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Rumors swirled that Princess Emilia was nearly on her death bed with an unnamed illness. The whole court knew what a close eye Lord Elias kept on the girl and though courtiers have come and gone to see her, they were nearly all prevented. Happily, the princess seems to have recovered her strength and has been seen strolling the promenade in the company of Lord Alehandros, Master Informer Cicero, Lord Aimias, and guards Hector of Arcana and her body guard, Lesley. Lord Elias was strangely absent and his absence brought some relief to those who whispered he sought power for himself with the regency. Thankfully, at the last court session, Elias posed his public support for the princess to take the throne if her sister could not be found or proved unfit. Proving herself able in her own right, Princess Emilia chose to uphold the treaty between the Greek kingdoms and sent troops to aid Taengea and Colchis in the war against Egypt. Now she has called a court session in which she, not her aunt Circenia, nor her aunt Sera, is ruling. She sits on the throne, young but bright eyed, flanked by Lords Alehandros on one side and Lord Elias on the other. Both men are grim but Emilia shines as bright and effervescent as ever. All members of the prominent nobility have been summoned to attend. Servants have been hired from the common folk for this occasion to help bolster the ranks and move through with trays of food. There is quite an audience for Princess Emilia's first solo court session.
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JD
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Rumors swirled that Princess Emilia was nearly on her death bed with an unnamed illness. The whole court knew what a close eye Lord Elias kept on the girl and though courtiers have come and gone to see her, they were nearly all prevented. Happily, the princess seems to have recovered her strength and has been seen strolling the promenade in the company of Lord Alehandros, Master Informer Cicero, Lord Aimias, and guards Hector of Arcana and her body guard, Lesley. Lord Elias was strangely absent and his absence brought some relief to those who whispered he sought power for himself with the regency. Thankfully, at the last court session, Elias posed his public support for the princess to take the throne if her sister could not be found or proved unfit. Proving herself able in her own right, Princess Emilia chose to uphold the treaty between the Greek kingdoms and sent troops to aid Taengea and Colchis in the war against Egypt. Now she has called a court session in which she, not her aunt Circenia, nor her aunt Sera, is ruling. She sits on the throne, young but bright eyed, flanked by Lords Alehandros on one side and Lord Elias on the other. Both men are grim but Emilia shines as bright and effervescent as ever. All members of the prominent nobility have been summoned to attend. Servants have been hired from the common folk for this occasion to help bolster the ranks and move through with trays of food. There is quite an audience for Princess Emilia's first solo court session.
Change In The Winds Event - Athenia
Rumors swirled that Princess Emilia was nearly on her death bed with an unnamed illness. The whole court knew what a close eye Lord Elias kept on the girl and though courtiers have come and gone to see her, they were nearly all prevented. Happily, the princess seems to have recovered her strength and has been seen strolling the promenade in the company of Lord Alehandros, Master Informer Cicero, Lord Aimias, and guards Hector of Arcana and her body guard, Lesley. Lord Elias was strangely absent and his absence brought some relief to those who whispered he sought power for himself with the regency. Thankfully, at the last court session, Elias posed his public support for the princess to take the throne if her sister could not be found or proved unfit. Proving herself able in her own right, Princess Emilia chose to uphold the treaty between the Greek kingdoms and sent troops to aid Taengea and Colchis in the war against Egypt. Now she has called a court session in which she, not her aunt Circenia, nor her aunt Sera, is ruling. She sits on the throne, young but bright eyed, flanked by Lords Alehandros on one side and Lord Elias on the other. Both men are grim but Emilia shines as bright and effervescent as ever. All members of the prominent nobility have been summoned to attend. Servants have been hired from the common folk for this occasion to help bolster the ranks and move through with trays of food. There is quite an audience for Princess Emilia's first solo court session.
what a turn
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what a turn
what a turn
While Demi knew it wasn't at all safe for her in the capitol, and Hector had expressly asked her to return to Arcana after the riots, Demi found that she couldn't bring herself to just leave. Yet a bitter taste had remained in her mouth when a request had arrived for her to escort a Lord to the newest court session, purportedly held by the younger sister of the missing Queen - the same Queen that had been taking up residence in Hector's own quarters.
Did she want to agree to it? For all intents and purposes, Hector had assumed Demi had returned, but she had simply remained around with a friend of hers in the capitol. The pay was good, so long as she did not embarass this specific member of nobility she was meant to escord - and Lord Felipe did not seem bad, simply someone who wanted to remove harassing younger ladies from trying to catch his hand in marriage. Last Demi checked, he preferred those of his own gender.
So in her curiosity on what would be going on, especially with the amount of time Hector now spent in the royal quarters, Demi had agreed, if only to satisfy her own curiosity. Wondering if her lover would be in attendance as well, she had managed to get someone to bring one of her more exquisite outfits from her place back in Arcana, and as they had entered the Grand Hall, Demi had to momentarily remind herself she wasn't dressed in her usual clothes, but of the smoothest forest green material. Clipped over both her shoulders by a simple golden fibulae, the chiton went down to her ankles, whilst her hair was pinned up in soft curls, framing her lips painted red as she smiled on the arms of Lord Felipe.
Except, one had to remember Lord Felipe didn't want her company at all. She was afterall, but a distraction he had paid for. It wasn't long into the court session that Lord Felipe had left her to meet his more... closer friends, which left Demi quite conveniently alone. The woman had been counting on that, to be honest. Most of her clients required her attention at all times, but Lord Felipe clearly only wanted her as a smokescreen, and the moment he left her side, Demi could focus her attention on the other attendee's, clearly trying to see anyone of which she could recognize - and maybe, if she could try and not get spotted by Hector, that would be a bonus.
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While Demi knew it wasn't at all safe for her in the capitol, and Hector had expressly asked her to return to Arcana after the riots, Demi found that she couldn't bring herself to just leave. Yet a bitter taste had remained in her mouth when a request had arrived for her to escort a Lord to the newest court session, purportedly held by the younger sister of the missing Queen - the same Queen that had been taking up residence in Hector's own quarters.
Did she want to agree to it? For all intents and purposes, Hector had assumed Demi had returned, but she had simply remained around with a friend of hers in the capitol. The pay was good, so long as she did not embarass this specific member of nobility she was meant to escord - and Lord Felipe did not seem bad, simply someone who wanted to remove harassing younger ladies from trying to catch his hand in marriage. Last Demi checked, he preferred those of his own gender.
So in her curiosity on what would be going on, especially with the amount of time Hector now spent in the royal quarters, Demi had agreed, if only to satisfy her own curiosity. Wondering if her lover would be in attendance as well, she had managed to get someone to bring one of her more exquisite outfits from her place back in Arcana, and as they had entered the Grand Hall, Demi had to momentarily remind herself she wasn't dressed in her usual clothes, but of the smoothest forest green material. Clipped over both her shoulders by a simple golden fibulae, the chiton went down to her ankles, whilst her hair was pinned up in soft curls, framing her lips painted red as she smiled on the arms of Lord Felipe.
Except, one had to remember Lord Felipe didn't want her company at all. She was afterall, but a distraction he had paid for. It wasn't long into the court session that Lord Felipe had left her to meet his more... closer friends, which left Demi quite conveniently alone. The woman had been counting on that, to be honest. Most of her clients required her attention at all times, but Lord Felipe clearly only wanted her as a smokescreen, and the moment he left her side, Demi could focus her attention on the other attendee's, clearly trying to see anyone of which she could recognize - and maybe, if she could try and not get spotted by Hector, that would be a bonus.
While Demi knew it wasn't at all safe for her in the capitol, and Hector had expressly asked her to return to Arcana after the riots, Demi found that she couldn't bring herself to just leave. Yet a bitter taste had remained in her mouth when a request had arrived for her to escort a Lord to the newest court session, purportedly held by the younger sister of the missing Queen - the same Queen that had been taking up residence in Hector's own quarters.
Did she want to agree to it? For all intents and purposes, Hector had assumed Demi had returned, but she had simply remained around with a friend of hers in the capitol. The pay was good, so long as she did not embarass this specific member of nobility she was meant to escord - and Lord Felipe did not seem bad, simply someone who wanted to remove harassing younger ladies from trying to catch his hand in marriage. Last Demi checked, he preferred those of his own gender.
So in her curiosity on what would be going on, especially with the amount of time Hector now spent in the royal quarters, Demi had agreed, if only to satisfy her own curiosity. Wondering if her lover would be in attendance as well, she had managed to get someone to bring one of her more exquisite outfits from her place back in Arcana, and as they had entered the Grand Hall, Demi had to momentarily remind herself she wasn't dressed in her usual clothes, but of the smoothest forest green material. Clipped over both her shoulders by a simple golden fibulae, the chiton went down to her ankles, whilst her hair was pinned up in soft curls, framing her lips painted red as she smiled on the arms of Lord Felipe.
Except, one had to remember Lord Felipe didn't want her company at all. She was afterall, but a distraction he had paid for. It wasn't long into the court session that Lord Felipe had left her to meet his more... closer friends, which left Demi quite conveniently alone. The woman had been counting on that, to be honest. Most of her clients required her attention at all times, but Lord Felipe clearly only wanted her as a smokescreen, and the moment he left her side, Demi could focus her attention on the other attendee's, clearly trying to see anyone of which she could recognize - and maybe, if she could try and not get spotted by Hector, that would be a bonus.
Athenia had changed drastically in the wake of the riots that had left the Inner Circle looted and burned. That much was not that hard to tell as the court gathered for the first time since the carnage that had ripped through their once safe city that had finally reached its breaking point.
Glancing around the room, Danae noticed that there wasn’t a single person in this room that didn’t bear some sort of scar from the riots that had shaken this untouchable group of people to their very core -- reminding them that they were just as human as those who lived beneath them. They were all the same fragile mortal beings whose large estates could burn just as quickly as the lowliest hovel in the poorer parts of the city. Some of the courtiers present had been lucky that day. They had been elsewhere and just came home to a scene of destruction where their safe havens had once been. Others were not so lucky. Danae had heard that others had died, but she did not know any of them personally.
Most of them though had been hurt in the same way that Danae had been hurt. They had escaped the riots with their lives intact, but still horribly injured. The youngest Stravos herself had nearly been skewered on the gates of the palati and had the wounds to prove it. Everything had been hidden tonight beneath piles of bright red fabric, a color that now reminded her too much of blood, but if she were to lift her skirts or roll up her sleeves? Ugly red marks from where she had been hit by stones and clawed by grubby hands, breaking her previously unmarked skin. Some of these wounds were almost finished in their healing process, Danae was just waiting for the nasty scabs to finally be done with their job so that she might be rid of the horrible reminders of what had happened to her. She longed for it to become no more than a painful memory, set aside in her mind until the day it faded away and she would never have to be reminded of the trauma she had faced that day. However, it was hard to do that when there were so many things that brought all the anger and frustration that came with such things roaring to the surface.
That’s all that had filled her after the dust had cleared and Danae had seen how utterly broken Sofia had been… but more importantly how flippant her brother was to the destruction. Elias had never really cared about anything that did not have a direct consequence on him and he really made a point to show that to his youngest sibling in the wake of the riot. Not once did he inquire about her condition in the days following the chaos and when he did finally see her -- Elias could not have pretended to care about how Danae was faring. All he could talk about what he was going to do to make himself look better in the wake of the riots. Had Danae not been on strict bed rest at the time, she likely would have stormed out of the room.
Since that moment, Danae stopped caring about what her family did in response to everything. Her eyes had been opened to how little she mattered to everyone so she could not be bothered to pretend that things were fine and that she was still all on board to make Elias king. She could see now that it didn’t matter that the Stravos was destined to have the throne in their hands one day, the boy they had decided was their champion was not fit for such a role and the youngest of the Anchors was tired of tying herself to a ship that was already sinking due solely to her bloodline. She was so tired of being burned and used as a pawn by everyone else. Danae was fed up with the notion that she was some sort of piece that could be gambled away at every turn. She was done.
Having the peasants rise up and try to kill her just because her bloodline had been the final straw.
As much as Danae wanted to get out the raging anger lurking beneath her skin by scorching the earth to a crisp, she knew that maybe making it publicly clear that she thought her brother was no better than a lame donkey was perhaps a bad idea. So, she had kept her mouth shut for now. Pretending that everything was fine as she buried herself in her work so she wouldn’t have to think about how messed up this whole situation was -- but she couldn’t do that tonight. Not during the same night that the court was meeting under the eye of Princess Emilia. Danae would have rathered done anything than be here tonight, pretending that life was cheery and grand, but she didn’t have much of a choice. She was a Stravos and the Stravos always attended such events. So, the sixteen-year-old was decked out in her usual crimson-colored garb and brought to the palati by her mother and sister.
However, as soon as Danae was out of her carriage, she had separated from Chara and Circenia. Instead, she was now darting about the crowd looking for an unlikely comrade in this whole mess; Sofia of Marikas. The poor girl had been nearly sacrificed with Danae and she had heard that she had not been doing as well as the younger ones in the wake of the riot. Granted, she could only assume that such things were rumors, but Danae needed to know for herself as she carried a large portion of the blame on her own shoulders for what had happened to her cousin. Had Danae not invited Sofia over, she never would have been caught up in the disaster and thus the youngest Stravos felt an odd sort of duty to check in with Sofia and make sure she was alright. It was the least she could do in the wake of such a horrible mess.
However, it was just a matter of finding her first as Danae wandered through the sea of courtiers, not knowing if her next conversation would be with the Marikas girl or someone else...
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Athenia had changed drastically in the wake of the riots that had left the Inner Circle looted and burned. That much was not that hard to tell as the court gathered for the first time since the carnage that had ripped through their once safe city that had finally reached its breaking point.
Glancing around the room, Danae noticed that there wasn’t a single person in this room that didn’t bear some sort of scar from the riots that had shaken this untouchable group of people to their very core -- reminding them that they were just as human as those who lived beneath them. They were all the same fragile mortal beings whose large estates could burn just as quickly as the lowliest hovel in the poorer parts of the city. Some of the courtiers present had been lucky that day. They had been elsewhere and just came home to a scene of destruction where their safe havens had once been. Others were not so lucky. Danae had heard that others had died, but she did not know any of them personally.
Most of them though had been hurt in the same way that Danae had been hurt. They had escaped the riots with their lives intact, but still horribly injured. The youngest Stravos herself had nearly been skewered on the gates of the palati and had the wounds to prove it. Everything had been hidden tonight beneath piles of bright red fabric, a color that now reminded her too much of blood, but if she were to lift her skirts or roll up her sleeves? Ugly red marks from where she had been hit by stones and clawed by grubby hands, breaking her previously unmarked skin. Some of these wounds were almost finished in their healing process, Danae was just waiting for the nasty scabs to finally be done with their job so that she might be rid of the horrible reminders of what had happened to her. She longed for it to become no more than a painful memory, set aside in her mind until the day it faded away and she would never have to be reminded of the trauma she had faced that day. However, it was hard to do that when there were so many things that brought all the anger and frustration that came with such things roaring to the surface.
That’s all that had filled her after the dust had cleared and Danae had seen how utterly broken Sofia had been… but more importantly how flippant her brother was to the destruction. Elias had never really cared about anything that did not have a direct consequence on him and he really made a point to show that to his youngest sibling in the wake of the riot. Not once did he inquire about her condition in the days following the chaos and when he did finally see her -- Elias could not have pretended to care about how Danae was faring. All he could talk about what he was going to do to make himself look better in the wake of the riots. Had Danae not been on strict bed rest at the time, she likely would have stormed out of the room.
Since that moment, Danae stopped caring about what her family did in response to everything. Her eyes had been opened to how little she mattered to everyone so she could not be bothered to pretend that things were fine and that she was still all on board to make Elias king. She could see now that it didn’t matter that the Stravos was destined to have the throne in their hands one day, the boy they had decided was their champion was not fit for such a role and the youngest of the Anchors was tired of tying herself to a ship that was already sinking due solely to her bloodline. She was so tired of being burned and used as a pawn by everyone else. Danae was fed up with the notion that she was some sort of piece that could be gambled away at every turn. She was done.
Having the peasants rise up and try to kill her just because her bloodline had been the final straw.
As much as Danae wanted to get out the raging anger lurking beneath her skin by scorching the earth to a crisp, she knew that maybe making it publicly clear that she thought her brother was no better than a lame donkey was perhaps a bad idea. So, she had kept her mouth shut for now. Pretending that everything was fine as she buried herself in her work so she wouldn’t have to think about how messed up this whole situation was -- but she couldn’t do that tonight. Not during the same night that the court was meeting under the eye of Princess Emilia. Danae would have rathered done anything than be here tonight, pretending that life was cheery and grand, but she didn’t have much of a choice. She was a Stravos and the Stravos always attended such events. So, the sixteen-year-old was decked out in her usual crimson-colored garb and brought to the palati by her mother and sister.
However, as soon as Danae was out of her carriage, she had separated from Chara and Circenia. Instead, she was now darting about the crowd looking for an unlikely comrade in this whole mess; Sofia of Marikas. The poor girl had been nearly sacrificed with Danae and she had heard that she had not been doing as well as the younger ones in the wake of the riot. Granted, she could only assume that such things were rumors, but Danae needed to know for herself as she carried a large portion of the blame on her own shoulders for what had happened to her cousin. Had Danae not invited Sofia over, she never would have been caught up in the disaster and thus the youngest Stravos felt an odd sort of duty to check in with Sofia and make sure she was alright. It was the least she could do in the wake of such a horrible mess.
However, it was just a matter of finding her first as Danae wandered through the sea of courtiers, not knowing if her next conversation would be with the Marikas girl or someone else...
Athenia had changed drastically in the wake of the riots that had left the Inner Circle looted and burned. That much was not that hard to tell as the court gathered for the first time since the carnage that had ripped through their once safe city that had finally reached its breaking point.
Glancing around the room, Danae noticed that there wasn’t a single person in this room that didn’t bear some sort of scar from the riots that had shaken this untouchable group of people to their very core -- reminding them that they were just as human as those who lived beneath them. They were all the same fragile mortal beings whose large estates could burn just as quickly as the lowliest hovel in the poorer parts of the city. Some of the courtiers present had been lucky that day. They had been elsewhere and just came home to a scene of destruction where their safe havens had once been. Others were not so lucky. Danae had heard that others had died, but she did not know any of them personally.
Most of them though had been hurt in the same way that Danae had been hurt. They had escaped the riots with their lives intact, but still horribly injured. The youngest Stravos herself had nearly been skewered on the gates of the palati and had the wounds to prove it. Everything had been hidden tonight beneath piles of bright red fabric, a color that now reminded her too much of blood, but if she were to lift her skirts or roll up her sleeves? Ugly red marks from where she had been hit by stones and clawed by grubby hands, breaking her previously unmarked skin. Some of these wounds were almost finished in their healing process, Danae was just waiting for the nasty scabs to finally be done with their job so that she might be rid of the horrible reminders of what had happened to her. She longed for it to become no more than a painful memory, set aside in her mind until the day it faded away and she would never have to be reminded of the trauma she had faced that day. However, it was hard to do that when there were so many things that brought all the anger and frustration that came with such things roaring to the surface.
That’s all that had filled her after the dust had cleared and Danae had seen how utterly broken Sofia had been… but more importantly how flippant her brother was to the destruction. Elias had never really cared about anything that did not have a direct consequence on him and he really made a point to show that to his youngest sibling in the wake of the riot. Not once did he inquire about her condition in the days following the chaos and when he did finally see her -- Elias could not have pretended to care about how Danae was faring. All he could talk about what he was going to do to make himself look better in the wake of the riots. Had Danae not been on strict bed rest at the time, she likely would have stormed out of the room.
Since that moment, Danae stopped caring about what her family did in response to everything. Her eyes had been opened to how little she mattered to everyone so she could not be bothered to pretend that things were fine and that she was still all on board to make Elias king. She could see now that it didn’t matter that the Stravos was destined to have the throne in their hands one day, the boy they had decided was their champion was not fit for such a role and the youngest of the Anchors was tired of tying herself to a ship that was already sinking due solely to her bloodline. She was so tired of being burned and used as a pawn by everyone else. Danae was fed up with the notion that she was some sort of piece that could be gambled away at every turn. She was done.
Having the peasants rise up and try to kill her just because her bloodline had been the final straw.
As much as Danae wanted to get out the raging anger lurking beneath her skin by scorching the earth to a crisp, she knew that maybe making it publicly clear that she thought her brother was no better than a lame donkey was perhaps a bad idea. So, she had kept her mouth shut for now. Pretending that everything was fine as she buried herself in her work so she wouldn’t have to think about how messed up this whole situation was -- but she couldn’t do that tonight. Not during the same night that the court was meeting under the eye of Princess Emilia. Danae would have rathered done anything than be here tonight, pretending that life was cheery and grand, but she didn’t have much of a choice. She was a Stravos and the Stravos always attended such events. So, the sixteen-year-old was decked out in her usual crimson-colored garb and brought to the palati by her mother and sister.
However, as soon as Danae was out of her carriage, she had separated from Chara and Circenia. Instead, she was now darting about the crowd looking for an unlikely comrade in this whole mess; Sofia of Marikas. The poor girl had been nearly sacrificed with Danae and she had heard that she had not been doing as well as the younger ones in the wake of the riot. Granted, she could only assume that such things were rumors, but Danae needed to know for herself as she carried a large portion of the blame on her own shoulders for what had happened to her cousin. Had Danae not invited Sofia over, she never would have been caught up in the disaster and thus the youngest Stravos felt an odd sort of duty to check in with Sofia and make sure she was alright. It was the least she could do in the wake of such a horrible mess.
However, it was just a matter of finding her first as Danae wandered through the sea of courtiers, not knowing if her next conversation would be with the Marikas girl or someone else...
When Emilia had still been frozen and devastated in the aftermath of the riot, Lesley had been there, either in the room or right outside her door; when the princess had been confronted with the terrifying prospect of claiming the power and responsibility that was her birthright he'd been reassuringly within sight without even needing to turn her head whenever she'd been speaking to anyone but a slave. When she'd finally taken that power in hand, though, he would have asked leave if she hadn't sent him away on her own. Alehandros and Hector would be her sword and shield; he had others to look after as well - not to mention a pressing need to physically release his building anger and and equally pressing need to sleep.
When he returned to the palace, dark hair that had been falling into his eyes a few days ago was cropped as short as any young soldier's, his uniform was as freshly washed as his body, and the brand new bruises on his cheek and knuckles only served to help him blend in with the other guards who had been sent out to quell the riot. He was carrying the exact same equipment as the others, too, rather than his own; this was a court session, and Lesley was willing to make that much concession to formality.
He knew he was late, but he'd also decided it was more important to be calm and focused than anything else, and rushing would ruin the equilibrium he'd struggled so hard to regain, especially after a somewhat frustrating morning. There was always some idiot... nevermind. He'd hoped he wasn't too late, but he wasn't surprised to find that Emilia had already opened the court session. Some others might be happy to make a grand entrance after everyone was already present and impatient, but that wasn't really the young princess's style.
Lesley scanned the room as he slipped in through the servant's entrance. Elias was still standing beside Emilia, so he hadn't missed the main event. The princess seemed to be holding up well. Alert, perhaps a touch distracted, but not looking particularly nervous. Nothing that couldn't be attributed to simply feeling off-balance due to it being her first-ever court without her father and sister present. He decided not to advertise that he was late or risk her reaction if he approached her directly. She didn't need anyone wondering why she was smiling at a man little more than a slave right now. Instead, he tapped another guard on the shoulder and told him to take his ten minute break. There was no real schedule, after all; that man would relieve someone else when he came back, and they were all supposed to be paying attention enough that nobody got overlooked. Occasionally some idiot managed to annoy his entire cohort and spent an uncomfortable length of time without the chance to relieve himself, but for the most part the palace guard were chosen for being reliable, professionally-minded sorts. At least they could trade off at all, unlike the personal bodyguards of people who couldn't afford more than one.
For once, he wasn't too tempted to pace or fidget - though how long that would last depended entirely on how long he had to wait for the evening to get interesting - and with his tattoos completely covered, there wasn't much to draw the eye to this particular guard. He wasn't hidden or disguised, just... not obvious. Sneaky? A hidden dagger for Emilia? Or for Circena? Could the gladiator's loyalty be bought with coin, or with a pretty smile? In truth, he didn't know whether he would be asked to draw his sword tonight, and he hadn't bothered actually thinking about how he would respond to actually being called on to unambiguously prove himself one way or the other. As he stood his post quietly, he paid as much attention to his ears as his eyes, eavesdropping on the people out of earshot of the dais. Not for either of them, really. Just because he was curious.
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When Emilia had still been frozen and devastated in the aftermath of the riot, Lesley had been there, either in the room or right outside her door; when the princess had been confronted with the terrifying prospect of claiming the power and responsibility that was her birthright he'd been reassuringly within sight without even needing to turn her head whenever she'd been speaking to anyone but a slave. When she'd finally taken that power in hand, though, he would have asked leave if she hadn't sent him away on her own. Alehandros and Hector would be her sword and shield; he had others to look after as well - not to mention a pressing need to physically release his building anger and and equally pressing need to sleep.
When he returned to the palace, dark hair that had been falling into his eyes a few days ago was cropped as short as any young soldier's, his uniform was as freshly washed as his body, and the brand new bruises on his cheek and knuckles only served to help him blend in with the other guards who had been sent out to quell the riot. He was carrying the exact same equipment as the others, too, rather than his own; this was a court session, and Lesley was willing to make that much concession to formality.
He knew he was late, but he'd also decided it was more important to be calm and focused than anything else, and rushing would ruin the equilibrium he'd struggled so hard to regain, especially after a somewhat frustrating morning. There was always some idiot... nevermind. He'd hoped he wasn't too late, but he wasn't surprised to find that Emilia had already opened the court session. Some others might be happy to make a grand entrance after everyone was already present and impatient, but that wasn't really the young princess's style.
Lesley scanned the room as he slipped in through the servant's entrance. Elias was still standing beside Emilia, so he hadn't missed the main event. The princess seemed to be holding up well. Alert, perhaps a touch distracted, but not looking particularly nervous. Nothing that couldn't be attributed to simply feeling off-balance due to it being her first-ever court without her father and sister present. He decided not to advertise that he was late or risk her reaction if he approached her directly. She didn't need anyone wondering why she was smiling at a man little more than a slave right now. Instead, he tapped another guard on the shoulder and told him to take his ten minute break. There was no real schedule, after all; that man would relieve someone else when he came back, and they were all supposed to be paying attention enough that nobody got overlooked. Occasionally some idiot managed to annoy his entire cohort and spent an uncomfortable length of time without the chance to relieve himself, but for the most part the palace guard were chosen for being reliable, professionally-minded sorts. At least they could trade off at all, unlike the personal bodyguards of people who couldn't afford more than one.
For once, he wasn't too tempted to pace or fidget - though how long that would last depended entirely on how long he had to wait for the evening to get interesting - and with his tattoos completely covered, there wasn't much to draw the eye to this particular guard. He wasn't hidden or disguised, just... not obvious. Sneaky? A hidden dagger for Emilia? Or for Circena? Could the gladiator's loyalty be bought with coin, or with a pretty smile? In truth, he didn't know whether he would be asked to draw his sword tonight, and he hadn't bothered actually thinking about how he would respond to actually being called on to unambiguously prove himself one way or the other. As he stood his post quietly, he paid as much attention to his ears as his eyes, eavesdropping on the people out of earshot of the dais. Not for either of them, really. Just because he was curious.
When Emilia had still been frozen and devastated in the aftermath of the riot, Lesley had been there, either in the room or right outside her door; when the princess had been confronted with the terrifying prospect of claiming the power and responsibility that was her birthright he'd been reassuringly within sight without even needing to turn her head whenever she'd been speaking to anyone but a slave. When she'd finally taken that power in hand, though, he would have asked leave if she hadn't sent him away on her own. Alehandros and Hector would be her sword and shield; he had others to look after as well - not to mention a pressing need to physically release his building anger and and equally pressing need to sleep.
When he returned to the palace, dark hair that had been falling into his eyes a few days ago was cropped as short as any young soldier's, his uniform was as freshly washed as his body, and the brand new bruises on his cheek and knuckles only served to help him blend in with the other guards who had been sent out to quell the riot. He was carrying the exact same equipment as the others, too, rather than his own; this was a court session, and Lesley was willing to make that much concession to formality.
He knew he was late, but he'd also decided it was more important to be calm and focused than anything else, and rushing would ruin the equilibrium he'd struggled so hard to regain, especially after a somewhat frustrating morning. There was always some idiot... nevermind. He'd hoped he wasn't too late, but he wasn't surprised to find that Emilia had already opened the court session. Some others might be happy to make a grand entrance after everyone was already present and impatient, but that wasn't really the young princess's style.
Lesley scanned the room as he slipped in through the servant's entrance. Elias was still standing beside Emilia, so he hadn't missed the main event. The princess seemed to be holding up well. Alert, perhaps a touch distracted, but not looking particularly nervous. Nothing that couldn't be attributed to simply feeling off-balance due to it being her first-ever court without her father and sister present. He decided not to advertise that he was late or risk her reaction if he approached her directly. She didn't need anyone wondering why she was smiling at a man little more than a slave right now. Instead, he tapped another guard on the shoulder and told him to take his ten minute break. There was no real schedule, after all; that man would relieve someone else when he came back, and they were all supposed to be paying attention enough that nobody got overlooked. Occasionally some idiot managed to annoy his entire cohort and spent an uncomfortable length of time without the chance to relieve himself, but for the most part the palace guard were chosen for being reliable, professionally-minded sorts. At least they could trade off at all, unlike the personal bodyguards of people who couldn't afford more than one.
For once, he wasn't too tempted to pace or fidget - though how long that would last depended entirely on how long he had to wait for the evening to get interesting - and with his tattoos completely covered, there wasn't much to draw the eye to this particular guard. He wasn't hidden or disguised, just... not obvious. Sneaky? A hidden dagger for Emilia? Or for Circena? Could the gladiator's loyalty be bought with coin, or with a pretty smile? In truth, he didn't know whether he would be asked to draw his sword tonight, and he hadn't bothered actually thinking about how he would respond to actually being called on to unambiguously prove himself one way or the other. As he stood his post quietly, he paid as much attention to his ears as his eyes, eavesdropping on the people out of earshot of the dais. Not for either of them, really. Just because he was curious.
Hebe was pleased that Princess Emilia had time for her again. While she had supposedly been ill, the youngest Antonis had not had a lot to do during the two weeks she spent at the palati every month. Her mistress had never sent for her, which had disappointed her until she had learned the probable reason for it. Elias … she refused to call him ‘lord’ … had kept the two girls away from each other, not wanting her to influence the princess into pulling away from him. She would have done it too if given the chance. He might have also been wary of her eidetic memory, assuming he even knew about it. That moron was too full of himself to pay much attention to anyone else.
She had also discovered one of the reasons her parents had allowed her to become Emilia’s lady-in-waiting. Her shoulder had been dislocated in the riots and she had passed out when it was popped back in place. While she was recovering, she hardly ever left Marietta’s side. But once her sister was out of danger and she was able to move her arm without great pain, she had gone back to the palati. Her father spoke with her often, usually asking her what she had seen and heard during specific times, some of them months and years ago. He made use of her flawless recall and she realized that she had been spying for him all along without being aware of it.
Today, Princess Emilia was holding her first court session and Hebe was quite proud of her. Perhaps if Queen Persephone decided not to reclaim the throne, Emilia would become Queen. She certainly looked the part in one of Persephone’s brocade gowns. Even though it hurt her injured arm, she’d had fun helping her mistress with the alterations so that it would fit her perfectly, as if it had been made for her and not her sister. She had not done the work herself, of course. The young brunette had given detailed instructions to the royal seamstresses and had supervised their work.
Hebe had dressed early so she could help the princess dress. She wore her family’s colors in the form of a sky blue chiton embroidered all over with pearls. All of her jewelry, including her fibulae, was composed of pearls as well. Her beautiful chestnut hair was left loose, its only adornment the pearl circlet around her forehead. It was a lovely ensemble, complimenting Emilia’s without outshining it.
Just before the royal party made their entrance, the princess glanced over at Hebe. She checked to make sure that nothing was out of place and then smiled at her reassuringly. How nervous Emilia must be. She had not been raised to rule. Hebe was sure she would do a wonderful job today and that everyone would adore her once the session was over.
She followed the princess as she entered the room. Hebe’s father escorted her to her throne and Hebe took her place on the dais slightly behind the two of them, ready to help Emilia with anything she needed. Eventually, she would join the other nobles. Her father had told her he needed her eyes and ears tonight, but at the moment, her place was with her mistress.
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Hebe was pleased that Princess Emilia had time for her again. While she had supposedly been ill, the youngest Antonis had not had a lot to do during the two weeks she spent at the palati every month. Her mistress had never sent for her, which had disappointed her until she had learned the probable reason for it. Elias … she refused to call him ‘lord’ … had kept the two girls away from each other, not wanting her to influence the princess into pulling away from him. She would have done it too if given the chance. He might have also been wary of her eidetic memory, assuming he even knew about it. That moron was too full of himself to pay much attention to anyone else.
She had also discovered one of the reasons her parents had allowed her to become Emilia’s lady-in-waiting. Her shoulder had been dislocated in the riots and she had passed out when it was popped back in place. While she was recovering, she hardly ever left Marietta’s side. But once her sister was out of danger and she was able to move her arm without great pain, she had gone back to the palati. Her father spoke with her often, usually asking her what she had seen and heard during specific times, some of them months and years ago. He made use of her flawless recall and she realized that she had been spying for him all along without being aware of it.
Today, Princess Emilia was holding her first court session and Hebe was quite proud of her. Perhaps if Queen Persephone decided not to reclaim the throne, Emilia would become Queen. She certainly looked the part in one of Persephone’s brocade gowns. Even though it hurt her injured arm, she’d had fun helping her mistress with the alterations so that it would fit her perfectly, as if it had been made for her and not her sister. She had not done the work herself, of course. The young brunette had given detailed instructions to the royal seamstresses and had supervised their work.
Hebe had dressed early so she could help the princess dress. She wore her family’s colors in the form of a sky blue chiton embroidered all over with pearls. All of her jewelry, including her fibulae, was composed of pearls as well. Her beautiful chestnut hair was left loose, its only adornment the pearl circlet around her forehead. It was a lovely ensemble, complimenting Emilia’s without outshining it.
Just before the royal party made their entrance, the princess glanced over at Hebe. She checked to make sure that nothing was out of place and then smiled at her reassuringly. How nervous Emilia must be. She had not been raised to rule. Hebe was sure she would do a wonderful job today and that everyone would adore her once the session was over.
She followed the princess as she entered the room. Hebe’s father escorted her to her throne and Hebe took her place on the dais slightly behind the two of them, ready to help Emilia with anything she needed. Eventually, she would join the other nobles. Her father had told her he needed her eyes and ears tonight, but at the moment, her place was with her mistress.
Hebe was pleased that Princess Emilia had time for her again. While she had supposedly been ill, the youngest Antonis had not had a lot to do during the two weeks she spent at the palati every month. Her mistress had never sent for her, which had disappointed her until she had learned the probable reason for it. Elias … she refused to call him ‘lord’ … had kept the two girls away from each other, not wanting her to influence the princess into pulling away from him. She would have done it too if given the chance. He might have also been wary of her eidetic memory, assuming he even knew about it. That moron was too full of himself to pay much attention to anyone else.
She had also discovered one of the reasons her parents had allowed her to become Emilia’s lady-in-waiting. Her shoulder had been dislocated in the riots and she had passed out when it was popped back in place. While she was recovering, she hardly ever left Marietta’s side. But once her sister was out of danger and she was able to move her arm without great pain, she had gone back to the palati. Her father spoke with her often, usually asking her what she had seen and heard during specific times, some of them months and years ago. He made use of her flawless recall and she realized that she had been spying for him all along without being aware of it.
Today, Princess Emilia was holding her first court session and Hebe was quite proud of her. Perhaps if Queen Persephone decided not to reclaim the throne, Emilia would become Queen. She certainly looked the part in one of Persephone’s brocade gowns. Even though it hurt her injured arm, she’d had fun helping her mistress with the alterations so that it would fit her perfectly, as if it had been made for her and not her sister. She had not done the work herself, of course. The young brunette had given detailed instructions to the royal seamstresses and had supervised their work.
Hebe had dressed early so she could help the princess dress. She wore her family’s colors in the form of a sky blue chiton embroidered all over with pearls. All of her jewelry, including her fibulae, was composed of pearls as well. Her beautiful chestnut hair was left loose, its only adornment the pearl circlet around her forehead. It was a lovely ensemble, complimenting Emilia’s without outshining it.
Just before the royal party made their entrance, the princess glanced over at Hebe. She checked to make sure that nothing was out of place and then smiled at her reassuringly. How nervous Emilia must be. She had not been raised to rule. Hebe was sure she would do a wonderful job today and that everyone would adore her once the session was over.
She followed the princess as she entered the room. Hebe’s father escorted her to her throne and Hebe took her place on the dais slightly behind the two of them, ready to help Emilia with anything she needed. Eventually, she would join the other nobles. Her father had told her he needed her eyes and ears tonight, but at the moment, her place was with her mistress.
Some nights Marietta could still hear the shouts and screams that rang through the capital. She could still feel the fists and kicks that beat down upon her as she tried to protect her youngest sibling. Marietta could still feel the agonizing pain and remember thinking that this horrible, ugly sight would be the last thing she would ever see.
Only it wasn't.
The Lady had woken up in her room a week later- confused and in pain. But she was alive and no longer blind to the truth. The coma might have been a week to everyone else, but in reality, Marietta's slumber was her entire life... but no more. Her eyes opened to the travesty that was Athenia, to the real strife of the starving citizens, all because of a man's selfish greed. A man she once considered her friend.
Recovery was slow and still ongoing. A month later, outwardly it looked like her flesh had healed. Inwardly she still felt sore, evident in the way she walked. Marietta did not carry herself with the normal grace and elegance she prided herself with. She moved at a slower pace, and as she shifted occasionally a grimace might flash across her face before settling back to something more stoic.
Marietta hadn't gone far from her home since the riot, and never without guards. While she could see the ugliness that plagued the capital and was determined not to look away... she also felt fear. In a moment her life could be taken by needless violence stoaked by a man's ego. Marietta had lived a fortunate, sheltered life. She was surrounded by strong, proud men and women that had always made her feel safe. To be ripped so suddenly from that bubble was traumatizing, to say the least. It was hard to move forward when at any moment she could be facing the bloodthirst of man, and the acts of desperation by those who had nothing.
But Marietta had to power through the nightmares that left her shrieking in the dead of night. She had to push back the flashbacks that left her cold and panicked. She could no longer go back, only forward. If not for the people, for herself. While court was one of Marietta's least favorite places to be, at this moment it was the only place she should be.
Seeing Lord Elias made Marietta feel angry. Her teeth bit down onto her tongue hard to keep her from approaching the man and hurling insults at his betrayal to the kingdom. It would do no good to cause a scene, and all she had was words from what she had heard, no evidence. That was best left for the people who actually knew what was truly going on behind the scenes of the Kingdom.
Speaking of that, Marietta's eye slid to her father's. If Elias made Marietta hot with anger, her father made her warm with comfort. To see him by the Princess's side was encouraging. Marietta had no power or control, as it was not her place. But her father cared more than just the Antonis people. He cared about everyone, and with his power and guidance things... might just get better.
But most important was the Princess. So small, so young, and yet in a position of power and responsibility she never expected. And yet sitting at the throne looked... right. Marietta would have crumbled under the weight of the throne, and yet Emilia looked to be sitting there with grace.
Marietta took one last glance around. She knew not who to speak with. She wished to approach the Princess, but with Marietta's last interaction with her... it seemed almost wrong. Marietta tried to build up a terrible man. How... foolish.
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Some nights Marietta could still hear the shouts and screams that rang through the capital. She could still feel the fists and kicks that beat down upon her as she tried to protect her youngest sibling. Marietta could still feel the agonizing pain and remember thinking that this horrible, ugly sight would be the last thing she would ever see.
Only it wasn't.
The Lady had woken up in her room a week later- confused and in pain. But she was alive and no longer blind to the truth. The coma might have been a week to everyone else, but in reality, Marietta's slumber was her entire life... but no more. Her eyes opened to the travesty that was Athenia, to the real strife of the starving citizens, all because of a man's selfish greed. A man she once considered her friend.
Recovery was slow and still ongoing. A month later, outwardly it looked like her flesh had healed. Inwardly she still felt sore, evident in the way she walked. Marietta did not carry herself with the normal grace and elegance she prided herself with. She moved at a slower pace, and as she shifted occasionally a grimace might flash across her face before settling back to something more stoic.
Marietta hadn't gone far from her home since the riot, and never without guards. While she could see the ugliness that plagued the capital and was determined not to look away... she also felt fear. In a moment her life could be taken by needless violence stoaked by a man's ego. Marietta had lived a fortunate, sheltered life. She was surrounded by strong, proud men and women that had always made her feel safe. To be ripped so suddenly from that bubble was traumatizing, to say the least. It was hard to move forward when at any moment she could be facing the bloodthirst of man, and the acts of desperation by those who had nothing.
But Marietta had to power through the nightmares that left her shrieking in the dead of night. She had to push back the flashbacks that left her cold and panicked. She could no longer go back, only forward. If not for the people, for herself. While court was one of Marietta's least favorite places to be, at this moment it was the only place she should be.
Seeing Lord Elias made Marietta feel angry. Her teeth bit down onto her tongue hard to keep her from approaching the man and hurling insults at his betrayal to the kingdom. It would do no good to cause a scene, and all she had was words from what she had heard, no evidence. That was best left for the people who actually knew what was truly going on behind the scenes of the Kingdom.
Speaking of that, Marietta's eye slid to her father's. If Elias made Marietta hot with anger, her father made her warm with comfort. To see him by the Princess's side was encouraging. Marietta had no power or control, as it was not her place. But her father cared more than just the Antonis people. He cared about everyone, and with his power and guidance things... might just get better.
But most important was the Princess. So small, so young, and yet in a position of power and responsibility she never expected. And yet sitting at the throne looked... right. Marietta would have crumbled under the weight of the throne, and yet Emilia looked to be sitting there with grace.
Marietta took one last glance around. She knew not who to speak with. She wished to approach the Princess, but with Marietta's last interaction with her... it seemed almost wrong. Marietta tried to build up a terrible man. How... foolish.
Some nights Marietta could still hear the shouts and screams that rang through the capital. She could still feel the fists and kicks that beat down upon her as she tried to protect her youngest sibling. Marietta could still feel the agonizing pain and remember thinking that this horrible, ugly sight would be the last thing she would ever see.
Only it wasn't.
The Lady had woken up in her room a week later- confused and in pain. But she was alive and no longer blind to the truth. The coma might have been a week to everyone else, but in reality, Marietta's slumber was her entire life... but no more. Her eyes opened to the travesty that was Athenia, to the real strife of the starving citizens, all because of a man's selfish greed. A man she once considered her friend.
Recovery was slow and still ongoing. A month later, outwardly it looked like her flesh had healed. Inwardly she still felt sore, evident in the way she walked. Marietta did not carry herself with the normal grace and elegance she prided herself with. She moved at a slower pace, and as she shifted occasionally a grimace might flash across her face before settling back to something more stoic.
Marietta hadn't gone far from her home since the riot, and never without guards. While she could see the ugliness that plagued the capital and was determined not to look away... she also felt fear. In a moment her life could be taken by needless violence stoaked by a man's ego. Marietta had lived a fortunate, sheltered life. She was surrounded by strong, proud men and women that had always made her feel safe. To be ripped so suddenly from that bubble was traumatizing, to say the least. It was hard to move forward when at any moment she could be facing the bloodthirst of man, and the acts of desperation by those who had nothing.
But Marietta had to power through the nightmares that left her shrieking in the dead of night. She had to push back the flashbacks that left her cold and panicked. She could no longer go back, only forward. If not for the people, for herself. While court was one of Marietta's least favorite places to be, at this moment it was the only place she should be.
Seeing Lord Elias made Marietta feel angry. Her teeth bit down onto her tongue hard to keep her from approaching the man and hurling insults at his betrayal to the kingdom. It would do no good to cause a scene, and all she had was words from what she had heard, no evidence. That was best left for the people who actually knew what was truly going on behind the scenes of the Kingdom.
Speaking of that, Marietta's eye slid to her father's. If Elias made Marietta hot with anger, her father made her warm with comfort. To see him by the Princess's side was encouraging. Marietta had no power or control, as it was not her place. But her father cared more than just the Antonis people. He cared about everyone, and with his power and guidance things... might just get better.
But most important was the Princess. So small, so young, and yet in a position of power and responsibility she never expected. And yet sitting at the throne looked... right. Marietta would have crumbled under the weight of the throne, and yet Emilia looked to be sitting there with grace.
Marietta took one last glance around. She knew not who to speak with. She wished to approach the Princess, but with Marietta's last interaction with her... it seemed almost wrong. Marietta tried to build up a terrible man. How... foolish.
Rumors.
The air swirled with them, always. It was, she mused, part of the parcel when you were a member of a great house. None had reached her ears with her name attached and that made Daniil very happy. What did not amuse her was the fact that rumors surrounded her cousin Emilia. They could not leave well enough alone.
Daniil knew that her cousin was said to be Ill, but she also knew that Elias had things in hand to take care of the matter and she trusted him to do just that.
Athenia had recovered from the horrendous riots that had left the city's Inner Circle a mess. There was little to show that it had happened. Daniil herself still had reminders of that night that ran through her head on a nightly basis in competition with her memories of Yannis weilding his sword like Ares himself had possessed him.
A noise brought her out of her thoughts. Slowly she looked around smiled. The noise was the sound of the carriage coming to a halt. She sighed and ran a nervous hand over the soft material of her light yellow gown, working to keeping her rising panic in check. She was doing what she had promised, being lady-like in public, but it still felt uncomfortable.
She was actually amused at the fact that her mother had an seamstress come and make an essemble specifically for this event. The whole process reminded her of all the preparation that had gone into Danil's first court, along with her whining and complaining about the fact that she was not a doll or a lady. A soft giggle escaped her as she also recalled the looks on the faces of those around her.
The door to the carriage opened and with a sigh she shifted so that she could get to her feet and be helped out by one of the servants. Her long hair floating behind her as she moved, like a royal standard decorated with a string of golden topaz chips. Matching gems were on her ears and hung from the chain.
Once her slippered feet hit the ground, the servant let go of her and Daniil began her stroll inside, careful to note who she saw there. Her smile grew as she noticed Danae and Marietta, but first, she would make her way to greet her cousin......
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Rumors.
The air swirled with them, always. It was, she mused, part of the parcel when you were a member of a great house. None had reached her ears with her name attached and that made Daniil very happy. What did not amuse her was the fact that rumors surrounded her cousin Emilia. They could not leave well enough alone.
Daniil knew that her cousin was said to be Ill, but she also knew that Elias had things in hand to take care of the matter and she trusted him to do just that.
Athenia had recovered from the horrendous riots that had left the city's Inner Circle a mess. There was little to show that it had happened. Daniil herself still had reminders of that night that ran through her head on a nightly basis in competition with her memories of Yannis weilding his sword like Ares himself had possessed him.
A noise brought her out of her thoughts. Slowly she looked around smiled. The noise was the sound of the carriage coming to a halt. She sighed and ran a nervous hand over the soft material of her light yellow gown, working to keeping her rising panic in check. She was doing what she had promised, being lady-like in public, but it still felt uncomfortable.
She was actually amused at the fact that her mother had an seamstress come and make an essemble specifically for this event. The whole process reminded her of all the preparation that had gone into Danil's first court, along with her whining and complaining about the fact that she was not a doll or a lady. A soft giggle escaped her as she also recalled the looks on the faces of those around her.
The door to the carriage opened and with a sigh she shifted so that she could get to her feet and be helped out by one of the servants. Her long hair floating behind her as she moved, like a royal standard decorated with a string of golden topaz chips. Matching gems were on her ears and hung from the chain.
Once her slippered feet hit the ground, the servant let go of her and Daniil began her stroll inside, careful to note who she saw there. Her smile grew as she noticed Danae and Marietta, but first, she would make her way to greet her cousin......
Rumors.
The air swirled with them, always. It was, she mused, part of the parcel when you were a member of a great house. None had reached her ears with her name attached and that made Daniil very happy. What did not amuse her was the fact that rumors surrounded her cousin Emilia. They could not leave well enough alone.
Daniil knew that her cousin was said to be Ill, but she also knew that Elias had things in hand to take care of the matter and she trusted him to do just that.
Athenia had recovered from the horrendous riots that had left the city's Inner Circle a mess. There was little to show that it had happened. Daniil herself still had reminders of that night that ran through her head on a nightly basis in competition with her memories of Yannis weilding his sword like Ares himself had possessed him.
A noise brought her out of her thoughts. Slowly she looked around smiled. The noise was the sound of the carriage coming to a halt. She sighed and ran a nervous hand over the soft material of her light yellow gown, working to keeping her rising panic in check. She was doing what she had promised, being lady-like in public, but it still felt uncomfortable.
She was actually amused at the fact that her mother had an seamstress come and make an essemble specifically for this event. The whole process reminded her of all the preparation that had gone into Danil's first court, along with her whining and complaining about the fact that she was not a doll or a lady. A soft giggle escaped her as she also recalled the looks on the faces of those around her.
The door to the carriage opened and with a sigh she shifted so that she could get to her feet and be helped out by one of the servants. Her long hair floating behind her as she moved, like a royal standard decorated with a string of golden topaz chips. Matching gems were on her ears and hung from the chain.
Once her slippered feet hit the ground, the servant let go of her and Daniil began her stroll inside, careful to note who she saw there. Her smile grew as she noticed Danae and Marietta, but first, she would make her way to greet her cousin......
Their rented accommodations left much to be desired. In the wake of the riots, Cicero and Elysia had returned to their home to salvage what could be salvaged. The fire had ripped through the lower floor, but at least what was on the second level had mainly only smoke damage. Still, it had been displeasing to see such treasures as books blemished in such a way. Having had what necessities they needed taken to the smaller house at the very edge of the inner circle, Cicero was still debating having Elysia sent out to the provinces to join the children where they were out of harm's way. Things were beginning to look up, but he was not so naive as to think the clouds had parted just yet.
But as always, his wife had proven stubborn in that very charming way she had, and so, for now at least, she was on his arm as they entered the palati for what was going to be an almost unheard-of thing. An interesting court event.
The days prior had been painful. Actually physically painful to the man, as he, along with Lord Alehandros and Lord Aimias, tried to cram years worth of education into the fluff-filled head of the Xanthos youngest. Princess Emilia, Cicero had come to see, was quite the contrast to her sister.
But even if she was willfully ignorant and oblivious, she had at least proven a quick enough learner. Provided they broke down the facts into small, digestible pieces the men had at last been able to lift some of the wool from before the Princess’ eyes. Finally, men had been dispatched to aid in the war efforts in Egypt. It had been a carefully executed detail discussed with the General Lacides that the first ships sent were manned with men from Stravos units, undercutting the House’s military might by some margin.
Pity, that.
For much of the efforts that had been taken over the past days with the Princess had been to remove her blinkers when it came to the uppity Lord who called himself her fiance. And though never one to care much at all about romance, Cicero could not help but feel some quiet satisfaction in having begun to unpick this particular one.
“There,” he said, as they stepped inside the Grand Hall. “The Princess looks quite fine. Now, all we need hope is that she can remember her lines” The last was said quietly as the Master Informer offered a nod from a distance toward Lord Alehandros, before snagging two cups of wine and offering one to Elysia.
“With any luck, we shall have something to toast soon enough, my dear.”
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Their rented accommodations left much to be desired. In the wake of the riots, Cicero and Elysia had returned to their home to salvage what could be salvaged. The fire had ripped through the lower floor, but at least what was on the second level had mainly only smoke damage. Still, it had been displeasing to see such treasures as books blemished in such a way. Having had what necessities they needed taken to the smaller house at the very edge of the inner circle, Cicero was still debating having Elysia sent out to the provinces to join the children where they were out of harm's way. Things were beginning to look up, but he was not so naive as to think the clouds had parted just yet.
But as always, his wife had proven stubborn in that very charming way she had, and so, for now at least, she was on his arm as they entered the palati for what was going to be an almost unheard-of thing. An interesting court event.
The days prior had been painful. Actually physically painful to the man, as he, along with Lord Alehandros and Lord Aimias, tried to cram years worth of education into the fluff-filled head of the Xanthos youngest. Princess Emilia, Cicero had come to see, was quite the contrast to her sister.
But even if she was willfully ignorant and oblivious, she had at least proven a quick enough learner. Provided they broke down the facts into small, digestible pieces the men had at last been able to lift some of the wool from before the Princess’ eyes. Finally, men had been dispatched to aid in the war efforts in Egypt. It had been a carefully executed detail discussed with the General Lacides that the first ships sent were manned with men from Stravos units, undercutting the House’s military might by some margin.
Pity, that.
For much of the efforts that had been taken over the past days with the Princess had been to remove her blinkers when it came to the uppity Lord who called himself her fiance. And though never one to care much at all about romance, Cicero could not help but feel some quiet satisfaction in having begun to unpick this particular one.
“There,” he said, as they stepped inside the Grand Hall. “The Princess looks quite fine. Now, all we need hope is that she can remember her lines” The last was said quietly as the Master Informer offered a nod from a distance toward Lord Alehandros, before snagging two cups of wine and offering one to Elysia.
“With any luck, we shall have something to toast soon enough, my dear.”
Their rented accommodations left much to be desired. In the wake of the riots, Cicero and Elysia had returned to their home to salvage what could be salvaged. The fire had ripped through the lower floor, but at least what was on the second level had mainly only smoke damage. Still, it had been displeasing to see such treasures as books blemished in such a way. Having had what necessities they needed taken to the smaller house at the very edge of the inner circle, Cicero was still debating having Elysia sent out to the provinces to join the children where they were out of harm's way. Things were beginning to look up, but he was not so naive as to think the clouds had parted just yet.
But as always, his wife had proven stubborn in that very charming way she had, and so, for now at least, she was on his arm as they entered the palati for what was going to be an almost unheard-of thing. An interesting court event.
The days prior had been painful. Actually physically painful to the man, as he, along with Lord Alehandros and Lord Aimias, tried to cram years worth of education into the fluff-filled head of the Xanthos youngest. Princess Emilia, Cicero had come to see, was quite the contrast to her sister.
But even if she was willfully ignorant and oblivious, she had at least proven a quick enough learner. Provided they broke down the facts into small, digestible pieces the men had at last been able to lift some of the wool from before the Princess’ eyes. Finally, men had been dispatched to aid in the war efforts in Egypt. It had been a carefully executed detail discussed with the General Lacides that the first ships sent were manned with men from Stravos units, undercutting the House’s military might by some margin.
Pity, that.
For much of the efforts that had been taken over the past days with the Princess had been to remove her blinkers when it came to the uppity Lord who called himself her fiance. And though never one to care much at all about romance, Cicero could not help but feel some quiet satisfaction in having begun to unpick this particular one.
“There,” he said, as they stepped inside the Grand Hall. “The Princess looks quite fine. Now, all we need hope is that she can remember her lines” The last was said quietly as the Master Informer offered a nod from a distance toward Lord Alehandros, before snagging two cups of wine and offering one to Elysia.
“With any luck, we shall have something to toast soon enough, my dear.”
Elysia did not envy her husband’s job. At first she had. The thought of being around the princess, of waking her up to what was really going on? That was such a thrilling adventure but when she’d learned that Princess Emilia was proving to truly not know anything...that was worrisome. And more than that, it was tiresome. Elysia was not a good teacher and so her envy completely vanished once she realized that Cicero was having to take precious time and spoonfeed the princess information little by little.
However, with the spoonfeeding, results were happening. Athenia had sent troops, Emilia roused herself to be seen by her people and that seemed to soothe them somewhat. Elias’s worrying hold on the princess, though, their engagement, that was still a concern but if Emilia could be persuaded to shove him off in favor of someone better? Someone less connected with scandal and intrigue? The throne might stabilize. Unfortunately Elysia knew Elias’s ambitions fairly well and she was not eager to see him on the throne. Actually she’d rather see him immortalized in a statue and then his person dropped into the ocean. That way they could still look at him but not have to deal with him. A nice balance.
She glided beside her husband, linked arm in arm with him and relishing the contact. He’d break their touch soon, though, she was sure. Cicero liked to prowl the perimeter of a room and Elysia would no doubt have to find her own way around the court. She inclined her head towards him, her long, shimmering earrings tinkling as she did so. All of her clothes still smelled smokey so she’d stolen a dress from Iris. Thankfully her own jewelry was just fine and suffered no damage. Her wrists glittered with thin silver bangles that bounced against Cicero’s arm as they walked.
“There,” he was saying. “The Princess looks quite fine. Now, all we need hope is that she can remember her lines.”
Elysia twisted her mouth in response but didn’t reply.
“With any luck, we shall have something to toast soon enough, my dear.”
“Gods willing,” she sincerely hoped that was so. A servant careened around the room with drinks on golden platters but he was too far away for her to snag glasses for them yet. Turning into him as they entered the courtroom, she brushed her hand along his chest, chasing off invisible dust. “I don’t suppose we can poison him if it all goes wrong?” She smiled and kept her voice low, as though they might be speaking about anything else other than poisoning the throne’s pretender.
She wanted nothing more than to stand with Cicero but aside from that desire, there were other relationships that needed cultivated. There were several of the ladies who needed to be reminded that she existed and so Elysia smoothed her dress and glanced at Cicero. “Duty calls,” she said and sashayed towards Lady Marietta first.
“My lady,” she dipped into a shallow bow. “I’m so very relieved to see you’re alright. I would have sent flowers but of course you know our house burned down and it was such a to-do to move and to get the children out of the city...Nanny, of course, didn’t want to go but we convinced her in the end…” she set her hand briefly on Marietta’s arm. “Dear you do look well, considering everything…”
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Elysia did not envy her husband’s job. At first she had. The thought of being around the princess, of waking her up to what was really going on? That was such a thrilling adventure but when she’d learned that Princess Emilia was proving to truly not know anything...that was worrisome. And more than that, it was tiresome. Elysia was not a good teacher and so her envy completely vanished once she realized that Cicero was having to take precious time and spoonfeed the princess information little by little.
However, with the spoonfeeding, results were happening. Athenia had sent troops, Emilia roused herself to be seen by her people and that seemed to soothe them somewhat. Elias’s worrying hold on the princess, though, their engagement, that was still a concern but if Emilia could be persuaded to shove him off in favor of someone better? Someone less connected with scandal and intrigue? The throne might stabilize. Unfortunately Elysia knew Elias’s ambitions fairly well and she was not eager to see him on the throne. Actually she’d rather see him immortalized in a statue and then his person dropped into the ocean. That way they could still look at him but not have to deal with him. A nice balance.
She glided beside her husband, linked arm in arm with him and relishing the contact. He’d break their touch soon, though, she was sure. Cicero liked to prowl the perimeter of a room and Elysia would no doubt have to find her own way around the court. She inclined her head towards him, her long, shimmering earrings tinkling as she did so. All of her clothes still smelled smokey so she’d stolen a dress from Iris. Thankfully her own jewelry was just fine and suffered no damage. Her wrists glittered with thin silver bangles that bounced against Cicero’s arm as they walked.
“There,” he was saying. “The Princess looks quite fine. Now, all we need hope is that she can remember her lines.”
Elysia twisted her mouth in response but didn’t reply.
“With any luck, we shall have something to toast soon enough, my dear.”
“Gods willing,” she sincerely hoped that was so. A servant careened around the room with drinks on golden platters but he was too far away for her to snag glasses for them yet. Turning into him as they entered the courtroom, she brushed her hand along his chest, chasing off invisible dust. “I don’t suppose we can poison him if it all goes wrong?” She smiled and kept her voice low, as though they might be speaking about anything else other than poisoning the throne’s pretender.
She wanted nothing more than to stand with Cicero but aside from that desire, there were other relationships that needed cultivated. There were several of the ladies who needed to be reminded that she existed and so Elysia smoothed her dress and glanced at Cicero. “Duty calls,” she said and sashayed towards Lady Marietta first.
“My lady,” she dipped into a shallow bow. “I’m so very relieved to see you’re alright. I would have sent flowers but of course you know our house burned down and it was such a to-do to move and to get the children out of the city...Nanny, of course, didn’t want to go but we convinced her in the end…” she set her hand briefly on Marietta’s arm. “Dear you do look well, considering everything…”
Elysia did not envy her husband’s job. At first she had. The thought of being around the princess, of waking her up to what was really going on? That was such a thrilling adventure but when she’d learned that Princess Emilia was proving to truly not know anything...that was worrisome. And more than that, it was tiresome. Elysia was not a good teacher and so her envy completely vanished once she realized that Cicero was having to take precious time and spoonfeed the princess information little by little.
However, with the spoonfeeding, results were happening. Athenia had sent troops, Emilia roused herself to be seen by her people and that seemed to soothe them somewhat. Elias’s worrying hold on the princess, though, their engagement, that was still a concern but if Emilia could be persuaded to shove him off in favor of someone better? Someone less connected with scandal and intrigue? The throne might stabilize. Unfortunately Elysia knew Elias’s ambitions fairly well and she was not eager to see him on the throne. Actually she’d rather see him immortalized in a statue and then his person dropped into the ocean. That way they could still look at him but not have to deal with him. A nice balance.
She glided beside her husband, linked arm in arm with him and relishing the contact. He’d break their touch soon, though, she was sure. Cicero liked to prowl the perimeter of a room and Elysia would no doubt have to find her own way around the court. She inclined her head towards him, her long, shimmering earrings tinkling as she did so. All of her clothes still smelled smokey so she’d stolen a dress from Iris. Thankfully her own jewelry was just fine and suffered no damage. Her wrists glittered with thin silver bangles that bounced against Cicero’s arm as they walked.
“There,” he was saying. “The Princess looks quite fine. Now, all we need hope is that she can remember her lines.”
Elysia twisted her mouth in response but didn’t reply.
“With any luck, we shall have something to toast soon enough, my dear.”
“Gods willing,” she sincerely hoped that was so. A servant careened around the room with drinks on golden platters but he was too far away for her to snag glasses for them yet. Turning into him as they entered the courtroom, she brushed her hand along his chest, chasing off invisible dust. “I don’t suppose we can poison him if it all goes wrong?” She smiled and kept her voice low, as though they might be speaking about anything else other than poisoning the throne’s pretender.
She wanted nothing more than to stand with Cicero but aside from that desire, there were other relationships that needed cultivated. There were several of the ladies who needed to be reminded that she existed and so Elysia smoothed her dress and glanced at Cicero. “Duty calls,” she said and sashayed towards Lady Marietta first.
“My lady,” she dipped into a shallow bow. “I’m so very relieved to see you’re alright. I would have sent flowers but of course you know our house burned down and it was such a to-do to move and to get the children out of the city...Nanny, of course, didn’t want to go but we convinced her in the end…” she set her hand briefly on Marietta’s arm. “Dear you do look well, considering everything…”
Being summoned to court was no simple matter, Evi was learning. She had attended royal family events and spectacles for as long as she was old enough to act with decorum. Some had been fun (Evi remembered the events of learning to use the flabellum with no small amount of joy, it had been a fun day). There were many other such occasions over the years that she had attended with friends and family alike. But, as she got older, and (she hoped) wiser, she was beginning to understand that even a simple event such as learning to use a fan was riddled with political manoeuvring.
Her family had been summoned, much like the other noble families in Athenia, to attend court for Princess Emilia’s first solo court session. Evi wasn’t sure what to expect, but she knew this was an important day, even with Elias and her father in attendance. Arriving through the doors, she saw the two men flanking the young princess. Her father was a welcome sight, but Elias… less so. They hadn’t talked since Evi had confronted him about the royal engagement, and the memory of all they had shared ending so abruptly had left a sour taste in her mouth. Given the choice, she would choose to avoid all royal functions just so that she didn’t have to be in the same room as the man. It would be easy to say that she had moved on… but Evi had not, not yet.
Evi had arrived alone, and she examined the princess as she entered. She seemed to be in good health, and had clearly gotten over whatever illness had been plaguing her these past few weeks. She sat well in the throne, and Hebe was spotted not far from Emilia either. Evi smiled, pleased at her little sister’s station within the royal household. She had done well for herself, and it was nice to see that Emilia had young blood around her.
Glancing around, she recognised many familiar faces, but she sought out the most familiar: her older sister. Pleasantly surprising, Elysia had also made her way over to Marietta. Another friendly face, and to keep busy, that was what Evi needed to keep from staring at Elias too much. She wanted the comfort of people she knew, who could distract her from the man standing just to the side of the princess. She hoped Elias would make no move to approach her. Nay, she prayed to any God who would listen to make that the case.
“Sister,” she said my way of greeting, smiling softly as she approached the fledgling union of friends. Evi stepped in to stand beside her sister, feeling somewhat protective of her. Marietta had been awake for some time now, but Evi still couldn’t get rid of the image of her supine form in bed, looking so fragile and unmoving. The younger of the sisters opened her mouth to ask if she was alright, should she be standing, should she even be here… but she closed it again and said nothing. Marietta knew herself best and it wouldn’t do to undermine her in a public forum.
She had caught the final few words of Elysia’s greeting to Marietta as she had been approaching, and addressed concerns over her family. “Elysia, how good to see you. I trust you and your family are well after that terrible business. Are your children back in the city or are you keeping them away for the time being?”
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Being summoned to court was no simple matter, Evi was learning. She had attended royal family events and spectacles for as long as she was old enough to act with decorum. Some had been fun (Evi remembered the events of learning to use the flabellum with no small amount of joy, it had been a fun day). There were many other such occasions over the years that she had attended with friends and family alike. But, as she got older, and (she hoped) wiser, she was beginning to understand that even a simple event such as learning to use a fan was riddled with political manoeuvring.
Her family had been summoned, much like the other noble families in Athenia, to attend court for Princess Emilia’s first solo court session. Evi wasn’t sure what to expect, but she knew this was an important day, even with Elias and her father in attendance. Arriving through the doors, she saw the two men flanking the young princess. Her father was a welcome sight, but Elias… less so. They hadn’t talked since Evi had confronted him about the royal engagement, and the memory of all they had shared ending so abruptly had left a sour taste in her mouth. Given the choice, she would choose to avoid all royal functions just so that she didn’t have to be in the same room as the man. It would be easy to say that she had moved on… but Evi had not, not yet.
Evi had arrived alone, and she examined the princess as she entered. She seemed to be in good health, and had clearly gotten over whatever illness had been plaguing her these past few weeks. She sat well in the throne, and Hebe was spotted not far from Emilia either. Evi smiled, pleased at her little sister’s station within the royal household. She had done well for herself, and it was nice to see that Emilia had young blood around her.
Glancing around, she recognised many familiar faces, but she sought out the most familiar: her older sister. Pleasantly surprising, Elysia had also made her way over to Marietta. Another friendly face, and to keep busy, that was what Evi needed to keep from staring at Elias too much. She wanted the comfort of people she knew, who could distract her from the man standing just to the side of the princess. She hoped Elias would make no move to approach her. Nay, she prayed to any God who would listen to make that the case.
“Sister,” she said my way of greeting, smiling softly as she approached the fledgling union of friends. Evi stepped in to stand beside her sister, feeling somewhat protective of her. Marietta had been awake for some time now, but Evi still couldn’t get rid of the image of her supine form in bed, looking so fragile and unmoving. The younger of the sisters opened her mouth to ask if she was alright, should she be standing, should she even be here… but she closed it again and said nothing. Marietta knew herself best and it wouldn’t do to undermine her in a public forum.
She had caught the final few words of Elysia’s greeting to Marietta as she had been approaching, and addressed concerns over her family. “Elysia, how good to see you. I trust you and your family are well after that terrible business. Are your children back in the city or are you keeping them away for the time being?”
Being summoned to court was no simple matter, Evi was learning. She had attended royal family events and spectacles for as long as she was old enough to act with decorum. Some had been fun (Evi remembered the events of learning to use the flabellum with no small amount of joy, it had been a fun day). There were many other such occasions over the years that she had attended with friends and family alike. But, as she got older, and (she hoped) wiser, she was beginning to understand that even a simple event such as learning to use a fan was riddled with political manoeuvring.
Her family had been summoned, much like the other noble families in Athenia, to attend court for Princess Emilia’s first solo court session. Evi wasn’t sure what to expect, but she knew this was an important day, even with Elias and her father in attendance. Arriving through the doors, she saw the two men flanking the young princess. Her father was a welcome sight, but Elias… less so. They hadn’t talked since Evi had confronted him about the royal engagement, and the memory of all they had shared ending so abruptly had left a sour taste in her mouth. Given the choice, she would choose to avoid all royal functions just so that she didn’t have to be in the same room as the man. It would be easy to say that she had moved on… but Evi had not, not yet.
Evi had arrived alone, and she examined the princess as she entered. She seemed to be in good health, and had clearly gotten over whatever illness had been plaguing her these past few weeks. She sat well in the throne, and Hebe was spotted not far from Emilia either. Evi smiled, pleased at her little sister’s station within the royal household. She had done well for herself, and it was nice to see that Emilia had young blood around her.
Glancing around, she recognised many familiar faces, but she sought out the most familiar: her older sister. Pleasantly surprising, Elysia had also made her way over to Marietta. Another friendly face, and to keep busy, that was what Evi needed to keep from staring at Elias too much. She wanted the comfort of people she knew, who could distract her from the man standing just to the side of the princess. She hoped Elias would make no move to approach her. Nay, she prayed to any God who would listen to make that the case.
“Sister,” she said my way of greeting, smiling softly as she approached the fledgling union of friends. Evi stepped in to stand beside her sister, feeling somewhat protective of her. Marietta had been awake for some time now, but Evi still couldn’t get rid of the image of her supine form in bed, looking so fragile and unmoving. The younger of the sisters opened her mouth to ask if she was alright, should she be standing, should she even be here… but she closed it again and said nothing. Marietta knew herself best and it wouldn’t do to undermine her in a public forum.
She had caught the final few words of Elysia’s greeting to Marietta as she had been approaching, and addressed concerns over her family. “Elysia, how good to see you. I trust you and your family are well after that terrible business. Are your children back in the city or are you keeping them away for the time being?”
Stifling. That's what this entire thing was, and Pavlos wanted to leave before ever getting there. Sera had been insistent on attending, and he was quickly silenced by the agreement of the rest of his family. Seeing as he didn't have much of a choice, Pavlos sat stiffly beside his wife on the carriage as it took them to the current location. Once it pulled to a stop, one of his slaves were quick to open his carriage door and he stepped out, offering his hand to help Sera from it as well.
Immediately upon entering Pavlos noticed three things at once, his youngest, Daniil was already in attendance, Lesley looked about ready to cause a scene, and the atmosphere was thick with tension, it was stifling. Pavlos bent slightly to brush a polite kiss against the corner of his wife's lips, then stepped away to approach his daughter.
"Daniil," he greeted coolly, his steel blue gaze keen and aware as they looked down into an almost matching pair. "How are you finding yourself, this evening? I trust you are well?" As he spoke to her, his gaze naturally left hers after awhile, taking in the other guests with some surprise. The riots were common knowledge, and he'd wondered who would show their faces. Pavlos noticed familiar faces immediately, Cicero of Aetola, Danae of Stravos, and several others. There were many nobles here, and it made his back stiffen with automatic pride. The summons to court had been taken seriously, and he knew if those he saw had not shown up here today there would have been...talk. The Marikas could not have such talk in order to keep their status, his father may have even had his head if ever disrespected the crown. The man stubbornly remained old fashioned and refused to have any original thought. It was also stifling, as he pushed those teachings on himself, and Pavlos found it hard to shrug it off. He personally thought Princess Emilia was a bit of an embarrassment, but he'd never say that out loud. Especially here.
As these thoughts raced across the forefront of his mind, his attention still half towards his daughter, his gaze almost reluctantly flicked to Lady Sera. Was it wrong that he felt resentment towards her for baring a son for her deceased beau, and not himself? Was it wrong that he felt a disappointment everytime he laid eyes on his daughters? That at least one of them was not a son? Was it wrong that he had sought the flesh of another, more young and who found his blunders charming? Yes, of course it was wrong. It was all wrong.
Even the whores bore him nothing.
Pavlos brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, the heat stirring in his chest subsided, and he relaxed his features into his natural blank nothingness. Come now, he could enjoy one event without spiraling into his dark thoughts couldn't he? He needed to make his rounds.
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Stifling. That's what this entire thing was, and Pavlos wanted to leave before ever getting there. Sera had been insistent on attending, and he was quickly silenced by the agreement of the rest of his family. Seeing as he didn't have much of a choice, Pavlos sat stiffly beside his wife on the carriage as it took them to the current location. Once it pulled to a stop, one of his slaves were quick to open his carriage door and he stepped out, offering his hand to help Sera from it as well.
Immediately upon entering Pavlos noticed three things at once, his youngest, Daniil was already in attendance, Lesley looked about ready to cause a scene, and the atmosphere was thick with tension, it was stifling. Pavlos bent slightly to brush a polite kiss against the corner of his wife's lips, then stepped away to approach his daughter.
"Daniil," he greeted coolly, his steel blue gaze keen and aware as they looked down into an almost matching pair. "How are you finding yourself, this evening? I trust you are well?" As he spoke to her, his gaze naturally left hers after awhile, taking in the other guests with some surprise. The riots were common knowledge, and he'd wondered who would show their faces. Pavlos noticed familiar faces immediately, Cicero of Aetola, Danae of Stravos, and several others. There were many nobles here, and it made his back stiffen with automatic pride. The summons to court had been taken seriously, and he knew if those he saw had not shown up here today there would have been...talk. The Marikas could not have such talk in order to keep their status, his father may have even had his head if ever disrespected the crown. The man stubbornly remained old fashioned and refused to have any original thought. It was also stifling, as he pushed those teachings on himself, and Pavlos found it hard to shrug it off. He personally thought Princess Emilia was a bit of an embarrassment, but he'd never say that out loud. Especially here.
As these thoughts raced across the forefront of his mind, his attention still half towards his daughter, his gaze almost reluctantly flicked to Lady Sera. Was it wrong that he felt resentment towards her for baring a son for her deceased beau, and not himself? Was it wrong that he felt a disappointment everytime he laid eyes on his daughters? That at least one of them was not a son? Was it wrong that he had sought the flesh of another, more young and who found his blunders charming? Yes, of course it was wrong. It was all wrong.
Even the whores bore him nothing.
Pavlos brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, the heat stirring in his chest subsided, and he relaxed his features into his natural blank nothingness. Come now, he could enjoy one event without spiraling into his dark thoughts couldn't he? He needed to make his rounds.
Stifling. That's what this entire thing was, and Pavlos wanted to leave before ever getting there. Sera had been insistent on attending, and he was quickly silenced by the agreement of the rest of his family. Seeing as he didn't have much of a choice, Pavlos sat stiffly beside his wife on the carriage as it took them to the current location. Once it pulled to a stop, one of his slaves were quick to open his carriage door and he stepped out, offering his hand to help Sera from it as well.
Immediately upon entering Pavlos noticed three things at once, his youngest, Daniil was already in attendance, Lesley looked about ready to cause a scene, and the atmosphere was thick with tension, it was stifling. Pavlos bent slightly to brush a polite kiss against the corner of his wife's lips, then stepped away to approach his daughter.
"Daniil," he greeted coolly, his steel blue gaze keen and aware as they looked down into an almost matching pair. "How are you finding yourself, this evening? I trust you are well?" As he spoke to her, his gaze naturally left hers after awhile, taking in the other guests with some surprise. The riots were common knowledge, and he'd wondered who would show their faces. Pavlos noticed familiar faces immediately, Cicero of Aetola, Danae of Stravos, and several others. There were many nobles here, and it made his back stiffen with automatic pride. The summons to court had been taken seriously, and he knew if those he saw had not shown up here today there would have been...talk. The Marikas could not have such talk in order to keep their status, his father may have even had his head if ever disrespected the crown. The man stubbornly remained old fashioned and refused to have any original thought. It was also stifling, as he pushed those teachings on himself, and Pavlos found it hard to shrug it off. He personally thought Princess Emilia was a bit of an embarrassment, but he'd never say that out loud. Especially here.
As these thoughts raced across the forefront of his mind, his attention still half towards his daughter, his gaze almost reluctantly flicked to Lady Sera. Was it wrong that he felt resentment towards her for baring a son for her deceased beau, and not himself? Was it wrong that he felt a disappointment everytime he laid eyes on his daughters? That at least one of them was not a son? Was it wrong that he had sought the flesh of another, more young and who found his blunders charming? Yes, of course it was wrong. It was all wrong.
Even the whores bore him nothing.
Pavlos brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, the heat stirring in his chest subsided, and he relaxed his features into his natural blank nothingness. Come now, he could enjoy one event without spiraling into his dark thoughts couldn't he? He needed to make his rounds.
Hangovers were cruel and unfair punishments.
The blonde put a hand to her pulsing forehead, closing her eyes against the sunlight that filtered in brightly from the windows of her bedroom. Today was a court day, a very important one at that -- but that had not stopped the eldest of house Nikolaos from indulging in her usual drinks and expensive narcotics. She’d picked up the unsavory habits over three years ago, and did her best to hide them from everyone. Considering that she’d yet to be confronted about it by her mother Ianthe, she thought she was doing quite well. Her indulgences last night had been to settle her nerves, frayed from weeks of upheaval and uncertainty. Would there even be anything left of Athenia for the young Xanthos to rule? Could she rule, or would she merely be a puppet -- a mouthpiece -- for those who wanted to pull the strings.
Groaning, Dione turned back into her pillows burying her head as the day threatened to go on with or without her. Eventually she made it upright and with a few remedy tonics that she kept close at hand and a hot bath, she felt almost human again. The servants left in the household were few, but enough so that she did not have to dress herself and she selected something suitable from her hordes of clothes. She rather liked having fine things to dress in, and was notoriously picky about her appearance. She was -- after all -- trying to catch the eye of the higher nobility.
Dressed to satisfaction and having arrived at the court in a reasonable timeframe, Dione was surprised to find herself joined by none other than her brother. Their other siblings had gone on ahead, mixing into the fray with relative ease. It was so hard to believe that all of them were old enough for this. She could not help the little smile that spread across her features at how uncomfortable Adrestus looked to be. She took his arm, popping her elbow against his ribs in a cajoling manner and looked up to meet his eye. ”You look like you’d rather jump off a ship.” She said, half teasing and half scolding. ”Smile, little brother, people are watching.”
She sighed as she leaned heavily into her brother’s arm, tucking herself close against his side. ”I’m glad you’re here, Adre.” She murmured, tightening her grip on his arm. Adrestus has spent the better part of the last few years away at sea, chasing his heart’s desires. He’d returned just a few months ago, and some small part of her was glad that he had returned when he did. It was much easier to close ranks when the family was together, but at the same time -- had he not been safer away from Athenia? Did Dione not wish too that she could escape the crumbling facade of the kingdom she’d been raised in? But where would she even go? Greece in general seemed to be in a mighty upheaval. Taengea was dealing with an increasingly suspicious number of deaths in the royal line plus their war with the Egyptians, Colchis seemed steady enough but Dione didn’t follow their gossip as well to be sure of that. She felt like something was stirring beneath their surface, like a volcano getting ready to burst.
Making their entrance was largely unnoticed. Nikolaos was a house loyal to the Xanthos, small but prosperous and steady thankfully. There had yet to be any scandals -- at least to Dione’s knowledge -- and she would try her best to keep it that way. Her gaze traveled the room, noting the various nobles in attendance. ”It seems the usual affair.” She murmured to Adrestus, inclining her head in his direction. ”I’ll go make my rounds.” She offered him another smile. ”Would you like to join me? Or do you promise not to go looking for the first window to jump out of?”
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Hangovers were cruel and unfair punishments.
The blonde put a hand to her pulsing forehead, closing her eyes against the sunlight that filtered in brightly from the windows of her bedroom. Today was a court day, a very important one at that -- but that had not stopped the eldest of house Nikolaos from indulging in her usual drinks and expensive narcotics. She’d picked up the unsavory habits over three years ago, and did her best to hide them from everyone. Considering that she’d yet to be confronted about it by her mother Ianthe, she thought she was doing quite well. Her indulgences last night had been to settle her nerves, frayed from weeks of upheaval and uncertainty. Would there even be anything left of Athenia for the young Xanthos to rule? Could she rule, or would she merely be a puppet -- a mouthpiece -- for those who wanted to pull the strings.
Groaning, Dione turned back into her pillows burying her head as the day threatened to go on with or without her. Eventually she made it upright and with a few remedy tonics that she kept close at hand and a hot bath, she felt almost human again. The servants left in the household were few, but enough so that she did not have to dress herself and she selected something suitable from her hordes of clothes. She rather liked having fine things to dress in, and was notoriously picky about her appearance. She was -- after all -- trying to catch the eye of the higher nobility.
Dressed to satisfaction and having arrived at the court in a reasonable timeframe, Dione was surprised to find herself joined by none other than her brother. Their other siblings had gone on ahead, mixing into the fray with relative ease. It was so hard to believe that all of them were old enough for this. She could not help the little smile that spread across her features at how uncomfortable Adrestus looked to be. She took his arm, popping her elbow against his ribs in a cajoling manner and looked up to meet his eye. ”You look like you’d rather jump off a ship.” She said, half teasing and half scolding. ”Smile, little brother, people are watching.”
She sighed as she leaned heavily into her brother’s arm, tucking herself close against his side. ”I’m glad you’re here, Adre.” She murmured, tightening her grip on his arm. Adrestus has spent the better part of the last few years away at sea, chasing his heart’s desires. He’d returned just a few months ago, and some small part of her was glad that he had returned when he did. It was much easier to close ranks when the family was together, but at the same time -- had he not been safer away from Athenia? Did Dione not wish too that she could escape the crumbling facade of the kingdom she’d been raised in? But where would she even go? Greece in general seemed to be in a mighty upheaval. Taengea was dealing with an increasingly suspicious number of deaths in the royal line plus their war with the Egyptians, Colchis seemed steady enough but Dione didn’t follow their gossip as well to be sure of that. She felt like something was stirring beneath their surface, like a volcano getting ready to burst.
Making their entrance was largely unnoticed. Nikolaos was a house loyal to the Xanthos, small but prosperous and steady thankfully. There had yet to be any scandals -- at least to Dione’s knowledge -- and she would try her best to keep it that way. Her gaze traveled the room, noting the various nobles in attendance. ”It seems the usual affair.” She murmured to Adrestus, inclining her head in his direction. ”I’ll go make my rounds.” She offered him another smile. ”Would you like to join me? Or do you promise not to go looking for the first window to jump out of?”
Hangovers were cruel and unfair punishments.
The blonde put a hand to her pulsing forehead, closing her eyes against the sunlight that filtered in brightly from the windows of her bedroom. Today was a court day, a very important one at that -- but that had not stopped the eldest of house Nikolaos from indulging in her usual drinks and expensive narcotics. She’d picked up the unsavory habits over three years ago, and did her best to hide them from everyone. Considering that she’d yet to be confronted about it by her mother Ianthe, she thought she was doing quite well. Her indulgences last night had been to settle her nerves, frayed from weeks of upheaval and uncertainty. Would there even be anything left of Athenia for the young Xanthos to rule? Could she rule, or would she merely be a puppet -- a mouthpiece -- for those who wanted to pull the strings.
Groaning, Dione turned back into her pillows burying her head as the day threatened to go on with or without her. Eventually she made it upright and with a few remedy tonics that she kept close at hand and a hot bath, she felt almost human again. The servants left in the household were few, but enough so that she did not have to dress herself and she selected something suitable from her hordes of clothes. She rather liked having fine things to dress in, and was notoriously picky about her appearance. She was -- after all -- trying to catch the eye of the higher nobility.
Dressed to satisfaction and having arrived at the court in a reasonable timeframe, Dione was surprised to find herself joined by none other than her brother. Their other siblings had gone on ahead, mixing into the fray with relative ease. It was so hard to believe that all of them were old enough for this. She could not help the little smile that spread across her features at how uncomfortable Adrestus looked to be. She took his arm, popping her elbow against his ribs in a cajoling manner and looked up to meet his eye. ”You look like you’d rather jump off a ship.” She said, half teasing and half scolding. ”Smile, little brother, people are watching.”
She sighed as she leaned heavily into her brother’s arm, tucking herself close against his side. ”I’m glad you’re here, Adre.” She murmured, tightening her grip on his arm. Adrestus has spent the better part of the last few years away at sea, chasing his heart’s desires. He’d returned just a few months ago, and some small part of her was glad that he had returned when he did. It was much easier to close ranks when the family was together, but at the same time -- had he not been safer away from Athenia? Did Dione not wish too that she could escape the crumbling facade of the kingdom she’d been raised in? But where would she even go? Greece in general seemed to be in a mighty upheaval. Taengea was dealing with an increasingly suspicious number of deaths in the royal line plus their war with the Egyptians, Colchis seemed steady enough but Dione didn’t follow their gossip as well to be sure of that. She felt like something was stirring beneath their surface, like a volcano getting ready to burst.
Making their entrance was largely unnoticed. Nikolaos was a house loyal to the Xanthos, small but prosperous and steady thankfully. There had yet to be any scandals -- at least to Dione’s knowledge -- and she would try her best to keep it that way. Her gaze traveled the room, noting the various nobles in attendance. ”It seems the usual affair.” She murmured to Adrestus, inclining her head in his direction. ”I’ll go make my rounds.” She offered him another smile. ”Would you like to join me? Or do you promise not to go looking for the first window to jump out of?”
Armored, clean-shaven, and polished, Hector both looked and felt like a man in his element that night. There were far too many uncertainties in the world - riots, throne games, lovers quarrels - but wearing the courtly regalia and insignias of both Xanthos and the White Shields of Arcana, things felt right for the first time in a long time.
He was personally close with a number of the Palace guards, having grown familiar with them on official visits over the years and even sending replacements from his numbers in Arcana as needed by the Crown. Hector found no fault in their order and trusted them to fulfill their duty to the Crown - the Xanthos Crown.
Though no noble by any means, nor ever feigning it, Hector was practiced enough in the manners, greetings, titles and conversation among such company. Naturally, he drifted towards the militant minded or common born company, though catching up with the errant noble acquaintance, particularly after recent events, was not out of line. The Captain knew to keep his ear out for gossip, though he often proved to be a poor mouthpiece for it, which tended to cut the interest in conversation with him short.
No matter, though, as his eyes darted about the room in a pattern, keeping a relaxed yet aware eye on the movements and connections being made.
Princess Emilia stood along with Lord Alehandros and his daughter, now a handmaiden to the princess. At their side was Lord Elias, and though he still stood in a position of apparent power, all eyes seemed to flicker to him as if gauging the temperature of water before diving into conversation with him. Others were present and lingering in their familiar quarters - Marikas, Nikolaos, Antonis, and Stravos milled about, along with the other baronies, merchants, and their retainers. All were present not only out of duty but also out of curiosity - what would the Princess do or say?
Nothing could be predicted.
As his eyes turned about the room once again, he made a double-take, and a pit of concern that he was not anticipating sank into his stomach like a stone. There was Demi, plain as day, preoccupied with the man who had purchased her company for the night. It was...bold of her, and he felt the familiar flicker of rage burning at the base of his throat. His brows furrowed and jaw tightened as his eyes watched the way she hung on the other man's arm, the perfect companion for the evening...
The brush against his side drew his attention back to the present as he gave a sidelong glance to Demetrius, the wayward gladiator recently freed from the fylaki...and now feigning his role as one of the White Shields. In truth, he was quite passable in the Xanthos colors, and his athletic build made the ruse believable. Yet, there was this uncertainty and wildness in his eyes from his inexperience in these settings - easily passed off as a recruit serving as a form of squire for a time.
"Come," Hector said, voice gritted still from being helpless at seeing his lover on the arm of another, "Keep your eyes open but stay close. We do nothing until we are given the word." He kept his gaze trained on the young man, one brow raising lightly enough to press creases into his forehead, as if silently verifying that he understood. Even the most well-behaved hound could bite if startled. Hector just needed to ensure that nothing set the young man off on impulse.
Too much was riding on the line and Hector was not above using the bait of Demetrius' future wife and unborn child to remind him of how necessary good behavior was in this instance. Their time would come, but for now, they needed patience...and that was not something gladiators were known for, as far as Hector had observed.
Tilting his head towards the other familiar and concealed militant in their midst, Hector led them over to where Lesley lingered. The sight of the two other men polished and primed was amusing in its own way, but it barely registered behind the still-in-place courtier's expression he maintained.
As they crossed the room, Hector found his eyes drawn to familiar faces that they prepared to pass along the way, the Master Informer's wife, Elysia, and two Antonis daughters, Ladies Evi...and Marietta. Even though they had been in proximity to one another at the Antonis estate for some time now, this was one of the first times he had seen her out of bed and formally dressed, no longer in recovery. While it was good to see her up and moving, there was the inexplicably strong twist of concern for her in his gut, and for a moment it flashed across his face, as his lips drew into a slightly pressed line and two worry lines formed the number eleven between his brows.
Though Lady Evi and Mistress Elysia spoke to one another, Hector still offered them a silent nod of greeting without interrupting as he passed, an acknowledgement. Whether anyone noted or acknowledged it, he did not know, as he turned his attention back to gathering their small party together, doing little more than clasping his hands behind his back before murmuring sidelong to the other two, "And now, we wait..."
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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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Armored, clean-shaven, and polished, Hector both looked and felt like a man in his element that night. There were far too many uncertainties in the world - riots, throne games, lovers quarrels - but wearing the courtly regalia and insignias of both Xanthos and the White Shields of Arcana, things felt right for the first time in a long time.
He was personally close with a number of the Palace guards, having grown familiar with them on official visits over the years and even sending replacements from his numbers in Arcana as needed by the Crown. Hector found no fault in their order and trusted them to fulfill their duty to the Crown - the Xanthos Crown.
Though no noble by any means, nor ever feigning it, Hector was practiced enough in the manners, greetings, titles and conversation among such company. Naturally, he drifted towards the militant minded or common born company, though catching up with the errant noble acquaintance, particularly after recent events, was not out of line. The Captain knew to keep his ear out for gossip, though he often proved to be a poor mouthpiece for it, which tended to cut the interest in conversation with him short.
No matter, though, as his eyes darted about the room in a pattern, keeping a relaxed yet aware eye on the movements and connections being made.
Princess Emilia stood along with Lord Alehandros and his daughter, now a handmaiden to the princess. At their side was Lord Elias, and though he still stood in a position of apparent power, all eyes seemed to flicker to him as if gauging the temperature of water before diving into conversation with him. Others were present and lingering in their familiar quarters - Marikas, Nikolaos, Antonis, and Stravos milled about, along with the other baronies, merchants, and their retainers. All were present not only out of duty but also out of curiosity - what would the Princess do or say?
Nothing could be predicted.
As his eyes turned about the room once again, he made a double-take, and a pit of concern that he was not anticipating sank into his stomach like a stone. There was Demi, plain as day, preoccupied with the man who had purchased her company for the night. It was...bold of her, and he felt the familiar flicker of rage burning at the base of his throat. His brows furrowed and jaw tightened as his eyes watched the way she hung on the other man's arm, the perfect companion for the evening...
The brush against his side drew his attention back to the present as he gave a sidelong glance to Demetrius, the wayward gladiator recently freed from the fylaki...and now feigning his role as one of the White Shields. In truth, he was quite passable in the Xanthos colors, and his athletic build made the ruse believable. Yet, there was this uncertainty and wildness in his eyes from his inexperience in these settings - easily passed off as a recruit serving as a form of squire for a time.
"Come," Hector said, voice gritted still from being helpless at seeing his lover on the arm of another, "Keep your eyes open but stay close. We do nothing until we are given the word." He kept his gaze trained on the young man, one brow raising lightly enough to press creases into his forehead, as if silently verifying that he understood. Even the most well-behaved hound could bite if startled. Hector just needed to ensure that nothing set the young man off on impulse.
Too much was riding on the line and Hector was not above using the bait of Demetrius' future wife and unborn child to remind him of how necessary good behavior was in this instance. Their time would come, but for now, they needed patience...and that was not something gladiators were known for, as far as Hector had observed.
Tilting his head towards the other familiar and concealed militant in their midst, Hector led them over to where Lesley lingered. The sight of the two other men polished and primed was amusing in its own way, but it barely registered behind the still-in-place courtier's expression he maintained.
As they crossed the room, Hector found his eyes drawn to familiar faces that they prepared to pass along the way, the Master Informer's wife, Elysia, and two Antonis daughters, Ladies Evi...and Marietta. Even though they had been in proximity to one another at the Antonis estate for some time now, this was one of the first times he had seen her out of bed and formally dressed, no longer in recovery. While it was good to see her up and moving, there was the inexplicably strong twist of concern for her in his gut, and for a moment it flashed across his face, as his lips drew into a slightly pressed line and two worry lines formed the number eleven between his brows.
Though Lady Evi and Mistress Elysia spoke to one another, Hector still offered them a silent nod of greeting without interrupting as he passed, an acknowledgement. Whether anyone noted or acknowledged it, he did not know, as he turned his attention back to gathering their small party together, doing little more than clasping his hands behind his back before murmuring sidelong to the other two, "And now, we wait..."
Armored, clean-shaven, and polished, Hector both looked and felt like a man in his element that night. There were far too many uncertainties in the world - riots, throne games, lovers quarrels - but wearing the courtly regalia and insignias of both Xanthos and the White Shields of Arcana, things felt right for the first time in a long time.
He was personally close with a number of the Palace guards, having grown familiar with them on official visits over the years and even sending replacements from his numbers in Arcana as needed by the Crown. Hector found no fault in their order and trusted them to fulfill their duty to the Crown - the Xanthos Crown.
Though no noble by any means, nor ever feigning it, Hector was practiced enough in the manners, greetings, titles and conversation among such company. Naturally, he drifted towards the militant minded or common born company, though catching up with the errant noble acquaintance, particularly after recent events, was not out of line. The Captain knew to keep his ear out for gossip, though he often proved to be a poor mouthpiece for it, which tended to cut the interest in conversation with him short.
No matter, though, as his eyes darted about the room in a pattern, keeping a relaxed yet aware eye on the movements and connections being made.
Princess Emilia stood along with Lord Alehandros and his daughter, now a handmaiden to the princess. At their side was Lord Elias, and though he still stood in a position of apparent power, all eyes seemed to flicker to him as if gauging the temperature of water before diving into conversation with him. Others were present and lingering in their familiar quarters - Marikas, Nikolaos, Antonis, and Stravos milled about, along with the other baronies, merchants, and their retainers. All were present not only out of duty but also out of curiosity - what would the Princess do or say?
Nothing could be predicted.
As his eyes turned about the room once again, he made a double-take, and a pit of concern that he was not anticipating sank into his stomach like a stone. There was Demi, plain as day, preoccupied with the man who had purchased her company for the night. It was...bold of her, and he felt the familiar flicker of rage burning at the base of his throat. His brows furrowed and jaw tightened as his eyes watched the way she hung on the other man's arm, the perfect companion for the evening...
The brush against his side drew his attention back to the present as he gave a sidelong glance to Demetrius, the wayward gladiator recently freed from the fylaki...and now feigning his role as one of the White Shields. In truth, he was quite passable in the Xanthos colors, and his athletic build made the ruse believable. Yet, there was this uncertainty and wildness in his eyes from his inexperience in these settings - easily passed off as a recruit serving as a form of squire for a time.
"Come," Hector said, voice gritted still from being helpless at seeing his lover on the arm of another, "Keep your eyes open but stay close. We do nothing until we are given the word." He kept his gaze trained on the young man, one brow raising lightly enough to press creases into his forehead, as if silently verifying that he understood. Even the most well-behaved hound could bite if startled. Hector just needed to ensure that nothing set the young man off on impulse.
Too much was riding on the line and Hector was not above using the bait of Demetrius' future wife and unborn child to remind him of how necessary good behavior was in this instance. Their time would come, but for now, they needed patience...and that was not something gladiators were known for, as far as Hector had observed.
Tilting his head towards the other familiar and concealed militant in their midst, Hector led them over to where Lesley lingered. The sight of the two other men polished and primed was amusing in its own way, but it barely registered behind the still-in-place courtier's expression he maintained.
As they crossed the room, Hector found his eyes drawn to familiar faces that they prepared to pass along the way, the Master Informer's wife, Elysia, and two Antonis daughters, Ladies Evi...and Marietta. Even though they had been in proximity to one another at the Antonis estate for some time now, this was one of the first times he had seen her out of bed and formally dressed, no longer in recovery. While it was good to see her up and moving, there was the inexplicably strong twist of concern for her in his gut, and for a moment it flashed across his face, as his lips drew into a slightly pressed line and two worry lines formed the number eleven between his brows.
Though Lady Evi and Mistress Elysia spoke to one another, Hector still offered them a silent nod of greeting without interrupting as he passed, an acknowledgement. Whether anyone noted or acknowledged it, he did not know, as he turned his attention back to gathering their small party together, doing little more than clasping his hands behind his back before murmuring sidelong to the other two, "And now, we wait..."
Rafail did not care for another court session. Though he supported Elias in all that he did, he had found no joy in the last one he had attended (the rumours that swelled surrounding his involvement in the fire were not exactly a reputation he enjoyed), and found the idea of another entirely grating. After the recent riots, he saw no good in holding the event either, seeing it as only another opportunity for others to express their distaste, and that was not something Athenia required. He wanted only to enjoy himself in the palace, wait for Elias to become King in his own right, and then reap the rewards and comfort from the subsequent favour he would be offered.
But he was a lord and a baron of Athenia, and he refused to appear as if he did not care for his home kingdom. He wanted to spend his days with his cousin Chara or other women, or writing letters to that stunning lady he had met on his trip to Taengea, but here Rafail was, not making the most of his life in the palace but dressing for court, and making his way down to the grand hall from the ornate chambers in which he resided. It was rather satisfying to live in the palace, in truth, for though the Marikas home was only next door — practically in the garden! — there was no sense of power like the one from emerging as though he had always lived in the place.
The man directed himself first to Princess Emilia, offering her a lower bow than he thought the woman deserved for all the rejection she had offered him in the past, and smiling that bright and handsome smile he used with women for whom he actually cared. "I'm delighted to see you looked far better, your Highness," he greeted her, the comment trivial and friendly enough before he turned to Elias instead, clapping his best friend on the shoulder with another and more genuine grin. It was clear in its message of encouragement and respect, and he appreciated the natural smile that the man returned. They had always maintained a strong rapport. "Let me know if you need a little fun after today, my friend." Something fun, with a nice selection of girls that might ease the mood and the stress of the whole event.
Rafail winked at his friend, then excused himself from the pair to go and find the rest of his family, ready to let them know just how delightful it was to live within the palace, which was, in a sense, their ancestral home. He snatched a goblet of wine from one of the passing staff on the way, finding his brother through the crowd (Marikas men were tall enough that it was not a difficult spot).
"Pavlos. Daniil." The man offered them a generic smile, momentarily glad to see that his niece had dressed up for the court session, looking much more feminine than was usual for her. "How is it at home? Does Papa miss me? It must be difficult not having his favourite son around." The urge for the blight was not something he was ever able to resist, and he lowered his spare hand to rest on the blue fabric at his waist as he waited for a response. "The palace is just lovely. I really do feel at home, but I suppose that makes sense, no? It's where I deserve to be, after all." It did not do Rafail to be humble, and he wanted to boast about his current residence as much as possible. He ran a hand through his golden locks to accentuate the neat circlet embedded in the matching strands, half-mocking in his words. "I might be forced to renovate Thesnia to match my new standards."
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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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Rafail did not care for another court session. Though he supported Elias in all that he did, he had found no joy in the last one he had attended (the rumours that swelled surrounding his involvement in the fire were not exactly a reputation he enjoyed), and found the idea of another entirely grating. After the recent riots, he saw no good in holding the event either, seeing it as only another opportunity for others to express their distaste, and that was not something Athenia required. He wanted only to enjoy himself in the palace, wait for Elias to become King in his own right, and then reap the rewards and comfort from the subsequent favour he would be offered.
But he was a lord and a baron of Athenia, and he refused to appear as if he did not care for his home kingdom. He wanted to spend his days with his cousin Chara or other women, or writing letters to that stunning lady he had met on his trip to Taengea, but here Rafail was, not making the most of his life in the palace but dressing for court, and making his way down to the grand hall from the ornate chambers in which he resided. It was rather satisfying to live in the palace, in truth, for though the Marikas home was only next door — practically in the garden! — there was no sense of power like the one from emerging as though he had always lived in the place.
The man directed himself first to Princess Emilia, offering her a lower bow than he thought the woman deserved for all the rejection she had offered him in the past, and smiling that bright and handsome smile he used with women for whom he actually cared. "I'm delighted to see you looked far better, your Highness," he greeted her, the comment trivial and friendly enough before he turned to Elias instead, clapping his best friend on the shoulder with another and more genuine grin. It was clear in its message of encouragement and respect, and he appreciated the natural smile that the man returned. They had always maintained a strong rapport. "Let me know if you need a little fun after today, my friend." Something fun, with a nice selection of girls that might ease the mood and the stress of the whole event.
Rafail winked at his friend, then excused himself from the pair to go and find the rest of his family, ready to let them know just how delightful it was to live within the palace, which was, in a sense, their ancestral home. He snatched a goblet of wine from one of the passing staff on the way, finding his brother through the crowd (Marikas men were tall enough that it was not a difficult spot).
"Pavlos. Daniil." The man offered them a generic smile, momentarily glad to see that his niece had dressed up for the court session, looking much more feminine than was usual for her. "How is it at home? Does Papa miss me? It must be difficult not having his favourite son around." The urge for the blight was not something he was ever able to resist, and he lowered his spare hand to rest on the blue fabric at his waist as he waited for a response. "The palace is just lovely. I really do feel at home, but I suppose that makes sense, no? It's where I deserve to be, after all." It did not do Rafail to be humble, and he wanted to boast about his current residence as much as possible. He ran a hand through his golden locks to accentuate the neat circlet embedded in the matching strands, half-mocking in his words. "I might be forced to renovate Thesnia to match my new standards."
Rafail did not care for another court session. Though he supported Elias in all that he did, he had found no joy in the last one he had attended (the rumours that swelled surrounding his involvement in the fire were not exactly a reputation he enjoyed), and found the idea of another entirely grating. After the recent riots, he saw no good in holding the event either, seeing it as only another opportunity for others to express their distaste, and that was not something Athenia required. He wanted only to enjoy himself in the palace, wait for Elias to become King in his own right, and then reap the rewards and comfort from the subsequent favour he would be offered.
But he was a lord and a baron of Athenia, and he refused to appear as if he did not care for his home kingdom. He wanted to spend his days with his cousin Chara or other women, or writing letters to that stunning lady he had met on his trip to Taengea, but here Rafail was, not making the most of his life in the palace but dressing for court, and making his way down to the grand hall from the ornate chambers in which he resided. It was rather satisfying to live in the palace, in truth, for though the Marikas home was only next door — practically in the garden! — there was no sense of power like the one from emerging as though he had always lived in the place.
The man directed himself first to Princess Emilia, offering her a lower bow than he thought the woman deserved for all the rejection she had offered him in the past, and smiling that bright and handsome smile he used with women for whom he actually cared. "I'm delighted to see you looked far better, your Highness," he greeted her, the comment trivial and friendly enough before he turned to Elias instead, clapping his best friend on the shoulder with another and more genuine grin. It was clear in its message of encouragement and respect, and he appreciated the natural smile that the man returned. They had always maintained a strong rapport. "Let me know if you need a little fun after today, my friend." Something fun, with a nice selection of girls that might ease the mood and the stress of the whole event.
Rafail winked at his friend, then excused himself from the pair to go and find the rest of his family, ready to let them know just how delightful it was to live within the palace, which was, in a sense, their ancestral home. He snatched a goblet of wine from one of the passing staff on the way, finding his brother through the crowd (Marikas men were tall enough that it was not a difficult spot).
"Pavlos. Daniil." The man offered them a generic smile, momentarily glad to see that his niece had dressed up for the court session, looking much more feminine than was usual for her. "How is it at home? Does Papa miss me? It must be difficult not having his favourite son around." The urge for the blight was not something he was ever able to resist, and he lowered his spare hand to rest on the blue fabric at his waist as he waited for a response. "The palace is just lovely. I really do feel at home, but I suppose that makes sense, no? It's where I deserve to be, after all." It did not do Rafail to be humble, and he wanted to boast about his current residence as much as possible. He ran a hand through his golden locks to accentuate the neat circlet embedded in the matching strands, half-mocking in his words. "I might be forced to renovate Thesnia to match my new standards."
