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But he had arrived early. While Irakles had taken up residence in the palace for the past half a month, the events of the Senate meant that Meena had insisted he returned to the Mikaelidas manor that night to ensure that she could care for him. Having spent many late nights working before the Senate to ensure everything went off without a hitch, Irakles could now say with confidence that his work had come to fruition. Of course, it was not without its payment. His cough had gotten a tad worst, and it was for that that his mistress had insisted upon his return.
The morning however, brought with it many, many more opportunities.
Waking up before the sun broke the horizon, he had quickly done his morning ablutions, before taking his finest chiton. Made of a silk the color of the Mikaelidas house, it was affixed over his shoulders with fibulae in the shape of a roaring lion. The material was overlaid with the thinner white silk, and fell to his ankles. Leather sandals were strapped to his feet, and the final touch was the crown above his head.
It was an old crown, the kind he wore before Zenon had taken over as King. Worn in a time when he had been raised in the palace, a building that had been his home before his half-brother's ascension to the throne meant he could no longer keep his life as it was. A time when he had believed himself to be the future ruler of Taengea.
Things would change in his hands.
Aeneaus was ready by the time he got to the steps of the manor, and along with the gelded warhorse, was a dozen guards. Irakles was a well versed war hero, unafraid of danger... but he had his reasons for the excessive number of guards for today. The men he had specifically picked out, who believed in his cause, and believed that the young King was a farce on the throne. As the man got on his horse, a smirk was tossed over his shoulders as he spoke to them. "No need to be nice with the young King, boys." It was a free pass to do... whatever they wanted with Stephanos, within reason. For he did not expect his nephew to be nice to him.
The procession made their way softly through the streets of Vasiliadon, and the first tendrils of dawn was just touching the capitol of Taengea by the time the prince finally made it to the steps of the palace, where his scribe and assistant was quick to greet him. "Your study is ready, my prince. The duties for today are-"
"I'll be there shortly, and you may update me then, Ujarak." he murmured, cutting his scribe off halfway. The graying-haired man halted abruptly, and then looked hesitantly at Irakles, who did not bother looking at the smaller man. Instead, his eyes roamed the foyer, a frown marring his forehead as if he was thinking, before asking, "Where is the Queen Mother? And the princesses?"
"The Queen Mother is indisposed, my prince. The... news yesterday, was a shock to her. The princesses have yet to rise."
"And the young king?"
"In his rooms, my prince. As he would be, under house arrest." For a moment, Ujarak wondered if his master had went mad. Irakles was always sharp upon his wits when it came to these matters. Why was he asking? "And the Advisors?"
"Just arrived before you, my prince. They are waiting in the foyer."
Irakles nodded, and waved his scribe away, before motioning at the guards to follow him as he entered the foyer. There, the current acting regeant to the throne smiled as the advisors assembled bowed at him. In turn, Irakles greeted them, but just as they were about to begin the daily tasks however, Irakles held a hand up. "I must apologise, my lords, but may I please have a moment before we begin? I would very much like to visit my nephew... He appeared quite shocked by the news yesterday... and I worry for him." The former general made a show of rubbing his bruising jaw, putting on a sheepish, wry look.
"Are you certain, my prince? He is... dangerous, as proven yesterday." the Chief advisor responded, to which Irakles shook his head. "Fear not, my lord. I have guards... but I must see him for my own eyes. Do go ahead, I shall join you shortly."
Bowing once again at them, Irakles turned around, and then began ascending the stairs to the private wing of the royal palati. It was the wing the royal family would stay in... the wing that he had stayed in. A privilege he had lost the moment Stephanos and his brother had been borned.
A privilege they had stolen from him.
Coming to a stop in front of a room that had two guards in front, he murmured in a soft voice. "And how was he?" In return, the guards shook their heads. Loud shatters were heard upon the young King's return, and the guards which had rushed in were further attacked and were forced to disarm the crazed King. Neither guard trusted themselves to enter, and when Irakles made a move to enter, they stopped him, worry evident in his eyes.
"I thank you for your concern, gentleman. Perhaps... I would allow my guards in first? I am a general, of course," he chuckled when the guards looked ashamed, and shook his head to appease them."But do not worry, I do understand that I am an old man now. Perhaps my movements were not what they were before." A wry look appeared again, subtly referencing how his nephew had managed to punch his jaw the night before. Taking a step back, he waved half a dozen of his guards forward, signalling at them to enter first.
The door was pushed open by the guards, and what would be seen by the inhabitants of said room would be six guards first walking in and standing three on either side, before Irakles made his entrance. The man had to duck a little, his steps slow as he entered. Had Stephanos tried to dive directly at Irakles, he would've been held back by six able-bodied, armed men, all whilst Irakles stood with his back to an open door, as six more men rushed in prepared to ensure that the young King did not get anywhere near the prince.
"Close the door. I do not wish for anyone else to witness my nephew's... unhinged madness. If at all he wishes to be reinstated as King to Taengea." It was with a sympathetic, pained tone that he instructed the guards to close the doors... but the moment the doors clicked shut, the face that turned around to face his nephew wore a smirk, a self-satisfied, joyful smirk.
Irakles leaned on his heels, allowing the ivy leaf crown to glint in the dim lights, a mockery to his nephew and the barren rooms he was now confined in. The man chuckled as his guards manhandled him further away from Irakles, shaking his head wryly as he watched Stephanos's pointless struggle. Only as things began to settle, did he level his gaze on Stephanos as he spoke. "I do hope you're enjoying your quarters, nephew."
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He really shouldn't.
But he had arrived early. While Irakles had taken up residence in the palace for the past half a month, the events of the Senate meant that Meena had insisted he returned to the Mikaelidas manor that night to ensure that she could care for him. Having spent many late nights working before the Senate to ensure everything went off without a hitch, Irakles could now say with confidence that his work had come to fruition. Of course, it was not without its payment. His cough had gotten a tad worst, and it was for that that his mistress had insisted upon his return.
The morning however, brought with it many, many more opportunities.
Waking up before the sun broke the horizon, he had quickly done his morning ablutions, before taking his finest chiton. Made of a silk the color of the Mikaelidas house, it was affixed over his shoulders with fibulae in the shape of a roaring lion. The material was overlaid with the thinner white silk, and fell to his ankles. Leather sandals were strapped to his feet, and the final touch was the crown above his head.
It was an old crown, the kind he wore before Zenon had taken over as King. Worn in a time when he had been raised in the palace, a building that had been his home before his half-brother's ascension to the throne meant he could no longer keep his life as it was. A time when he had believed himself to be the future ruler of Taengea.
Things would change in his hands.
Aeneaus was ready by the time he got to the steps of the manor, and along with the gelded warhorse, was a dozen guards. Irakles was a well versed war hero, unafraid of danger... but he had his reasons for the excessive number of guards for today. The men he had specifically picked out, who believed in his cause, and believed that the young King was a farce on the throne. As the man got on his horse, a smirk was tossed over his shoulders as he spoke to them. "No need to be nice with the young King, boys." It was a free pass to do... whatever they wanted with Stephanos, within reason. For he did not expect his nephew to be nice to him.
The procession made their way softly through the streets of Vasiliadon, and the first tendrils of dawn was just touching the capitol of Taengea by the time the prince finally made it to the steps of the palace, where his scribe and assistant was quick to greet him. "Your study is ready, my prince. The duties for today are-"
"I'll be there shortly, and you may update me then, Ujarak." he murmured, cutting his scribe off halfway. The graying-haired man halted abruptly, and then looked hesitantly at Irakles, who did not bother looking at the smaller man. Instead, his eyes roamed the foyer, a frown marring his forehead as if he was thinking, before asking, "Where is the Queen Mother? And the princesses?"
"The Queen Mother is indisposed, my prince. The... news yesterday, was a shock to her. The princesses have yet to rise."
"And the young king?"
"In his rooms, my prince. As he would be, under house arrest." For a moment, Ujarak wondered if his master had went mad. Irakles was always sharp upon his wits when it came to these matters. Why was he asking? "And the Advisors?"
"Just arrived before you, my prince. They are waiting in the foyer."
Irakles nodded, and waved his scribe away, before motioning at the guards to follow him as he entered the foyer. There, the current acting regeant to the throne smiled as the advisors assembled bowed at him. In turn, Irakles greeted them, but just as they were about to begin the daily tasks however, Irakles held a hand up. "I must apologise, my lords, but may I please have a moment before we begin? I would very much like to visit my nephew... He appeared quite shocked by the news yesterday... and I worry for him." The former general made a show of rubbing his bruising jaw, putting on a sheepish, wry look.
"Are you certain, my prince? He is... dangerous, as proven yesterday." the Chief advisor responded, to which Irakles shook his head. "Fear not, my lord. I have guards... but I must see him for my own eyes. Do go ahead, I shall join you shortly."
Bowing once again at them, Irakles turned around, and then began ascending the stairs to the private wing of the royal palati. It was the wing the royal family would stay in... the wing that he had stayed in. A privilege he had lost the moment Stephanos and his brother had been borned.
A privilege they had stolen from him.
Coming to a stop in front of a room that had two guards in front, he murmured in a soft voice. "And how was he?" In return, the guards shook their heads. Loud shatters were heard upon the young King's return, and the guards which had rushed in were further attacked and were forced to disarm the crazed King. Neither guard trusted themselves to enter, and when Irakles made a move to enter, they stopped him, worry evident in his eyes.
"I thank you for your concern, gentleman. Perhaps... I would allow my guards in first? I am a general, of course," he chuckled when the guards looked ashamed, and shook his head to appease them."But do not worry, I do understand that I am an old man now. Perhaps my movements were not what they were before." A wry look appeared again, subtly referencing how his nephew had managed to punch his jaw the night before. Taking a step back, he waved half a dozen of his guards forward, signalling at them to enter first.
The door was pushed open by the guards, and what would be seen by the inhabitants of said room would be six guards first walking in and standing three on either side, before Irakles made his entrance. The man had to duck a little, his steps slow as he entered. Had Stephanos tried to dive directly at Irakles, he would've been held back by six able-bodied, armed men, all whilst Irakles stood with his back to an open door, as six more men rushed in prepared to ensure that the young King did not get anywhere near the prince.
"Close the door. I do not wish for anyone else to witness my nephew's... unhinged madness. If at all he wishes to be reinstated as King to Taengea." It was with a sympathetic, pained tone that he instructed the guards to close the doors... but the moment the doors clicked shut, the face that turned around to face his nephew wore a smirk, a self-satisfied, joyful smirk.
Irakles leaned on his heels, allowing the ivy leaf crown to glint in the dim lights, a mockery to his nephew and the barren rooms he was now confined in. The man chuckled as his guards manhandled him further away from Irakles, shaking his head wryly as he watched Stephanos's pointless struggle. Only as things began to settle, did he level his gaze on Stephanos as he spoke. "I do hope you're enjoying your quarters, nephew."
He really shouldn't.
But he had arrived early. While Irakles had taken up residence in the palace for the past half a month, the events of the Senate meant that Meena had insisted he returned to the Mikaelidas manor that night to ensure that she could care for him. Having spent many late nights working before the Senate to ensure everything went off without a hitch, Irakles could now say with confidence that his work had come to fruition. Of course, it was not without its payment. His cough had gotten a tad worst, and it was for that that his mistress had insisted upon his return.
The morning however, brought with it many, many more opportunities.
Waking up before the sun broke the horizon, he had quickly done his morning ablutions, before taking his finest chiton. Made of a silk the color of the Mikaelidas house, it was affixed over his shoulders with fibulae in the shape of a roaring lion. The material was overlaid with the thinner white silk, and fell to his ankles. Leather sandals were strapped to his feet, and the final touch was the crown above his head.
It was an old crown, the kind he wore before Zenon had taken over as King. Worn in a time when he had been raised in the palace, a building that had been his home before his half-brother's ascension to the throne meant he could no longer keep his life as it was. A time when he had believed himself to be the future ruler of Taengea.
Things would change in his hands.
Aeneaus was ready by the time he got to the steps of the manor, and along with the gelded warhorse, was a dozen guards. Irakles was a well versed war hero, unafraid of danger... but he had his reasons for the excessive number of guards for today. The men he had specifically picked out, who believed in his cause, and believed that the young King was a farce on the throne. As the man got on his horse, a smirk was tossed over his shoulders as he spoke to them. "No need to be nice with the young King, boys." It was a free pass to do... whatever they wanted with Stephanos, within reason. For he did not expect his nephew to be nice to him.
The procession made their way softly through the streets of Vasiliadon, and the first tendrils of dawn was just touching the capitol of Taengea by the time the prince finally made it to the steps of the palace, where his scribe and assistant was quick to greet him. "Your study is ready, my prince. The duties for today are-"
"I'll be there shortly, and you may update me then, Ujarak." he murmured, cutting his scribe off halfway. The graying-haired man halted abruptly, and then looked hesitantly at Irakles, who did not bother looking at the smaller man. Instead, his eyes roamed the foyer, a frown marring his forehead as if he was thinking, before asking, "Where is the Queen Mother? And the princesses?"
"The Queen Mother is indisposed, my prince. The... news yesterday, was a shock to her. The princesses have yet to rise."
"And the young king?"
"In his rooms, my prince. As he would be, under house arrest." For a moment, Ujarak wondered if his master had went mad. Irakles was always sharp upon his wits when it came to these matters. Why was he asking? "And the Advisors?"
"Just arrived before you, my prince. They are waiting in the foyer."
Irakles nodded, and waved his scribe away, before motioning at the guards to follow him as he entered the foyer. There, the current acting regeant to the throne smiled as the advisors assembled bowed at him. In turn, Irakles greeted them, but just as they were about to begin the daily tasks however, Irakles held a hand up. "I must apologise, my lords, but may I please have a moment before we begin? I would very much like to visit my nephew... He appeared quite shocked by the news yesterday... and I worry for him." The former general made a show of rubbing his bruising jaw, putting on a sheepish, wry look.
"Are you certain, my prince? He is... dangerous, as proven yesterday." the Chief advisor responded, to which Irakles shook his head. "Fear not, my lord. I have guards... but I must see him for my own eyes. Do go ahead, I shall join you shortly."
Bowing once again at them, Irakles turned around, and then began ascending the stairs to the private wing of the royal palati. It was the wing the royal family would stay in... the wing that he had stayed in. A privilege he had lost the moment Stephanos and his brother had been borned.
A privilege they had stolen from him.
Coming to a stop in front of a room that had two guards in front, he murmured in a soft voice. "And how was he?" In return, the guards shook their heads. Loud shatters were heard upon the young King's return, and the guards which had rushed in were further attacked and were forced to disarm the crazed King. Neither guard trusted themselves to enter, and when Irakles made a move to enter, they stopped him, worry evident in his eyes.
"I thank you for your concern, gentleman. Perhaps... I would allow my guards in first? I am a general, of course," he chuckled when the guards looked ashamed, and shook his head to appease them."But do not worry, I do understand that I am an old man now. Perhaps my movements were not what they were before." A wry look appeared again, subtly referencing how his nephew had managed to punch his jaw the night before. Taking a step back, he waved half a dozen of his guards forward, signalling at them to enter first.
The door was pushed open by the guards, and what would be seen by the inhabitants of said room would be six guards first walking in and standing three on either side, before Irakles made his entrance. The man had to duck a little, his steps slow as he entered. Had Stephanos tried to dive directly at Irakles, he would've been held back by six able-bodied, armed men, all whilst Irakles stood with his back to an open door, as six more men rushed in prepared to ensure that the young King did not get anywhere near the prince.
"Close the door. I do not wish for anyone else to witness my nephew's... unhinged madness. If at all he wishes to be reinstated as King to Taengea." It was with a sympathetic, pained tone that he instructed the guards to close the doors... but the moment the doors clicked shut, the face that turned around to face his nephew wore a smirk, a self-satisfied, joyful smirk.
Irakles leaned on his heels, allowing the ivy leaf crown to glint in the dim lights, a mockery to his nephew and the barren rooms he was now confined in. The man chuckled as his guards manhandled him further away from Irakles, shaking his head wryly as he watched Stephanos's pointless struggle. Only as things began to settle, did he level his gaze on Stephanos as he spoke. "I do hope you're enjoying your quarters, nephew."
Their captivity hadn’t gotten to the point of boring yet. First he’d been waiting for assassins all night. Then this morning, they’d been faced with the prospect of perhaps being poisoned by the food that the servants brought for breakfast. His stomach growled but he wasn’t hungry. All night, he and his wife had lain together, neither of them really saying much beyond occasional observations about ways to potentially escape. They were all half hearted on his part or ones that he knew she wouldn’t go for because they were too far fetched. Anything, basically, to keep her calm.
He was out on his balcony, looking down at the courtyard below, gauging how much of a risk it really would be, and if he could feasibly get himself and his pregnant wife out without being stopped. Everyone in the palati had to know by now that he and the queen were not to be out of their rooms. The trouble came with not knowing who to trust. Perhaps some of the servants or guards would take pity and let them escape. Some might just turn them right back in. Others might take it upon themselves to wrongly avenge their dead king and prince.
His plans had strayed to toying with the idea of perhaps begging a servant for clothes, dressing up Olympia as best they could, and smuggling her out with Desma. Before he could explore that avenue any further, the door to his rooms opened and guards filed in. Beyond them, standing in the hallway, was the shadowed outline of Irakles. Just the sight of the man brought the accusations of yesterday crashing down on him with such dizzying force that he found himself flying across the room, his gaze trained on Irakles.
He was barely aware of being seized by each arm and drug backwards. One of the guards half guarded Irakles from him while another closed the door. His rage was further stoked by Irakles’s voice, whining out in plaintive, needy tones about his madness. “My madness?” Stephanos demanded from between gritted teeth. He felt like a rabid dog, frothing at the mouth. If he could just tear into Irakles...A burning ball of liquid flame ignited in his chest as soon as Irakles pealed out his clear threat of if he’d be allowed to return to the throne. By the gods he wished that draconian flames could leap from his mouth. He’d consume his uncle and these treasonous guards in one fell swoop.
His pupils were huge as he stared at the face of the man he hated more than anything else in this world or the next. “Coward,” he hissed. “Snake. Vermin!”
“As soon as the gods permit, I will kill you, your vile witch, your daughters...I will lay waste to your house,” he vowed. Rational thought barely entered his head. All he wanted to do was get at Irakles to rip his heart from his chest.
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Their captivity hadn’t gotten to the point of boring yet. First he’d been waiting for assassins all night. Then this morning, they’d been faced with the prospect of perhaps being poisoned by the food that the servants brought for breakfast. His stomach growled but he wasn’t hungry. All night, he and his wife had lain together, neither of them really saying much beyond occasional observations about ways to potentially escape. They were all half hearted on his part or ones that he knew she wouldn’t go for because they were too far fetched. Anything, basically, to keep her calm.
He was out on his balcony, looking down at the courtyard below, gauging how much of a risk it really would be, and if he could feasibly get himself and his pregnant wife out without being stopped. Everyone in the palati had to know by now that he and the queen were not to be out of their rooms. The trouble came with not knowing who to trust. Perhaps some of the servants or guards would take pity and let them escape. Some might just turn them right back in. Others might take it upon themselves to wrongly avenge their dead king and prince.
His plans had strayed to toying with the idea of perhaps begging a servant for clothes, dressing up Olympia as best they could, and smuggling her out with Desma. Before he could explore that avenue any further, the door to his rooms opened and guards filed in. Beyond them, standing in the hallway, was the shadowed outline of Irakles. Just the sight of the man brought the accusations of yesterday crashing down on him with such dizzying force that he found himself flying across the room, his gaze trained on Irakles.
He was barely aware of being seized by each arm and drug backwards. One of the guards half guarded Irakles from him while another closed the door. His rage was further stoked by Irakles’s voice, whining out in plaintive, needy tones about his madness. “My madness?” Stephanos demanded from between gritted teeth. He felt like a rabid dog, frothing at the mouth. If he could just tear into Irakles...A burning ball of liquid flame ignited in his chest as soon as Irakles pealed out his clear threat of if he’d be allowed to return to the throne. By the gods he wished that draconian flames could leap from his mouth. He’d consume his uncle and these treasonous guards in one fell swoop.
His pupils were huge as he stared at the face of the man he hated more than anything else in this world or the next. “Coward,” he hissed. “Snake. Vermin!”
“As soon as the gods permit, I will kill you, your vile witch, your daughters...I will lay waste to your house,” he vowed. Rational thought barely entered his head. All he wanted to do was get at Irakles to rip his heart from his chest.
Their captivity hadn’t gotten to the point of boring yet. First he’d been waiting for assassins all night. Then this morning, they’d been faced with the prospect of perhaps being poisoned by the food that the servants brought for breakfast. His stomach growled but he wasn’t hungry. All night, he and his wife had lain together, neither of them really saying much beyond occasional observations about ways to potentially escape. They were all half hearted on his part or ones that he knew she wouldn’t go for because they were too far fetched. Anything, basically, to keep her calm.
He was out on his balcony, looking down at the courtyard below, gauging how much of a risk it really would be, and if he could feasibly get himself and his pregnant wife out without being stopped. Everyone in the palati had to know by now that he and the queen were not to be out of their rooms. The trouble came with not knowing who to trust. Perhaps some of the servants or guards would take pity and let them escape. Some might just turn them right back in. Others might take it upon themselves to wrongly avenge their dead king and prince.
His plans had strayed to toying with the idea of perhaps begging a servant for clothes, dressing up Olympia as best they could, and smuggling her out with Desma. Before he could explore that avenue any further, the door to his rooms opened and guards filed in. Beyond them, standing in the hallway, was the shadowed outline of Irakles. Just the sight of the man brought the accusations of yesterday crashing down on him with such dizzying force that he found himself flying across the room, his gaze trained on Irakles.
He was barely aware of being seized by each arm and drug backwards. One of the guards half guarded Irakles from him while another closed the door. His rage was further stoked by Irakles’s voice, whining out in plaintive, needy tones about his madness. “My madness?” Stephanos demanded from between gritted teeth. He felt like a rabid dog, frothing at the mouth. If he could just tear into Irakles...A burning ball of liquid flame ignited in his chest as soon as Irakles pealed out his clear threat of if he’d be allowed to return to the throne. By the gods he wished that draconian flames could leap from his mouth. He’d consume his uncle and these treasonous guards in one fell swoop.
His pupils were huge as he stared at the face of the man he hated more than anything else in this world or the next. “Coward,” he hissed. “Snake. Vermin!”
“As soon as the gods permit, I will kill you, your vile witch, your daughters...I will lay waste to your house,” he vowed. Rational thought barely entered his head. All he wanted to do was get at Irakles to rip his heart from his chest.
He knew his nephew would react as such. It was Stephanos's one fall that Irakles was playing on - his temper and lack of control over his own emotions. Just as he thought, Stephanos was like a rabid dog the moment the old man even implied that the young King was mad, and unfit to take the throne at the current time. His smile was not hidden even if Irakles stood protected behind the men he had brought with him. Watching with a growing, satisfied smile as Stephanos hurled insult after insult at him, he double checked that the guards had a good hold on his feeble attempts at coming at him,before taking one step forward, but never straying far from the armed soldiers.
"Insults are all you can hurl, nephew. Sadly, you're indisposed to hurl anything else."
With hands still twined behind his back as he ventured nearer to his spitting nephew, the smile Irakles wore was one of the cat that had gotten its cream as he surveyed the room with a judgemental eye, gaze settling on the form of the quiet, pregnant Queen, before back to Stephanos. "Ah, but the Gods have permitted me... to fulfill my plans, have they not? Does make one wonder, whose side are they on." Trailing off with a musey tone, he wandered over to the barely touched tray of food, and then back to his relative.
"Starving yourself? Tsk tsk tsk, young King... or should I say, young nephew of mine? Since obviously, the title is no longer yours. Especially not with the way you keep behaving, my my. Such unbecoming behavior for a leader of a country. How are your people supposed to trust a rabid child?" Every tone, every syllable Irakles said was meant to goad Stephanos's temper, down to the very way he drew out the purposely anger-inducing words. Child. Young. Nephew.
He was no match for the years of experience Irakles had.
With a jerk of his head at the guards to tighten their hold, the men withdrew their weapons and held the flat end in the shape of an X over Stephanos's chest. The angle in which they held it was not dangerous... yet. But if Stephanos struggled in just the wrong direction, the sharp ends may just slice his skin open, or even his jugular if he wasn't paying attention. Meant to keep him still, Irakles ensured that it did what it was supposed to, before venturing two steps closer.
"You've got to remember, oh foolish one. It isn't the truth that matters, but the victory. And I've won."
With a last smirk at Stephanos's direction, he turned on his heels, and exited the room without waiting for an answer from him. He's a busy man, and he was due to appear in the royal palati's hall after he finished his morning check of the documents, for his session with the advisors, a job that was usually Stephanos up till the day before. The Egyptians would be here in a few days, and Irakles had to get ready. The guards would only release Stephanos once Irakles was out the door, and slammed the door behind them just before he could manage to get out.
Because there was no way Irakles was allowing any small mistake to fail his plan now.
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He knew his nephew would react as such. It was Stephanos's one fall that Irakles was playing on - his temper and lack of control over his own emotions. Just as he thought, Stephanos was like a rabid dog the moment the old man even implied that the young King was mad, and unfit to take the throne at the current time. His smile was not hidden even if Irakles stood protected behind the men he had brought with him. Watching with a growing, satisfied smile as Stephanos hurled insult after insult at him, he double checked that the guards had a good hold on his feeble attempts at coming at him,before taking one step forward, but never straying far from the armed soldiers.
"Insults are all you can hurl, nephew. Sadly, you're indisposed to hurl anything else."
With hands still twined behind his back as he ventured nearer to his spitting nephew, the smile Irakles wore was one of the cat that had gotten its cream as he surveyed the room with a judgemental eye, gaze settling on the form of the quiet, pregnant Queen, before back to Stephanos. "Ah, but the Gods have permitted me... to fulfill my plans, have they not? Does make one wonder, whose side are they on." Trailing off with a musey tone, he wandered over to the barely touched tray of food, and then back to his relative.
"Starving yourself? Tsk tsk tsk, young King... or should I say, young nephew of mine? Since obviously, the title is no longer yours. Especially not with the way you keep behaving, my my. Such unbecoming behavior for a leader of a country. How are your people supposed to trust a rabid child?" Every tone, every syllable Irakles said was meant to goad Stephanos's temper, down to the very way he drew out the purposely anger-inducing words. Child. Young. Nephew.
He was no match for the years of experience Irakles had.
With a jerk of his head at the guards to tighten their hold, the men withdrew their weapons and held the flat end in the shape of an X over Stephanos's chest. The angle in which they held it was not dangerous... yet. But if Stephanos struggled in just the wrong direction, the sharp ends may just slice his skin open, or even his jugular if he wasn't paying attention. Meant to keep him still, Irakles ensured that it did what it was supposed to, before venturing two steps closer.
"You've got to remember, oh foolish one. It isn't the truth that matters, but the victory. And I've won."
With a last smirk at Stephanos's direction, he turned on his heels, and exited the room without waiting for an answer from him. He's a busy man, and he was due to appear in the royal palati's hall after he finished his morning check of the documents, for his session with the advisors, a job that was usually Stephanos up till the day before. The Egyptians would be here in a few days, and Irakles had to get ready. The guards would only release Stephanos once Irakles was out the door, and slammed the door behind them just before he could manage to get out.
Because there was no way Irakles was allowing any small mistake to fail his plan now.
He knew his nephew would react as such. It was Stephanos's one fall that Irakles was playing on - his temper and lack of control over his own emotions. Just as he thought, Stephanos was like a rabid dog the moment the old man even implied that the young King was mad, and unfit to take the throne at the current time. His smile was not hidden even if Irakles stood protected behind the men he had brought with him. Watching with a growing, satisfied smile as Stephanos hurled insult after insult at him, he double checked that the guards had a good hold on his feeble attempts at coming at him,before taking one step forward, but never straying far from the armed soldiers.
"Insults are all you can hurl, nephew. Sadly, you're indisposed to hurl anything else."
With hands still twined behind his back as he ventured nearer to his spitting nephew, the smile Irakles wore was one of the cat that had gotten its cream as he surveyed the room with a judgemental eye, gaze settling on the form of the quiet, pregnant Queen, before back to Stephanos. "Ah, but the Gods have permitted me... to fulfill my plans, have they not? Does make one wonder, whose side are they on." Trailing off with a musey tone, he wandered over to the barely touched tray of food, and then back to his relative.
"Starving yourself? Tsk tsk tsk, young King... or should I say, young nephew of mine? Since obviously, the title is no longer yours. Especially not with the way you keep behaving, my my. Such unbecoming behavior for a leader of a country. How are your people supposed to trust a rabid child?" Every tone, every syllable Irakles said was meant to goad Stephanos's temper, down to the very way he drew out the purposely anger-inducing words. Child. Young. Nephew.
He was no match for the years of experience Irakles had.
With a jerk of his head at the guards to tighten their hold, the men withdrew their weapons and held the flat end in the shape of an X over Stephanos's chest. The angle in which they held it was not dangerous... yet. But if Stephanos struggled in just the wrong direction, the sharp ends may just slice his skin open, or even his jugular if he wasn't paying attention. Meant to keep him still, Irakles ensured that it did what it was supposed to, before venturing two steps closer.
"You've got to remember, oh foolish one. It isn't the truth that matters, but the victory. And I've won."
With a last smirk at Stephanos's direction, he turned on his heels, and exited the room without waiting for an answer from him. He's a busy man, and he was due to appear in the royal palati's hall after he finished his morning check of the documents, for his session with the advisors, a job that was usually Stephanos up till the day before. The Egyptians would be here in a few days, and Irakles had to get ready. The guards would only release Stephanos once Irakles was out the door, and slammed the door behind them just before he could manage to get out.
Because there was no way Irakles was allowing any small mistake to fail his plan now.
He strained against the guard holding him, half wishing Irakles would just end the charade. In his mad state, he wondered if these guards were the ones to have assisted or allowed the murder of his father and brother. Was that why they were commenting on nothing this man was saying now? They saw and either did not understand or did not care about the king’s rage.
All of Irakles’s little insults and insinuations hit home. Stephanos paused when Irakles echoed thoughts he’d already had himself. Were the gods on Irakles’s side? Was that why this level of injustice was being allowed? It could not be...and yet everything had aligned to keep both himself alive, but to give Irakles all the power and prestige.
Were the gods punishing him? Why? He hadn’t done anything wrong and yet this man smiling into his face had murdered in cold blood and planned to do it twice more. He stilled, watching his uncle and having nothing to say to that accusation.
His skin crawled with Irakles’s lies as they sought to take hold of him and strike the venom of fear and doubt into his heart.
When Irakles told him flat out that he was no longer king, Stephanos felt his stomach in his throat. “Let me get to trial and I will remain on the throne,” he hissed but they both knew that wouldn’t happen. Irakles had already said as much just now. It was a matter of time. And then, Stephanos realized why he and Olympia hadn’t been killed yet.
The Egyptians. It would be a horrible insult, not to mention make the kingdom look like it was in chaos if Stephanos wasn’t there. He spit curses in Irakles’s direction but the man was already done with this little conversation. Straining against the guards, Stephanos was not allowed to move an inch until the guards were sure that the prince was safely away.
Then, at sword point, he was kept where he was as the rest of the guards filed out of the room. Stephanos held his stomach. He felt violently ill. His gaze swept the floor but he couldn’t think. Sinking onto the couch beside Olympia, he covered his mouth his his hand and stared at the door, shaking his head like if he said ‘no’ to the Fates enough, they would change their minds.
This was all so wrong.
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He strained against the guard holding him, half wishing Irakles would just end the charade. In his mad state, he wondered if these guards were the ones to have assisted or allowed the murder of his father and brother. Was that why they were commenting on nothing this man was saying now? They saw and either did not understand or did not care about the king’s rage.
All of Irakles’s little insults and insinuations hit home. Stephanos paused when Irakles echoed thoughts he’d already had himself. Were the gods on Irakles’s side? Was that why this level of injustice was being allowed? It could not be...and yet everything had aligned to keep both himself alive, but to give Irakles all the power and prestige.
Were the gods punishing him? Why? He hadn’t done anything wrong and yet this man smiling into his face had murdered in cold blood and planned to do it twice more. He stilled, watching his uncle and having nothing to say to that accusation.
His skin crawled with Irakles’s lies as they sought to take hold of him and strike the venom of fear and doubt into his heart.
When Irakles told him flat out that he was no longer king, Stephanos felt his stomach in his throat. “Let me get to trial and I will remain on the throne,” he hissed but they both knew that wouldn’t happen. Irakles had already said as much just now. It was a matter of time. And then, Stephanos realized why he and Olympia hadn’t been killed yet.
The Egyptians. It would be a horrible insult, not to mention make the kingdom look like it was in chaos if Stephanos wasn’t there. He spit curses in Irakles’s direction but the man was already done with this little conversation. Straining against the guards, Stephanos was not allowed to move an inch until the guards were sure that the prince was safely away.
Then, at sword point, he was kept where he was as the rest of the guards filed out of the room. Stephanos held his stomach. He felt violently ill. His gaze swept the floor but he couldn’t think. Sinking onto the couch beside Olympia, he covered his mouth his his hand and stared at the door, shaking his head like if he said ‘no’ to the Fates enough, they would change their minds.
This was all so wrong.
He strained against the guard holding him, half wishing Irakles would just end the charade. In his mad state, he wondered if these guards were the ones to have assisted or allowed the murder of his father and brother. Was that why they were commenting on nothing this man was saying now? They saw and either did not understand or did not care about the king’s rage.
All of Irakles’s little insults and insinuations hit home. Stephanos paused when Irakles echoed thoughts he’d already had himself. Were the gods on Irakles’s side? Was that why this level of injustice was being allowed? It could not be...and yet everything had aligned to keep both himself alive, but to give Irakles all the power and prestige.
Were the gods punishing him? Why? He hadn’t done anything wrong and yet this man smiling into his face had murdered in cold blood and planned to do it twice more. He stilled, watching his uncle and having nothing to say to that accusation.
His skin crawled with Irakles’s lies as they sought to take hold of him and strike the venom of fear and doubt into his heart.
When Irakles told him flat out that he was no longer king, Stephanos felt his stomach in his throat. “Let me get to trial and I will remain on the throne,” he hissed but they both knew that wouldn’t happen. Irakles had already said as much just now. It was a matter of time. And then, Stephanos realized why he and Olympia hadn’t been killed yet.
The Egyptians. It would be a horrible insult, not to mention make the kingdom look like it was in chaos if Stephanos wasn’t there. He spit curses in Irakles’s direction but the man was already done with this little conversation. Straining against the guards, Stephanos was not allowed to move an inch until the guards were sure that the prince was safely away.
Then, at sword point, he was kept where he was as the rest of the guards filed out of the room. Stephanos held his stomach. He felt violently ill. His gaze swept the floor but he couldn’t think. Sinking onto the couch beside Olympia, he covered his mouth his his hand and stared at the door, shaking his head like if he said ‘no’ to the Fates enough, they would change their minds.