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Sleep was not an easy thing to find. After her row with Stephanos she had allowed him to escort her back to her chambers, tried not to look him in the eye as he made sure that she was tucked into bed and pretended he cared how she was. Though he’d said she was wrong, that he did care for her truly, it was impossible to believe after what they had been through. The goblet, the plans to fight the Creed, the beautiful blonde that he had supposedly sent away though she had the boldness to enter his rooms from somewhere. Another encounter previous to his sudden desire to buckle down and route out the Creed. It was all nonsense. He was a good general and fighter but she couldn’t accept the risk he was taking, even as he promised to come back to her.
The pains she had felt in her husband’s rooms were subsiding. Mere twinges now compared to the sickness she’d felt before. After a long while of hauling herself back out of bed and pacing in silence, the queen finally laid back down, determined at the very least to try to keep herself rested even if she couldn’t be soothed. Her dreams were full of nightmares, images of her father and sister’s heads on pikes, of her mother and Stephanos dead before her. The nightmare held her in its grip as she was dragged forward by some unknown force, a man holding a bloodied sword turned to face her. It wasn’t quite Irakles, but she couldn’t tell who else’s features her mind had mixed in with the nightmare. With a laugh, he ran the sword through her gut, and it was the pain that woke her with a gasp.
Her heart pounded and she sat upright in fear, sweat beading on her forehead. The dark silence of her room reassured her, and she took a deep breath to calm herself but she couldn’t manage the inhale she needed. A pain pulled through her abdomen as if she had started her monthly courses, a cramping feeling she had been free of for a while that had returned earlier during the fight. Pia shifted to try to find a more comfortable position and froze as a familiar sensation haunted her. Scrambling to throw the blanket off of herself, she could see even in the darkness the stain that was spreading from between her legs. Another vice like cramp took hold and on her next breath Olympia screamed to wake the dead themselves, clutching at her stomach and trying to remember anything that would stop this.
Thoughts of miscarriages, of children born too soon, of what would happen to her if she couldn’t carry her first pregnancy to term filled her head. She recalled the one time she had seen a pregnancy gone wrong. A maid in the household had been heavy with child and fallen, Pia had been just a child herself, barely five years old, but she had never forgotten the blood and the screams of pain. The maid had survived, and she herself had been ushered away quickly by Desma but that night when she had crept to the window, she saw a tiny bundle in blood soaked rags being taken away, a little hand stark against them. That could not happen to her. It had been her greatest fear from the beginning when she realized she was pregnant, that she would be unable to bear a living son, much less living children. And after the fight...
She had lost her husband’s affections, she couldn’t lose her baby on the same day. There was no way she could survive that, even if she lived.
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Sleep was not an easy thing to find. After her row with Stephanos she had allowed him to escort her back to her chambers, tried not to look him in the eye as he made sure that she was tucked into bed and pretended he cared how she was. Though he’d said she was wrong, that he did care for her truly, it was impossible to believe after what they had been through. The goblet, the plans to fight the Creed, the beautiful blonde that he had supposedly sent away though she had the boldness to enter his rooms from somewhere. Another encounter previous to his sudden desire to buckle down and route out the Creed. It was all nonsense. He was a good general and fighter but she couldn’t accept the risk he was taking, even as he promised to come back to her.
The pains she had felt in her husband’s rooms were subsiding. Mere twinges now compared to the sickness she’d felt before. After a long while of hauling herself back out of bed and pacing in silence, the queen finally laid back down, determined at the very least to try to keep herself rested even if she couldn’t be soothed. Her dreams were full of nightmares, images of her father and sister’s heads on pikes, of her mother and Stephanos dead before her. The nightmare held her in its grip as she was dragged forward by some unknown force, a man holding a bloodied sword turned to face her. It wasn’t quite Irakles, but she couldn’t tell who else’s features her mind had mixed in with the nightmare. With a laugh, he ran the sword through her gut, and it was the pain that woke her with a gasp.
Her heart pounded and she sat upright in fear, sweat beading on her forehead. The dark silence of her room reassured her, and she took a deep breath to calm herself but she couldn’t manage the inhale she needed. A pain pulled through her abdomen as if she had started her monthly courses, a cramping feeling she had been free of for a while that had returned earlier during the fight. Pia shifted to try to find a more comfortable position and froze as a familiar sensation haunted her. Scrambling to throw the blanket off of herself, she could see even in the darkness the stain that was spreading from between her legs. Another vice like cramp took hold and on her next breath Olympia screamed to wake the dead themselves, clutching at her stomach and trying to remember anything that would stop this.
Thoughts of miscarriages, of children born too soon, of what would happen to her if she couldn’t carry her first pregnancy to term filled her head. She recalled the one time she had seen a pregnancy gone wrong. A maid in the household had been heavy with child and fallen, Pia had been just a child herself, barely five years old, but she had never forgotten the blood and the screams of pain. The maid had survived, and she herself had been ushered away quickly by Desma but that night when she had crept to the window, she saw a tiny bundle in blood soaked rags being taken away, a little hand stark against them. That could not happen to her. It had been her greatest fear from the beginning when she realized she was pregnant, that she would be unable to bear a living son, much less living children. And after the fight...
She had lost her husband’s affections, she couldn’t lose her baby on the same day. There was no way she could survive that, even if she lived.
Sleep was not an easy thing to find. After her row with Stephanos she had allowed him to escort her back to her chambers, tried not to look him in the eye as he made sure that she was tucked into bed and pretended he cared how she was. Though he’d said she was wrong, that he did care for her truly, it was impossible to believe after what they had been through. The goblet, the plans to fight the Creed, the beautiful blonde that he had supposedly sent away though she had the boldness to enter his rooms from somewhere. Another encounter previous to his sudden desire to buckle down and route out the Creed. It was all nonsense. He was a good general and fighter but she couldn’t accept the risk he was taking, even as he promised to come back to her.
The pains she had felt in her husband’s rooms were subsiding. Mere twinges now compared to the sickness she’d felt before. After a long while of hauling herself back out of bed and pacing in silence, the queen finally laid back down, determined at the very least to try to keep herself rested even if she couldn’t be soothed. Her dreams were full of nightmares, images of her father and sister’s heads on pikes, of her mother and Stephanos dead before her. The nightmare held her in its grip as she was dragged forward by some unknown force, a man holding a bloodied sword turned to face her. It wasn’t quite Irakles, but she couldn’t tell who else’s features her mind had mixed in with the nightmare. With a laugh, he ran the sword through her gut, and it was the pain that woke her with a gasp.
Her heart pounded and she sat upright in fear, sweat beading on her forehead. The dark silence of her room reassured her, and she took a deep breath to calm herself but she couldn’t manage the inhale she needed. A pain pulled through her abdomen as if she had started her monthly courses, a cramping feeling she had been free of for a while that had returned earlier during the fight. Pia shifted to try to find a more comfortable position and froze as a familiar sensation haunted her. Scrambling to throw the blanket off of herself, she could see even in the darkness the stain that was spreading from between her legs. Another vice like cramp took hold and on her next breath Olympia screamed to wake the dead themselves, clutching at her stomach and trying to remember anything that would stop this.
Thoughts of miscarriages, of children born too soon, of what would happen to her if she couldn’t carry her first pregnancy to term filled her head. She recalled the one time she had seen a pregnancy gone wrong. A maid in the household had been heavy with child and fallen, Pia had been just a child herself, barely five years old, but she had never forgotten the blood and the screams of pain. The maid had survived, and she herself had been ushered away quickly by Desma but that night when she had crept to the window, she saw a tiny bundle in blood soaked rags being taken away, a little hand stark against them. That could not happen to her. It had been her greatest fear from the beginning when she realized she was pregnant, that she would be unable to bear a living son, much less living children. And after the fight...
She had lost her husband’s affections, she couldn’t lose her baby on the same day. There was no way she could survive that, even if she lived.
He lay in the dark, close to sleep but not quite achieving it. The way his wife looked at him, fury and misery warring in equal measure across her face, kept him shifting on the bed to get away from the image. During the fight and even after, he hadn’t even promised not to make the same decision again…
And she hadn’t demanded it of him.
An hour drifted by. The moon drifted higher in the sky. He turned over so that he was facing the balcony. His body sagged into the bed and he was at the edge of sleep’s shore when the scream tore into the night.
He leapt from bed. Cold water coursed through his veins. The Creed were here.
His sword was in his hand before he’d realized he’d even ripped it from the wall. He did not stop for his shield. It was still on the floor from where Olympia had knocked it off it’s peg with her sandal. With bare feet, he dashed into the corridor and sprinted down the hall.
At first he didn’t know who had screamed and it didn’t matter. It could have been Olympia, his mother, either of his sisters, or any of the noble women who lived and served in the palace. But it was Pia’s door that stood open with light slashing across the marble floor. He was not the first one there.
Servants and guards were already converging on the room. There wasn’t time for them to gawk. He hurled into their midst, bodily shoving them out of the way. New grunts and cries of shock accompanied his entrance and before he could make it through the door, a guard clamped his hand on his shoulder as though to stop an intruder. On reflex alone, he spun around and slammed the pommel of his sword into the man’s face.
The guard dropped back but no one else reached out to stop their king, having both realized who he was and no wish to meet the same fate. But once in the room, there were no cloaked men in hoods stabbing his wife. Yet she sat in blood nonetheless.
“Out!” he glared over at the guards and servants, all staring at their queen in her distress. “OUT!” he shouted again and pointed his sword with every intention of using it if need be. But there was no one to fight. He lowered the sword and placed it on a table near the bed before walking over to Olympia.
He didn't reach for her. Instead he clenched his jaw and stared at the blood staining the sheets beneath her and wherever she moved. With a calm he did not feel, he at last placed a heavy hand on her shoulder and made gentle shushing sounds. "Easy, easy," he coaxed and sat down on the edge of the bed at her side. "It's ok," he lied, eyes towards the ceiling. "It's ok..."
By the gods, if he lost this child now...
The thought wouldn't even form.
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He lay in the dark, close to sleep but not quite achieving it. The way his wife looked at him, fury and misery warring in equal measure across her face, kept him shifting on the bed to get away from the image. During the fight and even after, he hadn’t even promised not to make the same decision again…
And she hadn’t demanded it of him.
An hour drifted by. The moon drifted higher in the sky. He turned over so that he was facing the balcony. His body sagged into the bed and he was at the edge of sleep’s shore when the scream tore into the night.
He leapt from bed. Cold water coursed through his veins. The Creed were here.
His sword was in his hand before he’d realized he’d even ripped it from the wall. He did not stop for his shield. It was still on the floor from where Olympia had knocked it off it’s peg with her sandal. With bare feet, he dashed into the corridor and sprinted down the hall.
At first he didn’t know who had screamed and it didn’t matter. It could have been Olympia, his mother, either of his sisters, or any of the noble women who lived and served in the palace. But it was Pia’s door that stood open with light slashing across the marble floor. He was not the first one there.
Servants and guards were already converging on the room. There wasn’t time for them to gawk. He hurled into their midst, bodily shoving them out of the way. New grunts and cries of shock accompanied his entrance and before he could make it through the door, a guard clamped his hand on his shoulder as though to stop an intruder. On reflex alone, he spun around and slammed the pommel of his sword into the man’s face.
The guard dropped back but no one else reached out to stop their king, having both realized who he was and no wish to meet the same fate. But once in the room, there were no cloaked men in hoods stabbing his wife. Yet she sat in blood nonetheless.
“Out!” he glared over at the guards and servants, all staring at their queen in her distress. “OUT!” he shouted again and pointed his sword with every intention of using it if need be. But there was no one to fight. He lowered the sword and placed it on a table near the bed before walking over to Olympia.
He didn't reach for her. Instead he clenched his jaw and stared at the blood staining the sheets beneath her and wherever she moved. With a calm he did not feel, he at last placed a heavy hand on her shoulder and made gentle shushing sounds. "Easy, easy," he coaxed and sat down on the edge of the bed at her side. "It's ok," he lied, eyes towards the ceiling. "It's ok..."
By the gods, if he lost this child now...
The thought wouldn't even form.
He lay in the dark, close to sleep but not quite achieving it. The way his wife looked at him, fury and misery warring in equal measure across her face, kept him shifting on the bed to get away from the image. During the fight and even after, he hadn’t even promised not to make the same decision again…
And she hadn’t demanded it of him.
An hour drifted by. The moon drifted higher in the sky. He turned over so that he was facing the balcony. His body sagged into the bed and he was at the edge of sleep’s shore when the scream tore into the night.
He leapt from bed. Cold water coursed through his veins. The Creed were here.
His sword was in his hand before he’d realized he’d even ripped it from the wall. He did not stop for his shield. It was still on the floor from where Olympia had knocked it off it’s peg with her sandal. With bare feet, he dashed into the corridor and sprinted down the hall.
At first he didn’t know who had screamed and it didn’t matter. It could have been Olympia, his mother, either of his sisters, or any of the noble women who lived and served in the palace. But it was Pia’s door that stood open with light slashing across the marble floor. He was not the first one there.
Servants and guards were already converging on the room. There wasn’t time for them to gawk. He hurled into their midst, bodily shoving them out of the way. New grunts and cries of shock accompanied his entrance and before he could make it through the door, a guard clamped his hand on his shoulder as though to stop an intruder. On reflex alone, he spun around and slammed the pommel of his sword into the man’s face.
The guard dropped back but no one else reached out to stop their king, having both realized who he was and no wish to meet the same fate. But once in the room, there were no cloaked men in hoods stabbing his wife. Yet she sat in blood nonetheless.
“Out!” he glared over at the guards and servants, all staring at their queen in her distress. “OUT!” he shouted again and pointed his sword with every intention of using it if need be. But there was no one to fight. He lowered the sword and placed it on a table near the bed before walking over to Olympia.
He didn't reach for her. Instead he clenched his jaw and stared at the blood staining the sheets beneath her and wherever she moved. With a calm he did not feel, he at last placed a heavy hand on her shoulder and made gentle shushing sounds. "Easy, easy," he coaxed and sat down on the edge of the bed at her side. "It's ok," he lied, eyes towards the ceiling. "It's ok..."
By the gods, if he lost this child now...
The thought wouldn't even form.
Desma was not far away and it didn't take long for her to be roused from a deep slumber by the cries of her sweet Pia. Getting up physically though, was a completely different matter. Disoriented she looked around grunting and grumbling in some foreign tongue before eyes finally fluttered open, but then there was this whole ordeal of standing up, and well old bones like her's took a bit of a convincing to get moving.
Crack. Snap. Crackle. POP. She groaned as an ache settled in and by the time she got her body to cooperate she saw a flurry of servants and a few guards leaving, well one bleeding. She gave a nod, and peaked her head through the door to see Stephanos by Pia's side. "What by Atlas has he done now?" She muttered to herself.
She knew the relationship was going sour, who didn't? The royal couple get into a fight and it's all the slaves of the house can talk about for days. Why by mid morning she imagined there would be some rumor flying like 'The Queen caught the King in the lust filled embrace of twenty whores, one of which was the dwarf seen at the Athenian Feast of Sinners who owns a pet tiger. They came riding in on a gargantuan elephant with four tusks in the middle of the eve and fled on some mystical carpet back to Olympus to piss off Hera as well.' She rolled her eyes and shook her head.
She hobbled like the old granny she was through the threshold and over to Pia, a hand going to her aching back. Her gaze flickered to the blood between the young woman's legs with a bit of alarm, but logic soon settled in. She gave a bit of a hmm, as she surveyed the situation. She looked to Stephanos, who for once was being a decent human being. "Good, stay useful, your wife could actually use a husband." She stated rather flatly.
She moved to spread Pia's leg's and check on things, but didn't notice any dilation, could just be a bit of trauma to the cervix. The baby no doubt feeling his mother's stress could have given a foul kick, and the cervix, tissue rich in blood, and would have ruptured some causing pain, and well...this mess. She looked back over to Stephanos, shaking her head with disproval. Finally she went to rest Pia's legs down, and spoke, her voice as soft as silk and sweet as honey.
"Pia, breathe, for once the metal head is right, it will be alright, your not ripe for picking yet my sweet eggplant." She smirked and gave a bit of a bemused laugh at her own meanderings, and a reassuring pat to the woman's knee. "Now I need to run down to the gardens to get some herbs to make a tea that will stop the pain and the bleeding, but until then sit tight hmm and think calming thoughts." She assured the woman who she had cared and loved,
The sweet kind old lady though quickly vanished as the haggard crone took to glaring at Stephanos, "Calming thoughts." She said firmly, wanting to make sure he got the message. "The fight doesn't matter, Pia matters." Desma, though a slave had a very bad habit of speaking her mind.
She gave a gently pat to Pia's knee. "It will be alright dearie, I will be right back." She moved to get up and hobble away, though with a bit of haste in her step. She wanted to get the herbs herself, it may mean that Pia had to suffer a bit longer, but if the wrong herbs were gathered by some insolent errand boy or girl, this night could end far worse. She forced herself to move a bit faster. Snap-crackle-pop. Snap-crackle-pop. Snap-crackle-pop. "Come on ye ole goat..." She muttered to herself, trying to encourage her body to cooperate.
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Desma was not far away and it didn't take long for her to be roused from a deep slumber by the cries of her sweet Pia. Getting up physically though, was a completely different matter. Disoriented she looked around grunting and grumbling in some foreign tongue before eyes finally fluttered open, but then there was this whole ordeal of standing up, and well old bones like her's took a bit of a convincing to get moving.
Crack. Snap. Crackle. POP. She groaned as an ache settled in and by the time she got her body to cooperate she saw a flurry of servants and a few guards leaving, well one bleeding. She gave a nod, and peaked her head through the door to see Stephanos by Pia's side. "What by Atlas has he done now?" She muttered to herself.
She knew the relationship was going sour, who didn't? The royal couple get into a fight and it's all the slaves of the house can talk about for days. Why by mid morning she imagined there would be some rumor flying like 'The Queen caught the King in the lust filled embrace of twenty whores, one of which was the dwarf seen at the Athenian Feast of Sinners who owns a pet tiger. They came riding in on a gargantuan elephant with four tusks in the middle of the eve and fled on some mystical carpet back to Olympus to piss off Hera as well.' She rolled her eyes and shook her head.
She hobbled like the old granny she was through the threshold and over to Pia, a hand going to her aching back. Her gaze flickered to the blood between the young woman's legs with a bit of alarm, but logic soon settled in. She gave a bit of a hmm, as she surveyed the situation. She looked to Stephanos, who for once was being a decent human being. "Good, stay useful, your wife could actually use a husband." She stated rather flatly.
She moved to spread Pia's leg's and check on things, but didn't notice any dilation, could just be a bit of trauma to the cervix. The baby no doubt feeling his mother's stress could have given a foul kick, and the cervix, tissue rich in blood, and would have ruptured some causing pain, and well...this mess. She looked back over to Stephanos, shaking her head with disproval. Finally she went to rest Pia's legs down, and spoke, her voice as soft as silk and sweet as honey.
"Pia, breathe, for once the metal head is right, it will be alright, your not ripe for picking yet my sweet eggplant." She smirked and gave a bit of a bemused laugh at her own meanderings, and a reassuring pat to the woman's knee. "Now I need to run down to the gardens to get some herbs to make a tea that will stop the pain and the bleeding, but until then sit tight hmm and think calming thoughts." She assured the woman who she had cared and loved,
The sweet kind old lady though quickly vanished as the haggard crone took to glaring at Stephanos, "Calming thoughts." She said firmly, wanting to make sure he got the message. "The fight doesn't matter, Pia matters." Desma, though a slave had a very bad habit of speaking her mind.
She gave a gently pat to Pia's knee. "It will be alright dearie, I will be right back." She moved to get up and hobble away, though with a bit of haste in her step. She wanted to get the herbs herself, it may mean that Pia had to suffer a bit longer, but if the wrong herbs were gathered by some insolent errand boy or girl, this night could end far worse. She forced herself to move a bit faster. Snap-crackle-pop. Snap-crackle-pop. Snap-crackle-pop. "Come on ye ole goat..." She muttered to herself, trying to encourage her body to cooperate.
Desma was not far away and it didn't take long for her to be roused from a deep slumber by the cries of her sweet Pia. Getting up physically though, was a completely different matter. Disoriented she looked around grunting and grumbling in some foreign tongue before eyes finally fluttered open, but then there was this whole ordeal of standing up, and well old bones like her's took a bit of a convincing to get moving.
Crack. Snap. Crackle. POP. She groaned as an ache settled in and by the time she got her body to cooperate she saw a flurry of servants and a few guards leaving, well one bleeding. She gave a nod, and peaked her head through the door to see Stephanos by Pia's side. "What by Atlas has he done now?" She muttered to herself.
She knew the relationship was going sour, who didn't? The royal couple get into a fight and it's all the slaves of the house can talk about for days. Why by mid morning she imagined there would be some rumor flying like 'The Queen caught the King in the lust filled embrace of twenty whores, one of which was the dwarf seen at the Athenian Feast of Sinners who owns a pet tiger. They came riding in on a gargantuan elephant with four tusks in the middle of the eve and fled on some mystical carpet back to Olympus to piss off Hera as well.' She rolled her eyes and shook her head.
She hobbled like the old granny she was through the threshold and over to Pia, a hand going to her aching back. Her gaze flickered to the blood between the young woman's legs with a bit of alarm, but logic soon settled in. She gave a bit of a hmm, as she surveyed the situation. She looked to Stephanos, who for once was being a decent human being. "Good, stay useful, your wife could actually use a husband." She stated rather flatly.
She moved to spread Pia's leg's and check on things, but didn't notice any dilation, could just be a bit of trauma to the cervix. The baby no doubt feeling his mother's stress could have given a foul kick, and the cervix, tissue rich in blood, and would have ruptured some causing pain, and well...this mess. She looked back over to Stephanos, shaking her head with disproval. Finally she went to rest Pia's legs down, and spoke, her voice as soft as silk and sweet as honey.
"Pia, breathe, for once the metal head is right, it will be alright, your not ripe for picking yet my sweet eggplant." She smirked and gave a bit of a bemused laugh at her own meanderings, and a reassuring pat to the woman's knee. "Now I need to run down to the gardens to get some herbs to make a tea that will stop the pain and the bleeding, but until then sit tight hmm and think calming thoughts." She assured the woman who she had cared and loved,
The sweet kind old lady though quickly vanished as the haggard crone took to glaring at Stephanos, "Calming thoughts." She said firmly, wanting to make sure he got the message. "The fight doesn't matter, Pia matters." Desma, though a slave had a very bad habit of speaking her mind.
She gave a gently pat to Pia's knee. "It will be alright dearie, I will be right back." She moved to get up and hobble away, though with a bit of haste in her step. She wanted to get the herbs herself, it may mean that Pia had to suffer a bit longer, but if the wrong herbs were gathered by some insolent errand boy or girl, this night could end far worse. She forced herself to move a bit faster. Snap-crackle-pop. Snap-crackle-pop. Snap-crackle-pop. "Come on ye ole goat..." She muttered to herself, trying to encourage her body to cooperate.
People had filtered into the room quickly, some bearing torches others bearing weapons as if they too had been plagued by nightmares of battles and fights to come, drawn by her continued screams and sobs as her world came crashing down around her. No matter what her birth or rank now it wouldn’t save her or her child if things had gone as drastically wrong as they appeared to. Doubled over and clutching at her stomach as more pain seemed to wrench her apart from the inside, she felt sweat beading on her brow and tears flowing down her cheeks as she tried to figure out what she could possibly do. It wasn’t as horrible as most women described labor pains, but any pains at this stage couldn’t be good. There were still nearly three months left before her prince was supposed to be born.
A commotion at the doorway drew her attention as one of her maids tried to soothe her and sop up the blood at the same time, but Pia was too focused on her husband to respond to the other woman’s attempts at calming. Feeling nauseated and cold at the sight of him, half of her wanted to yell blame at him for this and the other simply wanted to beg him to come hold her, tell her it would all be well and that this wasn’t the end of them. Her mouth opened to speak but nothing came out, her head shaking slightly as if to say she didn’t know what had gone wrong before he moved to her side. Allowing him to clear everyone out, she was still sobbing as the room emptied and Stephanos finally sat at her side and placed a hand on her shoulder.
”I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Pia gripped at his wrist, leaning into his chest seeking desperately for a comfort she didn’t know if he could give her, her tears running down his arm. For all they had fought, on her end so violently, he was the only one she had to hold on to and she couldn’t imagine letting him go right now. ”Stephanos, please forgive me.”
Desma’s presence blew an entirely new breath of air into the room, a relief settled over her though she was still terrified for the loss. Her old nursemaid brought in a sense of determined calm and she adjusted herself as the woman commanded, pressing her face to her husband’s chest to avoid watching though she couldn’t prevent the winces. It wasn’t until she heard the promising words that she was able to peel her face from its hiding place. Grimacing at Desma’s less than kind nickname for Stephanos, Pia gave her a pleading look, begging her to be kind for now. They had done enough arguing and name calling for the night.
Panic still beat in her chest, but without the army standing outside her door and a few maids bustling about to get clean linens on the bed and water brought up to clean her up. One brought over a clean chiton but in that moment as she shakily began to release her tight hold on Stephanos even through another pain, she felt a shyness in undressing before him after their fight. ”Thank you, Desma.” Her voice felt small, and she slid her arms around her stomach, leaning back against the bed as the old woman bustled back out. Staring down at the swell where the baby had previously been moving, she willed it to move again but there was only stillness now even as the pain slowly subsided. Tears still slowly trailed down her cheeks and she could feel herself shaking, afraid now that they were alone Stephanos would resume his cold indifference, or worse.
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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People had filtered into the room quickly, some bearing torches others bearing weapons as if they too had been plagued by nightmares of battles and fights to come, drawn by her continued screams and sobs as her world came crashing down around her. No matter what her birth or rank now it wouldn’t save her or her child if things had gone as drastically wrong as they appeared to. Doubled over and clutching at her stomach as more pain seemed to wrench her apart from the inside, she felt sweat beading on her brow and tears flowing down her cheeks as she tried to figure out what she could possibly do. It wasn’t as horrible as most women described labor pains, but any pains at this stage couldn’t be good. There were still nearly three months left before her prince was supposed to be born.
A commotion at the doorway drew her attention as one of her maids tried to soothe her and sop up the blood at the same time, but Pia was too focused on her husband to respond to the other woman’s attempts at calming. Feeling nauseated and cold at the sight of him, half of her wanted to yell blame at him for this and the other simply wanted to beg him to come hold her, tell her it would all be well and that this wasn’t the end of them. Her mouth opened to speak but nothing came out, her head shaking slightly as if to say she didn’t know what had gone wrong before he moved to her side. Allowing him to clear everyone out, she was still sobbing as the room emptied and Stephanos finally sat at her side and placed a hand on her shoulder.
”I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Pia gripped at his wrist, leaning into his chest seeking desperately for a comfort she didn’t know if he could give her, her tears running down his arm. For all they had fought, on her end so violently, he was the only one she had to hold on to and she couldn’t imagine letting him go right now. ”Stephanos, please forgive me.”
Desma’s presence blew an entirely new breath of air into the room, a relief settled over her though she was still terrified for the loss. Her old nursemaid brought in a sense of determined calm and she adjusted herself as the woman commanded, pressing her face to her husband’s chest to avoid watching though she couldn’t prevent the winces. It wasn’t until she heard the promising words that she was able to peel her face from its hiding place. Grimacing at Desma’s less than kind nickname for Stephanos, Pia gave her a pleading look, begging her to be kind for now. They had done enough arguing and name calling for the night.
Panic still beat in her chest, but without the army standing outside her door and a few maids bustling about to get clean linens on the bed and water brought up to clean her up. One brought over a clean chiton but in that moment as she shakily began to release her tight hold on Stephanos even through another pain, she felt a shyness in undressing before him after their fight. ”Thank you, Desma.” Her voice felt small, and she slid her arms around her stomach, leaning back against the bed as the old woman bustled back out. Staring down at the swell where the baby had previously been moving, she willed it to move again but there was only stillness now even as the pain slowly subsided. Tears still slowly trailed down her cheeks and she could feel herself shaking, afraid now that they were alone Stephanos would resume his cold indifference, or worse.
People had filtered into the room quickly, some bearing torches others bearing weapons as if they too had been plagued by nightmares of battles and fights to come, drawn by her continued screams and sobs as her world came crashing down around her. No matter what her birth or rank now it wouldn’t save her or her child if things had gone as drastically wrong as they appeared to. Doubled over and clutching at her stomach as more pain seemed to wrench her apart from the inside, she felt sweat beading on her brow and tears flowing down her cheeks as she tried to figure out what she could possibly do. It wasn’t as horrible as most women described labor pains, but any pains at this stage couldn’t be good. There were still nearly three months left before her prince was supposed to be born.
A commotion at the doorway drew her attention as one of her maids tried to soothe her and sop up the blood at the same time, but Pia was too focused on her husband to respond to the other woman’s attempts at calming. Feeling nauseated and cold at the sight of him, half of her wanted to yell blame at him for this and the other simply wanted to beg him to come hold her, tell her it would all be well and that this wasn’t the end of them. Her mouth opened to speak but nothing came out, her head shaking slightly as if to say she didn’t know what had gone wrong before he moved to her side. Allowing him to clear everyone out, she was still sobbing as the room emptied and Stephanos finally sat at her side and placed a hand on her shoulder.
”I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Pia gripped at his wrist, leaning into his chest seeking desperately for a comfort she didn’t know if he could give her, her tears running down his arm. For all they had fought, on her end so violently, he was the only one she had to hold on to and she couldn’t imagine letting him go right now. ”Stephanos, please forgive me.”
Desma’s presence blew an entirely new breath of air into the room, a relief settled over her though she was still terrified for the loss. Her old nursemaid brought in a sense of determined calm and she adjusted herself as the woman commanded, pressing her face to her husband’s chest to avoid watching though she couldn’t prevent the winces. It wasn’t until she heard the promising words that she was able to peel her face from its hiding place. Grimacing at Desma’s less than kind nickname for Stephanos, Pia gave her a pleading look, begging her to be kind for now. They had done enough arguing and name calling for the night.
Panic still beat in her chest, but without the army standing outside her door and a few maids bustling about to get clean linens on the bed and water brought up to clean her up. One brought over a clean chiton but in that moment as she shakily began to release her tight hold on Stephanos even through another pain, she felt a shyness in undressing before him after their fight. ”Thank you, Desma.” Her voice felt small, and she slid her arms around her stomach, leaning back against the bed as the old woman bustled back out. Staring down at the swell where the baby had previously been moving, she willed it to move again but there was only stillness now even as the pain slowly subsided. Tears still slowly trailed down her cheeks and she could feel herself shaking, afraid now that they were alone Stephanos would resume his cold indifference, or worse.
Gianna had become progressively unsettled since her brother’s alcohol-induced accusations the day before his coronation. While she had taken into account that the entire kingdom was of course still grieving the premature death of King Zenon and the senseless loss of the Crown Prince, she knew that Stephanos could not be so paranoid as to completely make up such claims. The youngest Princess had spent the subsequent nights lying in bed, chasing the hope of a few restless hours of sleep while her mind continued to turn until the wee hours of the morning.
Upon the suggestion of her serving girl, Elpis, Gianna had soaked in a hot bath infused with lavender and chamomile as part of her evening ritual. By the time she had crawled beneath the ornate quilts adorning her bed, Hypnos was ready to welcome the Princess into the land of dreams. She dreamt of her youth and the surreptitious adventures her parents willfully ignored until she debuted at court. As she relished the memories of happier times, all color drained from the bright forest scape before her and she felt as though the air had been sucked from her very lungs.
Gianna was too hot and too cold all at once. She kicked out, her mind registering her state of consciousness and the utterly gut-wrenching scream that had stolen her from sleep’s embrace. She could have sworn her heart stopped, just for a moment, as she leapt from her bed and tore through the halls, armed only with an oil lamp with which to defend herself. Had the Creed heard of Stephanos’s desire to bring the fight to them? Had they chosen to attack once more and finish the job? The thought had momentarily crossed her mind, but she could only focus on locating the panicked cries that rang throughout the palace.
A flurry of commotion caught the Princess’s attention and she approached, a fresh awareness for her own personal safety slowing her from her initial mad dash. A conglomerate of servants and soldiers were exiting the Queen’s chambers. Now certain that the palace was safe from any threat of mortal danger—at least for one more night—and driven by curiosity, Gianna peeked in as Olympia’s nursemaid slipped past with an uncharacteristic haste. Watching the woman toddle off, Gianna took her place just inside the threshold.
”Steph—oh, gods! Olympia!” she could feel the color drain from her face as she assessed the scene before her. She had seen her brother first, confusion and worry bright in his eyes and at odds with the soothing noises he directed to his wife. The air was sharp, tinny and it drew Gianna’s eye to Olympia’s bed where a fresh bloodstain soaked her sheets. She was not terribly knowledgeable when it came to bearing children, but she could not imagine so much blood while still so early in the pregnancy could be a good sign.
Gianna was immediately at the Queen’s other side. They may have had a somewhat rocky start to their relationship, but Olympia needed support and while the Princess could not offer her medical attention, she would do her best to comfort Olympia in ways only a fellow woman could understand. Ever so gently, Gianna slid onto the bed next to the pregnant woman, careful not to jostle her and cause further discomfort. She lightly stroked the woman’s hair while she cooed, “You are one of the strongest women I have ever met. You are going to be okay, you will get through this.”
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Gianna had become progressively unsettled since her brother’s alcohol-induced accusations the day before his coronation. While she had taken into account that the entire kingdom was of course still grieving the premature death of King Zenon and the senseless loss of the Crown Prince, she knew that Stephanos could not be so paranoid as to completely make up such claims. The youngest Princess had spent the subsequent nights lying in bed, chasing the hope of a few restless hours of sleep while her mind continued to turn until the wee hours of the morning.
Upon the suggestion of her serving girl, Elpis, Gianna had soaked in a hot bath infused with lavender and chamomile as part of her evening ritual. By the time she had crawled beneath the ornate quilts adorning her bed, Hypnos was ready to welcome the Princess into the land of dreams. She dreamt of her youth and the surreptitious adventures her parents willfully ignored until she debuted at court. As she relished the memories of happier times, all color drained from the bright forest scape before her and she felt as though the air had been sucked from her very lungs.
Gianna was too hot and too cold all at once. She kicked out, her mind registering her state of consciousness and the utterly gut-wrenching scream that had stolen her from sleep’s embrace. She could have sworn her heart stopped, just for a moment, as she leapt from her bed and tore through the halls, armed only with an oil lamp with which to defend herself. Had the Creed heard of Stephanos’s desire to bring the fight to them? Had they chosen to attack once more and finish the job? The thought had momentarily crossed her mind, but she could only focus on locating the panicked cries that rang throughout the palace.
A flurry of commotion caught the Princess’s attention and she approached, a fresh awareness for her own personal safety slowing her from her initial mad dash. A conglomerate of servants and soldiers were exiting the Queen’s chambers. Now certain that the palace was safe from any threat of mortal danger—at least for one more night—and driven by curiosity, Gianna peeked in as Olympia’s nursemaid slipped past with an uncharacteristic haste. Watching the woman toddle off, Gianna took her place just inside the threshold.
”Steph—oh, gods! Olympia!” she could feel the color drain from her face as she assessed the scene before her. She had seen her brother first, confusion and worry bright in his eyes and at odds with the soothing noises he directed to his wife. The air was sharp, tinny and it drew Gianna’s eye to Olympia’s bed where a fresh bloodstain soaked her sheets. She was not terribly knowledgeable when it came to bearing children, but she could not imagine so much blood while still so early in the pregnancy could be a good sign.
Gianna was immediately at the Queen’s other side. They may have had a somewhat rocky start to their relationship, but Olympia needed support and while the Princess could not offer her medical attention, she would do her best to comfort Olympia in ways only a fellow woman could understand. Ever so gently, Gianna slid onto the bed next to the pregnant woman, careful not to jostle her and cause further discomfort. She lightly stroked the woman’s hair while she cooed, “You are one of the strongest women I have ever met. You are going to be okay, you will get through this.”
Gianna had become progressively unsettled since her brother’s alcohol-induced accusations the day before his coronation. While she had taken into account that the entire kingdom was of course still grieving the premature death of King Zenon and the senseless loss of the Crown Prince, she knew that Stephanos could not be so paranoid as to completely make up such claims. The youngest Princess had spent the subsequent nights lying in bed, chasing the hope of a few restless hours of sleep while her mind continued to turn until the wee hours of the morning.
Upon the suggestion of her serving girl, Elpis, Gianna had soaked in a hot bath infused with lavender and chamomile as part of her evening ritual. By the time she had crawled beneath the ornate quilts adorning her bed, Hypnos was ready to welcome the Princess into the land of dreams. She dreamt of her youth and the surreptitious adventures her parents willfully ignored until she debuted at court. As she relished the memories of happier times, all color drained from the bright forest scape before her and she felt as though the air had been sucked from her very lungs.
Gianna was too hot and too cold all at once. She kicked out, her mind registering her state of consciousness and the utterly gut-wrenching scream that had stolen her from sleep’s embrace. She could have sworn her heart stopped, just for a moment, as she leapt from her bed and tore through the halls, armed only with an oil lamp with which to defend herself. Had the Creed heard of Stephanos’s desire to bring the fight to them? Had they chosen to attack once more and finish the job? The thought had momentarily crossed her mind, but she could only focus on locating the panicked cries that rang throughout the palace.
A flurry of commotion caught the Princess’s attention and she approached, a fresh awareness for her own personal safety slowing her from her initial mad dash. A conglomerate of servants and soldiers were exiting the Queen’s chambers. Now certain that the palace was safe from any threat of mortal danger—at least for one more night—and driven by curiosity, Gianna peeked in as Olympia’s nursemaid slipped past with an uncharacteristic haste. Watching the woman toddle off, Gianna took her place just inside the threshold.
”Steph—oh, gods! Olympia!” she could feel the color drain from her face as she assessed the scene before her. She had seen her brother first, confusion and worry bright in his eyes and at odds with the soothing noises he directed to his wife. The air was sharp, tinny and it drew Gianna’s eye to Olympia’s bed where a fresh bloodstain soaked her sheets. She was not terribly knowledgeable when it came to bearing children, but she could not imagine so much blood while still so early in the pregnancy could be a good sign.
Gianna was immediately at the Queen’s other side. They may have had a somewhat rocky start to their relationship, but Olympia needed support and while the Princess could not offer her medical attention, she would do her best to comfort Olympia in ways only a fellow woman could understand. Ever so gently, Gianna slid onto the bed next to the pregnant woman, careful not to jostle her and cause further discomfort. She lightly stroked the woman’s hair while she cooed, “You are one of the strongest women I have ever met. You are going to be okay, you will get through this.”
The crushing grip she had on his wrist hurt differently than the way she leaned into his chest, sobbing out her apology. His insides twisted, knotted, and undid themselves over and over until he wondered if it would ever stop. The way she was apologizing meant, to him, she knew she would lose the baby. If she lost her first, would she lose a second too? Would they even have time to try again before Irakles struck? Surely his uncle would take this as god sent….
”Stephanos, please forgive me.”
His eyes dropped to the bed, to the blood staining the sheets. There was some, to be sure. An alarming amount, but not enough that Olympia would bleed out. He’d seen that amount many times. But he didn’t know about blood and pregnancy, except that it usually led to an early born infant. And the infant not surviving the process.
As she begged forgiveness, he merely shushed her and kept up saying things like “This will come to naught,” or “You are ok,” or “He’s ok,” meaning the prince inside her.
The second Desma entered the room, his glare locked onto her. Pia’s tense body relaxed a fraction and then almost completely once her nursemaid began giving orders. He, however, did not feel as comforted by her presence as his wife did. This meddlesome old bat was partially the reason for the divide between them to begin with. And then to insult him further?
But she was needed and he ground his teeth together to keep his mouth shut. Sweet as honeyed figs to Pia, Desma was an agitated goat to himself. For the sake of his wife only did he endure the glares and murmured insults and insinuations of the old woman. If Olympia was not quite so attached to her nurse, if perhaps another might be found, he’d have happily sent Desma packing. Perhaps to a Colchian province near the ore mines. Pregnant slaves needed midwives too, didn’t they?
Happy fantasies.
As it was, she patted Pia’s knee and straightened up as much as her back would allow, declaring that she needed to get herbs for a tea. Despite himself, relief trickled through him. At Desma’s “Calming thoughts” insult, he shook his head and finally looked away, giving up. He couldn’t throttle the old woman and she wasn’t going away. They’d have words together after all this was said and done. That was for certain.
They weren’t alone for long. From here he could see the side of Gianna’s pale face as she peaked into the room. If she was anyone else, he would have waved her away but because she was his sister, and because he’d never hear the end of it if he did not allow her to come, he said nothing as she entered the room. She flew to Pia and mounted the bed without hesitation, settling herself on Pia’s other side and stroking her hair.
He raised his eyebrows at the sudden love between them but he said nothing. If they had a new bond between them, he didn’t want to cause it to come crashing down. Gianna murmured to Pia things he should have said. Had meant to say but didn’t.
“Desma says the baby isn’t coming,” he leaned a little around Pia to see his sister. But to his wife? He did not know what to say. Though Desma had rightfully, though in an infuriating way, said that the fight needed to be behind them, he was still fully in it and thought Pia to be there as well. So, rather than speak to her, he put a hand on her thigh, rather than her stomach. He didn’t want to cause her more pain.
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The crushing grip she had on his wrist hurt differently than the way she leaned into his chest, sobbing out her apology. His insides twisted, knotted, and undid themselves over and over until he wondered if it would ever stop. The way she was apologizing meant, to him, she knew she would lose the baby. If she lost her first, would she lose a second too? Would they even have time to try again before Irakles struck? Surely his uncle would take this as god sent….
”Stephanos, please forgive me.”
His eyes dropped to the bed, to the blood staining the sheets. There was some, to be sure. An alarming amount, but not enough that Olympia would bleed out. He’d seen that amount many times. But he didn’t know about blood and pregnancy, except that it usually led to an early born infant. And the infant not surviving the process.
As she begged forgiveness, he merely shushed her and kept up saying things like “This will come to naught,” or “You are ok,” or “He’s ok,” meaning the prince inside her.
The second Desma entered the room, his glare locked onto her. Pia’s tense body relaxed a fraction and then almost completely once her nursemaid began giving orders. He, however, did not feel as comforted by her presence as his wife did. This meddlesome old bat was partially the reason for the divide between them to begin with. And then to insult him further?
But she was needed and he ground his teeth together to keep his mouth shut. Sweet as honeyed figs to Pia, Desma was an agitated goat to himself. For the sake of his wife only did he endure the glares and murmured insults and insinuations of the old woman. If Olympia was not quite so attached to her nurse, if perhaps another might be found, he’d have happily sent Desma packing. Perhaps to a Colchian province near the ore mines. Pregnant slaves needed midwives too, didn’t they?
Happy fantasies.
As it was, she patted Pia’s knee and straightened up as much as her back would allow, declaring that she needed to get herbs for a tea. Despite himself, relief trickled through him. At Desma’s “Calming thoughts” insult, he shook his head and finally looked away, giving up. He couldn’t throttle the old woman and she wasn’t going away. They’d have words together after all this was said and done. That was for certain.
They weren’t alone for long. From here he could see the side of Gianna’s pale face as she peaked into the room. If she was anyone else, he would have waved her away but because she was his sister, and because he’d never hear the end of it if he did not allow her to come, he said nothing as she entered the room. She flew to Pia and mounted the bed without hesitation, settling herself on Pia’s other side and stroking her hair.
He raised his eyebrows at the sudden love between them but he said nothing. If they had a new bond between them, he didn’t want to cause it to come crashing down. Gianna murmured to Pia things he should have said. Had meant to say but didn’t.
“Desma says the baby isn’t coming,” he leaned a little around Pia to see his sister. But to his wife? He did not know what to say. Though Desma had rightfully, though in an infuriating way, said that the fight needed to be behind them, he was still fully in it and thought Pia to be there as well. So, rather than speak to her, he put a hand on her thigh, rather than her stomach. He didn’t want to cause her more pain.
The crushing grip she had on his wrist hurt differently than the way she leaned into his chest, sobbing out her apology. His insides twisted, knotted, and undid themselves over and over until he wondered if it would ever stop. The way she was apologizing meant, to him, she knew she would lose the baby. If she lost her first, would she lose a second too? Would they even have time to try again before Irakles struck? Surely his uncle would take this as god sent….
”Stephanos, please forgive me.”
His eyes dropped to the bed, to the blood staining the sheets. There was some, to be sure. An alarming amount, but not enough that Olympia would bleed out. He’d seen that amount many times. But he didn’t know about blood and pregnancy, except that it usually led to an early born infant. And the infant not surviving the process.
As she begged forgiveness, he merely shushed her and kept up saying things like “This will come to naught,” or “You are ok,” or “He’s ok,” meaning the prince inside her.
The second Desma entered the room, his glare locked onto her. Pia’s tense body relaxed a fraction and then almost completely once her nursemaid began giving orders. He, however, did not feel as comforted by her presence as his wife did. This meddlesome old bat was partially the reason for the divide between them to begin with. And then to insult him further?
But she was needed and he ground his teeth together to keep his mouth shut. Sweet as honeyed figs to Pia, Desma was an agitated goat to himself. For the sake of his wife only did he endure the glares and murmured insults and insinuations of the old woman. If Olympia was not quite so attached to her nurse, if perhaps another might be found, he’d have happily sent Desma packing. Perhaps to a Colchian province near the ore mines. Pregnant slaves needed midwives too, didn’t they?
Happy fantasies.
As it was, she patted Pia’s knee and straightened up as much as her back would allow, declaring that she needed to get herbs for a tea. Despite himself, relief trickled through him. At Desma’s “Calming thoughts” insult, he shook his head and finally looked away, giving up. He couldn’t throttle the old woman and she wasn’t going away. They’d have words together after all this was said and done. That was for certain.
They weren’t alone for long. From here he could see the side of Gianna’s pale face as she peaked into the room. If she was anyone else, he would have waved her away but because she was his sister, and because he’d never hear the end of it if he did not allow her to come, he said nothing as she entered the room. She flew to Pia and mounted the bed without hesitation, settling herself on Pia’s other side and stroking her hair.
He raised his eyebrows at the sudden love between them but he said nothing. If they had a new bond between them, he didn’t want to cause it to come crashing down. Gianna murmured to Pia things he should have said. Had meant to say but didn’t.
“Desma says the baby isn’t coming,” he leaned a little around Pia to see his sister. But to his wife? He did not know what to say. Though Desma had rightfully, though in an infuriating way, said that the fight needed to be behind them, he was still fully in it and thought Pia to be there as well. So, rather than speak to her, he put a hand on her thigh, rather than her stomach. He didn’t want to cause her more pain.
Each word that fell from her husband’s lips felt like a promise and a lie all at once. She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe he still cared for her and that the fight they had could be let go and return to some sense of the way they had been in the woods. It was everything she needed to think right now which was why she clung to him so tightly as Desma concluded her examination. There was hardly a moment of the silence between them for her to even think of speaking outside of the panicked jumble of apologies she had thrown at him before Gianna flew in and to her side. She was somewhat surprised by the affection, they had been cordial but she had heard full well what Gia thought of her when she and Stephanos had first been married. Still, in the absence of her own sisters to cling to the embrace and hand stroking through her hair was welcomed and she fell into it in relief.
”Thank you, Gianna..the pain has subsided and as your brother said, the baby isn’t coming yet. Perhaps he just kicked hard at his impatience to come into the world.”
Pia offered a weak sort of smile and glanced down as her husband’s hand came to rest on her thigh. The mixed emotions rose in her chest again and she looked away, back to her sister-in-law instead as she delicately rested her hands on her stomach. Two maids bustled about them to clean things up and made a show of not listening as they took away the bloodied cloth. With any luck things would settle down now and people who might have heard wouldn’t remember the fight, only this instead.
”Stubborn as a Mikaelidas, I think. He’ll just have to wait a few months longer.” Taking advantage of Gianna on her other side, Olympia leaned her head against the younger woman’s shoulder and closed her eyes to try to focus on breathing as Desma had instructed. She still felt shaky, shocked and pale from the ordeal that had caused this whole ruckus and trying not to look Stephanos in the eye. He would hate her all the more after this, find less time for her and think her only a burden. One that could be replaced. Her uncle had told them a Colchian contingent was coming, bringing Selene’s paramour and his younger sister. Who was to say she could not be gotten rid of and the young princess chosen over her.
It wasn’t until Desma returned that she opened her eyes, trying to smile at her and the others in reassurance even while she felt like everything was falling apart. Tentatively, she reached a hand out to settle atop Stephanos’, looking not at him but down at their hands as she gave it a squeeze that she hoped conveyed her apology, her guilt and hope that he could forgive her.
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Each word that fell from her husband’s lips felt like a promise and a lie all at once. She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe he still cared for her and that the fight they had could be let go and return to some sense of the way they had been in the woods. It was everything she needed to think right now which was why she clung to him so tightly as Desma concluded her examination. There was hardly a moment of the silence between them for her to even think of speaking outside of the panicked jumble of apologies she had thrown at him before Gianna flew in and to her side. She was somewhat surprised by the affection, they had been cordial but she had heard full well what Gia thought of her when she and Stephanos had first been married. Still, in the absence of her own sisters to cling to the embrace and hand stroking through her hair was welcomed and she fell into it in relief.
”Thank you, Gianna..the pain has subsided and as your brother said, the baby isn’t coming yet. Perhaps he just kicked hard at his impatience to come into the world.”
Pia offered a weak sort of smile and glanced down as her husband’s hand came to rest on her thigh. The mixed emotions rose in her chest again and she looked away, back to her sister-in-law instead as she delicately rested her hands on her stomach. Two maids bustled about them to clean things up and made a show of not listening as they took away the bloodied cloth. With any luck things would settle down now and people who might have heard wouldn’t remember the fight, only this instead.
”Stubborn as a Mikaelidas, I think. He’ll just have to wait a few months longer.” Taking advantage of Gianna on her other side, Olympia leaned her head against the younger woman’s shoulder and closed her eyes to try to focus on breathing as Desma had instructed. She still felt shaky, shocked and pale from the ordeal that had caused this whole ruckus and trying not to look Stephanos in the eye. He would hate her all the more after this, find less time for her and think her only a burden. One that could be replaced. Her uncle had told them a Colchian contingent was coming, bringing Selene’s paramour and his younger sister. Who was to say she could not be gotten rid of and the young princess chosen over her.
It wasn’t until Desma returned that she opened her eyes, trying to smile at her and the others in reassurance even while she felt like everything was falling apart. Tentatively, she reached a hand out to settle atop Stephanos’, looking not at him but down at their hands as she gave it a squeeze that she hoped conveyed her apology, her guilt and hope that he could forgive her.
Each word that fell from her husband’s lips felt like a promise and a lie all at once. She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe he still cared for her and that the fight they had could be let go and return to some sense of the way they had been in the woods. It was everything she needed to think right now which was why she clung to him so tightly as Desma concluded her examination. There was hardly a moment of the silence between them for her to even think of speaking outside of the panicked jumble of apologies she had thrown at him before Gianna flew in and to her side. She was somewhat surprised by the affection, they had been cordial but she had heard full well what Gia thought of her when she and Stephanos had first been married. Still, in the absence of her own sisters to cling to the embrace and hand stroking through her hair was welcomed and she fell into it in relief.
”Thank you, Gianna..the pain has subsided and as your brother said, the baby isn’t coming yet. Perhaps he just kicked hard at his impatience to come into the world.”
Pia offered a weak sort of smile and glanced down as her husband’s hand came to rest on her thigh. The mixed emotions rose in her chest again and she looked away, back to her sister-in-law instead as she delicately rested her hands on her stomach. Two maids bustled about them to clean things up and made a show of not listening as they took away the bloodied cloth. With any luck things would settle down now and people who might have heard wouldn’t remember the fight, only this instead.
”Stubborn as a Mikaelidas, I think. He’ll just have to wait a few months longer.” Taking advantage of Gianna on her other side, Olympia leaned her head against the younger woman’s shoulder and closed her eyes to try to focus on breathing as Desma had instructed. She still felt shaky, shocked and pale from the ordeal that had caused this whole ruckus and trying not to look Stephanos in the eye. He would hate her all the more after this, find less time for her and think her only a burden. One that could be replaced. Her uncle had told them a Colchian contingent was coming, bringing Selene’s paramour and his younger sister. Who was to say she could not be gotten rid of and the young princess chosen over her.
It wasn’t until Desma returned that she opened her eyes, trying to smile at her and the others in reassurance even while she felt like everything was falling apart. Tentatively, she reached a hand out to settle atop Stephanos’, looking not at him but down at their hands as she gave it a squeeze that she hoped conveyed her apology, her guilt and hope that he could forgive her.
Snap. Crackle. Pop. Snap. Crackle. Pop. She could be heard from down the hall her old bones creaking a rhythm all their own, but she wasn't just some useless bag of bones as some may very well imagine. No in her possession was a vase of boiling water and some fresh cut herbs, hand selected by herself.
She passed by the guard with the rust bucket for a helmet. Spit shine would only get him so far after all, and gave an approving smile for once to Steph. Her lips didn't say it, but that was because she didn't have to. That judgmental gaze of her's spoke volumes. 'Good job. It seems your crown has shifted from Zeus's seed rag, to an actual cylindrical head piece. Keep up the good work, and the word 'King' might hold meaning once again, some day, but chances are not in my lifetime.' Her gaze moved away with that final thought of disappointment. But Mum's the word, just a glance, really. Oh pleasantries. Pia did tell her to play nice...for a while.
A real smile filled with the depths of her supposed inky black heart though reached Pia through her gaze, "That's it, keep breathing."
Her gaze then went to the youngest of the bunch. "You too dear, your looking a bit pale. All will be well." She assured Gianna. Sweet girl, pretty girl, daft girl well she supposed everyone had to at least one flaw.
She hobbled her way to the small writing desk and began making the tea. She seemed calm and self assured, but then again this was not her first journey through the Cretan labyrinth, and she knew Minotaurs, like all bulls, were herbivores.
When she was done selecting the herbs, and wrapping them in a cup. She took Pia's night cup, emptied it out the window, poured fresh hot water into it, and steeped the tea bag. A few minutes later she pulled the cloth and it's contents from the cup and brought it over to Pia, "Blow, it's hot, but then sip, slowly."
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Snap. Crackle. Pop. Snap. Crackle. Pop. She could be heard from down the hall her old bones creaking a rhythm all their own, but she wasn't just some useless bag of bones as some may very well imagine. No in her possession was a vase of boiling water and some fresh cut herbs, hand selected by herself.
She passed by the guard with the rust bucket for a helmet. Spit shine would only get him so far after all, and gave an approving smile for once to Steph. Her lips didn't say it, but that was because she didn't have to. That judgmental gaze of her's spoke volumes. 'Good job. It seems your crown has shifted from Zeus's seed rag, to an actual cylindrical head piece. Keep up the good work, and the word 'King' might hold meaning once again, some day, but chances are not in my lifetime.' Her gaze moved away with that final thought of disappointment. But Mum's the word, just a glance, really. Oh pleasantries. Pia did tell her to play nice...for a while.
A real smile filled with the depths of her supposed inky black heart though reached Pia through her gaze, "That's it, keep breathing."
Her gaze then went to the youngest of the bunch. "You too dear, your looking a bit pale. All will be well." She assured Gianna. Sweet girl, pretty girl, daft girl well she supposed everyone had to at least one flaw.
She hobbled her way to the small writing desk and began making the tea. She seemed calm and self assured, but then again this was not her first journey through the Cretan labyrinth, and she knew Minotaurs, like all bulls, were herbivores.
When she was done selecting the herbs, and wrapping them in a cup. She took Pia's night cup, emptied it out the window, poured fresh hot water into it, and steeped the tea bag. A few minutes later she pulled the cloth and it's contents from the cup and brought it over to Pia, "Blow, it's hot, but then sip, slowly."
Snap. Crackle. Pop. Snap. Crackle. Pop. She could be heard from down the hall her old bones creaking a rhythm all their own, but she wasn't just some useless bag of bones as some may very well imagine. No in her possession was a vase of boiling water and some fresh cut herbs, hand selected by herself.
She passed by the guard with the rust bucket for a helmet. Spit shine would only get him so far after all, and gave an approving smile for once to Steph. Her lips didn't say it, but that was because she didn't have to. That judgmental gaze of her's spoke volumes. 'Good job. It seems your crown has shifted from Zeus's seed rag, to an actual cylindrical head piece. Keep up the good work, and the word 'King' might hold meaning once again, some day, but chances are not in my lifetime.' Her gaze moved away with that final thought of disappointment. But Mum's the word, just a glance, really. Oh pleasantries. Pia did tell her to play nice...for a while.
A real smile filled with the depths of her supposed inky black heart though reached Pia through her gaze, "That's it, keep breathing."
Her gaze then went to the youngest of the bunch. "You too dear, your looking a bit pale. All will be well." She assured Gianna. Sweet girl, pretty girl, daft girl well she supposed everyone had to at least one flaw.
She hobbled her way to the small writing desk and began making the tea. She seemed calm and self assured, but then again this was not her first journey through the Cretan labyrinth, and she knew Minotaurs, like all bulls, were herbivores.
When she was done selecting the herbs, and wrapping them in a cup. She took Pia's night cup, emptied it out the window, poured fresh hot water into it, and steeped the tea bag. A few minutes later she pulled the cloth and it's contents from the cup and brought it over to Pia, "Blow, it's hot, but then sip, slowly."
It seemed like Desma was gone for an eternity. He could easily imagine her hobbling at the pace of an injured turtle through the corridors until she reached the medicinal garden. Where she would get ready, boiling water was anyone’s guess but he didn’t know what servants did in their areas. Perhaps they always had hot water. In case of emergencies such as this one. Or, more probably, someone was already seeing to it because they knew the queen would have need.
Either way, they did not have to wait for more than half an hour but it was already too long. He was impatient by the time the old nurse snapped and popped her way through the doorway with the water and the herbs. When Pia had leaned on Gianna instead, he’d eased back and leaned his head against the wall, staring up at the beams in the ceiling. His wife was being confusing. First she threw things, then demanded to know he’d be safe, then coldly left the room, then begged him for forgiveness, for one could only assume was losing the baby.
Thankfully, if her nursemaid was right, and in this arena at least, he was inclined to believe Desma’s assessment, especially since it brought good news, there was no forgiveness necessary. He was about to remove his hand from Pia’s thigh, since she obviously no longer wanted his presence, when she stopped him by placing her hand atop his and giving it a squeeze.
His eyes remind and Desma so that he wouldn’t have to see Pia’s expression. She was too all over the place. He couldn’t read her like he usually could. This was foreign for them and the further stress of all this, coupled with the fight wasn’t helping any desire for reconciliation. Not at the moment.
To Desma, he didn’t bother to smile at her. His gaze was hard. A warning that she better fix this mess that she made. If not for this old fool’s interference, Olympia would likely not be in the position she was now.
When Desma spoke kind words to his sister, Stephanos no longer controlled his exasperated sigh. Did the old hag just hate men? It certainly seemed so. With another lethal glare in the nursemaid’s direction, he slid his hand out from under his wife’s and stood.
“When will she be well?” he directed the question at Desma while still looking at her like he’d rather be choking the life from her. “The child is not coming tonight but will he come early anyway? Or at the appointed time?” The appointed time being her full term which was still a little more than three months away. They, none of them, Desma included, could afford for this child to be born too early.
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It seemed like Desma was gone for an eternity. He could easily imagine her hobbling at the pace of an injured turtle through the corridors until she reached the medicinal garden. Where she would get ready, boiling water was anyone’s guess but he didn’t know what servants did in their areas. Perhaps they always had hot water. In case of emergencies such as this one. Or, more probably, someone was already seeing to it because they knew the queen would have need.
Either way, they did not have to wait for more than half an hour but it was already too long. He was impatient by the time the old nurse snapped and popped her way through the doorway with the water and the herbs. When Pia had leaned on Gianna instead, he’d eased back and leaned his head against the wall, staring up at the beams in the ceiling. His wife was being confusing. First she threw things, then demanded to know he’d be safe, then coldly left the room, then begged him for forgiveness, for one could only assume was losing the baby.
Thankfully, if her nursemaid was right, and in this arena at least, he was inclined to believe Desma’s assessment, especially since it brought good news, there was no forgiveness necessary. He was about to remove his hand from Pia’s thigh, since she obviously no longer wanted his presence, when she stopped him by placing her hand atop his and giving it a squeeze.
His eyes remind and Desma so that he wouldn’t have to see Pia’s expression. She was too all over the place. He couldn’t read her like he usually could. This was foreign for them and the further stress of all this, coupled with the fight wasn’t helping any desire for reconciliation. Not at the moment.
To Desma, he didn’t bother to smile at her. His gaze was hard. A warning that she better fix this mess that she made. If not for this old fool’s interference, Olympia would likely not be in the position she was now.
When Desma spoke kind words to his sister, Stephanos no longer controlled his exasperated sigh. Did the old hag just hate men? It certainly seemed so. With another lethal glare in the nursemaid’s direction, he slid his hand out from under his wife’s and stood.
“When will she be well?” he directed the question at Desma while still looking at her like he’d rather be choking the life from her. “The child is not coming tonight but will he come early anyway? Or at the appointed time?” The appointed time being her full term which was still a little more than three months away. They, none of them, Desma included, could afford for this child to be born too early.
It seemed like Desma was gone for an eternity. He could easily imagine her hobbling at the pace of an injured turtle through the corridors until she reached the medicinal garden. Where she would get ready, boiling water was anyone’s guess but he didn’t know what servants did in their areas. Perhaps they always had hot water. In case of emergencies such as this one. Or, more probably, someone was already seeing to it because they knew the queen would have need.
Either way, they did not have to wait for more than half an hour but it was already too long. He was impatient by the time the old nurse snapped and popped her way through the doorway with the water and the herbs. When Pia had leaned on Gianna instead, he’d eased back and leaned his head against the wall, staring up at the beams in the ceiling. His wife was being confusing. First she threw things, then demanded to know he’d be safe, then coldly left the room, then begged him for forgiveness, for one could only assume was losing the baby.
Thankfully, if her nursemaid was right, and in this arena at least, he was inclined to believe Desma’s assessment, especially since it brought good news, there was no forgiveness necessary. He was about to remove his hand from Pia’s thigh, since she obviously no longer wanted his presence, when she stopped him by placing her hand atop his and giving it a squeeze.
His eyes remind and Desma so that he wouldn’t have to see Pia’s expression. She was too all over the place. He couldn’t read her like he usually could. This was foreign for them and the further stress of all this, coupled with the fight wasn’t helping any desire for reconciliation. Not at the moment.
To Desma, he didn’t bother to smile at her. His gaze was hard. A warning that she better fix this mess that she made. If not for this old fool’s interference, Olympia would likely not be in the position she was now.
When Desma spoke kind words to his sister, Stephanos no longer controlled his exasperated sigh. Did the old hag just hate men? It certainly seemed so. With another lethal glare in the nursemaid’s direction, he slid his hand out from under his wife’s and stood.
“When will she be well?” he directed the question at Desma while still looking at her like he’d rather be choking the life from her. “The child is not coming tonight but will he come early anyway? Or at the appointed time?” The appointed time being her full term which was still a little more than three months away. They, none of them, Desma included, could afford for this child to be born too early.
As the youngest member of her family, Gianna had no personal experience witnessing the miracle of life. Elise’s fourth and final pregnancy was hardly difficult, at least that is what she had been told every time the girl had asked the servants while growing up. Zacharias and Stephanos had certainly been old enough to remember her birth and Xene, five years Gianna’s senior, was sure to have a vague recollection. Gianna, however, had haphazardly collected her experience by incessantly harassing the palace’s female servants for personal anecdotes until the young Princess was satisfied.
She reflected on the poor women she had pestered throughout her youth and their seemingly endless patience as they regaled the Princess with stories of sisters, mothers, and daughters. While most of the tales concluded with a babbling newborn in the arms of its mother, it was the stories of women bleeding from an invisible wound, much like Olympia was, that hovered at the forefront of Gianna’s mind. Rigid with worry, the Princess relaxed only when Olympia accepted her touch. She could feel her brother’s curious gaze, but kept her own eyes focused on the woman she was so delicately cradling.
”Thank you, Gianna..the pain has subsided and as your brother said, the baby isn’t coming yet. Perhaps he just kicked hard at his impatience to come into the world.”
Gianna met Olympia’s eyes, muted from her ordeal and sunken in her uncharacteristically frail face. Stephanos’s words had fallen on deaf ears as her attention had been channeled into providing comfort, so the Queen’s reiteration of his words allowed her to release a breath she had no knowledge of holding. With the fear of a premature delivery firmly put to rest, Gianna nodded along as Olympia explained the plight of her stubborn child.
”Of course the son of Stephanos would prove himself to be stubborn even before gracing the earth with his presence.”
Gianna offered her brother a puckish grin as she shifted to accommodate the woman leaning against her shoulder, keeping a considerate eye on the servants skittering about the Queen’s chambers, attempting to clean around the three bodies impeding their process. She found an unexpected solace in the pressure and heat of Olympia’s body against her own with Stephanos just on the Queen’s other side. It was the quiet moments amongst the chaos that led Gianna to believe that perhaps there was hope for a future without the Creed.
"You too dear, you're looking a bit pale. All will be well."
Gianna’s head whipped around, catching Desma in her sights. Had she truly been so lost in thought that she had missed the nursemaid’s entrance? She swallowed hard, trying in vain to quiet her racing heart as the elderly woman hobbled to the small writing desk. She had just managed to settle once more as Desma offered Olympia an herbal brew. Her curiosity was cut short by Stephanos as he stood and began questioning the old woman, his tone sharp to match the controlled fury in his eyes. Gianna’s brow furrowed, but for once she bit her tongue, knowing better than to chastise her brother in front of his distressed wife.
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As the youngest member of her family, Gianna had no personal experience witnessing the miracle of life. Elise’s fourth and final pregnancy was hardly difficult, at least that is what she had been told every time the girl had asked the servants while growing up. Zacharias and Stephanos had certainly been old enough to remember her birth and Xene, five years Gianna’s senior, was sure to have a vague recollection. Gianna, however, had haphazardly collected her experience by incessantly harassing the palace’s female servants for personal anecdotes until the young Princess was satisfied.
She reflected on the poor women she had pestered throughout her youth and their seemingly endless patience as they regaled the Princess with stories of sisters, mothers, and daughters. While most of the tales concluded with a babbling newborn in the arms of its mother, it was the stories of women bleeding from an invisible wound, much like Olympia was, that hovered at the forefront of Gianna’s mind. Rigid with worry, the Princess relaxed only when Olympia accepted her touch. She could feel her brother’s curious gaze, but kept her own eyes focused on the woman she was so delicately cradling.
”Thank you, Gianna..the pain has subsided and as your brother said, the baby isn’t coming yet. Perhaps he just kicked hard at his impatience to come into the world.”
Gianna met Olympia’s eyes, muted from her ordeal and sunken in her uncharacteristically frail face. Stephanos’s words had fallen on deaf ears as her attention had been channeled into providing comfort, so the Queen’s reiteration of his words allowed her to release a breath she had no knowledge of holding. With the fear of a premature delivery firmly put to rest, Gianna nodded along as Olympia explained the plight of her stubborn child.
”Of course the son of Stephanos would prove himself to be stubborn even before gracing the earth with his presence.”
Gianna offered her brother a puckish grin as she shifted to accommodate the woman leaning against her shoulder, keeping a considerate eye on the servants skittering about the Queen’s chambers, attempting to clean around the three bodies impeding their process. She found an unexpected solace in the pressure and heat of Olympia’s body against her own with Stephanos just on the Queen’s other side. It was the quiet moments amongst the chaos that led Gianna to believe that perhaps there was hope for a future without the Creed.
"You too dear, you're looking a bit pale. All will be well."
Gianna’s head whipped around, catching Desma in her sights. Had she truly been so lost in thought that she had missed the nursemaid’s entrance? She swallowed hard, trying in vain to quiet her racing heart as the elderly woman hobbled to the small writing desk. She had just managed to settle once more as Desma offered Olympia an herbal brew. Her curiosity was cut short by Stephanos as he stood and began questioning the old woman, his tone sharp to match the controlled fury in his eyes. Gianna’s brow furrowed, but for once she bit her tongue, knowing better than to chastise her brother in front of his distressed wife.
As the youngest member of her family, Gianna had no personal experience witnessing the miracle of life. Elise’s fourth and final pregnancy was hardly difficult, at least that is what she had been told every time the girl had asked the servants while growing up. Zacharias and Stephanos had certainly been old enough to remember her birth and Xene, five years Gianna’s senior, was sure to have a vague recollection. Gianna, however, had haphazardly collected her experience by incessantly harassing the palace’s female servants for personal anecdotes until the young Princess was satisfied.
She reflected on the poor women she had pestered throughout her youth and their seemingly endless patience as they regaled the Princess with stories of sisters, mothers, and daughters. While most of the tales concluded with a babbling newborn in the arms of its mother, it was the stories of women bleeding from an invisible wound, much like Olympia was, that hovered at the forefront of Gianna’s mind. Rigid with worry, the Princess relaxed only when Olympia accepted her touch. She could feel her brother’s curious gaze, but kept her own eyes focused on the woman she was so delicately cradling.
”Thank you, Gianna..the pain has subsided and as your brother said, the baby isn’t coming yet. Perhaps he just kicked hard at his impatience to come into the world.”
Gianna met Olympia’s eyes, muted from her ordeal and sunken in her uncharacteristically frail face. Stephanos’s words had fallen on deaf ears as her attention had been channeled into providing comfort, so the Queen’s reiteration of his words allowed her to release a breath she had no knowledge of holding. With the fear of a premature delivery firmly put to rest, Gianna nodded along as Olympia explained the plight of her stubborn child.
”Of course the son of Stephanos would prove himself to be stubborn even before gracing the earth with his presence.”
Gianna offered her brother a puckish grin as she shifted to accommodate the woman leaning against her shoulder, keeping a considerate eye on the servants skittering about the Queen’s chambers, attempting to clean around the three bodies impeding their process. She found an unexpected solace in the pressure and heat of Olympia’s body against her own with Stephanos just on the Queen’s other side. It was the quiet moments amongst the chaos that led Gianna to believe that perhaps there was hope for a future without the Creed.
"You too dear, you're looking a bit pale. All will be well."
Gianna’s head whipped around, catching Desma in her sights. Had she truly been so lost in thought that she had missed the nursemaid’s entrance? She swallowed hard, trying in vain to quiet her racing heart as the elderly woman hobbled to the small writing desk. She had just managed to settle once more as Desma offered Olympia an herbal brew. Her curiosity was cut short by Stephanos as he stood and began questioning the old woman, his tone sharp to match the controlled fury in his eyes. Gianna’s brow furrowed, but for once she bit her tongue, knowing better than to chastise her brother in front of his distressed wife.
Desma coaxed Pia to drink drink, knowing the drought was bitter in taste, but once the medicine went down, give or take twenty or so minutes. She smiled warmly to the woman who was still but a girl in her eyes...and then nails across stone pierced her old ears.
She looked up rather annoyed at Stephanos, "The medicine will take around 20 minutes or so, you on the other hand, are a chronic malady." He bit, she bit back. It couldn't be helped to do so would go against her very nature.
Snap. Crack. Pop. Snap. Crack. Pop. She hobbled her way back over to the desk where she set the cup and began to clean up as best she could. That old knee of her's was back in Ceberus grip, and she was too old to play tug of war with the hounds of Hades. That of course made her think of his last question. "I'm not a fate or a child of Apollo, though I would advise keeping her stress level down, and making an offering to Hera if I were you. Happy Gods better odds." She turned back to her work, gathering up all the supplies to be carried down into the kitchen.
She spotted Gianna from the corner of her eye and as she moved to turn, supply in arms she said with a bit of a nod, "Your brother could learn from you, though I doubt he ever will. Goodnight, may Morpheus be swift." She moved to hobble out of the room. Snap. Crackle. Pop.
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This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
Desma coaxed Pia to drink drink, knowing the drought was bitter in taste, but once the medicine went down, give or take twenty or so minutes. She smiled warmly to the woman who was still but a girl in her eyes...and then nails across stone pierced her old ears.
She looked up rather annoyed at Stephanos, "The medicine will take around 20 minutes or so, you on the other hand, are a chronic malady." He bit, she bit back. It couldn't be helped to do so would go against her very nature.
Snap. Crack. Pop. Snap. Crack. Pop. She hobbled her way back over to the desk where she set the cup and began to clean up as best she could. That old knee of her's was back in Ceberus grip, and she was too old to play tug of war with the hounds of Hades. That of course made her think of his last question. "I'm not a fate or a child of Apollo, though I would advise keeping her stress level down, and making an offering to Hera if I were you. Happy Gods better odds." She turned back to her work, gathering up all the supplies to be carried down into the kitchen.
She spotted Gianna from the corner of her eye and as she moved to turn, supply in arms she said with a bit of a nod, "Your brother could learn from you, though I doubt he ever will. Goodnight, may Morpheus be swift." She moved to hobble out of the room. Snap. Crackle. Pop.
Desma coaxed Pia to drink drink, knowing the drought was bitter in taste, but once the medicine went down, give or take twenty or so minutes. She smiled warmly to the woman who was still but a girl in her eyes...and then nails across stone pierced her old ears.
She looked up rather annoyed at Stephanos, "The medicine will take around 20 minutes or so, you on the other hand, are a chronic malady." He bit, she bit back. It couldn't be helped to do so would go against her very nature.
Snap. Crack. Pop. Snap. Crack. Pop. She hobbled her way back over to the desk where she set the cup and began to clean up as best she could. That old knee of her's was back in Ceberus grip, and she was too old to play tug of war with the hounds of Hades. That of course made her think of his last question. "I'm not a fate or a child of Apollo, though I would advise keeping her stress level down, and making an offering to Hera if I were you. Happy Gods better odds." She turned back to her work, gathering up all the supplies to be carried down into the kitchen.
She spotted Gianna from the corner of her eye and as she moved to turn, supply in arms she said with a bit of a nod, "Your brother could learn from you, though I doubt he ever will. Goodnight, may Morpheus be swift." She moved to hobble out of the room. Snap. Crackle. Pop.
From his place near the bed, he placed a hand on Olympia's shoulder and watched the old woman pop her way out of the room. He rolled his eyes and glanced at Gianna. "Don't listen to that old bat," he advised.
To his wife, he looked down and tried to smile but didn't quite make it. His gaze settled on her round stomach and thought of the infant still inside. He prayed silently that the baby would stay put. So much was riding on having a boy, getting an heir before things got worse...with Desma around, they were both assured of the baby's safe arrival. However, Stephanos was counting the days until the old woman croaked.
"Gianna will stay with you," Stephanos told Pia. He hated himself for leaving, but he couldn't stay. Not after earlier. Since the baby wasn't going to die tonight, nor his wife, he saw little reason to alter their fight. "I bid you good night." Off he went to his rooms, ignoring his wife and his sister, and trying not to dwell on what an ass he was being.
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From his place near the bed, he placed a hand on Olympia's shoulder and watched the old woman pop her way out of the room. He rolled his eyes and glanced at Gianna. "Don't listen to that old bat," he advised.
To his wife, he looked down and tried to smile but didn't quite make it. His gaze settled on her round stomach and thought of the infant still inside. He prayed silently that the baby would stay put. So much was riding on having a boy, getting an heir before things got worse...with Desma around, they were both assured of the baby's safe arrival. However, Stephanos was counting the days until the old woman croaked.
"Gianna will stay with you," Stephanos told Pia. He hated himself for leaving, but he couldn't stay. Not after earlier. Since the baby wasn't going to die tonight, nor his wife, he saw little reason to alter their fight. "I bid you good night." Off he went to his rooms, ignoring his wife and his sister, and trying not to dwell on what an ass he was being.
From his place near the bed, he placed a hand on Olympia's shoulder and watched the old woman pop her way out of the room. He rolled his eyes and glanced at Gianna. "Don't listen to that old bat," he advised.
To his wife, he looked down and tried to smile but didn't quite make it. His gaze settled on her round stomach and thought of the infant still inside. He prayed silently that the baby would stay put. So much was riding on having a boy, getting an heir before things got worse...with Desma around, they were both assured of the baby's safe arrival. However, Stephanos was counting the days until the old woman croaked.
"Gianna will stay with you," Stephanos told Pia. He hated himself for leaving, but he couldn't stay. Not after earlier. Since the baby wasn't going to die tonight, nor his wife, he saw little reason to alter their fight. "I bid you good night." Off he went to his rooms, ignoring his wife and his sister, and trying not to dwell on what an ass he was being.