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Theodora’s easy acceptance made it less painful to stumble through his apology and what was Achilleas’ attempt to say something nice. He wanted to explain that even if he wasn’t brilliant at showing it, that he was glad he hadn’t had to go through the past few days entirely alone. It meant something that she was beside him and she’d just effortlessly taken over the management of things like the moving of their possessions into the palati..the gifts from the wedding. All of the things that he hadn’t even given a thought to, and it didn’t matter because Theodora had done it already.
It was still new, there remained trust to be established between them yet, and Achilleas was not a man to relax around people easily. Especially when more than anyone, he wanted to prove himself worthy to the woman beside him. There had been enough moments in their past when he’d had to hold back, and he knew it had cost him.
He hadn’t weighted his comment in the bathing chambers with anything: Achilleas knew well enough that she had been frustrated with him in times gone by, as he had by her, but she had always held his attention, whether it was in fascination or irritation. But they were different, that much had been made clear, both in their youth and even more recently. What he hoped was that those differences might complement each other eventually and that they would find a smoother stride than the slightly jagged waltz that had been their relationship so far.
You don’t bore me either, you know..I just… I didn’t understand you, that’s all. But I’m trying to now. I want to know you better.”
The shoulder upon which Theodora rested her head rose in a breath that wasn’t immediately released as Achilleas processed and then tested her words to see how much truth he thought was in them. Well, she certainly knew him better after that night..he had hardly maintained the impeccable veneer he tried to the rest of the time.
After a pause, the breath was eventually released. In her periphery, Theodora could see the king’s fingers reflexively tighten and release around the cup he held, even as he spoke in response. It seemed to cost him a little. “Well, what would you know?”
He was nothing if not a practical man, and if it were what she wanted, then Achilleas would try and oblige. And they did not have a lot of time left to them before he would be gone. He lifted the cup to his lips and let the wine soak his mouth to wash away slight dryness that came of inviting interrogation. “I think you know most that there is?”
Except, of course, she probably did not mean for them to ask questions of each other like they were meeting at a court session and Achilleas blinked at that dawning realisation. “Ignore me... I’m tired, and it’s making me stupid.” he excused, shaking his head ruefully. “Unless it is just my favourite colour and time of year that you would like to know, in which case, ask away.”
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Theodora’s easy acceptance made it less painful to stumble through his apology and what was Achilleas’ attempt to say something nice. He wanted to explain that even if he wasn’t brilliant at showing it, that he was glad he hadn’t had to go through the past few days entirely alone. It meant something that she was beside him and she’d just effortlessly taken over the management of things like the moving of their possessions into the palati..the gifts from the wedding. All of the things that he hadn’t even given a thought to, and it didn’t matter because Theodora had done it already.
It was still new, there remained trust to be established between them yet, and Achilleas was not a man to relax around people easily. Especially when more than anyone, he wanted to prove himself worthy to the woman beside him. There had been enough moments in their past when he’d had to hold back, and he knew it had cost him.
He hadn’t weighted his comment in the bathing chambers with anything: Achilleas knew well enough that she had been frustrated with him in times gone by, as he had by her, but she had always held his attention, whether it was in fascination or irritation. But they were different, that much had been made clear, both in their youth and even more recently. What he hoped was that those differences might complement each other eventually and that they would find a smoother stride than the slightly jagged waltz that had been their relationship so far.
You don’t bore me either, you know..I just… I didn’t understand you, that’s all. But I’m trying to now. I want to know you better.”
The shoulder upon which Theodora rested her head rose in a breath that wasn’t immediately released as Achilleas processed and then tested her words to see how much truth he thought was in them. Well, she certainly knew him better after that night..he had hardly maintained the impeccable veneer he tried to the rest of the time.
After a pause, the breath was eventually released. In her periphery, Theodora could see the king’s fingers reflexively tighten and release around the cup he held, even as he spoke in response. It seemed to cost him a little. “Well, what would you know?”
He was nothing if not a practical man, and if it were what she wanted, then Achilleas would try and oblige. And they did not have a lot of time left to them before he would be gone. He lifted the cup to his lips and let the wine soak his mouth to wash away slight dryness that came of inviting interrogation. “I think you know most that there is?”
Except, of course, she probably did not mean for them to ask questions of each other like they were meeting at a court session and Achilleas blinked at that dawning realisation. “Ignore me... I’m tired, and it’s making me stupid.” he excused, shaking his head ruefully. “Unless it is just my favourite colour and time of year that you would like to know, in which case, ask away.”
Theodora’s easy acceptance made it less painful to stumble through his apology and what was Achilleas’ attempt to say something nice. He wanted to explain that even if he wasn’t brilliant at showing it, that he was glad he hadn’t had to go through the past few days entirely alone. It meant something that she was beside him and she’d just effortlessly taken over the management of things like the moving of their possessions into the palati..the gifts from the wedding. All of the things that he hadn’t even given a thought to, and it didn’t matter because Theodora had done it already.
It was still new, there remained trust to be established between them yet, and Achilleas was not a man to relax around people easily. Especially when more than anyone, he wanted to prove himself worthy to the woman beside him. There had been enough moments in their past when he’d had to hold back, and he knew it had cost him.
He hadn’t weighted his comment in the bathing chambers with anything: Achilleas knew well enough that she had been frustrated with him in times gone by, as he had by her, but she had always held his attention, whether it was in fascination or irritation. But they were different, that much had been made clear, both in their youth and even more recently. What he hoped was that those differences might complement each other eventually and that they would find a smoother stride than the slightly jagged waltz that had been their relationship so far.
You don’t bore me either, you know..I just… I didn’t understand you, that’s all. But I’m trying to now. I want to know you better.”
The shoulder upon which Theodora rested her head rose in a breath that wasn’t immediately released as Achilleas processed and then tested her words to see how much truth he thought was in them. Well, she certainly knew him better after that night..he had hardly maintained the impeccable veneer he tried to the rest of the time.
After a pause, the breath was eventually released. In her periphery, Theodora could see the king’s fingers reflexively tighten and release around the cup he held, even as he spoke in response. It seemed to cost him a little. “Well, what would you know?”
He was nothing if not a practical man, and if it were what she wanted, then Achilleas would try and oblige. And they did not have a lot of time left to them before he would be gone. He lifted the cup to his lips and let the wine soak his mouth to wash away slight dryness that came of inviting interrogation. “I think you know most that there is?”
Except, of course, she probably did not mean for them to ask questions of each other like they were meeting at a court session and Achilleas blinked at that dawning realisation. “Ignore me... I’m tired, and it’s making me stupid.” he excused, shaking his head ruefully. “Unless it is just my favourite colour and time of year that you would like to know, in which case, ask away.”
Theodora could feel him tense at her comment, catching the movement of his hand on the glass out of the corner of her eye. Was it truly so difficult for him? She hadn’t meant he needed to reveal the depths of his soul all at once, or that she meant to peel back every layer of his personality in a day… just that what she knew of him was all surface level and only what he projected. No one was ever fully what they let others see, much less a man who always seemed to hold himself on so tight a leash.
After tonight, she did indeed know more of him than she had before, but it was still precious little. At his comment of, ‘I think you know most that there is?’ the Queen raised a brow, lifting her head and turning to him with a look that bordered on incredulous. He didn’t really think that, did he? She knew who he was, yes, and she knew of his demeanor, but she didn’t know him, not really. What motivated him, what drove him, what made him laugh or frown. Those were the things she wanted to know, but things not so easily learned with simple questioning. They were things that came in time, a time they simply had not possessed.
He seemed to realize this after he spoke, apologizing and shaking his head. The disbelieving look dropped from her face with a soft laugh, taking a sip of the wine she held. “It’s all right,” she assured him, her laugh fading to a lop-sided smile. “Though, I would like to know those things, too.” She nudged him gently, adding with a chuckle, “Mine are green and autumn, if you were curious.”
Idly, she swirled the liquid in her glass, glancing down to watch the slight cling and give as it lapped back and forth. “I simply meant I don’t want to be a stranger to you, that’s all. Or you to me. We’re married now, yes, but I’d also like us to be… friends, too. I don’t want you to feel you have to pretend to be someone you’re not around me.” As if Theodora had room to speak; so much of her life now involved lies of omission and half-truths that it felt almost hypocritical to ask another not to hide. She kept telling herself that her lies were for the best, and the things she lied about would eventually fade. Perhaps then she could be more honest, but now…
As if to compensate for some of that inner guilt, she offered up something a little deeper than her favorite color or time of year, “I always knew I would have to marry for the benefit of my family and that I would have little choice in who I was tied to. But I always hoped my husband would be someone that I could…” She bit her lip as she thought on the best way to word it; she didn’t want to let anything slip that would give Achilleas any indication that he would not have been her choice, had she been given one. “Talk to. Someone who would be more than just… the father of my children, you know? Not just some formal Court arrangement where we part ways as soon as we leave the public eye. Maybe even someone I could… love. In time.”
Could she ever love Achilleas? Truly, she didn’t know. Everything had always been so easy with Emilios; they had bonded so quickly, and that quick friendship combined with a heated attraction soon developed into something deeper. But with Achilleas, it could never be said things were easy, not with their often clashing heads. He was handsome, yes, and he was not cruel or unkind, which was more than could be said of so many other arranged pairings. But love? She did not know. There was a cautious affection there, at least, one that she hoped would grow into a more solid warmth, even if it never became the passion she longed for.
Finishing the last swallow of her wine, she eyed the decanter before standing up and deciding to pour another. Using the moment of disconnect to clear her head, she turned back to her husband, standing in front of him and placing her free hand on his leg. “I’m glad that I was not sent off to some boorish and hideous backwoods baron I’ve never met,” she said, her wry smile returning. “I know things have started very strangely between us, but I’m happy we’re…” Perhaps his lack of eloquence was already rubbing off on her, Theodora struggling for the right thing to say. “I think things will get better. I think we can be good for each other.”
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Theodora could feel him tense at her comment, catching the movement of his hand on the glass out of the corner of her eye. Was it truly so difficult for him? She hadn’t meant he needed to reveal the depths of his soul all at once, or that she meant to peel back every layer of his personality in a day… just that what she knew of him was all surface level and only what he projected. No one was ever fully what they let others see, much less a man who always seemed to hold himself on so tight a leash.
After tonight, she did indeed know more of him than she had before, but it was still precious little. At his comment of, ‘I think you know most that there is?’ the Queen raised a brow, lifting her head and turning to him with a look that bordered on incredulous. He didn’t really think that, did he? She knew who he was, yes, and she knew of his demeanor, but she didn’t know him, not really. What motivated him, what drove him, what made him laugh or frown. Those were the things she wanted to know, but things not so easily learned with simple questioning. They were things that came in time, a time they simply had not possessed.
He seemed to realize this after he spoke, apologizing and shaking his head. The disbelieving look dropped from her face with a soft laugh, taking a sip of the wine she held. “It’s all right,” she assured him, her laugh fading to a lop-sided smile. “Though, I would like to know those things, too.” She nudged him gently, adding with a chuckle, “Mine are green and autumn, if you were curious.”
Idly, she swirled the liquid in her glass, glancing down to watch the slight cling and give as it lapped back and forth. “I simply meant I don’t want to be a stranger to you, that’s all. Or you to me. We’re married now, yes, but I’d also like us to be… friends, too. I don’t want you to feel you have to pretend to be someone you’re not around me.” As if Theodora had room to speak; so much of her life now involved lies of omission and half-truths that it felt almost hypocritical to ask another not to hide. She kept telling herself that her lies were for the best, and the things she lied about would eventually fade. Perhaps then she could be more honest, but now…
As if to compensate for some of that inner guilt, she offered up something a little deeper than her favorite color or time of year, “I always knew I would have to marry for the benefit of my family and that I would have little choice in who I was tied to. But I always hoped my husband would be someone that I could…” She bit her lip as she thought on the best way to word it; she didn’t want to let anything slip that would give Achilleas any indication that he would not have been her choice, had she been given one. “Talk to. Someone who would be more than just… the father of my children, you know? Not just some formal Court arrangement where we part ways as soon as we leave the public eye. Maybe even someone I could… love. In time.”
Could she ever love Achilleas? Truly, she didn’t know. Everything had always been so easy with Emilios; they had bonded so quickly, and that quick friendship combined with a heated attraction soon developed into something deeper. But with Achilleas, it could never be said things were easy, not with their often clashing heads. He was handsome, yes, and he was not cruel or unkind, which was more than could be said of so many other arranged pairings. But love? She did not know. There was a cautious affection there, at least, one that she hoped would grow into a more solid warmth, even if it never became the passion she longed for.
Finishing the last swallow of her wine, she eyed the decanter before standing up and deciding to pour another. Using the moment of disconnect to clear her head, she turned back to her husband, standing in front of him and placing her free hand on his leg. “I’m glad that I was not sent off to some boorish and hideous backwoods baron I’ve never met,” she said, her wry smile returning. “I know things have started very strangely between us, but I’m happy we’re…” Perhaps his lack of eloquence was already rubbing off on her, Theodora struggling for the right thing to say. “I think things will get better. I think we can be good for each other.”
Theodora could feel him tense at her comment, catching the movement of his hand on the glass out of the corner of her eye. Was it truly so difficult for him? She hadn’t meant he needed to reveal the depths of his soul all at once, or that she meant to peel back every layer of his personality in a day… just that what she knew of him was all surface level and only what he projected. No one was ever fully what they let others see, much less a man who always seemed to hold himself on so tight a leash.
After tonight, she did indeed know more of him than she had before, but it was still precious little. At his comment of, ‘I think you know most that there is?’ the Queen raised a brow, lifting her head and turning to him with a look that bordered on incredulous. He didn’t really think that, did he? She knew who he was, yes, and she knew of his demeanor, but she didn’t know him, not really. What motivated him, what drove him, what made him laugh or frown. Those were the things she wanted to know, but things not so easily learned with simple questioning. They were things that came in time, a time they simply had not possessed.
He seemed to realize this after he spoke, apologizing and shaking his head. The disbelieving look dropped from her face with a soft laugh, taking a sip of the wine she held. “It’s all right,” she assured him, her laugh fading to a lop-sided smile. “Though, I would like to know those things, too.” She nudged him gently, adding with a chuckle, “Mine are green and autumn, if you were curious.”
Idly, she swirled the liquid in her glass, glancing down to watch the slight cling and give as it lapped back and forth. “I simply meant I don’t want to be a stranger to you, that’s all. Or you to me. We’re married now, yes, but I’d also like us to be… friends, too. I don’t want you to feel you have to pretend to be someone you’re not around me.” As if Theodora had room to speak; so much of her life now involved lies of omission and half-truths that it felt almost hypocritical to ask another not to hide. She kept telling herself that her lies were for the best, and the things she lied about would eventually fade. Perhaps then she could be more honest, but now…
As if to compensate for some of that inner guilt, she offered up something a little deeper than her favorite color or time of year, “I always knew I would have to marry for the benefit of my family and that I would have little choice in who I was tied to. But I always hoped my husband would be someone that I could…” She bit her lip as she thought on the best way to word it; she didn’t want to let anything slip that would give Achilleas any indication that he would not have been her choice, had she been given one. “Talk to. Someone who would be more than just… the father of my children, you know? Not just some formal Court arrangement where we part ways as soon as we leave the public eye. Maybe even someone I could… love. In time.”
Could she ever love Achilleas? Truly, she didn’t know. Everything had always been so easy with Emilios; they had bonded so quickly, and that quick friendship combined with a heated attraction soon developed into something deeper. But with Achilleas, it could never be said things were easy, not with their often clashing heads. He was handsome, yes, and he was not cruel or unkind, which was more than could be said of so many other arranged pairings. But love? She did not know. There was a cautious affection there, at least, one that she hoped would grow into a more solid warmth, even if it never became the passion she longed for.
Finishing the last swallow of her wine, she eyed the decanter before standing up and deciding to pour another. Using the moment of disconnect to clear her head, she turned back to her husband, standing in front of him and placing her free hand on his leg. “I’m glad that I was not sent off to some boorish and hideous backwoods baron I’ve never met,” she said, her wry smile returning. “I know things have started very strangely between us, but I’m happy we’re…” Perhaps his lack of eloquence was already rubbing off on her, Theodora struggling for the right thing to say. “I think things will get better. I think we can be good for each other.”
He had probably been deserving of the skeptical look she directed at him. But Achilleas had spent so long guarding his feelings lest they be used as fodder against him, pointed out as a weakness, that it didn’t make it easy to just change. And his control was as tenuous as it had ever been...there were degrees of sharing, surely? And if he couldn’t make sense of his feelings himself, how was he supposed to explain them to someone else?
Still, at least she smiled when he recognised his error, and he returned it in kind, giving a slow nod. “Mine is green too” he added, because something in common was..something. “And Spring.” He held a great affection for the lush greens that were Taengea in the springtime.
There was a quiet between them for a moment before Theodora began to speak again, and Achilleas was still as he listened to her. Nothing she said fell outside of what he hoped for their marriage. He wanted that too. If anything, she seemed almost to set her hopes lower than he did, and Achilleas frowned a little because he was [ii]trying[/i], but clearly what Theodora expected was more than he knew how to offer.
He made a small sound of assent in his throat just to show he was listening, and his attention focused on where her hands tipped the cup of wine just enough to see its contents roll. Before he’d gathered his thoughts into a response, she went on.
‘I always knew I would have to marry for the benefit of my family and that I would have little choice in who I was tied to. But I always hoped my husband would be someone that I could… Talk to. Someone who would be more than just… the father of my children, you know? Not just some formal Court arrangement where we part ways as soon as we leave the public eye. Maybe even someone I could… love. In time’
Achilleas twisted to look at her because at first, he didn’t know what she was saying, it was not the first time she had mentioned duty, nor the first time that he would contrast that with his own feeling of good fortune. Yes, it met the expectations of a marriage that their respective families had, but for Achilleas, this was something he had wanted and would have pursued had it not been for the knowledge that his choice in the matter was not really his own.
Did she think that was what he wanted? He thought he’d been more open in his desires but that she was speaking the words to him made him think he had not and he sighed through his nose because it seemed he was making a mess of this already, and he didn’t intend to.
His face was a study in concentration when she moved to refill her glass, clearly considering her words. If there was one thing Theodora might have come to know about her new husband is that he liked to be given a chance to think about what was said to him. He didn’t rush into answering without having given proper deliberation to what he should say in response.
He was aware of the silence, of the pause for him to speak into, and when Theodora turned back to him, he tilted his face up to her, smiling faintly at her. “I think we are both glad of that,” he said after a moment, “ Because then I would’ve had to fight some boorish and backwater baron for you and it would’ve caused a scandal.”
The king glanced to where her hand settled upon his leg, and he hesitated a moment before carefully covering it with his own before he spoke on.
“But that’s what I want too, what you said.I’m sorry if I’ve made you think otherwise. I don’t mean to. I’ve been distracted I know, and not...good at this it seems, but I want that. All of it.”
He wasn’t sure exactly how they got there: it was more difficult than he had anticipated. He kept waiting for the moment when things would just click and become effortless, but this marriage was far outside his realms of experience with relationships. Which honestly wasn’t a terribly expansive realm anyway, his focus had always been elsewhere. And Achilleas didn’t like feeling uncertain about how to do things, but there was nothing to study that would help with this. His next words were delivered resolutely, like a pledge as he gazed up at her.
“I want you to be happy. I would like to make you happy, Theodora.”
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He had probably been deserving of the skeptical look she directed at him. But Achilleas had spent so long guarding his feelings lest they be used as fodder against him, pointed out as a weakness, that it didn’t make it easy to just change. And his control was as tenuous as it had ever been...there were degrees of sharing, surely? And if he couldn’t make sense of his feelings himself, how was he supposed to explain them to someone else?
Still, at least she smiled when he recognised his error, and he returned it in kind, giving a slow nod. “Mine is green too” he added, because something in common was..something. “And Spring.” He held a great affection for the lush greens that were Taengea in the springtime.
There was a quiet between them for a moment before Theodora began to speak again, and Achilleas was still as he listened to her. Nothing she said fell outside of what he hoped for their marriage. He wanted that too. If anything, she seemed almost to set her hopes lower than he did, and Achilleas frowned a little because he was [ii]trying[/i], but clearly what Theodora expected was more than he knew how to offer.
He made a small sound of assent in his throat just to show he was listening, and his attention focused on where her hands tipped the cup of wine just enough to see its contents roll. Before he’d gathered his thoughts into a response, she went on.
‘I always knew I would have to marry for the benefit of my family and that I would have little choice in who I was tied to. But I always hoped my husband would be someone that I could… Talk to. Someone who would be more than just… the father of my children, you know? Not just some formal Court arrangement where we part ways as soon as we leave the public eye. Maybe even someone I could… love. In time’
Achilleas twisted to look at her because at first, he didn’t know what she was saying, it was not the first time she had mentioned duty, nor the first time that he would contrast that with his own feeling of good fortune. Yes, it met the expectations of a marriage that their respective families had, but for Achilleas, this was something he had wanted and would have pursued had it not been for the knowledge that his choice in the matter was not really his own.
Did she think that was what he wanted? He thought he’d been more open in his desires but that she was speaking the words to him made him think he had not and he sighed through his nose because it seemed he was making a mess of this already, and he didn’t intend to.
His face was a study in concentration when she moved to refill her glass, clearly considering her words. If there was one thing Theodora might have come to know about her new husband is that he liked to be given a chance to think about what was said to him. He didn’t rush into answering without having given proper deliberation to what he should say in response.
He was aware of the silence, of the pause for him to speak into, and when Theodora turned back to him, he tilted his face up to her, smiling faintly at her. “I think we are both glad of that,” he said after a moment, “ Because then I would’ve had to fight some boorish and backwater baron for you and it would’ve caused a scandal.”
The king glanced to where her hand settled upon his leg, and he hesitated a moment before carefully covering it with his own before he spoke on.
“But that’s what I want too, what you said.I’m sorry if I’ve made you think otherwise. I don’t mean to. I’ve been distracted I know, and not...good at this it seems, but I want that. All of it.”
He wasn’t sure exactly how they got there: it was more difficult than he had anticipated. He kept waiting for the moment when things would just click and become effortless, but this marriage was far outside his realms of experience with relationships. Which honestly wasn’t a terribly expansive realm anyway, his focus had always been elsewhere. And Achilleas didn’t like feeling uncertain about how to do things, but there was nothing to study that would help with this. His next words were delivered resolutely, like a pledge as he gazed up at her.
“I want you to be happy. I would like to make you happy, Theodora.”
He had probably been deserving of the skeptical look she directed at him. But Achilleas had spent so long guarding his feelings lest they be used as fodder against him, pointed out as a weakness, that it didn’t make it easy to just change. And his control was as tenuous as it had ever been...there were degrees of sharing, surely? And if he couldn’t make sense of his feelings himself, how was he supposed to explain them to someone else?
Still, at least she smiled when he recognised his error, and he returned it in kind, giving a slow nod. “Mine is green too” he added, because something in common was..something. “And Spring.” He held a great affection for the lush greens that were Taengea in the springtime.
There was a quiet between them for a moment before Theodora began to speak again, and Achilleas was still as he listened to her. Nothing she said fell outside of what he hoped for their marriage. He wanted that too. If anything, she seemed almost to set her hopes lower than he did, and Achilleas frowned a little because he was [ii]trying[/i], but clearly what Theodora expected was more than he knew how to offer.
He made a small sound of assent in his throat just to show he was listening, and his attention focused on where her hands tipped the cup of wine just enough to see its contents roll. Before he’d gathered his thoughts into a response, she went on.
‘I always knew I would have to marry for the benefit of my family and that I would have little choice in who I was tied to. But I always hoped my husband would be someone that I could… Talk to. Someone who would be more than just… the father of my children, you know? Not just some formal Court arrangement where we part ways as soon as we leave the public eye. Maybe even someone I could… love. In time’
Achilleas twisted to look at her because at first, he didn’t know what she was saying, it was not the first time she had mentioned duty, nor the first time that he would contrast that with his own feeling of good fortune. Yes, it met the expectations of a marriage that their respective families had, but for Achilleas, this was something he had wanted and would have pursued had it not been for the knowledge that his choice in the matter was not really his own.
Did she think that was what he wanted? He thought he’d been more open in his desires but that she was speaking the words to him made him think he had not and he sighed through his nose because it seemed he was making a mess of this already, and he didn’t intend to.
His face was a study in concentration when she moved to refill her glass, clearly considering her words. If there was one thing Theodora might have come to know about her new husband is that he liked to be given a chance to think about what was said to him. He didn’t rush into answering without having given proper deliberation to what he should say in response.
He was aware of the silence, of the pause for him to speak into, and when Theodora turned back to him, he tilted his face up to her, smiling faintly at her. “I think we are both glad of that,” he said after a moment, “ Because then I would’ve had to fight some boorish and backwater baron for you and it would’ve caused a scandal.”
The king glanced to where her hand settled upon his leg, and he hesitated a moment before carefully covering it with his own before he spoke on.
“But that’s what I want too, what you said.I’m sorry if I’ve made you think otherwise. I don’t mean to. I’ve been distracted I know, and not...good at this it seems, but I want that. All of it.”
He wasn’t sure exactly how they got there: it was more difficult than he had anticipated. He kept waiting for the moment when things would just click and become effortless, but this marriage was far outside his realms of experience with relationships. Which honestly wasn’t a terribly expansive realm anyway, his focus had always been elsewhere. And Achilleas didn’t like feeling uncertain about how to do things, but there was nothing to study that would help with this. His next words were delivered resolutely, like a pledge as he gazed up at her.
“I want you to be happy. I would like to make you happy, Theodora.”
Because then I would’ve had to fight some boorish and backwater baron for you and it would’ve caused a scandal.
She laughed softly at the thought of him taking up arms for her, shaking her head as she teased, “I almost pity our hypothetical baron. He never would have stood a chance.”
But that’s what I want too, what you said. I’m sorry if I’ve made you think otherwise. I don’t mean to. I’ve been distracted I know, and not...good at this it seems, but I want that. All of it.
Her laugh faded as he continued to speak, the look on her face morphing to one of mild displeasure. That’s not what she’d intended to imply, that he was less than she expected, or that she thought he was indifferent to her. “That’s not what I meant,” she protested, though maybe, on some level, it was? Perhaps it was a gentle admonishment for his distance after that meeting where he’d expressed his joy in their engagement, a conversation that felt like ages ago now. Though, she couldn’t blame him, really; with everything on his shoulders, how could she berate him for not living up to what she expected? Who could, with the odds stacked against them at every turn?
Perhaps she was just being selfish. Perhaps she wasn’t much better at this than he was.
“You don’t have to apologize; I really do understand. I just… I was trying to say…” Releasing a frustrated breath and a laugh in the same sigh, she shook her head. “I don’t know what I was trying to say. Maybe I’m just tired, too.”
She looked down to where his fingers covered hers, her thumb snaking out from underneath to lightly stroke along the side of his hand. “But I’m glad you want all that, too,” she said in a softer tone, looking back up to meet his eyes again. “It will be easier, I think, when you return, and things settle down. When there isn’t so much else to get in the way.”
I want you to be happy. I would like to make you happy, Theodora.
Even if he didn’t always know the right things to say, it was hard to doubt him when he said that, the look in those storm-tossed eyes almost painfully earnest as he gazed up at her. Her face gentled, almost timid as she set her glass back off to the side. Hand cupping his cheek, she leaned down to lightly brush her lips over his, the cloying taste of wine lingering on the tip of her tongue when she pulled back.
Could they be happy together one day? She hoped so. If they were to be tied together for life, she did not want either of them to spend that life miserable. Or were the obstacles already too great? They began their marriage on a lie, a secret Theodora had no choice but to keep now. And if that weren’t already enough… Achilleas’s father dropping dead on their wedding day certainly didn’t help. Would either of them ever be able to look back on that day and feel the joy they should have? Or would it forever hang over them both like a dark shroud, some dire omen that this union would never be blessed in the ways they were said to be?
No. She had to believe it would not always be this way, or what was the point? Would she doom herself to a cheerless existence simply because things hadn’t gone the way she wanted? That was condemning both her and Achilleas before they even had the chance to be more than what they were.
“I want you to be happy too,” she murmured, her thumb drifting along his jaw. “It will get easier,” she said again, though whether she was trying to reassure him or herself, she wasn’t sure.
Grinning, Theodora eyed his hair, already drying into a fluffy mess of curls. “You know what will make me happy?” she teased with a laugh, her attempt to lighten the mood again. Her fingers moved from his face to run through it, curls springing back as she lightly tugged. “Seeing your lion’s mane look more like a sheep’s wool.”
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Because then I would’ve had to fight some boorish and backwater baron for you and it would’ve caused a scandal.
She laughed softly at the thought of him taking up arms for her, shaking her head as she teased, “I almost pity our hypothetical baron. He never would have stood a chance.”
But that’s what I want too, what you said. I’m sorry if I’ve made you think otherwise. I don’t mean to. I’ve been distracted I know, and not...good at this it seems, but I want that. All of it.
Her laugh faded as he continued to speak, the look on her face morphing to one of mild displeasure. That’s not what she’d intended to imply, that he was less than she expected, or that she thought he was indifferent to her. “That’s not what I meant,” she protested, though maybe, on some level, it was? Perhaps it was a gentle admonishment for his distance after that meeting where he’d expressed his joy in their engagement, a conversation that felt like ages ago now. Though, she couldn’t blame him, really; with everything on his shoulders, how could she berate him for not living up to what she expected? Who could, with the odds stacked against them at every turn?
Perhaps she was just being selfish. Perhaps she wasn’t much better at this than he was.
“You don’t have to apologize; I really do understand. I just… I was trying to say…” Releasing a frustrated breath and a laugh in the same sigh, she shook her head. “I don’t know what I was trying to say. Maybe I’m just tired, too.”
She looked down to where his fingers covered hers, her thumb snaking out from underneath to lightly stroke along the side of his hand. “But I’m glad you want all that, too,” she said in a softer tone, looking back up to meet his eyes again. “It will be easier, I think, when you return, and things settle down. When there isn’t so much else to get in the way.”
I want you to be happy. I would like to make you happy, Theodora.
Even if he didn’t always know the right things to say, it was hard to doubt him when he said that, the look in those storm-tossed eyes almost painfully earnest as he gazed up at her. Her face gentled, almost timid as she set her glass back off to the side. Hand cupping his cheek, she leaned down to lightly brush her lips over his, the cloying taste of wine lingering on the tip of her tongue when she pulled back.
Could they be happy together one day? She hoped so. If they were to be tied together for life, she did not want either of them to spend that life miserable. Or were the obstacles already too great? They began their marriage on a lie, a secret Theodora had no choice but to keep now. And if that weren’t already enough… Achilleas’s father dropping dead on their wedding day certainly didn’t help. Would either of them ever be able to look back on that day and feel the joy they should have? Or would it forever hang over them both like a dark shroud, some dire omen that this union would never be blessed in the ways they were said to be?
No. She had to believe it would not always be this way, or what was the point? Would she doom herself to a cheerless existence simply because things hadn’t gone the way she wanted? That was condemning both her and Achilleas before they even had the chance to be more than what they were.
“I want you to be happy too,” she murmured, her thumb drifting along his jaw. “It will get easier,” she said again, though whether she was trying to reassure him or herself, she wasn’t sure.
Grinning, Theodora eyed his hair, already drying into a fluffy mess of curls. “You know what will make me happy?” she teased with a laugh, her attempt to lighten the mood again. Her fingers moved from his face to run through it, curls springing back as she lightly tugged. “Seeing your lion’s mane look more like a sheep’s wool.”
Because then I would’ve had to fight some boorish and backwater baron for you and it would’ve caused a scandal.
She laughed softly at the thought of him taking up arms for her, shaking her head as she teased, “I almost pity our hypothetical baron. He never would have stood a chance.”
But that’s what I want too, what you said. I’m sorry if I’ve made you think otherwise. I don’t mean to. I’ve been distracted I know, and not...good at this it seems, but I want that. All of it.
Her laugh faded as he continued to speak, the look on her face morphing to one of mild displeasure. That’s not what she’d intended to imply, that he was less than she expected, or that she thought he was indifferent to her. “That’s not what I meant,” she protested, though maybe, on some level, it was? Perhaps it was a gentle admonishment for his distance after that meeting where he’d expressed his joy in their engagement, a conversation that felt like ages ago now. Though, she couldn’t blame him, really; with everything on his shoulders, how could she berate him for not living up to what she expected? Who could, with the odds stacked against them at every turn?
Perhaps she was just being selfish. Perhaps she wasn’t much better at this than he was.
“You don’t have to apologize; I really do understand. I just… I was trying to say…” Releasing a frustrated breath and a laugh in the same sigh, she shook her head. “I don’t know what I was trying to say. Maybe I’m just tired, too.”
She looked down to where his fingers covered hers, her thumb snaking out from underneath to lightly stroke along the side of his hand. “But I’m glad you want all that, too,” she said in a softer tone, looking back up to meet his eyes again. “It will be easier, I think, when you return, and things settle down. When there isn’t so much else to get in the way.”
I want you to be happy. I would like to make you happy, Theodora.
Even if he didn’t always know the right things to say, it was hard to doubt him when he said that, the look in those storm-tossed eyes almost painfully earnest as he gazed up at her. Her face gentled, almost timid as she set her glass back off to the side. Hand cupping his cheek, she leaned down to lightly brush her lips over his, the cloying taste of wine lingering on the tip of her tongue when she pulled back.
Could they be happy together one day? She hoped so. If they were to be tied together for life, she did not want either of them to spend that life miserable. Or were the obstacles already too great? They began their marriage on a lie, a secret Theodora had no choice but to keep now. And if that weren’t already enough… Achilleas’s father dropping dead on their wedding day certainly didn’t help. Would either of them ever be able to look back on that day and feel the joy they should have? Or would it forever hang over them both like a dark shroud, some dire omen that this union would never be blessed in the ways they were said to be?
No. She had to believe it would not always be this way, or what was the point? Would she doom herself to a cheerless existence simply because things hadn’t gone the way she wanted? That was condemning both her and Achilleas before they even had the chance to be more than what they were.
“I want you to be happy too,” she murmured, her thumb drifting along his jaw. “It will get easier,” she said again, though whether she was trying to reassure him or herself, she wasn’t sure.
Grinning, Theodora eyed his hair, already drying into a fluffy mess of curls. “You know what will make me happy?” she teased with a laugh, her attempt to lighten the mood again. Her fingers moved from his face to run through it, curls springing back as she lightly tugged. “Seeing your lion’s mane look more like a sheep’s wool.”
Achilleas wasn’t sure what he had said to see the laughter melt away, and something akin to displeasure take its place upon the perfectly etched featured of his wife. His confusion did not abate as she protested, because what had she meant then and exasperated at yet another miscommunication he knocked back the rest of the wine in his cup. It was apparent enough that they at least could share their frustrations as Theodora sighed and laughed in the same breath, and he glanced up at her wearing the emotion as cleanly as any she had seen on his face.
“I can’t say the right thing...I”
The gentle slide of her thumb over his hand quieted him some, and it was his turn to sigh when she turned her dark eyes back to him, and they were softer than he’d expected, tender almost.
“I hope so,” he said without meaning to, and then looked almost startled for a moment as he realised how it might sound. “Not because anything is bad..just..” He didn’t need to explain. The fates had laid a course that was rife with challenges, and he did not need to give name to the looming presence of war, nor the unspoken grief that smudged shadows beneath his eyes and sat so heavily upon his broad shoulders.
But he couldn’t mean it anymore when he said he wanted to make her happy. If it wasn’t so damned complicated and he didn’t keep tripping himself up or getting swept away in everything else that needed doing and things that he didn’t feel so uncertain in. When she kissed him, he thought at least he had done something right. There was a moment as she directed his words back at him that Achilleas felt an uncomfortable tightening in his throat because it just seemed so unfair that he was not happy, that he could not only enjoy the woman he had yearned for so long.
His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed down the knot, forcing a smile because it would get easier. It had to.
It took him a moment to realise that her gaze had drifted from his own to the haphazard mess of his hair, and Achilleas managed a half-decent attempt at indignation when she ran her fingers through the curls, only encouraging their wayward behaviour.
“A sheep?!” he repeated incredulously. “I thought you said the oil would make it soft!” And it had in a way, not just in texture, but the cherubic curls also served to soften the man who wore them, giving a more boyish air to the sharp angles of his face, made more so when a soft but genuine smile mirrored hers, the man catching a hold of her wrists so she couldn’t wreak more havoc on his hair.
“You will be sorry tomorrow when that crown will not fit atop my head” Achilleas muttered, drawing her near enough that the damp ends of her hair brushed against his chest. “But if it will make you happy then I shall let the whole of court laugh at my hair, yes.”
If only it were so simple. But if nothing else, Achilleas could not fault Theodora in her efforts, even this night when things had not gone as either of them would have hoped. But he had smiled, and not just because he had told his face too, but because for brief moments she conjured some genuine happiness, and for that he was grateful.
Wrapping his arms about her waist, he drew her near enough that she had to stand between his knees and for a moment he just held her, silently until he sighed, the warmth of his breath seeping through the fabric that divided them and ghosting over her skin. “Come to bed?” he asked quietly, thinking it would be nice just to hold her, even if he did not sleep.
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Achilleas wasn’t sure what he had said to see the laughter melt away, and something akin to displeasure take its place upon the perfectly etched featured of his wife. His confusion did not abate as she protested, because what had she meant then and exasperated at yet another miscommunication he knocked back the rest of the wine in his cup. It was apparent enough that they at least could share their frustrations as Theodora sighed and laughed in the same breath, and he glanced up at her wearing the emotion as cleanly as any she had seen on his face.
“I can’t say the right thing...I”
The gentle slide of her thumb over his hand quieted him some, and it was his turn to sigh when she turned her dark eyes back to him, and they were softer than he’d expected, tender almost.
“I hope so,” he said without meaning to, and then looked almost startled for a moment as he realised how it might sound. “Not because anything is bad..just..” He didn’t need to explain. The fates had laid a course that was rife with challenges, and he did not need to give name to the looming presence of war, nor the unspoken grief that smudged shadows beneath his eyes and sat so heavily upon his broad shoulders.
But he couldn’t mean it anymore when he said he wanted to make her happy. If it wasn’t so damned complicated and he didn’t keep tripping himself up or getting swept away in everything else that needed doing and things that he didn’t feel so uncertain in. When she kissed him, he thought at least he had done something right. There was a moment as she directed his words back at him that Achilleas felt an uncomfortable tightening in his throat because it just seemed so unfair that he was not happy, that he could not only enjoy the woman he had yearned for so long.
His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed down the knot, forcing a smile because it would get easier. It had to.
It took him a moment to realise that her gaze had drifted from his own to the haphazard mess of his hair, and Achilleas managed a half-decent attempt at indignation when she ran her fingers through the curls, only encouraging their wayward behaviour.
“A sheep?!” he repeated incredulously. “I thought you said the oil would make it soft!” And it had in a way, not just in texture, but the cherubic curls also served to soften the man who wore them, giving a more boyish air to the sharp angles of his face, made more so when a soft but genuine smile mirrored hers, the man catching a hold of her wrists so she couldn’t wreak more havoc on his hair.
“You will be sorry tomorrow when that crown will not fit atop my head” Achilleas muttered, drawing her near enough that the damp ends of her hair brushed against his chest. “But if it will make you happy then I shall let the whole of court laugh at my hair, yes.”
If only it were so simple. But if nothing else, Achilleas could not fault Theodora in her efforts, even this night when things had not gone as either of them would have hoped. But he had smiled, and not just because he had told his face too, but because for brief moments she conjured some genuine happiness, and for that he was grateful.
Wrapping his arms about her waist, he drew her near enough that she had to stand between his knees and for a moment he just held her, silently until he sighed, the warmth of his breath seeping through the fabric that divided them and ghosting over her skin. “Come to bed?” he asked quietly, thinking it would be nice just to hold her, even if he did not sleep.
Achilleas wasn’t sure what he had said to see the laughter melt away, and something akin to displeasure take its place upon the perfectly etched featured of his wife. His confusion did not abate as she protested, because what had she meant then and exasperated at yet another miscommunication he knocked back the rest of the wine in his cup. It was apparent enough that they at least could share their frustrations as Theodora sighed and laughed in the same breath, and he glanced up at her wearing the emotion as cleanly as any she had seen on his face.
“I can’t say the right thing...I”
The gentle slide of her thumb over his hand quieted him some, and it was his turn to sigh when she turned her dark eyes back to him, and they were softer than he’d expected, tender almost.
“I hope so,” he said without meaning to, and then looked almost startled for a moment as he realised how it might sound. “Not because anything is bad..just..” He didn’t need to explain. The fates had laid a course that was rife with challenges, and he did not need to give name to the looming presence of war, nor the unspoken grief that smudged shadows beneath his eyes and sat so heavily upon his broad shoulders.
But he couldn’t mean it anymore when he said he wanted to make her happy. If it wasn’t so damned complicated and he didn’t keep tripping himself up or getting swept away in everything else that needed doing and things that he didn’t feel so uncertain in. When she kissed him, he thought at least he had done something right. There was a moment as she directed his words back at him that Achilleas felt an uncomfortable tightening in his throat because it just seemed so unfair that he was not happy, that he could not only enjoy the woman he had yearned for so long.
His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed down the knot, forcing a smile because it would get easier. It had to.
It took him a moment to realise that her gaze had drifted from his own to the haphazard mess of his hair, and Achilleas managed a half-decent attempt at indignation when she ran her fingers through the curls, only encouraging their wayward behaviour.
“A sheep?!” he repeated incredulously. “I thought you said the oil would make it soft!” And it had in a way, not just in texture, but the cherubic curls also served to soften the man who wore them, giving a more boyish air to the sharp angles of his face, made more so when a soft but genuine smile mirrored hers, the man catching a hold of her wrists so she couldn’t wreak more havoc on his hair.
“You will be sorry tomorrow when that crown will not fit atop my head” Achilleas muttered, drawing her near enough that the damp ends of her hair brushed against his chest. “But if it will make you happy then I shall let the whole of court laugh at my hair, yes.”
If only it were so simple. But if nothing else, Achilleas could not fault Theodora in her efforts, even this night when things had not gone as either of them would have hoped. But he had smiled, and not just because he had told his face too, but because for brief moments she conjured some genuine happiness, and for that he was grateful.
Wrapping his arms about her waist, he drew her near enough that she had to stand between his knees and for a moment he just held her, silently until he sighed, the warmth of his breath seeping through the fabric that divided them and ghosting over her skin. “Come to bed?” he asked quietly, thinking it would be nice just to hold her, even if he did not sleep.
I hope so. Not because anything is bad… just…
“I know,” Theodora murmured in response. He didn’t need to explain; she most definitely understood. Nothing seemed to go in their favor since the beginning, and to call it ‘frustrating’ would be too mild a term. Things had to get easier, for both their sakes, for how much harder could they truly get?
Then again, perhaps it was better if she did not ask herself such questions, even silently. Tempting fate was never wise, particularly when it already seemed to regard them so poorly.
However, his half-indignant response to her treatment of his hair made her think perhaps it wasn’t all hopeless, laughing when he caught her wrists. “It did make it soft,” she protested as she met his gaze again, a grin resting lazily on plush lips. “I didn’t say it wouldn’t curl. You can thank the gods for that, not me.”
His smile reflected hers before he muttered about the crown no longer fitting on his head. “Why, you’ll just start a new fashion, that’s all,” she insisted as he pulled her in closer, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders. The queen’s face softened further as the king professed that he would wear his hair curly in spite of the laughter sure to follow if it made her happy, leaning over to press her lips to his forehead. “If they laugh, I’ll make them sorry,” she promised, running her fingers through the soft curls one last time before letting her hand drop.
Achilleas’s arms enfolded her, pulling her in against himself and going quiet. Her own arms encircled his neck, gently resting her cheek on his shoulder. She didn’t speak either, simply closed her eyes and rested in his embrace—quietly glad that the night had not ended as disastrously as it seemed it might. A moment of peace in a day of chaos was worth it, even with the initial cost.
Breaking the silence, her husband’s quiet voice asked her to come to bed, Theodora lifting her head to nod in response. A gentle hand stroked over his cheek as she stepped back from the circle of his arms, relinquishing herself of the hastily pinned chiton she wore and setting it off to the side. Blowing out candles, she pushed the covers back and climbed into bed when he did—waiting until he was settled before curling into his side.
Head pillowed against his chest, her arm wrapped around his waist, breathing in a quiet sigh as she closed her eyes. The room was silent, dark, a cool breeze blowing through the window that had her shivering and pulling the blanket up tighter around them. More comfortable, she forced her muscles to relax and her mind to empty, sure that such an exhausting day would see them both asleep almost immediately.
Theodora wasn’t sure how long she laid there before it became obvious that sleep wasn’t going to happen any time soon, her brain refusing to settle. In addition to everything else weighing on her, it was as if every little sound was amplified tenfold. The breeze in the window seemed a gale of wind, an idle set of footsteps down the hall was like a stampede, the crackle in the brazier like a tree falling. Anxious with the noise and exhausted, but clearly not enough to sleep, her mind kept conjuring images of the impending war, a blood-soaked battlefield, Achilleas’s cold white form returned to her with coins on unmoving eyes…
“Achilleas?” she murmured into the dark, inhaling deeply and shoving the disturbing image aside. “Are you still awake?”
She wasn’t sure; the rise and fall of his chest beneath her ear seemed steady enough, but she knew all of his nights since their wedding had been restless. When he answered in the affirmative, she turned her head up toward his face. Without enough light to see his features, she lay back against his shoulder again and slowly released the breath she’d been holding.
Unable to see him and she assumed he was unable to see her, it was easier to ask the questions that she buried in broad daylight—afraid and unwilling to face what the answers might be. Still, she hesitated for a moment before she spoke again, biting her lip.
“Do you think we’ll win?” She referred, of course, to the war, her question more apparent as she went on, “I know… I know you have been in battle before, but… Do you think this time will be different? Are you scared?” She went quiet for another minute, her voice a low murmur when she added, “I am.”
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I hope so. Not because anything is bad… just…
“I know,” Theodora murmured in response. He didn’t need to explain; she most definitely understood. Nothing seemed to go in their favor since the beginning, and to call it ‘frustrating’ would be too mild a term. Things had to get easier, for both their sakes, for how much harder could they truly get?
Then again, perhaps it was better if she did not ask herself such questions, even silently. Tempting fate was never wise, particularly when it already seemed to regard them so poorly.
However, his half-indignant response to her treatment of his hair made her think perhaps it wasn’t all hopeless, laughing when he caught her wrists. “It did make it soft,” she protested as she met his gaze again, a grin resting lazily on plush lips. “I didn’t say it wouldn’t curl. You can thank the gods for that, not me.”
His smile reflected hers before he muttered about the crown no longer fitting on his head. “Why, you’ll just start a new fashion, that’s all,” she insisted as he pulled her in closer, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders. The queen’s face softened further as the king professed that he would wear his hair curly in spite of the laughter sure to follow if it made her happy, leaning over to press her lips to his forehead. “If they laugh, I’ll make them sorry,” she promised, running her fingers through the soft curls one last time before letting her hand drop.
Achilleas’s arms enfolded her, pulling her in against himself and going quiet. Her own arms encircled his neck, gently resting her cheek on his shoulder. She didn’t speak either, simply closed her eyes and rested in his embrace—quietly glad that the night had not ended as disastrously as it seemed it might. A moment of peace in a day of chaos was worth it, even with the initial cost.
Breaking the silence, her husband’s quiet voice asked her to come to bed, Theodora lifting her head to nod in response. A gentle hand stroked over his cheek as she stepped back from the circle of his arms, relinquishing herself of the hastily pinned chiton she wore and setting it off to the side. Blowing out candles, she pushed the covers back and climbed into bed when he did—waiting until he was settled before curling into his side.
Head pillowed against his chest, her arm wrapped around his waist, breathing in a quiet sigh as she closed her eyes. The room was silent, dark, a cool breeze blowing through the window that had her shivering and pulling the blanket up tighter around them. More comfortable, she forced her muscles to relax and her mind to empty, sure that such an exhausting day would see them both asleep almost immediately.
Theodora wasn’t sure how long she laid there before it became obvious that sleep wasn’t going to happen any time soon, her brain refusing to settle. In addition to everything else weighing on her, it was as if every little sound was amplified tenfold. The breeze in the window seemed a gale of wind, an idle set of footsteps down the hall was like a stampede, the crackle in the brazier like a tree falling. Anxious with the noise and exhausted, but clearly not enough to sleep, her mind kept conjuring images of the impending war, a blood-soaked battlefield, Achilleas’s cold white form returned to her with coins on unmoving eyes…
“Achilleas?” she murmured into the dark, inhaling deeply and shoving the disturbing image aside. “Are you still awake?”
She wasn’t sure; the rise and fall of his chest beneath her ear seemed steady enough, but she knew all of his nights since their wedding had been restless. When he answered in the affirmative, she turned her head up toward his face. Without enough light to see his features, she lay back against his shoulder again and slowly released the breath she’d been holding.
Unable to see him and she assumed he was unable to see her, it was easier to ask the questions that she buried in broad daylight—afraid and unwilling to face what the answers might be. Still, she hesitated for a moment before she spoke again, biting her lip.
“Do you think we’ll win?” She referred, of course, to the war, her question more apparent as she went on, “I know… I know you have been in battle before, but… Do you think this time will be different? Are you scared?” She went quiet for another minute, her voice a low murmur when she added, “I am.”
I hope so. Not because anything is bad… just…
“I know,” Theodora murmured in response. He didn’t need to explain; she most definitely understood. Nothing seemed to go in their favor since the beginning, and to call it ‘frustrating’ would be too mild a term. Things had to get easier, for both their sakes, for how much harder could they truly get?
Then again, perhaps it was better if she did not ask herself such questions, even silently. Tempting fate was never wise, particularly when it already seemed to regard them so poorly.
However, his half-indignant response to her treatment of his hair made her think perhaps it wasn’t all hopeless, laughing when he caught her wrists. “It did make it soft,” she protested as she met his gaze again, a grin resting lazily on plush lips. “I didn’t say it wouldn’t curl. You can thank the gods for that, not me.”
His smile reflected hers before he muttered about the crown no longer fitting on his head. “Why, you’ll just start a new fashion, that’s all,” she insisted as he pulled her in closer, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders. The queen’s face softened further as the king professed that he would wear his hair curly in spite of the laughter sure to follow if it made her happy, leaning over to press her lips to his forehead. “If they laugh, I’ll make them sorry,” she promised, running her fingers through the soft curls one last time before letting her hand drop.
Achilleas’s arms enfolded her, pulling her in against himself and going quiet. Her own arms encircled his neck, gently resting her cheek on his shoulder. She didn’t speak either, simply closed her eyes and rested in his embrace—quietly glad that the night had not ended as disastrously as it seemed it might. A moment of peace in a day of chaos was worth it, even with the initial cost.
Breaking the silence, her husband’s quiet voice asked her to come to bed, Theodora lifting her head to nod in response. A gentle hand stroked over his cheek as she stepped back from the circle of his arms, relinquishing herself of the hastily pinned chiton she wore and setting it off to the side. Blowing out candles, she pushed the covers back and climbed into bed when he did—waiting until he was settled before curling into his side.
Head pillowed against his chest, her arm wrapped around his waist, breathing in a quiet sigh as she closed her eyes. The room was silent, dark, a cool breeze blowing through the window that had her shivering and pulling the blanket up tighter around them. More comfortable, she forced her muscles to relax and her mind to empty, sure that such an exhausting day would see them both asleep almost immediately.
Theodora wasn’t sure how long she laid there before it became obvious that sleep wasn’t going to happen any time soon, her brain refusing to settle. In addition to everything else weighing on her, it was as if every little sound was amplified tenfold. The breeze in the window seemed a gale of wind, an idle set of footsteps down the hall was like a stampede, the crackle in the brazier like a tree falling. Anxious with the noise and exhausted, but clearly not enough to sleep, her mind kept conjuring images of the impending war, a blood-soaked battlefield, Achilleas’s cold white form returned to her with coins on unmoving eyes…
“Achilleas?” she murmured into the dark, inhaling deeply and shoving the disturbing image aside. “Are you still awake?”
She wasn’t sure; the rise and fall of his chest beneath her ear seemed steady enough, but she knew all of his nights since their wedding had been restless. When he answered in the affirmative, she turned her head up toward his face. Without enough light to see his features, she lay back against his shoulder again and slowly released the breath she’d been holding.
Unable to see him and she assumed he was unable to see her, it was easier to ask the questions that she buried in broad daylight—afraid and unwilling to face what the answers might be. Still, she hesitated for a moment before she spoke again, biting her lip.
“Do you think we’ll win?” She referred, of course, to the war, her question more apparent as she went on, “I know… I know you have been in battle before, but… Do you think this time will be different? Are you scared?” She went quiet for another minute, her voice a low murmur when she added, “I am.”
Smiles seemed to fall between them more easily, which was was a good thing, Achilleas observed as Theodora ran her fingers through his hair again so it would be even more impossible to tame come the morning. “A new fashion?” he echoed doubtfully with a slight shake of his head. “ It might be beyond even your powers of persuasion to convince anyone of that”
But she was still smiling and perhaps his dignity was worth the sacrifice for that small victory he thought, but then he remembered he’d all but given that up already once that evening and it was hard to feel encouraged.
Time to call it a night and hope that the dawn brought with it another chance to do this better.
Relinquishing his hold upon Theodora, Achilleas leant briefly into the touch across his face before he stood and moved away, crossing the room to ready himself for bed. This in itself was a novelty, for she had been abed usually by the time he had retired and he had crept in and tried not to disturb there. There was something oddly intimate about the simple ritual of disrobing and sliding under cool sheets at the same time. He welcomed the warmth of her body pressed against his, dropped a kiss atop her hear when she settled it upon his chest and tried to find some peace in the darkness and the steadiness of her breathing.
But even though his eyes felt gritty and heavy with fatigue, sleep proved a fickle friend to him again, and he gazed up at the ceiling and tried not to fidget, attempted to find some comfort in the weight of her arm across his stomach instead of feeling constricted. Beside him, Theodora seemed to have settled to sleep almost immediately, and so he almost startled when she spoke up into the quiet, convinced he had been alone with his thoughts.
“I’m awake” he answered, feeling her move and glancing to where he could only make out the dimmest version of her features, painted grey and shadow in the dark. But Theodora rested her head back against his chest and sighed, and he thought that perhaps that was to be to the extent of the interruption to his sleepless musings until she spoke again, an uncertainty he wasn’t used to hearing in her voice making him pay more heed. She didn’t need to qualify the question, but he hesitated in answering, only because there were no perfect words that would set her mind at rest. And when she went on, he blinked up into the blackness and frowned.
Yes, he was scared, not of fighting...not of drawing his sword and cutting down those that would make threats against his home and his people. But he was afraid of making the wrong decisions, of tripping up and leading his men into a situation that could turn ill, or equally of hesitating and not acting when he needed to, and waiting just too long. Drawing a slow breath, he tried to find a balance in his answer that was honest and yet would not give her reason to fear.
“ We have succeeded against the Egyptians before,” he said, slowly and carefully. “ I hope that we can buy ourselves time enough that our allies can come to our aid. There is no reason to believe we cannot triumph again.”
That was reassuring, and he might have left it there had it not been for her revelation of her own fear and the almost anonymity that the darkness pretended to offer. “Fear is not helpful in battle” His voice was quieter still as he recited that what had been preached at him since he was a child. “That part of it does not scare me. It’s a job, and I know how to do it. I…” Achileas tried to settle on a way to express his concerns about the rest of it. “ There has always been someone else to ask, before,” he said after a moment, feeling the truth of it seep cold in his veins. The people he would have asked...his father, Stephanos, Zacharias...gone. If not to Thanatos then entirely out of his reach, and who knew if Stephanos would even want to talk to him again. He felt alone, and he wondered if everyone who had been in this position had felt the same, or if he was just second-guessing himself too much. “ I don’t know” he swallowed around that admission. “It feels different when it’s all resting on my shoulders”
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Smiles seemed to fall between them more easily, which was was a good thing, Achilleas observed as Theodora ran her fingers through his hair again so it would be even more impossible to tame come the morning. “A new fashion?” he echoed doubtfully with a slight shake of his head. “ It might be beyond even your powers of persuasion to convince anyone of that”
But she was still smiling and perhaps his dignity was worth the sacrifice for that small victory he thought, but then he remembered he’d all but given that up already once that evening and it was hard to feel encouraged.
Time to call it a night and hope that the dawn brought with it another chance to do this better.
Relinquishing his hold upon Theodora, Achilleas leant briefly into the touch across his face before he stood and moved away, crossing the room to ready himself for bed. This in itself was a novelty, for she had been abed usually by the time he had retired and he had crept in and tried not to disturb there. There was something oddly intimate about the simple ritual of disrobing and sliding under cool sheets at the same time. He welcomed the warmth of her body pressed against his, dropped a kiss atop her hear when she settled it upon his chest and tried to find some peace in the darkness and the steadiness of her breathing.
But even though his eyes felt gritty and heavy with fatigue, sleep proved a fickle friend to him again, and he gazed up at the ceiling and tried not to fidget, attempted to find some comfort in the weight of her arm across his stomach instead of feeling constricted. Beside him, Theodora seemed to have settled to sleep almost immediately, and so he almost startled when she spoke up into the quiet, convinced he had been alone with his thoughts.
“I’m awake” he answered, feeling her move and glancing to where he could only make out the dimmest version of her features, painted grey and shadow in the dark. But Theodora rested her head back against his chest and sighed, and he thought that perhaps that was to be to the extent of the interruption to his sleepless musings until she spoke again, an uncertainty he wasn’t used to hearing in her voice making him pay more heed. She didn’t need to qualify the question, but he hesitated in answering, only because there were no perfect words that would set her mind at rest. And when she went on, he blinked up into the blackness and frowned.
Yes, he was scared, not of fighting...not of drawing his sword and cutting down those that would make threats against his home and his people. But he was afraid of making the wrong decisions, of tripping up and leading his men into a situation that could turn ill, or equally of hesitating and not acting when he needed to, and waiting just too long. Drawing a slow breath, he tried to find a balance in his answer that was honest and yet would not give her reason to fear.
“ We have succeeded against the Egyptians before,” he said, slowly and carefully. “ I hope that we can buy ourselves time enough that our allies can come to our aid. There is no reason to believe we cannot triumph again.”
That was reassuring, and he might have left it there had it not been for her revelation of her own fear and the almost anonymity that the darkness pretended to offer. “Fear is not helpful in battle” His voice was quieter still as he recited that what had been preached at him since he was a child. “That part of it does not scare me. It’s a job, and I know how to do it. I…” Achileas tried to settle on a way to express his concerns about the rest of it. “ There has always been someone else to ask, before,” he said after a moment, feeling the truth of it seep cold in his veins. The people he would have asked...his father, Stephanos, Zacharias...gone. If not to Thanatos then entirely out of his reach, and who knew if Stephanos would even want to talk to him again. He felt alone, and he wondered if everyone who had been in this position had felt the same, or if he was just second-guessing himself too much. “ I don’t know” he swallowed around that admission. “It feels different when it’s all resting on my shoulders”
Smiles seemed to fall between them more easily, which was was a good thing, Achilleas observed as Theodora ran her fingers through his hair again so it would be even more impossible to tame come the morning. “A new fashion?” he echoed doubtfully with a slight shake of his head. “ It might be beyond even your powers of persuasion to convince anyone of that”
But she was still smiling and perhaps his dignity was worth the sacrifice for that small victory he thought, but then he remembered he’d all but given that up already once that evening and it was hard to feel encouraged.
Time to call it a night and hope that the dawn brought with it another chance to do this better.
Relinquishing his hold upon Theodora, Achilleas leant briefly into the touch across his face before he stood and moved away, crossing the room to ready himself for bed. This in itself was a novelty, for she had been abed usually by the time he had retired and he had crept in and tried not to disturb there. There was something oddly intimate about the simple ritual of disrobing and sliding under cool sheets at the same time. He welcomed the warmth of her body pressed against his, dropped a kiss atop her hear when she settled it upon his chest and tried to find some peace in the darkness and the steadiness of her breathing.
But even though his eyes felt gritty and heavy with fatigue, sleep proved a fickle friend to him again, and he gazed up at the ceiling and tried not to fidget, attempted to find some comfort in the weight of her arm across his stomach instead of feeling constricted. Beside him, Theodora seemed to have settled to sleep almost immediately, and so he almost startled when she spoke up into the quiet, convinced he had been alone with his thoughts.
“I’m awake” he answered, feeling her move and glancing to where he could only make out the dimmest version of her features, painted grey and shadow in the dark. But Theodora rested her head back against his chest and sighed, and he thought that perhaps that was to be to the extent of the interruption to his sleepless musings until she spoke again, an uncertainty he wasn’t used to hearing in her voice making him pay more heed. She didn’t need to qualify the question, but he hesitated in answering, only because there were no perfect words that would set her mind at rest. And when she went on, he blinked up into the blackness and frowned.
Yes, he was scared, not of fighting...not of drawing his sword and cutting down those that would make threats against his home and his people. But he was afraid of making the wrong decisions, of tripping up and leading his men into a situation that could turn ill, or equally of hesitating and not acting when he needed to, and waiting just too long. Drawing a slow breath, he tried to find a balance in his answer that was honest and yet would not give her reason to fear.
“ We have succeeded against the Egyptians before,” he said, slowly and carefully. “ I hope that we can buy ourselves time enough that our allies can come to our aid. There is no reason to believe we cannot triumph again.”
That was reassuring, and he might have left it there had it not been for her revelation of her own fear and the almost anonymity that the darkness pretended to offer. “Fear is not helpful in battle” His voice was quieter still as he recited that what had been preached at him since he was a child. “That part of it does not scare me. It’s a job, and I know how to do it. I…” Achileas tried to settle on a way to express his concerns about the rest of it. “ There has always been someone else to ask, before,” he said after a moment, feeling the truth of it seep cold in his veins. The people he would have asked...his father, Stephanos, Zacharias...gone. If not to Thanatos then entirely out of his reach, and who knew if Stephanos would even want to talk to him again. He felt alone, and he wondered if everyone who had been in this position had felt the same, or if he was just second-guessing himself too much. “ I don’t know” he swallowed around that admission. “It feels different when it’s all resting on my shoulders”
Theodora wasn’t sure if she felt comforted or not in his answer, her husband assuring her they had beaten the Egyptians before and could do it again. That was something, at least, but she wasn’t so certain. Egypt was a very large country, was it not? And with a new Pharaoh looking to prove himself… She would simply pray that Achilleas’s prowess in battle would see him through. They said he was gods-touched, and she had to believe that, for his sake and her own. If he was already blessed, surely they would take more care in looking after him?
The queen was thankful for the cover of darkness as he continued to speak, the look of surprise on her face hidden from his gaze. Perhaps it was that same comfort of obscurity that allowed him to speak a little more openly, admitting his own lack of surety, that he always had someone else to rely on before. She could only dream how he must feel now; having suddenly and unexpectedly attained the crown, he now must lead forces into battle without warning. Even if he had expected to be in the thick of it as it was, to now be the one responsible for so many lives…
She did not envy him.
“I would be terrified,” she responded when he went quiet again. “I can’t imagine what that must be like, to… to have to be in charge of all this.” She shook her head, hair brushing lightly against his skin in the motion. “I’m sorry that it’s a weight you have to bear. As much as it scares me, I wish there was a way I could help.” She supposed holding Taengea together in the meantime was the best way she could help, but she wished there was something more… concrete she could do to ensure the safety of her husband and his men. It was in the hands of the gods now, she knew, and she made a note to herself to head to the temples as soon as she could. If she could do nothing else, she could pray.
“You’re very smart, though,” she went on, belatedly thinking perhaps expressing her own fear was not the best way of showing her support and offering reassurance instead. He did not need to carry her terror, as well as his own doubts. “And strong and brave. You will do the right thing, I know you will.”
Her arm gently squeezed around his waist, his toned flesh about as yielding as stone. “Just bring yourself home in one piece, all right? And if you must pick up a few more scars, try to keep them away from your face.” Glancing back up again, she hoped he could see at least part of her grin. “I quite like it the way it is now.”
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Theodora wasn’t sure if she felt comforted or not in his answer, her husband assuring her they had beaten the Egyptians before and could do it again. That was something, at least, but she wasn’t so certain. Egypt was a very large country, was it not? And with a new Pharaoh looking to prove himself… She would simply pray that Achilleas’s prowess in battle would see him through. They said he was gods-touched, and she had to believe that, for his sake and her own. If he was already blessed, surely they would take more care in looking after him?
The queen was thankful for the cover of darkness as he continued to speak, the look of surprise on her face hidden from his gaze. Perhaps it was that same comfort of obscurity that allowed him to speak a little more openly, admitting his own lack of surety, that he always had someone else to rely on before. She could only dream how he must feel now; having suddenly and unexpectedly attained the crown, he now must lead forces into battle without warning. Even if he had expected to be in the thick of it as it was, to now be the one responsible for so many lives…
She did not envy him.
“I would be terrified,” she responded when he went quiet again. “I can’t imagine what that must be like, to… to have to be in charge of all this.” She shook her head, hair brushing lightly against his skin in the motion. “I’m sorry that it’s a weight you have to bear. As much as it scares me, I wish there was a way I could help.” She supposed holding Taengea together in the meantime was the best way she could help, but she wished there was something more… concrete she could do to ensure the safety of her husband and his men. It was in the hands of the gods now, she knew, and she made a note to herself to head to the temples as soon as she could. If she could do nothing else, she could pray.
“You’re very smart, though,” she went on, belatedly thinking perhaps expressing her own fear was not the best way of showing her support and offering reassurance instead. He did not need to carry her terror, as well as his own doubts. “And strong and brave. You will do the right thing, I know you will.”
Her arm gently squeezed around his waist, his toned flesh about as yielding as stone. “Just bring yourself home in one piece, all right? And if you must pick up a few more scars, try to keep them away from your face.” Glancing back up again, she hoped he could see at least part of her grin. “I quite like it the way it is now.”
Theodora wasn’t sure if she felt comforted or not in his answer, her husband assuring her they had beaten the Egyptians before and could do it again. That was something, at least, but she wasn’t so certain. Egypt was a very large country, was it not? And with a new Pharaoh looking to prove himself… She would simply pray that Achilleas’s prowess in battle would see him through. They said he was gods-touched, and she had to believe that, for his sake and her own. If he was already blessed, surely they would take more care in looking after him?
The queen was thankful for the cover of darkness as he continued to speak, the look of surprise on her face hidden from his gaze. Perhaps it was that same comfort of obscurity that allowed him to speak a little more openly, admitting his own lack of surety, that he always had someone else to rely on before. She could only dream how he must feel now; having suddenly and unexpectedly attained the crown, he now must lead forces into battle without warning. Even if he had expected to be in the thick of it as it was, to now be the one responsible for so many lives…
She did not envy him.
“I would be terrified,” she responded when he went quiet again. “I can’t imagine what that must be like, to… to have to be in charge of all this.” She shook her head, hair brushing lightly against his skin in the motion. “I’m sorry that it’s a weight you have to bear. As much as it scares me, I wish there was a way I could help.” She supposed holding Taengea together in the meantime was the best way she could help, but she wished there was something more… concrete she could do to ensure the safety of her husband and his men. It was in the hands of the gods now, she knew, and she made a note to herself to head to the temples as soon as she could. If she could do nothing else, she could pray.
“You’re very smart, though,” she went on, belatedly thinking perhaps expressing her own fear was not the best way of showing her support and offering reassurance instead. He did not need to carry her terror, as well as his own doubts. “And strong and brave. You will do the right thing, I know you will.”
Her arm gently squeezed around his waist, his toned flesh about as yielding as stone. “Just bring yourself home in one piece, all right? And if you must pick up a few more scars, try to keep them away from your face.” Glancing back up again, she hoped he could see at least part of her grin. “I quite like it the way it is now.”
He wasn’t sure why he was telling her all of that: it was not a thing that could be fixed, the situation was as it was. He just needed to get his head down and get on with it. Talking was not going to see him wake up the next morning in a different scenario. There was no point.
But somehow, even just speaking the words into the darkness had something unwind a little, and Achilleas drew a long breath, released it again before Theodora’s voice sounded once more.
‘I would be terrified’
Of course, she would. She had not been gifted the education he had, not been schooled in warcraft. It was a foolish comparison. It would be understandable for her to be paralyzed with fear, no one would think badly of her.
Achilleas should not be feeling the way he felt.
‘I’m sorry that it’s a weight you have to bear. As much as it scares me, I wish there was a way I could help’
His lips curved into a whisper of a smile that she would not see because he believed her, that she would help if she could. If nothing else, he had learnt that she would try to ease him where she could. But as Queen, her role in this would be different; she would need to be a figure of strength and confidence for the Taengean’s to rally to. It was no small undertaking in itself, and his fingers traced lightly across her arm in a silent acknowledgement of her words and of the burdens she too would bear. Neither of them had been prepared for this.
The idle patterns he traced across her skin ceased a moment later, and for a beat, the steady rise and fall of his chest broke rhythm as he held a breath.
“Am I now?” Though he didn’t doubt her well-meaning, those words felt like platitudes, and he disliked that he had made her feel as if she needed to comfort him. It was another chink in his armour, another weakness and he kept finding them, like a leak in a rainstorm. He hated it almost more than the uncertainty in his situation, the feeling that he was not even holding himself together.
As if to deflect from the slightly harder edge to his words, he shifted to wrap an arm about her. Would he do the right thing? He could only try and predict the course of action that would yield the best results. Time would prove the judge of whether he had been right or not: that and the eyes and minds of an entire nation.
Forcing a quiet huff of laughter at her words, Achilleas was glad of the shadows to shield his expression, because it was clear that Theodora was either choosing to pretend or that she knew nothing of war. He would pretend with her then, for maybe it was easier than to dabble with the reality of it.
“I’ll do my best.” Promising nothing because he knew better than to assume himself infallible, they were weightless words as hers had been, but perhaps she could draw comfort from them all the same.
Silence followed, the breeze sent ripples through the silken drapes at the window, and he was so still again that she would have been forgiven for thinking their conversation over. But whether it was the darkened or in the spirit of returning her confidence with one of his own, the low rumble of Achilleas’ voice sounded once again, and he did not speak of war any longer.
“Your Uncle holds lawful power over Dynasteia Mikaelidas,” he said, deliberately neutral. “ A parting gift from my father, that absolute lack of faith in Emilios or myself.”
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He wasn’t sure why he was telling her all of that: it was not a thing that could be fixed, the situation was as it was. He just needed to get his head down and get on with it. Talking was not going to see him wake up the next morning in a different scenario. There was no point.
But somehow, even just speaking the words into the darkness had something unwind a little, and Achilleas drew a long breath, released it again before Theodora’s voice sounded once more.
‘I would be terrified’
Of course, she would. She had not been gifted the education he had, not been schooled in warcraft. It was a foolish comparison. It would be understandable for her to be paralyzed with fear, no one would think badly of her.
Achilleas should not be feeling the way he felt.
‘I’m sorry that it’s a weight you have to bear. As much as it scares me, I wish there was a way I could help’
His lips curved into a whisper of a smile that she would not see because he believed her, that she would help if she could. If nothing else, he had learnt that she would try to ease him where she could. But as Queen, her role in this would be different; she would need to be a figure of strength and confidence for the Taengean’s to rally to. It was no small undertaking in itself, and his fingers traced lightly across her arm in a silent acknowledgement of her words and of the burdens she too would bear. Neither of them had been prepared for this.
The idle patterns he traced across her skin ceased a moment later, and for a beat, the steady rise and fall of his chest broke rhythm as he held a breath.
“Am I now?” Though he didn’t doubt her well-meaning, those words felt like platitudes, and he disliked that he had made her feel as if she needed to comfort him. It was another chink in his armour, another weakness and he kept finding them, like a leak in a rainstorm. He hated it almost more than the uncertainty in his situation, the feeling that he was not even holding himself together.
As if to deflect from the slightly harder edge to his words, he shifted to wrap an arm about her. Would he do the right thing? He could only try and predict the course of action that would yield the best results. Time would prove the judge of whether he had been right or not: that and the eyes and minds of an entire nation.
Forcing a quiet huff of laughter at her words, Achilleas was glad of the shadows to shield his expression, because it was clear that Theodora was either choosing to pretend or that she knew nothing of war. He would pretend with her then, for maybe it was easier than to dabble with the reality of it.
“I’ll do my best.” Promising nothing because he knew better than to assume himself infallible, they were weightless words as hers had been, but perhaps she could draw comfort from them all the same.
Silence followed, the breeze sent ripples through the silken drapes at the window, and he was so still again that she would have been forgiven for thinking their conversation over. But whether it was the darkened or in the spirit of returning her confidence with one of his own, the low rumble of Achilleas’ voice sounded once again, and he did not speak of war any longer.
“Your Uncle holds lawful power over Dynasteia Mikaelidas,” he said, deliberately neutral. “ A parting gift from my father, that absolute lack of faith in Emilios or myself.”
He wasn’t sure why he was telling her all of that: it was not a thing that could be fixed, the situation was as it was. He just needed to get his head down and get on with it. Talking was not going to see him wake up the next morning in a different scenario. There was no point.
But somehow, even just speaking the words into the darkness had something unwind a little, and Achilleas drew a long breath, released it again before Theodora’s voice sounded once more.
‘I would be terrified’
Of course, she would. She had not been gifted the education he had, not been schooled in warcraft. It was a foolish comparison. It would be understandable for her to be paralyzed with fear, no one would think badly of her.
Achilleas should not be feeling the way he felt.
‘I’m sorry that it’s a weight you have to bear. As much as it scares me, I wish there was a way I could help’
His lips curved into a whisper of a smile that she would not see because he believed her, that she would help if she could. If nothing else, he had learnt that she would try to ease him where she could. But as Queen, her role in this would be different; she would need to be a figure of strength and confidence for the Taengean’s to rally to. It was no small undertaking in itself, and his fingers traced lightly across her arm in a silent acknowledgement of her words and of the burdens she too would bear. Neither of them had been prepared for this.
The idle patterns he traced across her skin ceased a moment later, and for a beat, the steady rise and fall of his chest broke rhythm as he held a breath.
“Am I now?” Though he didn’t doubt her well-meaning, those words felt like platitudes, and he disliked that he had made her feel as if she needed to comfort him. It was another chink in his armour, another weakness and he kept finding them, like a leak in a rainstorm. He hated it almost more than the uncertainty in his situation, the feeling that he was not even holding himself together.
As if to deflect from the slightly harder edge to his words, he shifted to wrap an arm about her. Would he do the right thing? He could only try and predict the course of action that would yield the best results. Time would prove the judge of whether he had been right or not: that and the eyes and minds of an entire nation.
Forcing a quiet huff of laughter at her words, Achilleas was glad of the shadows to shield his expression, because it was clear that Theodora was either choosing to pretend or that she knew nothing of war. He would pretend with her then, for maybe it was easier than to dabble with the reality of it.
“I’ll do my best.” Promising nothing because he knew better than to assume himself infallible, they were weightless words as hers had been, but perhaps she could draw comfort from them all the same.
Silence followed, the breeze sent ripples through the silken drapes at the window, and he was so still again that she would have been forgiven for thinking their conversation over. But whether it was the darkened or in the spirit of returning her confidence with one of his own, the low rumble of Achilleas’ voice sounded once again, and he did not speak of war any longer.
“Your Uncle holds lawful power over Dynasteia Mikaelidas,” he said, deliberately neutral. “ A parting gift from my father, that absolute lack of faith in Emilios or myself.”
The shortness of his response made her think perhaps she hadn’t said the right thing after all, silently frustrated that seemed to be the theme of the night. Her mouth opened, prepared to say something else, before his arm wrapped around her and pulled her in closer. Falling quiet again, Theodora thought maybe she should just let it lie; neither of them seemed to find much success that evening in attempting to make things any better. Achilleas placated her with ‘I’ll do my best,’ before falling as silent as she did, and Theo thought perhaps that was the end of it.
Settling back in against him, she closed her eyes; surely sleep and a new dawn would help, if nothing else did. Muscles going lax, she let her thoughts drift, hovering just on the edge of unconsciousness at last before his voice abruptly brought her back out of it. Jumping a little, she opened her eyes and took a moment to review what he’d just said—frowning when she realized what it was.
Your Uncle holds lawful power over Dynasteia Mikaelidas. A parting gift from my father, that absolute lack of faith in Emilios or myself.
Theodora sat up a little more fully, face furrowing deeper into her frown. “I… didn’t know that,” was her initial, somewhat hesitant response, unsure what more she even should say. Of course, she didn’t know; it wasn’t as if her uncle bothered to discuss such things with her and her sisters. Why should he? They were just women in his mind; these matters didn’t concern them. But why would he do such a thing? Was control of Dynasteia Leventi not enough for him?
“Why… Why would he do that?” Turning in his grasp so that she could face him, her eyes narrowed in the dark, searching features smudged by shadow. It was hard to tell how he felt about it, the careful neutrality of his tone revealing little. She couldn’t imagine he liked it, though, judging from the bitterness of the words said, even said so calmly. “That doesn’t seem right.”
Who had presented such an idea? Fotios or Irakles? And either way… To hear Irakles thought his sons held so little promise was an insult in itself; Achilleas and Emilios both seemed like capable men to her. The elder wore the crown, for the gods’ sakes, what more could be asked of him? And for Fotios to propose such a thing, was that not an insult against them, as well? For once, Theodora wished she had a more thorough understanding of political workings, but this was beyond her.
“What does that mean for you? Or for Emilios?” she asked, shaking her head. “Does that mean you’re beholden to him? Even as king?” She snorted out an exasperated breath. “Though… you are king. Can’t you just… take the power back?”
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The shortness of his response made her think perhaps she hadn’t said the right thing after all, silently frustrated that seemed to be the theme of the night. Her mouth opened, prepared to say something else, before his arm wrapped around her and pulled her in closer. Falling quiet again, Theodora thought maybe she should just let it lie; neither of them seemed to find much success that evening in attempting to make things any better. Achilleas placated her with ‘I’ll do my best,’ before falling as silent as she did, and Theo thought perhaps that was the end of it.
Settling back in against him, she closed her eyes; surely sleep and a new dawn would help, if nothing else did. Muscles going lax, she let her thoughts drift, hovering just on the edge of unconsciousness at last before his voice abruptly brought her back out of it. Jumping a little, she opened her eyes and took a moment to review what he’d just said—frowning when she realized what it was.
Your Uncle holds lawful power over Dynasteia Mikaelidas. A parting gift from my father, that absolute lack of faith in Emilios or myself.
Theodora sat up a little more fully, face furrowing deeper into her frown. “I… didn’t know that,” was her initial, somewhat hesitant response, unsure what more she even should say. Of course, she didn’t know; it wasn’t as if her uncle bothered to discuss such things with her and her sisters. Why should he? They were just women in his mind; these matters didn’t concern them. But why would he do such a thing? Was control of Dynasteia Leventi not enough for him?
“Why… Why would he do that?” Turning in his grasp so that she could face him, her eyes narrowed in the dark, searching features smudged by shadow. It was hard to tell how he felt about it, the careful neutrality of his tone revealing little. She couldn’t imagine he liked it, though, judging from the bitterness of the words said, even said so calmly. “That doesn’t seem right.”
Who had presented such an idea? Fotios or Irakles? And either way… To hear Irakles thought his sons held so little promise was an insult in itself; Achilleas and Emilios both seemed like capable men to her. The elder wore the crown, for the gods’ sakes, what more could be asked of him? And for Fotios to propose such a thing, was that not an insult against them, as well? For once, Theodora wished she had a more thorough understanding of political workings, but this was beyond her.
“What does that mean for you? Or for Emilios?” she asked, shaking her head. “Does that mean you’re beholden to him? Even as king?” She snorted out an exasperated breath. “Though… you are king. Can’t you just… take the power back?”
The shortness of his response made her think perhaps she hadn’t said the right thing after all, silently frustrated that seemed to be the theme of the night. Her mouth opened, prepared to say something else, before his arm wrapped around her and pulled her in closer. Falling quiet again, Theodora thought maybe she should just let it lie; neither of them seemed to find much success that evening in attempting to make things any better. Achilleas placated her with ‘I’ll do my best,’ before falling as silent as she did, and Theo thought perhaps that was the end of it.
Settling back in against him, she closed her eyes; surely sleep and a new dawn would help, if nothing else did. Muscles going lax, she let her thoughts drift, hovering just on the edge of unconsciousness at last before his voice abruptly brought her back out of it. Jumping a little, she opened her eyes and took a moment to review what he’d just said—frowning when she realized what it was.
Your Uncle holds lawful power over Dynasteia Mikaelidas. A parting gift from my father, that absolute lack of faith in Emilios or myself.
Theodora sat up a little more fully, face furrowing deeper into her frown. “I… didn’t know that,” was her initial, somewhat hesitant response, unsure what more she even should say. Of course, she didn’t know; it wasn’t as if her uncle bothered to discuss such things with her and her sisters. Why should he? They were just women in his mind; these matters didn’t concern them. But why would he do such a thing? Was control of Dynasteia Leventi not enough for him?
“Why… Why would he do that?” Turning in his grasp so that she could face him, her eyes narrowed in the dark, searching features smudged by shadow. It was hard to tell how he felt about it, the careful neutrality of his tone revealing little. She couldn’t imagine he liked it, though, judging from the bitterness of the words said, even said so calmly. “That doesn’t seem right.”
Who had presented such an idea? Fotios or Irakles? And either way… To hear Irakles thought his sons held so little promise was an insult in itself; Achilleas and Emilios both seemed like capable men to her. The elder wore the crown, for the gods’ sakes, what more could be asked of him? And for Fotios to propose such a thing, was that not an insult against them, as well? For once, Theodora wished she had a more thorough understanding of political workings, but this was beyond her.
“What does that mean for you? Or for Emilios?” she asked, shaking her head. “Does that mean you’re beholden to him? Even as king?” She snorted out an exasperated breath. “Though… you are king. Can’t you just… take the power back?”
It would have been easier to let the silence continue, to let the rhythm of Theodora’s breaths settle into the steady cadence of slumber. Still, Achilleas was coming to see that it wasn’t always the most comfortable choice that proved the wisest in making things easier between them, and so he’d spoken one of the many things that had kept his thoughts whirring these past nights.
So far as he knew, the knowledge lay only between his brother, him, Lord Fotios, and the trusted man that Achilleas had asked to look into the legality of it. He wasn’t sure what he wanted of Theodora - an opinion from one who knew the Leventi Lord better? Outrage to validate his own bitter hurt? Maybe he was trying to do as she had asked and unburden himself. Or it was all of those reasons knit together that had him make such an admission in the quiet stillness.
He swallowed, turned to where she had pushed to half-sitting, and his arm fell from around her shoulder instead settling at the dip of her waist. His expression was mostly shrouded by the dark, but Theodora would hear the noise he made low in his throat at her question: part frustration, part his own disbelief that wouldn’t relent, as if accepting that final show of his father’s disregard was too much.
“Why indeed,” he said after a moment because he didn’t have the answers. Why his father would make a decision that undermined the entirety of the Dynasteia and everything he’d been so adamant that they protect, he could not fathom.
“I don’t know if he...if it was just an attempt to” No. For once, Achilleas could not reason out his Father’s thoughts, couldn’t defend what seemed nothing short of a betrayal of all of them. And he had yet to settle on an opinion as to where the Leventi Lord settled in this. Was it a power grab, or just an attempt to appease his old friend.
‘What does that mean for you? Or for Emilios? Does that mean you’re beholden to him? Even as king?Though… you are king. Can’t you just… take the power back?’
Achilleas turned his head as his wife laid out all of the questions he’d been asking himself, and it was validating in a way. That she didn’t quite understand the machinations of power was clear enough, but there was something in being able to speak with someone of what had been eating at him since Emilios had revealed the news.
“I’m not certain...I’m trying to find out. For Emilios, it means that your Uncle must countersign any significant decision; it upsets the balance between the royal houses. For me...not so much as the crown operates independently to the Dynasteai. I have someone looking into how much water it holds if we can dissolve it but..” Well, it was one thing on a very long list.
The practical side of it, he could manage; it was something that could be explored, tested. The reality that their father’s opinion of them had been so low as to take such a step was less easy to resolve. Achilleas stepped carefully around that bruise that settled atop countless others.
“ I try not to think that your Uncle would seek to profit from this: he was my father’s friend after all.” A pause “But it does not endear the man to me I admit.”
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It would have been easier to let the silence continue, to let the rhythm of Theodora’s breaths settle into the steady cadence of slumber. Still, Achilleas was coming to see that it wasn’t always the most comfortable choice that proved the wisest in making things easier between them, and so he’d spoken one of the many things that had kept his thoughts whirring these past nights.
So far as he knew, the knowledge lay only between his brother, him, Lord Fotios, and the trusted man that Achilleas had asked to look into the legality of it. He wasn’t sure what he wanted of Theodora - an opinion from one who knew the Leventi Lord better? Outrage to validate his own bitter hurt? Maybe he was trying to do as she had asked and unburden himself. Or it was all of those reasons knit together that had him make such an admission in the quiet stillness.
He swallowed, turned to where she had pushed to half-sitting, and his arm fell from around her shoulder instead settling at the dip of her waist. His expression was mostly shrouded by the dark, but Theodora would hear the noise he made low in his throat at her question: part frustration, part his own disbelief that wouldn’t relent, as if accepting that final show of his father’s disregard was too much.
“Why indeed,” he said after a moment because he didn’t have the answers. Why his father would make a decision that undermined the entirety of the Dynasteia and everything he’d been so adamant that they protect, he could not fathom.
“I don’t know if he...if it was just an attempt to” No. For once, Achilleas could not reason out his Father’s thoughts, couldn’t defend what seemed nothing short of a betrayal of all of them. And he had yet to settle on an opinion as to where the Leventi Lord settled in this. Was it a power grab, or just an attempt to appease his old friend.
‘What does that mean for you? Or for Emilios? Does that mean you’re beholden to him? Even as king?Though… you are king. Can’t you just… take the power back?’
Achilleas turned his head as his wife laid out all of the questions he’d been asking himself, and it was validating in a way. That she didn’t quite understand the machinations of power was clear enough, but there was something in being able to speak with someone of what had been eating at him since Emilios had revealed the news.
“I’m not certain...I’m trying to find out. For Emilios, it means that your Uncle must countersign any significant decision; it upsets the balance between the royal houses. For me...not so much as the crown operates independently to the Dynasteai. I have someone looking into how much water it holds if we can dissolve it but..” Well, it was one thing on a very long list.
The practical side of it, he could manage; it was something that could be explored, tested. The reality that their father’s opinion of them had been so low as to take such a step was less easy to resolve. Achilleas stepped carefully around that bruise that settled atop countless others.
“ I try not to think that your Uncle would seek to profit from this: he was my father’s friend after all.” A pause “But it does not endear the man to me I admit.”
It would have been easier to let the silence continue, to let the rhythm of Theodora’s breaths settle into the steady cadence of slumber. Still, Achilleas was coming to see that it wasn’t always the most comfortable choice that proved the wisest in making things easier between them, and so he’d spoken one of the many things that had kept his thoughts whirring these past nights.
So far as he knew, the knowledge lay only between his brother, him, Lord Fotios, and the trusted man that Achilleas had asked to look into the legality of it. He wasn’t sure what he wanted of Theodora - an opinion from one who knew the Leventi Lord better? Outrage to validate his own bitter hurt? Maybe he was trying to do as she had asked and unburden himself. Or it was all of those reasons knit together that had him make such an admission in the quiet stillness.
He swallowed, turned to where she had pushed to half-sitting, and his arm fell from around her shoulder instead settling at the dip of her waist. His expression was mostly shrouded by the dark, but Theodora would hear the noise he made low in his throat at her question: part frustration, part his own disbelief that wouldn’t relent, as if accepting that final show of his father’s disregard was too much.
“Why indeed,” he said after a moment because he didn’t have the answers. Why his father would make a decision that undermined the entirety of the Dynasteia and everything he’d been so adamant that they protect, he could not fathom.
“I don’t know if he...if it was just an attempt to” No. For once, Achilleas could not reason out his Father’s thoughts, couldn’t defend what seemed nothing short of a betrayal of all of them. And he had yet to settle on an opinion as to where the Leventi Lord settled in this. Was it a power grab, or just an attempt to appease his old friend.
‘What does that mean for you? Or for Emilios? Does that mean you’re beholden to him? Even as king?Though… you are king. Can’t you just… take the power back?’
Achilleas turned his head as his wife laid out all of the questions he’d been asking himself, and it was validating in a way. That she didn’t quite understand the machinations of power was clear enough, but there was something in being able to speak with someone of what had been eating at him since Emilios had revealed the news.
“I’m not certain...I’m trying to find out. For Emilios, it means that your Uncle must countersign any significant decision; it upsets the balance between the royal houses. For me...not so much as the crown operates independently to the Dynasteai. I have someone looking into how much water it holds if we can dissolve it but..” Well, it was one thing on a very long list.
The practical side of it, he could manage; it was something that could be explored, tested. The reality that their father’s opinion of them had been so low as to take such a step was less easy to resolve. Achilleas stepped carefully around that bruise that settled atop countless others.
“ I try not to think that your Uncle would seek to profit from this: he was my father’s friend after all.” A pause “But it does not endear the man to me I admit.”
The dark quiet of the room shrouded the frown that settled on her features as Achilleas spoke, explaining a little what such a deal meant for him and his brother. Why would Irakles allow his legacy to pass to another family? Did he truly care so little for his own blood that he would see it controlled by another? Just how close had he and Fotios been to have agreed to such a thing?
It made her head reel to think on it, to think on just how little she really knew of the inner workings of the country’s most powerful men. She was supposed to be Queen now, but what did that even really mean if she was so ignorant of the state of Taengea? How was she meant to be a ruler when she knew so little of how to rule?
Had she remained a Leventi, perhaps she would have commended Fotios for attaining such power; after all, it could only serve to benefit the family, right? However, she was not; she was a Mikaelidas now, and she had to align her interests to her husband’s. But even if she wasn’t, it still didn’t seem right. Why in Tartarus would Irakles ever agree to something so drastic? At that, Achilleas didn’t have seem to have any answers, either.
I try not to think that your Uncle would seek to profit from this: he was my father’s friend after all.
Theodora knew her uncle was a cunning and ruthless man; one did not grow up in her clan without the knowledge of Fotios of Leventi’s temperament. Did she doubt that he would seek to profit from his friend’s demise? She wasn’t sure. She loved her uncle; he was family, and he had always taken care of them. But he hadn’t endeared himself to her very recently, either, even if this arrangement had served to put her on the throne. He knew what she’d wanted. And he’d denied her anyway.
“I can’t say I blame you there,” she said carefully, not quite willing to say anything outright bad about Fotios, but not really seeking to defend him, either. “My uncle loves power, though, and I… I don’t know. I would hate to think he would do that, either. Maybe he and your father had some deep reasoning that none of us can fathom.” Even as she said it, the tone of her voice betrayed her doubt; she sought only to remain fair, but there didn’t seem to be much fairness in this situation, no matter how she looked at it.
“How did you find out?” she asked quietly. “Did your father tell you before he… did you already know?” What a conversation that must have been, if Irakles was the one to break the news. Or had Fotios done it himself? How did one even go about such a thing? ‘I’m sorry for your loss, but I control your family now. Good luck!’ Either way, she couldn’t imagine it had gone well, no matter whose mouth it came from.
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The dark quiet of the room shrouded the frown that settled on her features as Achilleas spoke, explaining a little what such a deal meant for him and his brother. Why would Irakles allow his legacy to pass to another family? Did he truly care so little for his own blood that he would see it controlled by another? Just how close had he and Fotios been to have agreed to such a thing?
It made her head reel to think on it, to think on just how little she really knew of the inner workings of the country’s most powerful men. She was supposed to be Queen now, but what did that even really mean if she was so ignorant of the state of Taengea? How was she meant to be a ruler when she knew so little of how to rule?
Had she remained a Leventi, perhaps she would have commended Fotios for attaining such power; after all, it could only serve to benefit the family, right? However, she was not; she was a Mikaelidas now, and she had to align her interests to her husband’s. But even if she wasn’t, it still didn’t seem right. Why in Tartarus would Irakles ever agree to something so drastic? At that, Achilleas didn’t have seem to have any answers, either.
I try not to think that your Uncle would seek to profit from this: he was my father’s friend after all.
Theodora knew her uncle was a cunning and ruthless man; one did not grow up in her clan without the knowledge of Fotios of Leventi’s temperament. Did she doubt that he would seek to profit from his friend’s demise? She wasn’t sure. She loved her uncle; he was family, and he had always taken care of them. But he hadn’t endeared himself to her very recently, either, even if this arrangement had served to put her on the throne. He knew what she’d wanted. And he’d denied her anyway.
“I can’t say I blame you there,” she said carefully, not quite willing to say anything outright bad about Fotios, but not really seeking to defend him, either. “My uncle loves power, though, and I… I don’t know. I would hate to think he would do that, either. Maybe he and your father had some deep reasoning that none of us can fathom.” Even as she said it, the tone of her voice betrayed her doubt; she sought only to remain fair, but there didn’t seem to be much fairness in this situation, no matter how she looked at it.
“How did you find out?” she asked quietly. “Did your father tell you before he… did you already know?” What a conversation that must have been, if Irakles was the one to break the news. Or had Fotios done it himself? How did one even go about such a thing? ‘I’m sorry for your loss, but I control your family now. Good luck!’ Either way, she couldn’t imagine it had gone well, no matter whose mouth it came from.
The dark quiet of the room shrouded the frown that settled on her features as Achilleas spoke, explaining a little what such a deal meant for him and his brother. Why would Irakles allow his legacy to pass to another family? Did he truly care so little for his own blood that he would see it controlled by another? Just how close had he and Fotios been to have agreed to such a thing?
It made her head reel to think on it, to think on just how little she really knew of the inner workings of the country’s most powerful men. She was supposed to be Queen now, but what did that even really mean if she was so ignorant of the state of Taengea? How was she meant to be a ruler when she knew so little of how to rule?
Had she remained a Leventi, perhaps she would have commended Fotios for attaining such power; after all, it could only serve to benefit the family, right? However, she was not; she was a Mikaelidas now, and she had to align her interests to her husband’s. But even if she wasn’t, it still didn’t seem right. Why in Tartarus would Irakles ever agree to something so drastic? At that, Achilleas didn’t have seem to have any answers, either.
I try not to think that your Uncle would seek to profit from this: he was my father’s friend after all.
Theodora knew her uncle was a cunning and ruthless man; one did not grow up in her clan without the knowledge of Fotios of Leventi’s temperament. Did she doubt that he would seek to profit from his friend’s demise? She wasn’t sure. She loved her uncle; he was family, and he had always taken care of them. But he hadn’t endeared himself to her very recently, either, even if this arrangement had served to put her on the throne. He knew what she’d wanted. And he’d denied her anyway.
“I can’t say I blame you there,” she said carefully, not quite willing to say anything outright bad about Fotios, but not really seeking to defend him, either. “My uncle loves power, though, and I… I don’t know. I would hate to think he would do that, either. Maybe he and your father had some deep reasoning that none of us can fathom.” Even as she said it, the tone of her voice betrayed her doubt; she sought only to remain fair, but there didn’t seem to be much fairness in this situation, no matter how she looked at it.
“How did you find out?” she asked quietly. “Did your father tell you before he… did you already know?” What a conversation that must have been, if Irakles was the one to break the news. Or had Fotios done it himself? How did one even go about such a thing? ‘I’m sorry for your loss, but I control your family now. Good luck!’ Either way, she couldn’t imagine it had gone well, no matter whose mouth it came from.
Achilleas had not been looking for Theodora to condemn her own Uncle: he was finding it hard to be so black and white about himself, as much as he would have liked to attribute all fault to the man. Old insecurities- those carved deep into places he didn’t think about often - had reared their head: what could he have done to win his father’s confidence, where had he failed? He wished he could console himself with Theodora’s suggestion that there was some reason other than the man’s lack of faith that had moved him to enter into such an agreement, but it was not a thing he found easy to believe.
His father had, after all, yanked Achilleas’ own barony from under his control only weeks before his death, and he wondered then how recent an arrangement this had been. If it had been because he did not vote at the senate? Achilleas drew a breath. He couldn’t say he could have made himself vote to his cousin ousted from the throne even if he had known the potential cost, and that was perhaps the root of the problem. His father had hated it when he put familial connection above what he deemed more critical. It had been a point of contention in his last interactions with the man.
“Emilios” he replied, distracted but aware that Theodora had posed a question. “ Lord Fotios showed him the will; he came here to ask if I already knew.”
Which now he thought about it was a little hurtful in itself. As if he would have stood by and let such a decree be written. Not for the first time he was forced to scrutinise his own past behaviours that people were so willing to think he would blindly go along with his father’s wishes.
“ I am...starting to think there is a lot I didn’t understand of my father and why he did things” Achilleas admitted quietly. “ The past weeks have been rather eye-opening for me in that regard.”
It had caused him to argue with the woman beside him. Or almost argue, he still wasn’t quite sure what to call that standoff they’d had in his study. But Theodora had believed enough of Olympia’s account to bring it to Achilleas’ attention.
If he had spent the days leading up to his father’s death feeling conflicted, it was nothing compared to trying to muddle through things he learnt now, knowing that his questions would never be answered.
With a sigh that spoke to exactly how troubled he was, Achilleas used his hold on her hip to draw Theodora in closer, fingers pressing tight. “I don’t want to think him a bad man,” he said quietly, recalling how Emilios had raged at the man’s memory. If Achilleas were to agree, then didn’t it just make him an idiot for trying so long and hard to please him? All thoughts that he shoved brutally away in the day came out to play when he had nothing to distract, and they were not easy things to sift through. He swallowed, throat catching around his next words.
“Does that make me foolish?” The question felt heavy because in some part Achilleas thought he knew the answer already and it was not pleasing.
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Achilleas had not been looking for Theodora to condemn her own Uncle: he was finding it hard to be so black and white about himself, as much as he would have liked to attribute all fault to the man. Old insecurities- those carved deep into places he didn’t think about often - had reared their head: what could he have done to win his father’s confidence, where had he failed? He wished he could console himself with Theodora’s suggestion that there was some reason other than the man’s lack of faith that had moved him to enter into such an agreement, but it was not a thing he found easy to believe.
His father had, after all, yanked Achilleas’ own barony from under his control only weeks before his death, and he wondered then how recent an arrangement this had been. If it had been because he did not vote at the senate? Achilleas drew a breath. He couldn’t say he could have made himself vote to his cousin ousted from the throne even if he had known the potential cost, and that was perhaps the root of the problem. His father had hated it when he put familial connection above what he deemed more critical. It had been a point of contention in his last interactions with the man.
“Emilios” he replied, distracted but aware that Theodora had posed a question. “ Lord Fotios showed him the will; he came here to ask if I already knew.”
Which now he thought about it was a little hurtful in itself. As if he would have stood by and let such a decree be written. Not for the first time he was forced to scrutinise his own past behaviours that people were so willing to think he would blindly go along with his father’s wishes.
“ I am...starting to think there is a lot I didn’t understand of my father and why he did things” Achilleas admitted quietly. “ The past weeks have been rather eye-opening for me in that regard.”
It had caused him to argue with the woman beside him. Or almost argue, he still wasn’t quite sure what to call that standoff they’d had in his study. But Theodora had believed enough of Olympia’s account to bring it to Achilleas’ attention.
If he had spent the days leading up to his father’s death feeling conflicted, it was nothing compared to trying to muddle through things he learnt now, knowing that his questions would never be answered.
With a sigh that spoke to exactly how troubled he was, Achilleas used his hold on her hip to draw Theodora in closer, fingers pressing tight. “I don’t want to think him a bad man,” he said quietly, recalling how Emilios had raged at the man’s memory. If Achilleas were to agree, then didn’t it just make him an idiot for trying so long and hard to please him? All thoughts that he shoved brutally away in the day came out to play when he had nothing to distract, and they were not easy things to sift through. He swallowed, throat catching around his next words.
“Does that make me foolish?” The question felt heavy because in some part Achilleas thought he knew the answer already and it was not pleasing.
Achilleas had not been looking for Theodora to condemn her own Uncle: he was finding it hard to be so black and white about himself, as much as he would have liked to attribute all fault to the man. Old insecurities- those carved deep into places he didn’t think about often - had reared their head: what could he have done to win his father’s confidence, where had he failed? He wished he could console himself with Theodora’s suggestion that there was some reason other than the man’s lack of faith that had moved him to enter into such an agreement, but it was not a thing he found easy to believe.
His father had, after all, yanked Achilleas’ own barony from under his control only weeks before his death, and he wondered then how recent an arrangement this had been. If it had been because he did not vote at the senate? Achilleas drew a breath. He couldn’t say he could have made himself vote to his cousin ousted from the throne even if he had known the potential cost, and that was perhaps the root of the problem. His father had hated it when he put familial connection above what he deemed more critical. It had been a point of contention in his last interactions with the man.
“Emilios” he replied, distracted but aware that Theodora had posed a question. “ Lord Fotios showed him the will; he came here to ask if I already knew.”
Which now he thought about it was a little hurtful in itself. As if he would have stood by and let such a decree be written. Not for the first time he was forced to scrutinise his own past behaviours that people were so willing to think he would blindly go along with his father’s wishes.
“ I am...starting to think there is a lot I didn’t understand of my father and why he did things” Achilleas admitted quietly. “ The past weeks have been rather eye-opening for me in that regard.”
It had caused him to argue with the woman beside him. Or almost argue, he still wasn’t quite sure what to call that standoff they’d had in his study. But Theodora had believed enough of Olympia’s account to bring it to Achilleas’ attention.
If he had spent the days leading up to his father’s death feeling conflicted, it was nothing compared to trying to muddle through things he learnt now, knowing that his questions would never be answered.
With a sigh that spoke to exactly how troubled he was, Achilleas used his hold on her hip to draw Theodora in closer, fingers pressing tight. “I don’t want to think him a bad man,” he said quietly, recalling how Emilios had raged at the man’s memory. If Achilleas were to agree, then didn’t it just make him an idiot for trying so long and hard to please him? All thoughts that he shoved brutally away in the day came out to play when he had nothing to distract, and they were not easy things to sift through. He swallowed, throat catching around his next words.
“Does that make me foolish?” The question felt heavy because in some part Achilleas thought he knew the answer already and it was not pleasing.
When Achilleas said he learned it from Emilios, Theodora frowned a little and wondered why he hadn’t already told her. Catching herself before she asked that out loud—for why would Emilios have occasion to tell her anything so personal—she sighed and shook her head. Then again, they hadn’t been on the best of terms lately, so why would he really tell her anything like that?
The soft sound of her husband’s voice brought her back to their conversation, commenting that perhaps he didn’t understand his father like he thought he did. “Who among us truly knows our parents?” she murmured in response with a humorless chuckle. “I don’t think that ever changes, even as we grow older and believe we understand them better.”
Theodora listened to the troubled sigh that parted his lips, felt the clutch of his hand pulling her in tighter against him. Shifting slightly, her own arm slid around his shoulders, gently stroking along the back of his neck. It was clearly not a subject he was comfortable with; ever since the wedding, she hadn’t heard him mention Irakles in more than passing. And to hear him speak so frankly, so openly; it was almost jarring, coming from a man who normally remained so stubbornly tight-lipped. She was grateful for it, though, glad that he seemed to take her words to heart. Perhaps he was even starting to trust her a little, that he was willing to air something that was so clearly such a tender subject.
I don’t want to think him a bad man. Does that make me foolish?
Her heart ached for him that he should even think that, her fingers pausing in their brush against his skin. “Of course not,” she was quick to assure him, her previous frown deepening. “I don’t think anyone in their right mind could use the word ‘foolish’ to describe you, Achilleas. We all want to think the best of the people we love. No matter what he did or didn’t do, Irakles was your father. And no one wants to believe ill of their own father.” Granted, her father hardly posed a comparison; Georgios was about as far an opposite to Irakles as one man could be. But it didn’t make her words any less true. Who could think less of Achilleas for trying to see the best in the man who sired him?
She pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek as she settled more comfortably in the circle of his arm, her hand moving to stroke lightly against the back of his neck once more. “But it is good to be able to look at it more… objectively too, I think,” she mused. “Maybe he wasn’t a totally bad man, but perhaps he didn’t always make the best choices, either. I can’t… I can’t really think this decision was one of the good ones.”
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When Achilleas said he learned it from Emilios, Theodora frowned a little and wondered why he hadn’t already told her. Catching herself before she asked that out loud—for why would Emilios have occasion to tell her anything so personal—she sighed and shook her head. Then again, they hadn’t been on the best of terms lately, so why would he really tell her anything like that?
The soft sound of her husband’s voice brought her back to their conversation, commenting that perhaps he didn’t understand his father like he thought he did. “Who among us truly knows our parents?” she murmured in response with a humorless chuckle. “I don’t think that ever changes, even as we grow older and believe we understand them better.”
Theodora listened to the troubled sigh that parted his lips, felt the clutch of his hand pulling her in tighter against him. Shifting slightly, her own arm slid around his shoulders, gently stroking along the back of his neck. It was clearly not a subject he was comfortable with; ever since the wedding, she hadn’t heard him mention Irakles in more than passing. And to hear him speak so frankly, so openly; it was almost jarring, coming from a man who normally remained so stubbornly tight-lipped. She was grateful for it, though, glad that he seemed to take her words to heart. Perhaps he was even starting to trust her a little, that he was willing to air something that was so clearly such a tender subject.
I don’t want to think him a bad man. Does that make me foolish?
Her heart ached for him that he should even think that, her fingers pausing in their brush against his skin. “Of course not,” she was quick to assure him, her previous frown deepening. “I don’t think anyone in their right mind could use the word ‘foolish’ to describe you, Achilleas. We all want to think the best of the people we love. No matter what he did or didn’t do, Irakles was your father. And no one wants to believe ill of their own father.” Granted, her father hardly posed a comparison; Georgios was about as far an opposite to Irakles as one man could be. But it didn’t make her words any less true. Who could think less of Achilleas for trying to see the best in the man who sired him?
She pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek as she settled more comfortably in the circle of his arm, her hand moving to stroke lightly against the back of his neck once more. “But it is good to be able to look at it more… objectively too, I think,” she mused. “Maybe he wasn’t a totally bad man, but perhaps he didn’t always make the best choices, either. I can’t… I can’t really think this decision was one of the good ones.”
When Achilleas said he learned it from Emilios, Theodora frowned a little and wondered why he hadn’t already told her. Catching herself before she asked that out loud—for why would Emilios have occasion to tell her anything so personal—she sighed and shook her head. Then again, they hadn’t been on the best of terms lately, so why would he really tell her anything like that?
The soft sound of her husband’s voice brought her back to their conversation, commenting that perhaps he didn’t understand his father like he thought he did. “Who among us truly knows our parents?” she murmured in response with a humorless chuckle. “I don’t think that ever changes, even as we grow older and believe we understand them better.”
Theodora listened to the troubled sigh that parted his lips, felt the clutch of his hand pulling her in tighter against him. Shifting slightly, her own arm slid around his shoulders, gently stroking along the back of his neck. It was clearly not a subject he was comfortable with; ever since the wedding, she hadn’t heard him mention Irakles in more than passing. And to hear him speak so frankly, so openly; it was almost jarring, coming from a man who normally remained so stubbornly tight-lipped. She was grateful for it, though, glad that he seemed to take her words to heart. Perhaps he was even starting to trust her a little, that he was willing to air something that was so clearly such a tender subject.
I don’t want to think him a bad man. Does that make me foolish?
Her heart ached for him that he should even think that, her fingers pausing in their brush against his skin. “Of course not,” she was quick to assure him, her previous frown deepening. “I don’t think anyone in their right mind could use the word ‘foolish’ to describe you, Achilleas. We all want to think the best of the people we love. No matter what he did or didn’t do, Irakles was your father. And no one wants to believe ill of their own father.” Granted, her father hardly posed a comparison; Georgios was about as far an opposite to Irakles as one man could be. But it didn’t make her words any less true. Who could think less of Achilleas for trying to see the best in the man who sired him?
She pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek as she settled more comfortably in the circle of his arm, her hand moving to stroke lightly against the back of his neck once more. “But it is good to be able to look at it more… objectively too, I think,” she mused. “Maybe he wasn’t a totally bad man, but perhaps he didn’t always make the best choices, either. I can’t… I can’t really think this decision was one of the good ones.”
There was not knowing, and there was not knowing, Achilleas decided as Theodora spoke. Beyond that growing into seeing you parents as people in their own right, more than just accepting that they had flaws...when you were forced to consider the idea that they might have manipulated and worked against those you cared about, it went further. It wasn't easy to reconcile everything he thought he'd known about his father with the things that had been suggested to him: perhaps that was why he had rejected the notion at first.
When her arm snuck around his shoulder, and her fingers began a steady sweep down the back of his neck, Achilleas turned a fraction towards her before he looked away again and went on, voicing one of the worries that gnawed at him these past days. He hated the uncertainty that sounded so clear in his voice and closed his mouth before he could say anything else of the sort. But the woman beside him was quick to lay her own words in the place of those he'd spoken.
'Of course not, I don't think anyone in their right mind could use the word 'foolish' to describe you, Achilleas. We all want to think the best of the people we love. No matter what he did or didn't do, Irakles was your father. And no one wants to believe ill of their own father'
That had him craning his neck to look at her, through the false anonymity of the dark because he wanted to believe what she said, to read the truth of it on her face.
Love was not a thing spoken of in the Mikaelidas house. Even less so did it seem to fit with the hard and irascible man that had been his father. But as his gaze strafed over the shadowed contours of Theodora's face, Achilleas realised with a jolt that it was true. Despite their differences, even though he always seemed to fall short of the man's expectations in some way, Achilleas had loved his father. And that maybe that excused his reluctance to accept the darker things said about the man...it was a relief somehow.
Exhaling in a gust, he was still as she leant in to kiss him, the feather-light press of her lips tickling over the rasp of stubble that darkened his jaw all the sweeter given how raw he felt talking of such things.
'But it is good to be able to look at it more… objectively too, I think.Maybe he wasn't a totally bad man, but perhaps he didn't always make the best choices, either. I can't… I can't really think this decision was one of the good ones.'
"No" he agreed, wishing it didn't leave him with such a bitter taste upon his tongue. But then almost ever hopeful "Perhaps there will be something come to light to explain it…" Or something that could overturn it.
Thus far, he had nothing that could be used to dissolve the ruling: it appeared for all intents and purposed to have been drawn up entirely within the bounds of the law, which he supposed was unsurprising given those involved. When had his father ever been slapdash in such things, the Lord Fotios too?
"Don't speak to anyone of this" Achilleas said, though he hoped he did not need to. "I don't think Emilios will object to me telling you, but the rest of the family don't know yet, and I'm not yet sure what we'll say."
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There was not knowing, and there was not knowing, Achilleas decided as Theodora spoke. Beyond that growing into seeing you parents as people in their own right, more than just accepting that they had flaws...when you were forced to consider the idea that they might have manipulated and worked against those you cared about, it went further. It wasn't easy to reconcile everything he thought he'd known about his father with the things that had been suggested to him: perhaps that was why he had rejected the notion at first.
When her arm snuck around his shoulder, and her fingers began a steady sweep down the back of his neck, Achilleas turned a fraction towards her before he looked away again and went on, voicing one of the worries that gnawed at him these past days. He hated the uncertainty that sounded so clear in his voice and closed his mouth before he could say anything else of the sort. But the woman beside him was quick to lay her own words in the place of those he'd spoken.
'Of course not, I don't think anyone in their right mind could use the word 'foolish' to describe you, Achilleas. We all want to think the best of the people we love. No matter what he did or didn't do, Irakles was your father. And no one wants to believe ill of their own father'
That had him craning his neck to look at her, through the false anonymity of the dark because he wanted to believe what she said, to read the truth of it on her face.
Love was not a thing spoken of in the Mikaelidas house. Even less so did it seem to fit with the hard and irascible man that had been his father. But as his gaze strafed over the shadowed contours of Theodora's face, Achilleas realised with a jolt that it was true. Despite their differences, even though he always seemed to fall short of the man's expectations in some way, Achilleas had loved his father. And that maybe that excused his reluctance to accept the darker things said about the man...it was a relief somehow.
Exhaling in a gust, he was still as she leant in to kiss him, the feather-light press of her lips tickling over the rasp of stubble that darkened his jaw all the sweeter given how raw he felt talking of such things.
'But it is good to be able to look at it more… objectively too, I think.Maybe he wasn't a totally bad man, but perhaps he didn't always make the best choices, either. I can't… I can't really think this decision was one of the good ones.'
"No" he agreed, wishing it didn't leave him with such a bitter taste upon his tongue. But then almost ever hopeful "Perhaps there will be something come to light to explain it…" Or something that could overturn it.
Thus far, he had nothing that could be used to dissolve the ruling: it appeared for all intents and purposed to have been drawn up entirely within the bounds of the law, which he supposed was unsurprising given those involved. When had his father ever been slapdash in such things, the Lord Fotios too?
"Don't speak to anyone of this" Achilleas said, though he hoped he did not need to. "I don't think Emilios will object to me telling you, but the rest of the family don't know yet, and I'm not yet sure what we'll say."
There was not knowing, and there was not knowing, Achilleas decided as Theodora spoke. Beyond that growing into seeing you parents as people in their own right, more than just accepting that they had flaws...when you were forced to consider the idea that they might have manipulated and worked against those you cared about, it went further. It wasn't easy to reconcile everything he thought he'd known about his father with the things that had been suggested to him: perhaps that was why he had rejected the notion at first.
When her arm snuck around his shoulder, and her fingers began a steady sweep down the back of his neck, Achilleas turned a fraction towards her before he looked away again and went on, voicing one of the worries that gnawed at him these past days. He hated the uncertainty that sounded so clear in his voice and closed his mouth before he could say anything else of the sort. But the woman beside him was quick to lay her own words in the place of those he'd spoken.
'Of course not, I don't think anyone in their right mind could use the word 'foolish' to describe you, Achilleas. We all want to think the best of the people we love. No matter what he did or didn't do, Irakles was your father. And no one wants to believe ill of their own father'
That had him craning his neck to look at her, through the false anonymity of the dark because he wanted to believe what she said, to read the truth of it on her face.
Love was not a thing spoken of in the Mikaelidas house. Even less so did it seem to fit with the hard and irascible man that had been his father. But as his gaze strafed over the shadowed contours of Theodora's face, Achilleas realised with a jolt that it was true. Despite their differences, even though he always seemed to fall short of the man's expectations in some way, Achilleas had loved his father. And that maybe that excused his reluctance to accept the darker things said about the man...it was a relief somehow.
Exhaling in a gust, he was still as she leant in to kiss him, the feather-light press of her lips tickling over the rasp of stubble that darkened his jaw all the sweeter given how raw he felt talking of such things.
'But it is good to be able to look at it more… objectively too, I think.Maybe he wasn't a totally bad man, but perhaps he didn't always make the best choices, either. I can't… I can't really think this decision was one of the good ones.'
"No" he agreed, wishing it didn't leave him with such a bitter taste upon his tongue. But then almost ever hopeful "Perhaps there will be something come to light to explain it…" Or something that could overturn it.
Thus far, he had nothing that could be used to dissolve the ruling: it appeared for all intents and purposed to have been drawn up entirely within the bounds of the law, which he supposed was unsurprising given those involved. When had his father ever been slapdash in such things, the Lord Fotios too?
"Don't speak to anyone of this" Achilleas said, though he hoped he did not need to. "I don't think Emilios will object to me telling you, but the rest of the family don't know yet, and I'm not yet sure what we'll say."