The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he led the dowager queen out of the coronation. A hundred or more eyes stabbed their backs and Gavriil wondered if he was half supporting, half forcing a dead woman. She had lost her mind. She had to have. To storm into the room, to make such a scene, to claim that her nephew, a war hero and a good man, had destroyed her family, her sons - it was too much. Not only was it too much, it was punishable by beheading or hanging. Her station would not save her from such a fate and only Achilleas’s mercy would do that. Mercy he’d be hard pressed to extend to her, given the public nature of her crime.



They were not alone in the hallway. Princess Xene was on her other side and Gavriil looked over Elise’s head at the princess. She looked ill, to him, as well she might. He’d not want his own mother in such a state. Though their help was necessary, because Elise’s legs seemed to have given out on her, she wasn’t grateful for them.



She kept pushing at his hand on her arm and fussing. “I held you when you were a squalling welp, Gavriil,” she fumed through angry tears. “Unhand me!” As much as she might want to, her feet wouldn’t catch on the slick marble floor. The soles of her shoes kept sliding her along as though gliding over snow. Lord Gavriil ignored her insult and she twisted her head towards her daughter, this time. ”Xene, how can you be party to this?” she demanded. ”Did that not look like your father’s crown? He’s wailing Zenon’s crown!”



Her wail echoed through the halls and that’s when Gavriil stopped and did something he never, ever thought he’d have to. He bent and scooped up Elise of Mikaelidas in his arms and bore her through the halls at a far faster clip than they had been going. He knew the way through the palati only up until they got to the royal wing. Having never had any reason to go into this part of the palati that was reserved for the royal family, Gavriil looked to Xene.



“Let us take her to her rooms,” he said. “Please lead on, your highness.” From there it was up to Xene to guide them and when they at last made it to the double doors, Elise was fit to be tied. Thankfully Gavriil had managed to make her so angry, her skin was snow white and she was unable to articulate anything at all. She hung suspended in his arms, a tense body of wrathful energy that, as soon as she was deposited on the couch, found her second wind.



”How DARE you touch ME like THAT,” she screamed and swung around to the side table by low couch. Her hand clasped around the neck of a vase and she launched it straight at the Dimitrou lord’s head. Gavriil, not having expected to be attacked, managed to duck just in time for the vase to sail straight over him and smash against the floor in the outside hallway. The double doors had not yet been shut and pottery sprayed in all directions.



“Your majesty-” he began but he didn’t get much further than that before Elise did something worse. She dissolved into tears and sank onto the kline, turning her back on him. Gavriil looked helplessly at Xene, not knowing how to deal with this. The Dimitrou were not immune to family squabbles but this was a level he’d never thought that the Mikaelidas, and especially their fluttering, sociable matron, would stoop to. He did not know that Elias and Stephanos had already had such fights and sometimes frequently. Though he was at a loss as to what to do for a sobbing woman, his frown was heavy with disapproval.