It was almost laughable, really. Nay, it was laughable. The answer to her burning question had finally come. How does a Leventi capture a husband? Tempt him, seduce him, play his heart like a lyre and mother his bastard child. Despicable.

More despicable still was the fact that she had even considered Stephanos as a possible suitor, though she had kept it very quiet. Her brother had never liked him, after all, though she had been certain that Nikos' opinion would have changed had she managed to secure the Prince's affections. Her marriage to Stephanos would have placed House Condos much closer to the throne. But it was Olympia of Leventi who was now not a Lady, not a Princess, but a Queen, for she had married Stephanos and Stephanos had been crowned King one month previously.

Had they been properly married? No. Not at all. The ceremony had been conducted in secret, as if there were shame to it. It was easy to see now why that was the case. Olympia made no secret of her conquest now that she wore the crown, proudly parading her heavily swollen stomach. Were she Olympia, she would be ashamed. That swelling growth was the symbol of her sin, indisputable proof of her unmaidenly conduct. Yet it earned her not ire, disgust or loathing, but reverence, a husband, a throne.

Yet a throne she had, and Queen she was, and it was Ophelia's duty therefore to pay tribute. She had been unable to do so thus far, for she had been staying in the Condos' second home in Doralis, attending to some charity work there. She had not been at the arena that day when Olympia was attacked, nor there in person to hear the announcement of her wedding to Stephanos, but all had been communicated to her in letters from her father and brother, the latter with whom she had been frequently corresponding.

Her charity work complete for now, she had decided to return to the capitol, and she knew that her first order of business had to be a visit to Olympia. It would not do to be the only noble lady not to pay tribute to her Queen. How would that look for House Condos? Not good at all. Still, she was not going unprepared.

At present, Olympia was heavily pregnant. The Queen would be swollen and stiff, undoubtedly dressed simply. Ophelia smiled at this thought as she luxuriated in the warm waters of a lily scented bath while two slaves rubbed floral oils into her long, dark hair. The glee she took in her smoothness of her skin, the fertility of her hips, the flatness of her stomach, was almost malevolent. As she sat upon the stool before her looking glass, she basked in the beauty of her reflection as a female servant carefully partitioned her hair and wove the tresses into an intricate half up-do. The peplos she selected was a deep and vibrant red, putting her in mind of the Condos rose. Her fibulae fastened the garment at the right shoulder. They were smaller than the usual fibula, but clustered artfully together to form what looked like a bouquet of golden roses with rubies shining in their centres. A matching belt was fastened at her waist, thin auran roses with sparkling blood red centres. Tiny ruby teardrops glistened in her ears and a thin auriferous circlet of braided metal, simple yet artfully crafted, crowned her braided mane.

After ensuring that she was thoroughly presentable -- smelling as sweet as a field of flowers, skin glowing with subtle radiance and not a single pin askew -- she carefully collected the boxes in which she had placed Olympia's gifts the previous evening. She had selected these gifts with great care, for although she cared nothing for impressing a Leventi, she would not have it said that she paid ill tribute to a monarch. Stepping into the balmy Artamisios air, she called forth a servant to load the boxes into one of their best carriages. Five minutes later, she was nestled within an ebony vehicle that proudly bore their family crest, peering between red silk curtains as the carriage made its smooth, swift way towards the Palati.

As she descended, a guard came forth to meet her, one she had known for quite some time. He gave a slight nod of acknowledgement, which she took to mean that he was pleased to see her. "Lady Ophelia, what can we do for you today?"
"I have come to pay tribute to the new Queen," she explained. "Has she many audiences today?"
"I believe not. I think there are a few open spaces."
"IF you would be so kind as to see if you she would grant me an audience?"

The man gave a bow, swiftly retreating into the majestic building. He emerged ten minutes later with the news that the Queen was currently taking her first audience, but that Ophelia could be her second. Ophelia could not help but smile at this. She doubted that this had been Olympia's doing; the Queen probably had no knowledge of her schedule, or who was next upon it.
"That is most satisfactory, I thank you for your kindness," these words spoken, she gestured to the servant she had brought along to carry Olympia's presents, gesturing for the man to begin unloading them. He did immediately, easily balancing all of the boxes in his arms.

"If you will follow me, My Lady, I shall conduct you to Her Grace," a higher ranked guard stepped forward, gesturing for Ophelia to follow. She gave a curt nod, gesturing for the servant to trail them as they wound their way through labyrinthine corridors, ascended and descended a seemingly endless procession of staircases and passed more rooms than Ophelia could count before finally reaching their destination.

"Lady Ophelia of Condos," came the voice of the herald, high and haunting. She was very careful about her posture as she stepped into the room. She walked with a straight back, but did not hold her head too high. She walked with a dignified stance, but took care not to appear overly proud. She did not hurry her steps, instead strategically opting to be as graceful as possible in order to act as a foil for the pregnant queen, whose movements would surely be less graceful at present. When she reached Olympia, she sank into a curtsy that was low enough to be deemed appropriately respectful for a Queen Consort, but no lower than that did she sink. She would give the girl what she was due and no more. Some might fawn over a newly crowned consort with a bastard brewing in her belly, but not Ophelia. Ophelia knew how to conduct herself; she knew what properties must be observed, but no Leventi would get any more than that from her.

She rose from her bow with slow, taunting grace, her movements almost like a dance. As she gazed upon the Queen, her emerald eyes sparkled with delight. It took her only a minute to take in Olympia's simple hairstyle and bare feet. Doubtlessly her pretty robe concealed a minimalistic garment. Her eyes darkened momentarily as they settled upon the ring that graced her slender finger, but came to life once more as they fell upon the swelling of her stomach. This is how men like Stephanos fix their mistakes. She is nothing more than a glorified harlot who happened to have Tyche on her side the day they mated, she told herself, though why Tyche, or Hera, or Aphrodite would not favour her, she could not say.

A smile as sweet as honey curled at the corners of her lips as Olympia spoke. So sweet, in fact, were it an actual substance it might easily have rot her beautiful teeth. "I am sorry that I could not come before, Your Grace, but the fact is I was busy in Doralis with my charity work," she explained quite honestly. "But as you see, I am indeed here now to pay you tribute, and have brought gifts to congratulate you on your ascension to the throne."

At these words she gestured to the servant, who moved forward with the boxes Ophelia had tasked him with carrying. One by one, he carefully set them down, then lowered himself to his knees before the two girls and awaited further instructions.