. She liked to grow things, and had a special interest in remedies -- something that she wasn’t sure she could use but if nothing else it was fun. Her smile was soft as she let her attention wander, finding her way to a window seat and helping herself to it.
She was like a cat sometimes, liking the warm sunny spots. She knew very well that she could curl up here and go to sleep. He had answered her question about her brothers but he didn’t seem to like that she had asked about them, telling her that she should not ask for them. She frowned, but turned her face away so that he would not see it. Her palm wiped away the evidence of hurt from her eyes as she took up her post in the window, looking out over the grounds.
”I don’t bother him if I know he’s busy.” She said in a small voice, her tone slightly defensive. ”It would be easier if they lived here with us.” She shrugged. ”Why don’t they?” She wondered, turning to glance at him. Her eyes were a little red, the flush of tears coloring the tops of her cheeks and over the bridge of her nose. She was fairly sure he hadn’t seen her wipe them away though, and she was trying to be better about not letting her father’s sternness make her cry so much. When she was younger, she had been ignorant to it but as she’d become more aware she had become more sensitive. And that sensitivity was unwelcome, she wanted to be strong like her sister or her mother. They didn’t cry so uselessly.
Perhaps part of the reason why Irakles could not seem to treat Sara with the same indifference as he did to the rest of his children, was the pure fact that Sara seem completely unphased by his gruff tone. As children, it was easy to get Achilleas, Emilios and even Tasia to shy away from whenever his mood was less then pleasant. Myrto would shuffle them away, and Meena would quickly take Tasia away whenever Irakles seemed the slightest bit bothered - but not Sara. As the youngest and with Meena completely preoccupied with her (in her opinion) more beautiful elder daughter, it often left Sara completely at his mercy - but it had seemed to backfire on her end.
It ended up with Irakles merely spending more time with Sara, and noticing more nuances with his youngest offspring that he's never noticed with his other three children, purely from never having enough time spent with them. So unlike his other three, Irakles did not push her away from peering over his shelves, and instead merely allowed her to linger as his eyes returned to his work on the table.
Because he noticed things of his youngest, from the way she liked instruments, to the way she worked in dirt and how often she spent time in the gardens. Irakles had hired a gardener, but he had watched sometimes from his windows, as the young girl worked with his hired help. And he had simply not said a word.
Watching from the corner of his eye as she found a spot on his kline and curled into it, and then froze at her odd question. Had Meena not explained it? Then again, he didn't know if his mistress had ever explained such matters to his daughters. Tasia seemed to grow up knowing instinctively not to ask such questions, but Sara had no qualms about asking. And what did he do? To push her away seemed odd, but neither could he remain silent. He would try and redirect her attention, but there was no one else around to pass Sara off too.
So instead, the man cleared his throat, his grip on his quill tightening as he spoke. "Achilleas is a grown man, Sara. He has his own estate, with his mother. Emilios..." he trailed off. His youngest son had simply far too many conquests to stay in the main manor, but far more then that, Myrto had simply disallowed either of her sons to remain in the same household as Meena and her daughters stayed in. "Emilios has many friends. He would bother us with all his friends visiting." Irakles finally settled on, returning to sign his scrawl over a parchment, placing it in a pile so the errand boy that came every morning would deliver it.
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Perhaps part of the reason why Irakles could not seem to treat Sara with the same indifference as he did to the rest of his children, was the pure fact that Sara seem completely unphased by his gruff tone. As children, it was easy to get Achilleas, Emilios and even Tasia to shy away from whenever his mood was less then pleasant. Myrto would shuffle them away, and Meena would quickly take Tasia away whenever Irakles seemed the slightest bit bothered - but not Sara. As the youngest and with Meena completely preoccupied with her (in her opinion) more beautiful elder daughter, it often left Sara completely at his mercy - but it had seemed to backfire on her end.
It ended up with Irakles merely spending more time with Sara, and noticing more nuances with his youngest offspring that he's never noticed with his other three children, purely from never having enough time spent with them. So unlike his other three, Irakles did not push her away from peering over his shelves, and instead merely allowed her to linger as his eyes returned to his work on the table.
Because he noticed things of his youngest, from the way she liked instruments, to the way she worked in dirt and how often she spent time in the gardens. Irakles had hired a gardener, but he had watched sometimes from his windows, as the young girl worked with his hired help. And he had simply not said a word.
Watching from the corner of his eye as she found a spot on his kline and curled into it, and then froze at her odd question. Had Meena not explained it? Then again, he didn't know if his mistress had ever explained such matters to his daughters. Tasia seemed to grow up knowing instinctively not to ask such questions, but Sara had no qualms about asking. And what did he do? To push her away seemed odd, but neither could he remain silent. He would try and redirect her attention, but there was no one else around to pass Sara off too.
So instead, the man cleared his throat, his grip on his quill tightening as he spoke. "Achilleas is a grown man, Sara. He has his own estate, with his mother. Emilios..." he trailed off. His youngest son had simply far too many conquests to stay in the main manor, but far more then that, Myrto had simply disallowed either of her sons to remain in the same household as Meena and her daughters stayed in. "Emilios has many friends. He would bother us with all his friends visiting." Irakles finally settled on, returning to sign his scrawl over a parchment, placing it in a pile so the errand boy that came every morning would deliver it.
Perhaps part of the reason why Irakles could not seem to treat Sara with the same indifference as he did to the rest of his children, was the pure fact that Sara seem completely unphased by his gruff tone. As children, it was easy to get Achilleas, Emilios and even Tasia to shy away from whenever his mood was less then pleasant. Myrto would shuffle them away, and Meena would quickly take Tasia away whenever Irakles seemed the slightest bit bothered - but not Sara. As the youngest and with Meena completely preoccupied with her (in her opinion) more beautiful elder daughter, it often left Sara completely at his mercy - but it had seemed to backfire on her end.
It ended up with Irakles merely spending more time with Sara, and noticing more nuances with his youngest offspring that he's never noticed with his other three children, purely from never having enough time spent with them. So unlike his other three, Irakles did not push her away from peering over his shelves, and instead merely allowed her to linger as his eyes returned to his work on the table.
Because he noticed things of his youngest, from the way she liked instruments, to the way she worked in dirt and how often she spent time in the gardens. Irakles had hired a gardener, but he had watched sometimes from his windows, as the young girl worked with his hired help. And he had simply not said a word.
Watching from the corner of his eye as she found a spot on his kline and curled into it, and then froze at her odd question. Had Meena not explained it? Then again, he didn't know if his mistress had ever explained such matters to his daughters. Tasia seemed to grow up knowing instinctively not to ask such questions, but Sara had no qualms about asking. And what did he do? To push her away seemed odd, but neither could he remain silent. He would try and redirect her attention, but there was no one else around to pass Sara off too.
So instead, the man cleared his throat, his grip on his quill tightening as he spoke. "Achilleas is a grown man, Sara. He has his own estate, with his mother. Emilios..." he trailed off. His youngest son had simply far too many conquests to stay in the main manor, but far more then that, Myrto had simply disallowed either of her sons to remain in the same household as Meena and her daughters stayed in. "Emilios has many friends. He would bother us with all his friends visiting." Irakles finally settled on, returning to sign his scrawl over a parchment, placing it in a pile so the errand boy that came every morning would deliver it.
She hummed thoughtfully under her breath as her father tried to explain away the absence of her brothers’ presence. It did make sense, she did agree that Achilleas was a grown man -- but he had not always been. She did not have any memories of infancy, but from the time that she could remember, she and Tasia had lived separately from Emilios and Achilleas.
Sara did not think she would have minded her brother’s friends, not really. Due to her age, she was not permitted at court, and often found herself left at home without anyone but the servants and her hobbies to keep her occupied. She scooted down on the windowsill, until she lay flat on her back and let out a long, but quiet sigh.
She hadn’t noticed her father’s unease at all at her line of questioning. ”Fair enough.” She said, quite diplomatic in the answer for her age. After a moment, she rolled onto her stomach -- twisting her chiton and causing wrinkles that would make Erika cringe later. The housekeeper certainly tried her best to keep Sara looking like a little lady, but sometimes she just wouldn’t have it.
”Papa?” She called, her chin resting on her hands. ”Achi and Emilios are lords, yes?” She ventured. She knew that was right, he’d just said as much but she was still learning all her titles. ”Does that mean that Tasia and I are ladies? And...mama is a lady because she’s married to you.” Her blue eyes were genuinely curious, hoping to impress him with her knowledge. Her young mind had thus far been spared the harsh reality of her situation.
She smiled at her father, his gruffness already forgotten as she quickly moved on. ”You and mama are in love.” She said, giggling at the idea. She had grand ideas of love, even as a youngster with no prospects for several years yet. ”Mama says that you…kiss her.” She scrunched her nose, but her face was amused. She had never actually seen her father be particularly affectionate to her mother, but her mother had told her a little.
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She hummed thoughtfully under her breath as her father tried to explain away the absence of her brothers’ presence. It did make sense, she did agree that Achilleas was a grown man -- but he had not always been. She did not have any memories of infancy, but from the time that she could remember, she and Tasia had lived separately from Emilios and Achilleas.
Sara did not think she would have minded her brother’s friends, not really. Due to her age, she was not permitted at court, and often found herself left at home without anyone but the servants and her hobbies to keep her occupied. She scooted down on the windowsill, until she lay flat on her back and let out a long, but quiet sigh.
She hadn’t noticed her father’s unease at all at her line of questioning. ”Fair enough.” She said, quite diplomatic in the answer for her age. After a moment, she rolled onto her stomach -- twisting her chiton and causing wrinkles that would make Erika cringe later. The housekeeper certainly tried her best to keep Sara looking like a little lady, but sometimes she just wouldn’t have it.
”Papa?” She called, her chin resting on her hands. ”Achi and Emilios are lords, yes?” She ventured. She knew that was right, he’d just said as much but she was still learning all her titles. ”Does that mean that Tasia and I are ladies? And...mama is a lady because she’s married to you.” Her blue eyes were genuinely curious, hoping to impress him with her knowledge. Her young mind had thus far been spared the harsh reality of her situation.
She smiled at her father, his gruffness already forgotten as she quickly moved on. ”You and mama are in love.” She said, giggling at the idea. She had grand ideas of love, even as a youngster with no prospects for several years yet. ”Mama says that you…kiss her.” She scrunched her nose, but her face was amused. She had never actually seen her father be particularly affectionate to her mother, but her mother had told her a little.
She hummed thoughtfully under her breath as her father tried to explain away the absence of her brothers’ presence. It did make sense, she did agree that Achilleas was a grown man -- but he had not always been. She did not have any memories of infancy, but from the time that she could remember, she and Tasia had lived separately from Emilios and Achilleas.
Sara did not think she would have minded her brother’s friends, not really. Due to her age, she was not permitted at court, and often found herself left at home without anyone but the servants and her hobbies to keep her occupied. She scooted down on the windowsill, until she lay flat on her back and let out a long, but quiet sigh.
She hadn’t noticed her father’s unease at all at her line of questioning. ”Fair enough.” She said, quite diplomatic in the answer for her age. After a moment, she rolled onto her stomach -- twisting her chiton and causing wrinkles that would make Erika cringe later. The housekeeper certainly tried her best to keep Sara looking like a little lady, but sometimes she just wouldn’t have it.
”Papa?” She called, her chin resting on her hands. ”Achi and Emilios are lords, yes?” She ventured. She knew that was right, he’d just said as much but she was still learning all her titles. ”Does that mean that Tasia and I are ladies? And...mama is a lady because she’s married to you.” Her blue eyes were genuinely curious, hoping to impress him with her knowledge. Her young mind had thus far been spared the harsh reality of her situation.
She smiled at her father, his gruffness already forgotten as she quickly moved on. ”You and mama are in love.” She said, giggling at the idea. She had grand ideas of love, even as a youngster with no prospects for several years yet. ”Mama says that you…kiss her.” She scrunched her nose, but her face was amused. She had never actually seen her father be particularly affectionate to her mother, but her mother had told her a little.
Having had boys, he had never really much experience in raising girl's. Irakles had been one hundred percent certain that Achilleas and Emilios were both boys before they were born, so much so that he wasn't expecting anything else. It was a good thing they were (and perhaps the one good thing Achilleas hadn't disappointed his father at), and while they had nothing else much going for them, at least they had the correct gender in which Irakles needed to further his plans. That, he could not complain. He couldn't complain either, that all Meena had given him were girls. For what could they do even if they had been boys? He could not give them a name for the scandal it would cause, and honestly, Irakles didn't want to bother. He had his heir and a spare, everyone else could be gone to the Underworld as far as he was concerned.
Except he really hadn't expected Sara to grow up to be so... inquisitive. Tasia had been a quiet thing, doing whatever her mother told her, and often staying out of his way as Meena instructed. Adversely however, Sara was quiet, but held her own brand of inquisitiveness that baffled even Irakles sometimes with her questions.
"Yes, you are correct." he murmured in response, not looking up in her direction but inwardly flinching at her call of Papa. Her older siblings had all been trained to call him the formal 'Father', and even 'Your Highness' for his two sons when they were in court. Yet somehow, it was a habit neither him nor her mother could inflict upon Sara. His scrawl on the parchment froze, when Sara suddenly asked of marriage, and if Meena was married to him, a fact that even Tasia could tell by now was definitely not true. Had Meena not addressed that fact with Sara?
Making a mental note to remind his mistress to do so immediately, he cleared his throat, shaking his head a little to clear the rising bubble of panic before formulating a hopefully diplomatic answer to the inquisition of a young eleven year old. "I do, yes." he murmured, evading the first two questions on whether or not she was a lady, intending to leave that for Meena to answer. Love though... did he even understand such a thing? The greatest love Irakles held was a love for his kingdom and a love for the need to do well by his people and kingdom. It had been impressed upon him since he had been aboy, that kingdom came before family, people and anyone else, that the success of a kingdom depended upon the success and smartness of it's leader, both of which Irakles felt were sorely missing in his own elder brother.
And that was why he needed to do something about it.
But he could not do anything if his children were going to continue being content in their positions, and not try and further what they should do. Irakles wanted to progress, but the many pits in his way meant he had to further think upon his plan of action, and that meant.... it meant he simply couldn't risk continue being soft of heart to Sara, even if she was his youngest child.
"Love is frivolous, Sara. What matters most is loyalty and ability." the man said with a firm and final tone, finishing up his papers with a flourish, before turning to Sara in a cold glance. "Now return to your room and find your governess. I'm sure it is time for your lessons."
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Having had boys, he had never really much experience in raising girl's. Irakles had been one hundred percent certain that Achilleas and Emilios were both boys before they were born, so much so that he wasn't expecting anything else. It was a good thing they were (and perhaps the one good thing Achilleas hadn't disappointed his father at), and while they had nothing else much going for them, at least they had the correct gender in which Irakles needed to further his plans. That, he could not complain. He couldn't complain either, that all Meena had given him were girls. For what could they do even if they had been boys? He could not give them a name for the scandal it would cause, and honestly, Irakles didn't want to bother. He had his heir and a spare, everyone else could be gone to the Underworld as far as he was concerned.
Except he really hadn't expected Sara to grow up to be so... inquisitive. Tasia had been a quiet thing, doing whatever her mother told her, and often staying out of his way as Meena instructed. Adversely however, Sara was quiet, but held her own brand of inquisitiveness that baffled even Irakles sometimes with her questions.
"Yes, you are correct." he murmured in response, not looking up in her direction but inwardly flinching at her call of Papa. Her older siblings had all been trained to call him the formal 'Father', and even 'Your Highness' for his two sons when they were in court. Yet somehow, it was a habit neither him nor her mother could inflict upon Sara. His scrawl on the parchment froze, when Sara suddenly asked of marriage, and if Meena was married to him, a fact that even Tasia could tell by now was definitely not true. Had Meena not addressed that fact with Sara?
Making a mental note to remind his mistress to do so immediately, he cleared his throat, shaking his head a little to clear the rising bubble of panic before formulating a hopefully diplomatic answer to the inquisition of a young eleven year old. "I do, yes." he murmured, evading the first two questions on whether or not she was a lady, intending to leave that for Meena to answer. Love though... did he even understand such a thing? The greatest love Irakles held was a love for his kingdom and a love for the need to do well by his people and kingdom. It had been impressed upon him since he had been aboy, that kingdom came before family, people and anyone else, that the success of a kingdom depended upon the success and smartness of it's leader, both of which Irakles felt were sorely missing in his own elder brother.
And that was why he needed to do something about it.
But he could not do anything if his children were going to continue being content in their positions, and not try and further what they should do. Irakles wanted to progress, but the many pits in his way meant he had to further think upon his plan of action, and that meant.... it meant he simply couldn't risk continue being soft of heart to Sara, even if she was his youngest child.
"Love is frivolous, Sara. What matters most is loyalty and ability." the man said with a firm and final tone, finishing up his papers with a flourish, before turning to Sara in a cold glance. "Now return to your room and find your governess. I'm sure it is time for your lessons."
Having had boys, he had never really much experience in raising girl's. Irakles had been one hundred percent certain that Achilleas and Emilios were both boys before they were born, so much so that he wasn't expecting anything else. It was a good thing they were (and perhaps the one good thing Achilleas hadn't disappointed his father at), and while they had nothing else much going for them, at least they had the correct gender in which Irakles needed to further his plans. That, he could not complain. He couldn't complain either, that all Meena had given him were girls. For what could they do even if they had been boys? He could not give them a name for the scandal it would cause, and honestly, Irakles didn't want to bother. He had his heir and a spare, everyone else could be gone to the Underworld as far as he was concerned.
Except he really hadn't expected Sara to grow up to be so... inquisitive. Tasia had been a quiet thing, doing whatever her mother told her, and often staying out of his way as Meena instructed. Adversely however, Sara was quiet, but held her own brand of inquisitiveness that baffled even Irakles sometimes with her questions.
"Yes, you are correct." he murmured in response, not looking up in her direction but inwardly flinching at her call of Papa. Her older siblings had all been trained to call him the formal 'Father', and even 'Your Highness' for his two sons when they were in court. Yet somehow, it was a habit neither him nor her mother could inflict upon Sara. His scrawl on the parchment froze, when Sara suddenly asked of marriage, and if Meena was married to him, a fact that even Tasia could tell by now was definitely not true. Had Meena not addressed that fact with Sara?
Making a mental note to remind his mistress to do so immediately, he cleared his throat, shaking his head a little to clear the rising bubble of panic before formulating a hopefully diplomatic answer to the inquisition of a young eleven year old. "I do, yes." he murmured, evading the first two questions on whether or not she was a lady, intending to leave that for Meena to answer. Love though... did he even understand such a thing? The greatest love Irakles held was a love for his kingdom and a love for the need to do well by his people and kingdom. It had been impressed upon him since he had been aboy, that kingdom came before family, people and anyone else, that the success of a kingdom depended upon the success and smartness of it's leader, both of which Irakles felt were sorely missing in his own elder brother.
And that was why he needed to do something about it.
But he could not do anything if his children were going to continue being content in their positions, and not try and further what they should do. Irakles wanted to progress, but the many pits in his way meant he had to further think upon his plan of action, and that meant.... it meant he simply couldn't risk continue being soft of heart to Sara, even if she was his youngest child.
"Love is frivolous, Sara. What matters most is loyalty and ability." the man said with a firm and final tone, finishing up his papers with a flourish, before turning to Sara in a cold glance. "Now return to your room and find your governess. I'm sure it is time for your lessons."
Unaware of the truth of her world, she was content -- happy even. Shame was going to be a heavy thing to place on a child like Sara once the truth of things was revealed. And, undoubtedly, guilt would not be trailing far behind -- her sense of right and wrong thoroughly confused by the mess that was her mother’s presence in the Mikaelidas household. The youngster was undeterred, her sandaled feet swinging idly in the air as she watched her father. She held a great respect for him, even if she did not always understand him.
Sara listened, taking in the few words said and not quite reading between the lines. She giggled, the sound girlish and betraying her youth -- her smile like sunlight on a winter’s day. The soft cushions of her seat shifted under her weight as she got comfortable. Just a few more questions that she wanted to ask him, just a little more to see behind the thick curtains her father placed around himself. If given the chance, she would rip them down without a thought.
It seemed however, that she had used up just about all of her father’s patience -- his voice firm and his stare colder as he dismissed her. Love...was frivolous? And she opened her mouth to speak, but he continued. She frowned at the idea of going to lessons, but she knew better than to disobey something so directly aimed at her.
Sara rolled off the window seat, not quite as graceful as she should have been and got to her feet -- smoothing out the wrinkled chiton. She said nothing as she crossed the room to her father’s chair, somehow unaffected by him and took a moment to make sure the blanket was still over his lap.
She leaned up on the arms of the chair, quick as a viper as she pressed a kiss to his cheek and took off like Hades himself was chasing her. She stopped only a moment to toss a smile at him from the door.
”Well...I love you, papa.” She said, holding her chin up proudly. She did not think love was frivolous at all. It took strength to love someone. Without giving him the chance to respond, she pulled the door shut behind her and went off skipping into the great halls of the archontiko.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Unaware of the truth of her world, she was content -- happy even. Shame was going to be a heavy thing to place on a child like Sara once the truth of things was revealed. And, undoubtedly, guilt would not be trailing far behind -- her sense of right and wrong thoroughly confused by the mess that was her mother’s presence in the Mikaelidas household. The youngster was undeterred, her sandaled feet swinging idly in the air as she watched her father. She held a great respect for him, even if she did not always understand him.
Sara listened, taking in the few words said and not quite reading between the lines. She giggled, the sound girlish and betraying her youth -- her smile like sunlight on a winter’s day. The soft cushions of her seat shifted under her weight as she got comfortable. Just a few more questions that she wanted to ask him, just a little more to see behind the thick curtains her father placed around himself. If given the chance, she would rip them down without a thought.
It seemed however, that she had used up just about all of her father’s patience -- his voice firm and his stare colder as he dismissed her. Love...was frivolous? And she opened her mouth to speak, but he continued. She frowned at the idea of going to lessons, but she knew better than to disobey something so directly aimed at her.
Sara rolled off the window seat, not quite as graceful as she should have been and got to her feet -- smoothing out the wrinkled chiton. She said nothing as she crossed the room to her father’s chair, somehow unaffected by him and took a moment to make sure the blanket was still over his lap.
She leaned up on the arms of the chair, quick as a viper as she pressed a kiss to his cheek and took off like Hades himself was chasing her. She stopped only a moment to toss a smile at him from the door.
”Well...I love you, papa.” She said, holding her chin up proudly. She did not think love was frivolous at all. It took strength to love someone. Without giving him the chance to respond, she pulled the door shut behind her and went off skipping into the great halls of the archontiko.
Unaware of the truth of her world, she was content -- happy even. Shame was going to be a heavy thing to place on a child like Sara once the truth of things was revealed. And, undoubtedly, guilt would not be trailing far behind -- her sense of right and wrong thoroughly confused by the mess that was her mother’s presence in the Mikaelidas household. The youngster was undeterred, her sandaled feet swinging idly in the air as she watched her father. She held a great respect for him, even if she did not always understand him.
Sara listened, taking in the few words said and not quite reading between the lines. She giggled, the sound girlish and betraying her youth -- her smile like sunlight on a winter’s day. The soft cushions of her seat shifted under her weight as she got comfortable. Just a few more questions that she wanted to ask him, just a little more to see behind the thick curtains her father placed around himself. If given the chance, she would rip them down without a thought.
It seemed however, that she had used up just about all of her father’s patience -- his voice firm and his stare colder as he dismissed her. Love...was frivolous? And she opened her mouth to speak, but he continued. She frowned at the idea of going to lessons, but she knew better than to disobey something so directly aimed at her.
Sara rolled off the window seat, not quite as graceful as she should have been and got to her feet -- smoothing out the wrinkled chiton. She said nothing as she crossed the room to her father’s chair, somehow unaffected by him and took a moment to make sure the blanket was still over his lap.
She leaned up on the arms of the chair, quick as a viper as she pressed a kiss to his cheek and took off like Hades himself was chasing her. She stopped only a moment to toss a smile at him from the door.
”Well...I love you, papa.” She said, holding her chin up proudly. She did not think love was frivolous at all. It took strength to love someone. Without giving him the chance to respond, she pulled the door shut behind her and went off skipping into the great halls of the archontiko.