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For the third day of the Festival of Dionysus, it is tradition for the Taengean's to show out in force at the Vasiliadon Circus. There, they stamp their feet and raise their voices to herald the competitors in the greatest sport known to man - the chariot race. While an expensive sport, with four horses a chariot and the carts themselves handmaid, the sport is technically open to anyone, from all walks of life. Yet, out of all the competitors, no-one believes they might actually win against Zacharias of Mikaelidas or his brother Prince Stephanos. For they are, as many people whisper, Touched by the Gods in such an arena. As wine flows and trumpets sound, the thousands of spectators who run, ride and sail to be at this event have no idea of the mania and chaos that is about to befall the city, as followers of The Creed slowly surround the stadium...
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
For the third day of the Festival of Dionysus, it is tradition for the Taengean's to show out in force at the Vasiliadon Circus. There, they stamp their feet and raise their voices to herald the competitors in the greatest sport known to man - the chariot race. While an expensive sport, with four horses a chariot and the carts themselves handmaid, the sport is technically open to anyone, from all walks of life. Yet, out of all the competitors, no-one believes they might actually win against Zacharias of Mikaelidas or his brother Prince Stephanos. For they are, as many people whisper, Touched by the Gods in such an arena. As wine flows and trumpets sound, the thousands of spectators who run, ride and sail to be at this event have no idea of the mania and chaos that is about to befall the city, as followers of The Creed slowly surround the stadium...
Chariots of Fire Event - Taengea
For the third day of the Festival of Dionysus, it is tradition for the Taengean's to show out in force at the Vasiliadon Circus. There, they stamp their feet and raise their voices to herald the competitors in the greatest sport known to man - the chariot race. While an expensive sport, with four horses a chariot and the carts themselves handmaid, the sport is technically open to anyone, from all walks of life. Yet, out of all the competitors, no-one believes they might actually win against Zacharias of Mikaelidas or his brother Prince Stephanos. For they are, as many people whisper, Touched by the Gods in such an arena. As wine flows and trumpets sound, the thousands of spectators who run, ride and sail to be at this event have no idea of the mania and chaos that is about to befall the city, as followers of The Creed slowly surround the stadium...
Caught up by all the colors, lights, music and sounds of the festivities, Emilia and her retainers had ended up lingering till it was too late to return to Athenia after the Leventi event, and as such, Emilia had quickly sent a messenger home to inform her sister of her delay in travels, and had instead decided to put up a night or two in Taengea to fully enjoy the Dionysus festival. She had a chest of clothing with her in any case (for Emilia never travels without a few spare clothing), so the logistics of it was no issue.
When she had woken that morning, there had been much chatter about the Vasiliadon Circus, and Emmy quickly worked around her morning ablutions, before picking out a suitable wear for the whispered chariot races, before heading out with two or three retainers behind her. In her simple but finely woven chiton of emerald green and golden buckles, her brunette curls fell in deft locks around her shoulders, framing her flushed pink cheeks, blood rushing from the excitement of exploring the Taengean lands, and the idea of watching a chariot race.
Her feet were adorned with golden woven sandals, and her ears perked at all the names and rumors flying around. Touched by the gods? There had long been suspicions that her own sister was one such being, for her grace and beauty was surpassed by no other, that not even her own sister could compare. Emilia held no ill will to Persephone, and was of course, proud to have such a graceful and poised sister and (she hoped) Queen, but it still hurt to be compared as such.
In the rush of the people heading to Vasiliadon Circus for the races however, all thoughts of her own people's misgivings towards her was forgotten as she blindly followed the snippets of conversation towards the stadium... until with a blink of an eye, she realized she had long entered the stadium, but was no longer with the crowds to enter the stands. Blinking in surprise, Emilia froze in her spot, and then turned around her, eyes wide. Where had she ended up? Why were there chariots being polished and horses stamping the ground? Had she not been headed for the stands to join the spectators for the race?
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Caught up by all the colors, lights, music and sounds of the festivities, Emilia and her retainers had ended up lingering till it was too late to return to Athenia after the Leventi event, and as such, Emilia had quickly sent a messenger home to inform her sister of her delay in travels, and had instead decided to put up a night or two in Taengea to fully enjoy the Dionysus festival. She had a chest of clothing with her in any case (for Emilia never travels without a few spare clothing), so the logistics of it was no issue.
When she had woken that morning, there had been much chatter about the Vasiliadon Circus, and Emmy quickly worked around her morning ablutions, before picking out a suitable wear for the whispered chariot races, before heading out with two or three retainers behind her. In her simple but finely woven chiton of emerald green and golden buckles, her brunette curls fell in deft locks around her shoulders, framing her flushed pink cheeks, blood rushing from the excitement of exploring the Taengean lands, and the idea of watching a chariot race.
Her feet were adorned with golden woven sandals, and her ears perked at all the names and rumors flying around. Touched by the gods? There had long been suspicions that her own sister was one such being, for her grace and beauty was surpassed by no other, that not even her own sister could compare. Emilia held no ill will to Persephone, and was of course, proud to have such a graceful and poised sister and (she hoped) Queen, but it still hurt to be compared as such.
In the rush of the people heading to Vasiliadon Circus for the races however, all thoughts of her own people's misgivings towards her was forgotten as she blindly followed the snippets of conversation towards the stadium... until with a blink of an eye, she realized she had long entered the stadium, but was no longer with the crowds to enter the stands. Blinking in surprise, Emilia froze in her spot, and then turned around her, eyes wide. Where had she ended up? Why were there chariots being polished and horses stamping the ground? Had she not been headed for the stands to join the spectators for the race?
Caught up by all the colors, lights, music and sounds of the festivities, Emilia and her retainers had ended up lingering till it was too late to return to Athenia after the Leventi event, and as such, Emilia had quickly sent a messenger home to inform her sister of her delay in travels, and had instead decided to put up a night or two in Taengea to fully enjoy the Dionysus festival. She had a chest of clothing with her in any case (for Emilia never travels without a few spare clothing), so the logistics of it was no issue.
When she had woken that morning, there had been much chatter about the Vasiliadon Circus, and Emmy quickly worked around her morning ablutions, before picking out a suitable wear for the whispered chariot races, before heading out with two or three retainers behind her. In her simple but finely woven chiton of emerald green and golden buckles, her brunette curls fell in deft locks around her shoulders, framing her flushed pink cheeks, blood rushing from the excitement of exploring the Taengean lands, and the idea of watching a chariot race.
Her feet were adorned with golden woven sandals, and her ears perked at all the names and rumors flying around. Touched by the gods? There had long been suspicions that her own sister was one such being, for her grace and beauty was surpassed by no other, that not even her own sister could compare. Emilia held no ill will to Persephone, and was of course, proud to have such a graceful and poised sister and (she hoped) Queen, but it still hurt to be compared as such.
In the rush of the people heading to Vasiliadon Circus for the races however, all thoughts of her own people's misgivings towards her was forgotten as she blindly followed the snippets of conversation towards the stadium... until with a blink of an eye, she realized she had long entered the stadium, but was no longer with the crowds to enter the stands. Blinking in surprise, Emilia froze in her spot, and then turned around her, eyes wide. Where had she ended up? Why were there chariots being polished and horses stamping the ground? Had she not been headed for the stands to join the spectators for the race?
Sunlight blazed through the open archways on the balcony of his room, having no regard for the sleeping prince. He stirred, groaning as consciousness returned. The inside of his head throbbed with its own heartbeat. His mouth tasted like he’d licked the flagstones outside of a wine vendor’s stall and who knew? Maybe he had. Last night and the two before it were a solid blur of one drunken escapade after another. He’d barely seen the tip of sobriety for the whole of the festival and now he was supposed to be competing. Drawing the blankets up over his head, he hid from the sun inside the comfort of his bed for as long as possible before finally getting up.
A servant knocked on the door before entering the room. Stephanos winced at the sound and waved the young man away as soon as he’d set down the tray of food. As soon as he saw the baked fish lying glassy eyed on the plate, he covered his mouth, fighting the dangerous lurching heave of his stomach. The food sat untouched as he stumbled back to the bed, hiding from the light under the pillows.
Sleep claimed him again until his mother came into his room. He’d groused at every servant who tried to rouse him in time for the circus until at last, his behavior could no longer be tolerated. She sat down on the other side of his bed and laid a hand on his bare shoulder. Unlike what his father would likely have done, she did not chastise him. She simply cleared her throat and kept patting him gently until at last he removed the pillow he’d been hiding under.
“You’re going to be late,” she said before rising. Stephanos groaned but his head was no longer pulsating like it had been. At the doorway, his mother smiled and nodded. “See you at the circus.” He watched her disappear out into the passageway before replacing the pillow over his head again until the last possible moment that he truly had to get up.
Once out in the open air, and with a little more distance between himself and his hangover, Stephanos found his mood improving. He made his way down to the circus, keeping his distance from any woman carrying wine. This was easier done if he followed in Vangelis’s wake. The man could clear a crowd like no one he had ever seen. People seemed to melt out of his way, casting furtive looks in his direction. Stephanos, on the other hand, drew people so that he never walked anywhere without drawing a following.
Stephanos waited to make himself known to the other man until they’d reached the circus but Vangelis made to go in as a spectator, not a participant. He’d patted him on the shoulder, receiving the same cordial, Colchian response that this earned him every time, and was told that, no, Vangelis would not be participating. “It’s just as well,” he’d told him. “You’d lose anyway,” before allowing the crowd to swallow him up to avoid any repercussions Vangelis might make.
Once Vangelis was out of sight, Stephanos made his way to the holding area. Servants had already hitched his team to his chariot. A small boy no older than seven stood with the horses. He was one of many such children tasked to take care of the circus horses. Looking around, Stephanos did not immediately spy Zacharias, which he thought a little strange. Though, if his brother was going to continue to avoid Vangelis, not racing today was a good way to do it.
Running his hand over the rump of one of his horses, movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention. He glanced over to find the same girl who’d spilled wine on his shoes two nights ago at the Leventi party. What was she doing down here? “I didn’t think racing was a skill of yours,” he called to her, teasingly. “One of many hidden ones?”
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Sunlight blazed through the open archways on the balcony of his room, having no regard for the sleeping prince. He stirred, groaning as consciousness returned. The inside of his head throbbed with its own heartbeat. His mouth tasted like he’d licked the flagstones outside of a wine vendor’s stall and who knew? Maybe he had. Last night and the two before it were a solid blur of one drunken escapade after another. He’d barely seen the tip of sobriety for the whole of the festival and now he was supposed to be competing. Drawing the blankets up over his head, he hid from the sun inside the comfort of his bed for as long as possible before finally getting up.
A servant knocked on the door before entering the room. Stephanos winced at the sound and waved the young man away as soon as he’d set down the tray of food. As soon as he saw the baked fish lying glassy eyed on the plate, he covered his mouth, fighting the dangerous lurching heave of his stomach. The food sat untouched as he stumbled back to the bed, hiding from the light under the pillows.
Sleep claimed him again until his mother came into his room. He’d groused at every servant who tried to rouse him in time for the circus until at last, his behavior could no longer be tolerated. She sat down on the other side of his bed and laid a hand on his bare shoulder. Unlike what his father would likely have done, she did not chastise him. She simply cleared her throat and kept patting him gently until at last he removed the pillow he’d been hiding under.
“You’re going to be late,” she said before rising. Stephanos groaned but his head was no longer pulsating like it had been. At the doorway, his mother smiled and nodded. “See you at the circus.” He watched her disappear out into the passageway before replacing the pillow over his head again until the last possible moment that he truly had to get up.
Once out in the open air, and with a little more distance between himself and his hangover, Stephanos found his mood improving. He made his way down to the circus, keeping his distance from any woman carrying wine. This was easier done if he followed in Vangelis’s wake. The man could clear a crowd like no one he had ever seen. People seemed to melt out of his way, casting furtive looks in his direction. Stephanos, on the other hand, drew people so that he never walked anywhere without drawing a following.
Stephanos waited to make himself known to the other man until they’d reached the circus but Vangelis made to go in as a spectator, not a participant. He’d patted him on the shoulder, receiving the same cordial, Colchian response that this earned him every time, and was told that, no, Vangelis would not be participating. “It’s just as well,” he’d told him. “You’d lose anyway,” before allowing the crowd to swallow him up to avoid any repercussions Vangelis might make.
Once Vangelis was out of sight, Stephanos made his way to the holding area. Servants had already hitched his team to his chariot. A small boy no older than seven stood with the horses. He was one of many such children tasked to take care of the circus horses. Looking around, Stephanos did not immediately spy Zacharias, which he thought a little strange. Though, if his brother was going to continue to avoid Vangelis, not racing today was a good way to do it.
Running his hand over the rump of one of his horses, movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention. He glanced over to find the same girl who’d spilled wine on his shoes two nights ago at the Leventi party. What was she doing down here? “I didn’t think racing was a skill of yours,” he called to her, teasingly. “One of many hidden ones?”
Sunlight blazed through the open archways on the balcony of his room, having no regard for the sleeping prince. He stirred, groaning as consciousness returned. The inside of his head throbbed with its own heartbeat. His mouth tasted like he’d licked the flagstones outside of a wine vendor’s stall and who knew? Maybe he had. Last night and the two before it were a solid blur of one drunken escapade after another. He’d barely seen the tip of sobriety for the whole of the festival and now he was supposed to be competing. Drawing the blankets up over his head, he hid from the sun inside the comfort of his bed for as long as possible before finally getting up.
A servant knocked on the door before entering the room. Stephanos winced at the sound and waved the young man away as soon as he’d set down the tray of food. As soon as he saw the baked fish lying glassy eyed on the plate, he covered his mouth, fighting the dangerous lurching heave of his stomach. The food sat untouched as he stumbled back to the bed, hiding from the light under the pillows.
Sleep claimed him again until his mother came into his room. He’d groused at every servant who tried to rouse him in time for the circus until at last, his behavior could no longer be tolerated. She sat down on the other side of his bed and laid a hand on his bare shoulder. Unlike what his father would likely have done, she did not chastise him. She simply cleared her throat and kept patting him gently until at last he removed the pillow he’d been hiding under.
“You’re going to be late,” she said before rising. Stephanos groaned but his head was no longer pulsating like it had been. At the doorway, his mother smiled and nodded. “See you at the circus.” He watched her disappear out into the passageway before replacing the pillow over his head again until the last possible moment that he truly had to get up.
Once out in the open air, and with a little more distance between himself and his hangover, Stephanos found his mood improving. He made his way down to the circus, keeping his distance from any woman carrying wine. This was easier done if he followed in Vangelis’s wake. The man could clear a crowd like no one he had ever seen. People seemed to melt out of his way, casting furtive looks in his direction. Stephanos, on the other hand, drew people so that he never walked anywhere without drawing a following.
Stephanos waited to make himself known to the other man until they’d reached the circus but Vangelis made to go in as a spectator, not a participant. He’d patted him on the shoulder, receiving the same cordial, Colchian response that this earned him every time, and was told that, no, Vangelis would not be participating. “It’s just as well,” he’d told him. “You’d lose anyway,” before allowing the crowd to swallow him up to avoid any repercussions Vangelis might make.
Once Vangelis was out of sight, Stephanos made his way to the holding area. Servants had already hitched his team to his chariot. A small boy no older than seven stood with the horses. He was one of many such children tasked to take care of the circus horses. Looking around, Stephanos did not immediately spy Zacharias, which he thought a little strange. Though, if his brother was going to continue to avoid Vangelis, not racing today was a good way to do it.
Running his hand over the rump of one of his horses, movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention. He glanced over to find the same girl who’d spilled wine on his shoes two nights ago at the Leventi party. What was she doing down here? “I didn’t think racing was a skill of yours,” he called to her, teasingly. “One of many hidden ones?”
Watching with clear confusion in her eyes as slaves and servant boys rushed by with chariots, horses, various equipment and lining them all up, Emilia looked up and blinked when even more men streamed in the area she was in, dressed in fine chitons and armory, looking... "Wait, I'm... in the area for the racers?" Emilia finally gasped to herself in surprise.
Before she could even process that thought however, a voice that was faintly familiar called out in her direction.
Turning around, her brunette locks fell behind her shoulders as her eyes searched the area, and then fell upon one handsome, blue-eyed male whose name she couldn't quite recall, but whose face she was hard-pressed to forget.
Persephone had always called Emilia too easy of a girl when it came to a pretty face. And Emilia did not disagree. Oh, it was a weakness she knew she had all to well. She's had enough people tell her she changed crushes faster then the change in weather sometimes, but Emilia always responded that she can't control what the heart wants, and tended to go along with it.
So when the handsome blue eyed stranger teased, Emilia simply laughed, and strode closer over to him, eyes wary but bright and curious about the horses he was next to. "You thought right, I don't race." Emilia murmured, turning back to the male with a bright smile. "So no, it isn't hidden, per say. I have plenty of talents, you'll just have to wait to find out."
With an airy laugh, she turned to reach out warily to one of the horses, unsure just how they'd react to a stranger. "Are these beauties yours? You'll be taking part in the race today?"
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Watching with clear confusion in her eyes as slaves and servant boys rushed by with chariots, horses, various equipment and lining them all up, Emilia looked up and blinked when even more men streamed in the area she was in, dressed in fine chitons and armory, looking... "Wait, I'm... in the area for the racers?" Emilia finally gasped to herself in surprise.
Before she could even process that thought however, a voice that was faintly familiar called out in her direction.
Turning around, her brunette locks fell behind her shoulders as her eyes searched the area, and then fell upon one handsome, blue-eyed male whose name she couldn't quite recall, but whose face she was hard-pressed to forget.
Persephone had always called Emilia too easy of a girl when it came to a pretty face. And Emilia did not disagree. Oh, it was a weakness she knew she had all to well. She's had enough people tell her she changed crushes faster then the change in weather sometimes, but Emilia always responded that she can't control what the heart wants, and tended to go along with it.
So when the handsome blue eyed stranger teased, Emilia simply laughed, and strode closer over to him, eyes wary but bright and curious about the horses he was next to. "You thought right, I don't race." Emilia murmured, turning back to the male with a bright smile. "So no, it isn't hidden, per say. I have plenty of talents, you'll just have to wait to find out."
With an airy laugh, she turned to reach out warily to one of the horses, unsure just how they'd react to a stranger. "Are these beauties yours? You'll be taking part in the race today?"
Watching with clear confusion in her eyes as slaves and servant boys rushed by with chariots, horses, various equipment and lining them all up, Emilia looked up and blinked when even more men streamed in the area she was in, dressed in fine chitons and armory, looking... "Wait, I'm... in the area for the racers?" Emilia finally gasped to herself in surprise.
Before she could even process that thought however, a voice that was faintly familiar called out in her direction.
Turning around, her brunette locks fell behind her shoulders as her eyes searched the area, and then fell upon one handsome, blue-eyed male whose name she couldn't quite recall, but whose face she was hard-pressed to forget.
Persephone had always called Emilia too easy of a girl when it came to a pretty face. And Emilia did not disagree. Oh, it was a weakness she knew she had all to well. She's had enough people tell her she changed crushes faster then the change in weather sometimes, but Emilia always responded that she can't control what the heart wants, and tended to go along with it.
So when the handsome blue eyed stranger teased, Emilia simply laughed, and strode closer over to him, eyes wary but bright and curious about the horses he was next to. "You thought right, I don't race." Emilia murmured, turning back to the male with a bright smile. "So no, it isn't hidden, per say. I have plenty of talents, you'll just have to wait to find out."
With an airy laugh, she turned to reach out warily to one of the horses, unsure just how they'd react to a stranger. "Are these beauties yours? You'll be taking part in the race today?"
Sanasa couldn't resist watching both magnificent horses and rippling, muscular men competing together. It was an entertaining day and so she'd dressed up in her best, and headed out to the arena. Of course she went with her handmaidens and full guard, as is expected of a princess, but did her best to ignore this. She wanted to find her true friend here as there was no doubt that Emilia wouldn't miss this kind of event either. Sometimes they went to the same events for different reasons and sometimes for the same. Either way it was always an entertaining time and that didn't include watching attractive men play with horses and chariots. She was told it was dangerous, wild, but she'd never thought it was. Then again she'd never been near the racers or the consequences of this event so how would she know the truth?
It wasn't hard to find Emilia funnily enough. She was impressed at the sight of her amongst the racers. That had to take either a lot of courage or ended up being something done mistakenly without thought. Sanasa hoped it was the former but considering the way she seemed to be acting with the blue eyed man she doubted it was. It took a while, as Sanasa tilted her head, to recognise the man. She realised she had often seen him arrive at special events with Xene so this must be her brother Stephanos. Not a bad prospect she supposed for any royal female but unfortunately Emilia was more then that. She wasn't just any princess - she was sister to a princess who could be setting history by being Queen without marriage. Emilia, unfortunately, would have to reach higher then just any male - noble or royal.
Deciding Emilia needed to be rescued regardless, Sanasa was all for love if it was possible, she made her way from the seating area and over to her best friend. A lot of people forgot about how close they were and that any male often had to go through Sanasa if they wanted Emilia - not that Sanasa would ever stop her best friend if she truly loved a man - and that, she heard, was almost as daunting a prospect as trying to court Sanasa herself. She wasn't sure whether to be proud of this or feel entirely insulted. Sure, her mother had stopped with the suitors for a little bit but she knew her mother was just taking a break to regroup and try again.
Right?
"Your highness."
Sanasa greeted with a flawless curtsey, knowing any eyes could be watching. Her gaze turned from Emilia to Stephanos, her facial expression remaining calm, polite, and happy even as her gaze continued to examine the male that seemed to have caught Emilia's interest. He wasn't bad on the eye although she liked them more muscular and she could see he was most likely a talented charmer. He was one of the more attractive men in the higher ups' circle. He was often fought over as was Emilia if she was honest. Sanasa wasn't so sure she was in the same group. Sometimes she suspected her mother bribed, blackmailed, or used a different excuse to the suitors she brought over because as much as they fell short when it came to her test they never did seem to stay long. She always said it never bothered her but then again she was a very good liar.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
Sanasa couldn't resist watching both magnificent horses and rippling, muscular men competing together. It was an entertaining day and so she'd dressed up in her best, and headed out to the arena. Of course she went with her handmaidens and full guard, as is expected of a princess, but did her best to ignore this. She wanted to find her true friend here as there was no doubt that Emilia wouldn't miss this kind of event either. Sometimes they went to the same events for different reasons and sometimes for the same. Either way it was always an entertaining time and that didn't include watching attractive men play with horses and chariots. She was told it was dangerous, wild, but she'd never thought it was. Then again she'd never been near the racers or the consequences of this event so how would she know the truth?
It wasn't hard to find Emilia funnily enough. She was impressed at the sight of her amongst the racers. That had to take either a lot of courage or ended up being something done mistakenly without thought. Sanasa hoped it was the former but considering the way she seemed to be acting with the blue eyed man she doubted it was. It took a while, as Sanasa tilted her head, to recognise the man. She realised she had often seen him arrive at special events with Xene so this must be her brother Stephanos. Not a bad prospect she supposed for any royal female but unfortunately Emilia was more then that. She wasn't just any princess - she was sister to a princess who could be setting history by being Queen without marriage. Emilia, unfortunately, would have to reach higher then just any male - noble or royal.
Deciding Emilia needed to be rescued regardless, Sanasa was all for love if it was possible, she made her way from the seating area and over to her best friend. A lot of people forgot about how close they were and that any male often had to go through Sanasa if they wanted Emilia - not that Sanasa would ever stop her best friend if she truly loved a man - and that, she heard, was almost as daunting a prospect as trying to court Sanasa herself. She wasn't sure whether to be proud of this or feel entirely insulted. Sure, her mother had stopped with the suitors for a little bit but she knew her mother was just taking a break to regroup and try again.
Right?
"Your highness."
Sanasa greeted with a flawless curtsey, knowing any eyes could be watching. Her gaze turned from Emilia to Stephanos, her facial expression remaining calm, polite, and happy even as her gaze continued to examine the male that seemed to have caught Emilia's interest. He wasn't bad on the eye although she liked them more muscular and she could see he was most likely a talented charmer. He was one of the more attractive men in the higher ups' circle. He was often fought over as was Emilia if she was honest. Sanasa wasn't so sure she was in the same group. Sometimes she suspected her mother bribed, blackmailed, or used a different excuse to the suitors she brought over because as much as they fell short when it came to her test they never did seem to stay long. She always said it never bothered her but then again she was a very good liar.
Sanasa couldn't resist watching both magnificent horses and rippling, muscular men competing together. It was an entertaining day and so she'd dressed up in her best, and headed out to the arena. Of course she went with her handmaidens and full guard, as is expected of a princess, but did her best to ignore this. She wanted to find her true friend here as there was no doubt that Emilia wouldn't miss this kind of event either. Sometimes they went to the same events for different reasons and sometimes for the same. Either way it was always an entertaining time and that didn't include watching attractive men play with horses and chariots. She was told it was dangerous, wild, but she'd never thought it was. Then again she'd never been near the racers or the consequences of this event so how would she know the truth?
It wasn't hard to find Emilia funnily enough. She was impressed at the sight of her amongst the racers. That had to take either a lot of courage or ended up being something done mistakenly without thought. Sanasa hoped it was the former but considering the way she seemed to be acting with the blue eyed man she doubted it was. It took a while, as Sanasa tilted her head, to recognise the man. She realised she had often seen him arrive at special events with Xene so this must be her brother Stephanos. Not a bad prospect she supposed for any royal female but unfortunately Emilia was more then that. She wasn't just any princess - she was sister to a princess who could be setting history by being Queen without marriage. Emilia, unfortunately, would have to reach higher then just any male - noble or royal.
Deciding Emilia needed to be rescued regardless, Sanasa was all for love if it was possible, she made her way from the seating area and over to her best friend. A lot of people forgot about how close they were and that any male often had to go through Sanasa if they wanted Emilia - not that Sanasa would ever stop her best friend if she truly loved a man - and that, she heard, was almost as daunting a prospect as trying to court Sanasa herself. She wasn't sure whether to be proud of this or feel entirely insulted. Sure, her mother had stopped with the suitors for a little bit but she knew her mother was just taking a break to regroup and try again.
Right?
"Your highness."
Sanasa greeted with a flawless curtsey, knowing any eyes could be watching. Her gaze turned from Emilia to Stephanos, her facial expression remaining calm, polite, and happy even as her gaze continued to examine the male that seemed to have caught Emilia's interest. He wasn't bad on the eye although she liked them more muscular and she could see he was most likely a talented charmer. He was one of the more attractive men in the higher ups' circle. He was often fought over as was Emilia if she was honest. Sanasa wasn't so sure she was in the same group. Sometimes she suspected her mother bribed, blackmailed, or used a different excuse to the suitors she brought over because as much as they fell short when it came to her test they never did seem to stay long. She always said it never bothered her but then again she was a very good liar.
He watched with an easy smile as she laughed, dropping his head slightly as she approached. They had not been introduced the other night. What with the wine and his own state of mind, he’d not had the wherewithal to bother with anything but getting cleaned up. What he did find out later, was that she was Princess Emilia. Young. Nubile. Alone.
His eyes followed hers when she glanced over at the horses. Stephanos smoothed his hand over the black hindquarters and then directed his gaze at her again, listening as she told him he’d have to find out her other talents. A clear invitation that she was not opposed to being teased or admired. Moving around the horses, he came to stand directly in front of her, his arm resting on the side of the chariot.
"Are these beauties yours? You'll be taking part in the race today?"
“They are,” he said in response to the first question. She reached out to stroke the horses as though she’d never really touched one before and he frowned a little. “You are not familiar with horses?” He asked. “That’s all we do here. Word is my brother loves horses more than anyone.” This last joke was said with a mocking wink. There was a vicious rumor floating around, started by no one knew who, that Zacharias was far more partial to bedding horses than people. There was no truth in it, of course but Stephanos was never one to shy away from a joke; especially one that was so ludicrous.
As to her second question, he ignored it. That he was here was enough for her to know that he would indeed be competing. How could he do otherwise? Not only was he a prince of the realm, but he hoped that perhaps, for once, he might beat Zacharias in the race. This, of course was wishful thinking and he didn’t believe for a second that his brother would give in when there was such a crowd to impress.
Further movement caught his attention from the corner of his eye and he looked up to find another woman moving into the area. Stephanos glanced around, searching for his brother or even either of his cousins but at the moment, he was the only one by the chariots that he could see. How was it he was alone and yet two women had found their way here when the other racers had not? A large part of him wished that the stick-in-the-mud Colchin prince had agreed to race. Then at least he wouldn’t be slowly surrounded. Vangelis’ face had a way of repelling women; not by virtue of being ugly, he was far from it, but from the cold, stoney expression he tended to wear.
For his part, however, Stephanos allowed his gaze to wander to the new woman too, watching her as she gave an impressive curtsey. He nodded when she greeted him but for the life of him he could not place her. “You know me,” he said with a half smile. “But I don’t think I know you?” The phrase ended in a question, an attempt to get her to supply her name without him having to outright ask.
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He watched with an easy smile as she laughed, dropping his head slightly as she approached. They had not been introduced the other night. What with the wine and his own state of mind, he’d not had the wherewithal to bother with anything but getting cleaned up. What he did find out later, was that she was Princess Emilia. Young. Nubile. Alone.
His eyes followed hers when she glanced over at the horses. Stephanos smoothed his hand over the black hindquarters and then directed his gaze at her again, listening as she told him he’d have to find out her other talents. A clear invitation that she was not opposed to being teased or admired. Moving around the horses, he came to stand directly in front of her, his arm resting on the side of the chariot.
"Are these beauties yours? You'll be taking part in the race today?"
“They are,” he said in response to the first question. She reached out to stroke the horses as though she’d never really touched one before and he frowned a little. “You are not familiar with horses?” He asked. “That’s all we do here. Word is my brother loves horses more than anyone.” This last joke was said with a mocking wink. There was a vicious rumor floating around, started by no one knew who, that Zacharias was far more partial to bedding horses than people. There was no truth in it, of course but Stephanos was never one to shy away from a joke; especially one that was so ludicrous.
As to her second question, he ignored it. That he was here was enough for her to know that he would indeed be competing. How could he do otherwise? Not only was he a prince of the realm, but he hoped that perhaps, for once, he might beat Zacharias in the race. This, of course was wishful thinking and he didn’t believe for a second that his brother would give in when there was such a crowd to impress.
Further movement caught his attention from the corner of his eye and he looked up to find another woman moving into the area. Stephanos glanced around, searching for his brother or even either of his cousins but at the moment, he was the only one by the chariots that he could see. How was it he was alone and yet two women had found their way here when the other racers had not? A large part of him wished that the stick-in-the-mud Colchin prince had agreed to race. Then at least he wouldn’t be slowly surrounded. Vangelis’ face had a way of repelling women; not by virtue of being ugly, he was far from it, but from the cold, stoney expression he tended to wear.
For his part, however, Stephanos allowed his gaze to wander to the new woman too, watching her as she gave an impressive curtsey. He nodded when she greeted him but for the life of him he could not place her. “You know me,” he said with a half smile. “But I don’t think I know you?” The phrase ended in a question, an attempt to get her to supply her name without him having to outright ask.
He watched with an easy smile as she laughed, dropping his head slightly as she approached. They had not been introduced the other night. What with the wine and his own state of mind, he’d not had the wherewithal to bother with anything but getting cleaned up. What he did find out later, was that she was Princess Emilia. Young. Nubile. Alone.
His eyes followed hers when she glanced over at the horses. Stephanos smoothed his hand over the black hindquarters and then directed his gaze at her again, listening as she told him he’d have to find out her other talents. A clear invitation that she was not opposed to being teased or admired. Moving around the horses, he came to stand directly in front of her, his arm resting on the side of the chariot.
"Are these beauties yours? You'll be taking part in the race today?"
“They are,” he said in response to the first question. She reached out to stroke the horses as though she’d never really touched one before and he frowned a little. “You are not familiar with horses?” He asked. “That’s all we do here. Word is my brother loves horses more than anyone.” This last joke was said with a mocking wink. There was a vicious rumor floating around, started by no one knew who, that Zacharias was far more partial to bedding horses than people. There was no truth in it, of course but Stephanos was never one to shy away from a joke; especially one that was so ludicrous.
As to her second question, he ignored it. That he was here was enough for her to know that he would indeed be competing. How could he do otherwise? Not only was he a prince of the realm, but he hoped that perhaps, for once, he might beat Zacharias in the race. This, of course was wishful thinking and he didn’t believe for a second that his brother would give in when there was such a crowd to impress.
Further movement caught his attention from the corner of his eye and he looked up to find another woman moving into the area. Stephanos glanced around, searching for his brother or even either of his cousins but at the moment, he was the only one by the chariots that he could see. How was it he was alone and yet two women had found their way here when the other racers had not? A large part of him wished that the stick-in-the-mud Colchin prince had agreed to race. Then at least he wouldn’t be slowly surrounded. Vangelis’ face had a way of repelling women; not by virtue of being ugly, he was far from it, but from the cold, stoney expression he tended to wear.
For his part, however, Stephanos allowed his gaze to wander to the new woman too, watching her as she gave an impressive curtsey. He nodded when she greeted him but for the life of him he could not place her. “You know me,” he said with a half smile. “But I don’t think I know you?” The phrase ended in a question, an attempt to get her to supply her name without him having to outright ask.
Vangelis had been aware that he was being followed as he made his way to the circus arena. But, given the reason he was attending and the fact that over eighty percent of Vasiliadon were also intending to partake in the event, he was hardly concerned that someone behind him was trailing in his wake. Especially given that he as his bodyguards made a significant wake at that, their presence sending men and women scurrying and parents pulling their children to attention and out of their path.
Upon reaching the entrance to the circus, however, Vangelis's path was halted as tradition and procedure took over. He was the heir to his throne - the crown prince of his kingdom - and he was in a foreign place. As such, checks needed to be made and the layout of the venue ascertained by his men so that, should anything untoward happen, he could be escorted out of the nearest exit and spirited to safety. It wasn't exactly the part of being a prince that he liked the most. And, if honesty was employed, it left him feeling slightly emasculated in his role as damsel. But he also knew how important his life and role was - or would be if he didn't have three other brothers to take his place. And so, he waited dutifully while he guards ran the parameter of the building (one staying by his side) and acquainted themselves with every entrance and exit to the place.
It was in this pause that the Prince Stephanos had approached him, made some insipid comment about the skills of Colchian chariot racing (which Vangelis would make no remark regarding - their kingdom had barely any flat land, so how they were expected to ride chariots he had no idea), and then continued on his way inside the arena.
By the time Vangelis was returned his men and circumstances allowed him to enter the large building it was getting close to race time and, curious to see who would be competing in the event other than the arrogant prince of Taengea, Vangelis headed towards the competitors area.
No-one stopped him as he made his way towards the sound of equine snorts and hoof stomping and he eventually broke into an open space reserved for competitors and nobility.
Most of those competing were already in place, four horses to a chariot, a single man to each chariot wearing their house colours. He spotted Prince Stephanos towards the far end, his chariot and steeds being polished and finalised for the event as he spent his time chattering to two young woman (unsurprising...) and there was a man just a bold in his chariot decoration with some fine thoroughbreds pulling his cart a little closer to his left.
Upon seeing a slave mis-slip on securing one of the horse's holster, Vangelis headed over to warn the gentleman of the mistake, before his horses got up to any kind of speed and shod their harness.
"You'll need to check that harness friend." He called, pointing to the horse on the far right of the chariot. "Your slave boy has missed the rung with the buckle."
Naturally stepping into hold the horses head while the nobleman adjusted the tack, Vangelis calmed the beats with a stroke along his forelock and narrowed his eyes over the creature and his companions.
"Fine stock you have here..." He murmured, almost to himself. The horses were slimmer in the barrel with longer legs and a sleeker look bred for speed over brute force. Definitely from Arabian descent. And there was only one family in Greece who had connections such as those. "Leventi stock..." Vangelis murmured before noting the colours on the chariot. "Mikaelidas brand..." He smiled at the nobleman and nodded to him warmly. "I'll hazard a guess that you must be Lord Achilleas."
Vangelis had, as every other ear in Taengea had, that the young lord was being married off to a daughter of Leventi, so it made sense that he would lead his future in-law's horses on the circus track.
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Vangelis had been aware that he was being followed as he made his way to the circus arena. But, given the reason he was attending and the fact that over eighty percent of Vasiliadon were also intending to partake in the event, he was hardly concerned that someone behind him was trailing in his wake. Especially given that he as his bodyguards made a significant wake at that, their presence sending men and women scurrying and parents pulling their children to attention and out of their path.
Upon reaching the entrance to the circus, however, Vangelis's path was halted as tradition and procedure took over. He was the heir to his throne - the crown prince of his kingdom - and he was in a foreign place. As such, checks needed to be made and the layout of the venue ascertained by his men so that, should anything untoward happen, he could be escorted out of the nearest exit and spirited to safety. It wasn't exactly the part of being a prince that he liked the most. And, if honesty was employed, it left him feeling slightly emasculated in his role as damsel. But he also knew how important his life and role was - or would be if he didn't have three other brothers to take his place. And so, he waited dutifully while he guards ran the parameter of the building (one staying by his side) and acquainted themselves with every entrance and exit to the place.
It was in this pause that the Prince Stephanos had approached him, made some insipid comment about the skills of Colchian chariot racing (which Vangelis would make no remark regarding - their kingdom had barely any flat land, so how they were expected to ride chariots he had no idea), and then continued on his way inside the arena.
By the time Vangelis was returned his men and circumstances allowed him to enter the large building it was getting close to race time and, curious to see who would be competing in the event other than the arrogant prince of Taengea, Vangelis headed towards the competitors area.
No-one stopped him as he made his way towards the sound of equine snorts and hoof stomping and he eventually broke into an open space reserved for competitors and nobility.
Most of those competing were already in place, four horses to a chariot, a single man to each chariot wearing their house colours. He spotted Prince Stephanos towards the far end, his chariot and steeds being polished and finalised for the event as he spent his time chattering to two young woman (unsurprising...) and there was a man just a bold in his chariot decoration with some fine thoroughbreds pulling his cart a little closer to his left.
Upon seeing a slave mis-slip on securing one of the horse's holster, Vangelis headed over to warn the gentleman of the mistake, before his horses got up to any kind of speed and shod their harness.
"You'll need to check that harness friend." He called, pointing to the horse on the far right of the chariot. "Your slave boy has missed the rung with the buckle."
Naturally stepping into hold the horses head while the nobleman adjusted the tack, Vangelis calmed the beats with a stroke along his forelock and narrowed his eyes over the creature and his companions.
"Fine stock you have here..." He murmured, almost to himself. The horses were slimmer in the barrel with longer legs and a sleeker look bred for speed over brute force. Definitely from Arabian descent. And there was only one family in Greece who had connections such as those. "Leventi stock..." Vangelis murmured before noting the colours on the chariot. "Mikaelidas brand..." He smiled at the nobleman and nodded to him warmly. "I'll hazard a guess that you must be Lord Achilleas."
Vangelis had, as every other ear in Taengea had, that the young lord was being married off to a daughter of Leventi, so it made sense that he would lead his future in-law's horses on the circus track.
Vangelis had been aware that he was being followed as he made his way to the circus arena. But, given the reason he was attending and the fact that over eighty percent of Vasiliadon were also intending to partake in the event, he was hardly concerned that someone behind him was trailing in his wake. Especially given that he as his bodyguards made a significant wake at that, their presence sending men and women scurrying and parents pulling their children to attention and out of their path.
Upon reaching the entrance to the circus, however, Vangelis's path was halted as tradition and procedure took over. He was the heir to his throne - the crown prince of his kingdom - and he was in a foreign place. As such, checks needed to be made and the layout of the venue ascertained by his men so that, should anything untoward happen, he could be escorted out of the nearest exit and spirited to safety. It wasn't exactly the part of being a prince that he liked the most. And, if honesty was employed, it left him feeling slightly emasculated in his role as damsel. But he also knew how important his life and role was - or would be if he didn't have three other brothers to take his place. And so, he waited dutifully while he guards ran the parameter of the building (one staying by his side) and acquainted themselves with every entrance and exit to the place.
It was in this pause that the Prince Stephanos had approached him, made some insipid comment about the skills of Colchian chariot racing (which Vangelis would make no remark regarding - their kingdom had barely any flat land, so how they were expected to ride chariots he had no idea), and then continued on his way inside the arena.
By the time Vangelis was returned his men and circumstances allowed him to enter the large building it was getting close to race time and, curious to see who would be competing in the event other than the arrogant prince of Taengea, Vangelis headed towards the competitors area.
No-one stopped him as he made his way towards the sound of equine snorts and hoof stomping and he eventually broke into an open space reserved for competitors and nobility.
Most of those competing were already in place, four horses to a chariot, a single man to each chariot wearing their house colours. He spotted Prince Stephanos towards the far end, his chariot and steeds being polished and finalised for the event as he spent his time chattering to two young woman (unsurprising...) and there was a man just a bold in his chariot decoration with some fine thoroughbreds pulling his cart a little closer to his left.
Upon seeing a slave mis-slip on securing one of the horse's holster, Vangelis headed over to warn the gentleman of the mistake, before his horses got up to any kind of speed and shod their harness.
"You'll need to check that harness friend." He called, pointing to the horse on the far right of the chariot. "Your slave boy has missed the rung with the buckle."
Naturally stepping into hold the horses head while the nobleman adjusted the tack, Vangelis calmed the beats with a stroke along his forelock and narrowed his eyes over the creature and his companions.
"Fine stock you have here..." He murmured, almost to himself. The horses were slimmer in the barrel with longer legs and a sleeker look bred for speed over brute force. Definitely from Arabian descent. And there was only one family in Greece who had connections such as those. "Leventi stock..." Vangelis murmured before noting the colours on the chariot. "Mikaelidas brand..." He smiled at the nobleman and nodded to him warmly. "I'll hazard a guess that you must be Lord Achilleas."
Vangelis had, as every other ear in Taengea had, that the young lord was being married off to a daughter of Leventi, so it made sense that he would lead his future in-law's horses on the circus track.
Taengea was a kingdom that seemed to be perpetually in party mode. Many people enjoyed it, the amount of wine and spirits, abundance of girls, flowers and food everywhere left for people. The Dionysus festival seems to be a roaring success so far, from the streams of people constantly coming in and out of Taengea. If the random spots of drunken men and women sprawled by the sides of the streets were any indication, there was no doubt that enough wine has been consumed here that would last some towns a whole month. It was obvious people loved it here.
Nike did not.
Perhaps once, a long time ago, she had. She was a child born of Taengea afterall, a young girl raised in Acaris, who had doting parents and a carefree life. If she thought hard enough, Nike would be able to recall once upon a time where she would be perched on her mother's knees as her mother braided her long dark hair, whilst her father polished his dagger while going through his latest documents for his next shipment at the Acaris port.
But that was a life long forgotten.
Her hair no longer long and luxurious, it was now cropped short, barely a finger long, and held back by her helmet. And she was back here on work. Honestly had it not been because her prince and general had insisted they attend the festivities, Nike would honestly stay away from Taengea entirely. It didn't help that she genuinely disliked the liquid that intoxicated people, and the whole festival was centered on the one God who supposedly made the spirit. In fact, the commander had considered taking one of her portions of leave time to avoid returning to Taengea entirely. But she was always one who prided herself on being responsible and after the many years of being part Vangelis's personal bodyguards, she was loathe to leave him alone when he would be travelling to a foreign country.
So the girl had bit her tongue and followed, and she constantly reminded herself she was here for work, and work only.
Following in her prince's wake as they traversed the pathways of Taengea towards the circus, the back of her neck pricked with the knowledge that someone was likely trailing behind him. Her fingers were intently curled around the hilt of her longsword at her waist, her golden eyes watching everyone. Part watching for any danger that may come at her charge, and part watching if anyone was looking at her oddly - god forbid she saw her father here again.
Instinctively, Nike had halted the general before he entered and joined the party which scouted and secured the area, before waiting as the prince was escorted into the circus. Off duty, Nike would probably toss a friendly chaff about having to be waited on hand and foot, but it was just chat between old friends. She knew it was protocol, and was happy to be one of the few trusted to do it.
Nike found her eyes momentarily wandering as they entered the arena, until they settled on one blond haired male, whom she was quite sure she's heard Vangelis refer to before. Prince.. Stephanos? Oddly, she found herself unable to tear her eyes away from him even if she never knew him, something about an aura around him that drawed her gaze and held it.
"Nike, c'mon. His Highness is moving." One of her cohorts hissed, and only then did she notice that Vangelis had moved towards a set of horses being handled by a slave, and cursed internally, her eyes frowning as she couldn't resist taking one last look at the blond prince. Her brows furrowed, curious as to why her eyes were so drawn to his features, before she internally scolded herself and hurried after Vangelis, returning to stand just behind him as he conversed with another nobleman.
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Taengea was a kingdom that seemed to be perpetually in party mode. Many people enjoyed it, the amount of wine and spirits, abundance of girls, flowers and food everywhere left for people. The Dionysus festival seems to be a roaring success so far, from the streams of people constantly coming in and out of Taengea. If the random spots of drunken men and women sprawled by the sides of the streets were any indication, there was no doubt that enough wine has been consumed here that would last some towns a whole month. It was obvious people loved it here.
Nike did not.
Perhaps once, a long time ago, she had. She was a child born of Taengea afterall, a young girl raised in Acaris, who had doting parents and a carefree life. If she thought hard enough, Nike would be able to recall once upon a time where she would be perched on her mother's knees as her mother braided her long dark hair, whilst her father polished his dagger while going through his latest documents for his next shipment at the Acaris port.
But that was a life long forgotten.
Her hair no longer long and luxurious, it was now cropped short, barely a finger long, and held back by her helmet. And she was back here on work. Honestly had it not been because her prince and general had insisted they attend the festivities, Nike would honestly stay away from Taengea entirely. It didn't help that she genuinely disliked the liquid that intoxicated people, and the whole festival was centered on the one God who supposedly made the spirit. In fact, the commander had considered taking one of her portions of leave time to avoid returning to Taengea entirely. But she was always one who prided herself on being responsible and after the many years of being part Vangelis's personal bodyguards, she was loathe to leave him alone when he would be travelling to a foreign country.
So the girl had bit her tongue and followed, and she constantly reminded herself she was here for work, and work only.
Following in her prince's wake as they traversed the pathways of Taengea towards the circus, the back of her neck pricked with the knowledge that someone was likely trailing behind him. Her fingers were intently curled around the hilt of her longsword at her waist, her golden eyes watching everyone. Part watching for any danger that may come at her charge, and part watching if anyone was looking at her oddly - god forbid she saw her father here again.
Instinctively, Nike had halted the general before he entered and joined the party which scouted and secured the area, before waiting as the prince was escorted into the circus. Off duty, Nike would probably toss a friendly chaff about having to be waited on hand and foot, but it was just chat between old friends. She knew it was protocol, and was happy to be one of the few trusted to do it.
Nike found her eyes momentarily wandering as they entered the arena, until they settled on one blond haired male, whom she was quite sure she's heard Vangelis refer to before. Prince.. Stephanos? Oddly, she found herself unable to tear her eyes away from him even if she never knew him, something about an aura around him that drawed her gaze and held it.
"Nike, c'mon. His Highness is moving." One of her cohorts hissed, and only then did she notice that Vangelis had moved towards a set of horses being handled by a slave, and cursed internally, her eyes frowning as she couldn't resist taking one last look at the blond prince. Her brows furrowed, curious as to why her eyes were so drawn to his features, before she internally scolded herself and hurried after Vangelis, returning to stand just behind him as he conversed with another nobleman.
Taengea was a kingdom that seemed to be perpetually in party mode. Many people enjoyed it, the amount of wine and spirits, abundance of girls, flowers and food everywhere left for people. The Dionysus festival seems to be a roaring success so far, from the streams of people constantly coming in and out of Taengea. If the random spots of drunken men and women sprawled by the sides of the streets were any indication, there was no doubt that enough wine has been consumed here that would last some towns a whole month. It was obvious people loved it here.
Nike did not.
Perhaps once, a long time ago, she had. She was a child born of Taengea afterall, a young girl raised in Acaris, who had doting parents and a carefree life. If she thought hard enough, Nike would be able to recall once upon a time where she would be perched on her mother's knees as her mother braided her long dark hair, whilst her father polished his dagger while going through his latest documents for his next shipment at the Acaris port.
But that was a life long forgotten.
Her hair no longer long and luxurious, it was now cropped short, barely a finger long, and held back by her helmet. And she was back here on work. Honestly had it not been because her prince and general had insisted they attend the festivities, Nike would honestly stay away from Taengea entirely. It didn't help that she genuinely disliked the liquid that intoxicated people, and the whole festival was centered on the one God who supposedly made the spirit. In fact, the commander had considered taking one of her portions of leave time to avoid returning to Taengea entirely. But she was always one who prided herself on being responsible and after the many years of being part Vangelis's personal bodyguards, she was loathe to leave him alone when he would be travelling to a foreign country.
So the girl had bit her tongue and followed, and she constantly reminded herself she was here for work, and work only.
Following in her prince's wake as they traversed the pathways of Taengea towards the circus, the back of her neck pricked with the knowledge that someone was likely trailing behind him. Her fingers were intently curled around the hilt of her longsword at her waist, her golden eyes watching everyone. Part watching for any danger that may come at her charge, and part watching if anyone was looking at her oddly - god forbid she saw her father here again.
Instinctively, Nike had halted the general before he entered and joined the party which scouted and secured the area, before waiting as the prince was escorted into the circus. Off duty, Nike would probably toss a friendly chaff about having to be waited on hand and foot, but it was just chat between old friends. She knew it was protocol, and was happy to be one of the few trusted to do it.
Nike found her eyes momentarily wandering as they entered the arena, until they settled on one blond haired male, whom she was quite sure she's heard Vangelis refer to before. Prince.. Stephanos? Oddly, she found herself unable to tear her eyes away from him even if she never knew him, something about an aura around him that drawed her gaze and held it.
"Nike, c'mon. His Highness is moving." One of her cohorts hissed, and only then did she notice that Vangelis had moved towards a set of horses being handled by a slave, and cursed internally, her eyes frowning as she couldn't resist taking one last look at the blond prince. Her brows furrowed, curious as to why her eyes were so drawn to his features, before she internally scolded herself and hurried after Vangelis, returning to stand just behind him as he conversed with another nobleman.
From a young age, Alkaios had always entertained a mild interest in chariot racing. It was a hobby his older brother had indulged in and that he too had hence explored, taking any opportunity to practise when he wasn't otherwise preoccupied with his training. Miniature reproductions of races between himself and Euryleon had not been the uncommon affair in the past. He was, as a result, a fair racer, although natural arrogance led to a frequent exaggeration of skill. As far as Alkaios was concerned - and as far as he believed anyone else should be concerned - he was certainly in the upper tiers of racers, and what proved a better opportunity than this to prove that very fact?
Of course, a chance to show off, however exciting it might have been, was not the only appeal of the races. The event's other draw was the way the wine flowed so freely once you were there and, despite plans to race, that had done little to stop Alkaios from taking some for himself as he had made his way over to the area where racers were preparing for the competition. Perhaps not the wisest choice of beverage before any sporting event but, already flying high on confidence, he highly doubted it was likely to affect his mindset further. Besides, he was hardly unused to a little wine. It would have been difficult not to be.
There were plenty of people already present outside of the simple spectators, something which should have been expected. Outside of the usual gaggle of young boys tending to the horses and ensuring the chariots met a certain standard of safety, there were quite a few notable faces in the crowd - you'd be hard-pressed not to recognise a Prince - and yet right now he was seeing them as nothing more than rivals for the title of best charioteer. Alkaios would never have dared say something of the sort, but he knew full well they were far more advanced racers than he, not that he was going to be stopped from competing.
For the time being, he chose to pay little heed to the others present, strolling over to his own chariot and the four horses hitched to it: a bay, two chestnuts and a palomino Andravida. Save for the fourth, they were his father's horses, lent to him for the occasion because chariot racing was something the man could consider a proper sport. It was no secret that hobbies were something the father and son pair rarely managed to agree on. The final horse was Alkaios's own, a strong palomino mare, and a fast one at that. He had driven his chariot with her and the other three before and had no doubt that this particular quartet was sure to lead him closer to a victory.
"I have no doubts in you," he informed the horse in question, reaching up to give the mare a firm pat just behind the ears and gently stroking her down the side of her neck. "Lead me to success today, hm?"
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From a young age, Alkaios had always entertained a mild interest in chariot racing. It was a hobby his older brother had indulged in and that he too had hence explored, taking any opportunity to practise when he wasn't otherwise preoccupied with his training. Miniature reproductions of races between himself and Euryleon had not been the uncommon affair in the past. He was, as a result, a fair racer, although natural arrogance led to a frequent exaggeration of skill. As far as Alkaios was concerned - and as far as he believed anyone else should be concerned - he was certainly in the upper tiers of racers, and what proved a better opportunity than this to prove that very fact?
Of course, a chance to show off, however exciting it might have been, was not the only appeal of the races. The event's other draw was the way the wine flowed so freely once you were there and, despite plans to race, that had done little to stop Alkaios from taking some for himself as he had made his way over to the area where racers were preparing for the competition. Perhaps not the wisest choice of beverage before any sporting event but, already flying high on confidence, he highly doubted it was likely to affect his mindset further. Besides, he was hardly unused to a little wine. It would have been difficult not to be.
There were plenty of people already present outside of the simple spectators, something which should have been expected. Outside of the usual gaggle of young boys tending to the horses and ensuring the chariots met a certain standard of safety, there were quite a few notable faces in the crowd - you'd be hard-pressed not to recognise a Prince - and yet right now he was seeing them as nothing more than rivals for the title of best charioteer. Alkaios would never have dared say something of the sort, but he knew full well they were far more advanced racers than he, not that he was going to be stopped from competing.
For the time being, he chose to pay little heed to the others present, strolling over to his own chariot and the four horses hitched to it: a bay, two chestnuts and a palomino Andravida. Save for the fourth, they were his father's horses, lent to him for the occasion because chariot racing was something the man could consider a proper sport. It was no secret that hobbies were something the father and son pair rarely managed to agree on. The final horse was Alkaios's own, a strong palomino mare, and a fast one at that. He had driven his chariot with her and the other three before and had no doubt that this particular quartet was sure to lead him closer to a victory.
"I have no doubts in you," he informed the horse in question, reaching up to give the mare a firm pat just behind the ears and gently stroking her down the side of her neck. "Lead me to success today, hm?"
From a young age, Alkaios had always entertained a mild interest in chariot racing. It was a hobby his older brother had indulged in and that he too had hence explored, taking any opportunity to practise when he wasn't otherwise preoccupied with his training. Miniature reproductions of races between himself and Euryleon had not been the uncommon affair in the past. He was, as a result, a fair racer, although natural arrogance led to a frequent exaggeration of skill. As far as Alkaios was concerned - and as far as he believed anyone else should be concerned - he was certainly in the upper tiers of racers, and what proved a better opportunity than this to prove that very fact?
Of course, a chance to show off, however exciting it might have been, was not the only appeal of the races. The event's other draw was the way the wine flowed so freely once you were there and, despite plans to race, that had done little to stop Alkaios from taking some for himself as he had made his way over to the area where racers were preparing for the competition. Perhaps not the wisest choice of beverage before any sporting event but, already flying high on confidence, he highly doubted it was likely to affect his mindset further. Besides, he was hardly unused to a little wine. It would have been difficult not to be.
There were plenty of people already present outside of the simple spectators, something which should have been expected. Outside of the usual gaggle of young boys tending to the horses and ensuring the chariots met a certain standard of safety, there were quite a few notable faces in the crowd - you'd be hard-pressed not to recognise a Prince - and yet right now he was seeing them as nothing more than rivals for the title of best charioteer. Alkaios would never have dared say something of the sort, but he knew full well they were far more advanced racers than he, not that he was going to be stopped from competing.
For the time being, he chose to pay little heed to the others present, strolling over to his own chariot and the four horses hitched to it: a bay, two chestnuts and a palomino Andravida. Save for the fourth, they were his father's horses, lent to him for the occasion because chariot racing was something the man could consider a proper sport. It was no secret that hobbies were something the father and son pair rarely managed to agree on. The final horse was Alkaios's own, a strong palomino mare, and a fast one at that. He had driven his chariot with her and the other three before and had no doubt that this particular quartet was sure to lead him closer to a victory.
"I have no doubts in you," he informed the horse in question, reaching up to give the mare a firm pat just behind the ears and gently stroking her down the side of her neck. "Lead me to success today, hm?"
Sanasa didn't expect Stephanos to show her much attention. Emilia was far prettier and with her status no doubt extremely attractive to the ambitious suitor. To Sanasa, anyone who ends up with Emilia is extremely lucky. However for now Sanasa has made herself Emilia's romance bodyguard and no one was going to be with her best friend without her approval. It seemed that no one, if any, knew much about that part of their friendship. Sanasa knew she'd have Emilia do the same her for any day should such a situation arise for it. Fortunately, or unfortunately, for now Emilia was the one who had men interested in and Sanasa wasn't about to let Emilia get used or hurt.
She was not surprised when Stephanos had to ask her name. Sanasa, during the noble and royal occasions among other times, had always made it her mission to know who everyone was. In the hierarchy of royalty and nobility Sanasa wasn't that high up on it where as Stephanos and Emilia definitely were. She was better then a commoner, that was for sure. As of late though the suitors had been becoming sparse and her mother illusive when Sanasa wanted to enquire why. She didn't bother to think about it much as surely if there was a huge problem or issue or situation had arisen she would have been aware of it.
Besides, Sanasa was positive her mother was just working on getting much more bigger 'fish' as it were from other kingdoms. It was to be a surprise, she was sure. She was honestly quite excited and really wanted the surprise to come already. Of course she would get that surprise but, unfortunately, not the one she intended. For now though she was in blissful ignorance.
"I am Sanasa, your highness, from the House of Antonis."
Sanasa shared out of politeness although she refused to allow anything deeper then that to leave her lips. He didn't need to know her life story and she would keep it that way. Besides, Stephanos was with Emilia, not her, and so she'd not take anything away from Emilia even if she could which sometimes Sanasa feared she couldn't even if she wanted to.
"I hope I didn't intrude on anything."
She added, although her mind was thinking 'I hope you were being a gentlemen or else'.
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Sanasa didn't expect Stephanos to show her much attention. Emilia was far prettier and with her status no doubt extremely attractive to the ambitious suitor. To Sanasa, anyone who ends up with Emilia is extremely lucky. However for now Sanasa has made herself Emilia's romance bodyguard and no one was going to be with her best friend without her approval. It seemed that no one, if any, knew much about that part of their friendship. Sanasa knew she'd have Emilia do the same her for any day should such a situation arise for it. Fortunately, or unfortunately, for now Emilia was the one who had men interested in and Sanasa wasn't about to let Emilia get used or hurt.
She was not surprised when Stephanos had to ask her name. Sanasa, during the noble and royal occasions among other times, had always made it her mission to know who everyone was. In the hierarchy of royalty and nobility Sanasa wasn't that high up on it where as Stephanos and Emilia definitely were. She was better then a commoner, that was for sure. As of late though the suitors had been becoming sparse and her mother illusive when Sanasa wanted to enquire why. She didn't bother to think about it much as surely if there was a huge problem or issue or situation had arisen she would have been aware of it.
Besides, Sanasa was positive her mother was just working on getting much more bigger 'fish' as it were from other kingdoms. It was to be a surprise, she was sure. She was honestly quite excited and really wanted the surprise to come already. Of course she would get that surprise but, unfortunately, not the one she intended. For now though she was in blissful ignorance.
"I am Sanasa, your highness, from the House of Antonis."
Sanasa shared out of politeness although she refused to allow anything deeper then that to leave her lips. He didn't need to know her life story and she would keep it that way. Besides, Stephanos was with Emilia, not her, and so she'd not take anything away from Emilia even if she could which sometimes Sanasa feared she couldn't even if she wanted to.
"I hope I didn't intrude on anything."
She added, although her mind was thinking 'I hope you were being a gentlemen or else'.
Sanasa didn't expect Stephanos to show her much attention. Emilia was far prettier and with her status no doubt extremely attractive to the ambitious suitor. To Sanasa, anyone who ends up with Emilia is extremely lucky. However for now Sanasa has made herself Emilia's romance bodyguard and no one was going to be with her best friend without her approval. It seemed that no one, if any, knew much about that part of their friendship. Sanasa knew she'd have Emilia do the same her for any day should such a situation arise for it. Fortunately, or unfortunately, for now Emilia was the one who had men interested in and Sanasa wasn't about to let Emilia get used or hurt.
She was not surprised when Stephanos had to ask her name. Sanasa, during the noble and royal occasions among other times, had always made it her mission to know who everyone was. In the hierarchy of royalty and nobility Sanasa wasn't that high up on it where as Stephanos and Emilia definitely were. She was better then a commoner, that was for sure. As of late though the suitors had been becoming sparse and her mother illusive when Sanasa wanted to enquire why. She didn't bother to think about it much as surely if there was a huge problem or issue or situation had arisen she would have been aware of it.
Besides, Sanasa was positive her mother was just working on getting much more bigger 'fish' as it were from other kingdoms. It was to be a surprise, she was sure. She was honestly quite excited and really wanted the surprise to come already. Of course she would get that surprise but, unfortunately, not the one she intended. For now though she was in blissful ignorance.
"I am Sanasa, your highness, from the House of Antonis."
Sanasa shared out of politeness although she refused to allow anything deeper then that to leave her lips. He didn't need to know her life story and she would keep it that way. Besides, Stephanos was with Emilia, not her, and so she'd not take anything away from Emilia even if she could which sometimes Sanasa feared she couldn't even if she wanted to.
"I hope I didn't intrude on anything."
She added, although her mind was thinking 'I hope you were being a gentlemen or else'.
Achilleas may not have had much hope of winning the race against those touched by the gods in this area, but he did wish to run the best race that he and his team was capable of. With that thought in mind, he entrusted the care of his mounts to no one but himself, checking the feet of each of his horses well before the start of the race. He’d arrived at the arena hours before the race was to begin, feeding, watering and grooming each of his new horses to ensure that they were all in peak condition.
He was letting his slave help, but as the lad was young, and the health and well being of his newly purchased steeds depended on everything being just so, Achilleas had no intention of leaving anything to chance, and would’ve found the lad’s mistake before the race. Even if the young nobleman hadn’t approached and informed him of the issue, Achilleas would’ve found it before the start of the race. “Many thanks.” He murmured, moving to fix the horse in question harness, his hands gentle even as the stranger stroked the animal's nose with an easy touch.
“You know your horses. Or should I say my horses?” Achilleas murmured back with a hint of humor in his tone, but keeping his own voice low as he finished with the harness, before looking over at Vagelis thoughtfully. “Indeed. Though you have the advantage of me, good sir." His sharp gaze took in the other man’s fine clothing then flickered past Vagelis to the guards and entourage who were milling around just behind him. He inclined his head slightly, not bowing exactly, but offering homage, “Or should I say your highness?” He wasn’t sure which of the Kotas princes stood before him, but he did know the trappings of royalty when he saw them. His cousin was a prince after all, so who else could the young man before him be but another royal?
Even if he wasn’t to be wed to the lovely Theodora of Leventi, Achilleas would have bought and raced the Leventi family’s horses, since they were truly majestic animals, bred for both beauty and speed. With enough training he had hopes that they would serve him well in battle also. And they could be bred to his other horses, improving his stock back home. Done with what he'd been doing Achilleas smiled briefly, teeth gleaming against his tanned skin, offering the prince his hand, "It's an honor to meet you your highness."
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This post was created by our staff team.
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Achilleas may not have had much hope of winning the race against those touched by the gods in this area, but he did wish to run the best race that he and his team was capable of. With that thought in mind, he entrusted the care of his mounts to no one but himself, checking the feet of each of his horses well before the start of the race. He’d arrived at the arena hours before the race was to begin, feeding, watering and grooming each of his new horses to ensure that they were all in peak condition.
He was letting his slave help, but as the lad was young, and the health and well being of his newly purchased steeds depended on everything being just so, Achilleas had no intention of leaving anything to chance, and would’ve found the lad’s mistake before the race. Even if the young nobleman hadn’t approached and informed him of the issue, Achilleas would’ve found it before the start of the race. “Many thanks.” He murmured, moving to fix the horse in question harness, his hands gentle even as the stranger stroked the animal's nose with an easy touch.
“You know your horses. Or should I say my horses?” Achilleas murmured back with a hint of humor in his tone, but keeping his own voice low as he finished with the harness, before looking over at Vagelis thoughtfully. “Indeed. Though you have the advantage of me, good sir." His sharp gaze took in the other man’s fine clothing then flickered past Vagelis to the guards and entourage who were milling around just behind him. He inclined his head slightly, not bowing exactly, but offering homage, “Or should I say your highness?” He wasn’t sure which of the Kotas princes stood before him, but he did know the trappings of royalty when he saw them. His cousin was a prince after all, so who else could the young man before him be but another royal?
Even if he wasn’t to be wed to the lovely Theodora of Leventi, Achilleas would have bought and raced the Leventi family’s horses, since they were truly majestic animals, bred for both beauty and speed. With enough training he had hopes that they would serve him well in battle also. And they could be bred to his other horses, improving his stock back home. Done with what he'd been doing Achilleas smiled briefly, teeth gleaming against his tanned skin, offering the prince his hand, "It's an honor to meet you your highness."
Achilleas may not have had much hope of winning the race against those touched by the gods in this area, but he did wish to run the best race that he and his team was capable of. With that thought in mind, he entrusted the care of his mounts to no one but himself, checking the feet of each of his horses well before the start of the race. He’d arrived at the arena hours before the race was to begin, feeding, watering and grooming each of his new horses to ensure that they were all in peak condition.
He was letting his slave help, but as the lad was young, and the health and well being of his newly purchased steeds depended on everything being just so, Achilleas had no intention of leaving anything to chance, and would’ve found the lad’s mistake before the race. Even if the young nobleman hadn’t approached and informed him of the issue, Achilleas would’ve found it before the start of the race. “Many thanks.” He murmured, moving to fix the horse in question harness, his hands gentle even as the stranger stroked the animal's nose with an easy touch.
“You know your horses. Or should I say my horses?” Achilleas murmured back with a hint of humor in his tone, but keeping his own voice low as he finished with the harness, before looking over at Vagelis thoughtfully. “Indeed. Though you have the advantage of me, good sir." His sharp gaze took in the other man’s fine clothing then flickered past Vagelis to the guards and entourage who were milling around just behind him. He inclined his head slightly, not bowing exactly, but offering homage, “Or should I say your highness?” He wasn’t sure which of the Kotas princes stood before him, but he did know the trappings of royalty when he saw them. His cousin was a prince after all, so who else could the young man before him be but another royal?
Even if he wasn’t to be wed to the lovely Theodora of Leventi, Achilleas would have bought and raced the Leventi family’s horses, since they were truly majestic animals, bred for both beauty and speed. With enough training he had hopes that they would serve him well in battle also. And they could be bred to his other horses, improving his stock back home. Done with what he'd been doing Achilleas smiled briefly, teeth gleaming against his tanned skin, offering the prince his hand, "It's an honor to meet you your highness."
Olympia had always held a fondness for horses and these chariot races had been the greatest cause of excitement for her in recent weeks as the event drew closer. It wasn't necessarily the races that she enjoyed the most, but the men and horses that caught her eyes as they paraded by. If the ones she happened to like the best won in the end, all the better, but there was no harm in going to one who had lost or come second to dab the sweat from their brow. Granted, the ones she chose rarely lost. Her bets and eyes always fell on the princes, and this year she had cause to put all of her coins on one man.
Her affair with Stephanos had been a rush, hidden with stolen moments that made her breath catch to remember. It was the complete opposite of the other, and the comparison between the two men was hardly fair given the difference between them. Granted, they were of the same blood. Perhaps it was wise of her to test the range, to see if Stephanos would be equally full of passion and stamina in his advanced years. It was all held close to her chest, kept hidden behind the slight smile that held all of her secrets from the world around her, and it would stay that way until the time was right.
Keeping her white chiton and deep read drape from the dust of the ground as she moved, Olympia scrutinized man and beast with the same judgment leveled on each, pausing briefly a distance from Stephanos and his team before carrying on as if there was nothing between them and landing instead close to another. There was little wind at the moment to disrupt her dark locks, wrapped back away from her face and hanging in curls down her back, a stillness in direct contrast to the river of energy and nervousness that was rolling beneath it as the event drew closer. Admiring the golden coat of the horse that the man with hair as pale as the mare's mane was stroking, Pia smiled as she stepped closer to them, tossing a glance back toward her lover before speaking.
"They are a beautiful team. I look forward to seeing them in motion, do you believe they will guide you well?"
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Olympia had always held a fondness for horses and these chariot races had been the greatest cause of excitement for her in recent weeks as the event drew closer. It wasn't necessarily the races that she enjoyed the most, but the men and horses that caught her eyes as they paraded by. If the ones she happened to like the best won in the end, all the better, but there was no harm in going to one who had lost or come second to dab the sweat from their brow. Granted, the ones she chose rarely lost. Her bets and eyes always fell on the princes, and this year she had cause to put all of her coins on one man.
Her affair with Stephanos had been a rush, hidden with stolen moments that made her breath catch to remember. It was the complete opposite of the other, and the comparison between the two men was hardly fair given the difference between them. Granted, they were of the same blood. Perhaps it was wise of her to test the range, to see if Stephanos would be equally full of passion and stamina in his advanced years. It was all held close to her chest, kept hidden behind the slight smile that held all of her secrets from the world around her, and it would stay that way until the time was right.
Keeping her white chiton and deep read drape from the dust of the ground as she moved, Olympia scrutinized man and beast with the same judgment leveled on each, pausing briefly a distance from Stephanos and his team before carrying on as if there was nothing between them and landing instead close to another. There was little wind at the moment to disrupt her dark locks, wrapped back away from her face and hanging in curls down her back, a stillness in direct contrast to the river of energy and nervousness that was rolling beneath it as the event drew closer. Admiring the golden coat of the horse that the man with hair as pale as the mare's mane was stroking, Pia smiled as she stepped closer to them, tossing a glance back toward her lover before speaking.
"They are a beautiful team. I look forward to seeing them in motion, do you believe they will guide you well?"
Olympia had always held a fondness for horses and these chariot races had been the greatest cause of excitement for her in recent weeks as the event drew closer. It wasn't necessarily the races that she enjoyed the most, but the men and horses that caught her eyes as they paraded by. If the ones she happened to like the best won in the end, all the better, but there was no harm in going to one who had lost or come second to dab the sweat from their brow. Granted, the ones she chose rarely lost. Her bets and eyes always fell on the princes, and this year she had cause to put all of her coins on one man.
Her affair with Stephanos had been a rush, hidden with stolen moments that made her breath catch to remember. It was the complete opposite of the other, and the comparison between the two men was hardly fair given the difference between them. Granted, they were of the same blood. Perhaps it was wise of her to test the range, to see if Stephanos would be equally full of passion and stamina in his advanced years. It was all held close to her chest, kept hidden behind the slight smile that held all of her secrets from the world around her, and it would stay that way until the time was right.
Keeping her white chiton and deep read drape from the dust of the ground as she moved, Olympia scrutinized man and beast with the same judgment leveled on each, pausing briefly a distance from Stephanos and his team before carrying on as if there was nothing between them and landing instead close to another. There was little wind at the moment to disrupt her dark locks, wrapped back away from her face and hanging in curls down her back, a stillness in direct contrast to the river of energy and nervousness that was rolling beneath it as the event drew closer. Admiring the golden coat of the horse that the man with hair as pale as the mare's mane was stroking, Pia smiled as she stepped closer to them, tossing a glance back toward her lover before speaking.
"They are a beautiful team. I look forward to seeing them in motion, do you believe they will guide you well?"
The festival was winding down, but Selene was far more excited for the races than she had been for the days prior. There was nothing she enjoyed more than watching the battle of the breeds, perched at the edge of her seat to see the action. Breath baited, hand clenched in her dress, the Leventi wouldn't miss this for anything. As proper as she may have been, she was a Leventi through and through. And any opportunity to be among some of the most prized horses in the kingdom was one that she wouldn't miss.
Dressed in a lightweight blue chiton, bloused just so with fine leather, it was obvious that who she was. The snakes wrapped around her wrists, silent with glittering eyes, were expensive pieces, perfect for the final celebration of Dionysus. She was dressed to attract a husband, and this was a perfect chance for her to do just that. Her mother had made sure that she has entered the arena looking her best. Having arrived with her father, she had been pressed close to him, whispering as they made their way through the stables to exam the horses. Her sisters had already abandoned them for other avenues, so the two kept close company. She could almost hear the clicking of her mother, like a hen, pushing her towards the prince, or any of the eligible men who would be worthy of her. But it was her and Georgios, wandering through to take one final look at the beasts before the races began.
They were moving towards their own horses, the ones that would be run by Achilleas. And, as fortune would have it, he seemed to be conversing with the prince. Her father pressed her towards the pair as he seemed to be distracted by another noble. She was never one to shy away from a chance to impress, so Selene stepped up to the two, patiently waiting for them to finish their introductions to each other before giving them a bright smile. "My lord, your highness." She gave them both a low inclination of her head, eyes dancing once she looked back up. "A fine day for a race, is it not?" Selene wasn't sure exactly what they had been talking about, but it seemed like simple pleasantries.
Why shouldn't she step up and talk to them both? After all, one was to be her brother in law, so it was perfectly acceptable for her to join in.
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The festival was winding down, but Selene was far more excited for the races than she had been for the days prior. There was nothing she enjoyed more than watching the battle of the breeds, perched at the edge of her seat to see the action. Breath baited, hand clenched in her dress, the Leventi wouldn't miss this for anything. As proper as she may have been, she was a Leventi through and through. And any opportunity to be among some of the most prized horses in the kingdom was one that she wouldn't miss.
Dressed in a lightweight blue chiton, bloused just so with fine leather, it was obvious that who she was. The snakes wrapped around her wrists, silent with glittering eyes, were expensive pieces, perfect for the final celebration of Dionysus. She was dressed to attract a husband, and this was a perfect chance for her to do just that. Her mother had made sure that she has entered the arena looking her best. Having arrived with her father, she had been pressed close to him, whispering as they made their way through the stables to exam the horses. Her sisters had already abandoned them for other avenues, so the two kept close company. She could almost hear the clicking of her mother, like a hen, pushing her towards the prince, or any of the eligible men who would be worthy of her. But it was her and Georgios, wandering through to take one final look at the beasts before the races began.
They were moving towards their own horses, the ones that would be run by Achilleas. And, as fortune would have it, he seemed to be conversing with the prince. Her father pressed her towards the pair as he seemed to be distracted by another noble. She was never one to shy away from a chance to impress, so Selene stepped up to the two, patiently waiting for them to finish their introductions to each other before giving them a bright smile. "My lord, your highness." She gave them both a low inclination of her head, eyes dancing once she looked back up. "A fine day for a race, is it not?" Selene wasn't sure exactly what they had been talking about, but it seemed like simple pleasantries.
Why shouldn't she step up and talk to them both? After all, one was to be her brother in law, so it was perfectly acceptable for her to join in.
The festival was winding down, but Selene was far more excited for the races than she had been for the days prior. There was nothing she enjoyed more than watching the battle of the breeds, perched at the edge of her seat to see the action. Breath baited, hand clenched in her dress, the Leventi wouldn't miss this for anything. As proper as she may have been, she was a Leventi through and through. And any opportunity to be among some of the most prized horses in the kingdom was one that she wouldn't miss.
Dressed in a lightweight blue chiton, bloused just so with fine leather, it was obvious that who she was. The snakes wrapped around her wrists, silent with glittering eyes, were expensive pieces, perfect for the final celebration of Dionysus. She was dressed to attract a husband, and this was a perfect chance for her to do just that. Her mother had made sure that she has entered the arena looking her best. Having arrived with her father, she had been pressed close to him, whispering as they made their way through the stables to exam the horses. Her sisters had already abandoned them for other avenues, so the two kept close company. She could almost hear the clicking of her mother, like a hen, pushing her towards the prince, or any of the eligible men who would be worthy of her. But it was her and Georgios, wandering through to take one final look at the beasts before the races began.
They were moving towards their own horses, the ones that would be run by Achilleas. And, as fortune would have it, he seemed to be conversing with the prince. Her father pressed her towards the pair as he seemed to be distracted by another noble. She was never one to shy away from a chance to impress, so Selene stepped up to the two, patiently waiting for them to finish their introductions to each other before giving them a bright smile. "My lord, your highness." She gave them both a low inclination of her head, eyes dancing once she looked back up. "A fine day for a race, is it not?" Selene wasn't sure exactly what they had been talking about, but it seemed like simple pleasantries.
Why shouldn't she step up and talk to them both? After all, one was to be her brother in law, so it was perfectly acceptable for her to join in.
With the festival and ultimately this voyage away from Colchis coming to an end, Thea took the time to soak in the last of the revelry. After a morning of indulging in sweet fruits and wine, she was well primed to attend the festivities. Men were so amusing, with all their preening and bravado at the Circus. As much as women dolled themselves up in gowns and finery to be put on display at evening events, so did the men as they adjusted their armor and wiped away the dust from the filigree on the chariots one more time.
Though technically escorted by Crown Prince Vangelis of Kotas- half out of societal and familial requirements, half out of convenience - Thea tended to drift away independently, like a leaf floating on a small pool of water, near but not too far. The heat of the day and the growing crowd pressing in around the horses started to agitate her a bit. Making her way toward Vangelis' elbow but at a personable enough distance, she peered at the horse and driver.
There were plenty of names to note here from the first night's events - several Leventis, the Prince Stephanos - some of whom she had at least made the effort to pay thanks to for the invitation before drifting away to the more eye-catching entertainment. Nethis would have loved the event, all the societal strategizing and games, but she would have missed the real point of being there - the one they were celebrating.
Reverently holding her chalice of wine, she murmured to Vangelis, "We should not tarry too long or we will lose all chance at a good view for the event."
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With the festival and ultimately this voyage away from Colchis coming to an end, Thea took the time to soak in the last of the revelry. After a morning of indulging in sweet fruits and wine, she was well primed to attend the festivities. Men were so amusing, with all their preening and bravado at the Circus. As much as women dolled themselves up in gowns and finery to be put on display at evening events, so did the men as they adjusted their armor and wiped away the dust from the filigree on the chariots one more time.
Though technically escorted by Crown Prince Vangelis of Kotas- half out of societal and familial requirements, half out of convenience - Thea tended to drift away independently, like a leaf floating on a small pool of water, near but not too far. The heat of the day and the growing crowd pressing in around the horses started to agitate her a bit. Making her way toward Vangelis' elbow but at a personable enough distance, she peered at the horse and driver.
There were plenty of names to note here from the first night's events - several Leventis, the Prince Stephanos - some of whom she had at least made the effort to pay thanks to for the invitation before drifting away to the more eye-catching entertainment. Nethis would have loved the event, all the societal strategizing and games, but she would have missed the real point of being there - the one they were celebrating.
Reverently holding her chalice of wine, she murmured to Vangelis, "We should not tarry too long or we will lose all chance at a good view for the event."
With the festival and ultimately this voyage away from Colchis coming to an end, Thea took the time to soak in the last of the revelry. After a morning of indulging in sweet fruits and wine, she was well primed to attend the festivities. Men were so amusing, with all their preening and bravado at the Circus. As much as women dolled themselves up in gowns and finery to be put on display at evening events, so did the men as they adjusted their armor and wiped away the dust from the filigree on the chariots one more time.
Though technically escorted by Crown Prince Vangelis of Kotas- half out of societal and familial requirements, half out of convenience - Thea tended to drift away independently, like a leaf floating on a small pool of water, near but not too far. The heat of the day and the growing crowd pressing in around the horses started to agitate her a bit. Making her way toward Vangelis' elbow but at a personable enough distance, she peered at the horse and driver.
There were plenty of names to note here from the first night's events - several Leventis, the Prince Stephanos - some of whom she had at least made the effort to pay thanks to for the invitation before drifting away to the more eye-catching entertainment. Nethis would have loved the event, all the societal strategizing and games, but she would have missed the real point of being there - the one they were celebrating.
Reverently holding her chalice of wine, she murmured to Vangelis, "We should not tarry too long or we will lose all chance at a good view for the event."
Emilia would've been an idiot if she said she didn't remember the male. He was bright eyed, handsome, and Emilia had always been a sucker. But protocol dictates that she did not engage, for technically they had yet to be introduced, yet Emilia being Emilia,was not one to let an infatuation or a spark of interest lie idle.
In tuned to his movements as he shifted to now stand directly in front of her, the young girl lifted her gaze to watch him from under her long lashes as he spoke, confirming her suspicions on the ownership of the horseflesh she now patted under her palm. Enjoying the satin feel and the ripple of muscles under her touch as the animals shifted restlessly, his questions made her look up again, and a soft laugh passed her lips at his self-mockery. "Not entirely no.We've... always had our rides prepared for us." Emilia said off-handedly, hiding an impish smile. "Perks of a princess, you know."
She's heard of the flitting rumor to the heir to the Mikaedilas family, but had always brushed it aside as a silly joke. Hearing his own brothersay it however, had Emilia raising a curious eyebrow, although she let the comment slide as Sanasa came running up.
Usually in private, Emilia would brush off Sanasa's courtly manners. Yet in the eye of the public, she knew Persephone would frown against her acting so casually. So keeping in mind her sister's warnings to act with gravity as she now held the name of the royal family of Athenia with her in attendance of the festival, she merely gave a nod when her best friend came running, and shook her head with a wry smile at her best friends obvious hidden message from the way she looked at Stephanos.
How did she manage to get surrounded by so many overprotective people?
"Of course not, Lady Sanasa. We were merely having a... chat." Emilia smiled up at Stephanos again, and took two steps back, before giving a short curtsy, finally figuring she should introduced herself. "Princess Emilia of Athenia, a pleasure to meet you, Prince Stephanos." she paused, and looked as more people came with their chariots and horses. "I think we should leave you to your race now? Looks like it will start soon, and I would hate to hold you up."
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Emilia would've been an idiot if she said she didn't remember the male. He was bright eyed, handsome, and Emilia had always been a sucker. But protocol dictates that she did not engage, for technically they had yet to be introduced, yet Emilia being Emilia,was not one to let an infatuation or a spark of interest lie idle.
In tuned to his movements as he shifted to now stand directly in front of her, the young girl lifted her gaze to watch him from under her long lashes as he spoke, confirming her suspicions on the ownership of the horseflesh she now patted under her palm. Enjoying the satin feel and the ripple of muscles under her touch as the animals shifted restlessly, his questions made her look up again, and a soft laugh passed her lips at his self-mockery. "Not entirely no.We've... always had our rides prepared for us." Emilia said off-handedly, hiding an impish smile. "Perks of a princess, you know."
She's heard of the flitting rumor to the heir to the Mikaedilas family, but had always brushed it aside as a silly joke. Hearing his own brothersay it however, had Emilia raising a curious eyebrow, although she let the comment slide as Sanasa came running up.
Usually in private, Emilia would brush off Sanasa's courtly manners. Yet in the eye of the public, she knew Persephone would frown against her acting so casually. So keeping in mind her sister's warnings to act with gravity as she now held the name of the royal family of Athenia with her in attendance of the festival, she merely gave a nod when her best friend came running, and shook her head with a wry smile at her best friends obvious hidden message from the way she looked at Stephanos.
How did she manage to get surrounded by so many overprotective people?
"Of course not, Lady Sanasa. We were merely having a... chat." Emilia smiled up at Stephanos again, and took two steps back, before giving a short curtsy, finally figuring she should introduced herself. "Princess Emilia of Athenia, a pleasure to meet you, Prince Stephanos." she paused, and looked as more people came with their chariots and horses. "I think we should leave you to your race now? Looks like it will start soon, and I would hate to hold you up."
Emilia would've been an idiot if she said she didn't remember the male. He was bright eyed, handsome, and Emilia had always been a sucker. But protocol dictates that she did not engage, for technically they had yet to be introduced, yet Emilia being Emilia,was not one to let an infatuation or a spark of interest lie idle.
In tuned to his movements as he shifted to now stand directly in front of her, the young girl lifted her gaze to watch him from under her long lashes as he spoke, confirming her suspicions on the ownership of the horseflesh she now patted under her palm. Enjoying the satin feel and the ripple of muscles under her touch as the animals shifted restlessly, his questions made her look up again, and a soft laugh passed her lips at his self-mockery. "Not entirely no.We've... always had our rides prepared for us." Emilia said off-handedly, hiding an impish smile. "Perks of a princess, you know."
She's heard of the flitting rumor to the heir to the Mikaedilas family, but had always brushed it aside as a silly joke. Hearing his own brothersay it however, had Emilia raising a curious eyebrow, although she let the comment slide as Sanasa came running up.
Usually in private, Emilia would brush off Sanasa's courtly manners. Yet in the eye of the public, she knew Persephone would frown against her acting so casually. So keeping in mind her sister's warnings to act with gravity as she now held the name of the royal family of Athenia with her in attendance of the festival, she merely gave a nod when her best friend came running, and shook her head with a wry smile at her best friends obvious hidden message from the way she looked at Stephanos.
How did she manage to get surrounded by so many overprotective people?
"Of course not, Lady Sanasa. We were merely having a... chat." Emilia smiled up at Stephanos again, and took two steps back, before giving a short curtsy, finally figuring she should introduced herself. "Princess Emilia of Athenia, a pleasure to meet you, Prince Stephanos." she paused, and looked as more people came with their chariots and horses. "I think we should leave you to your race now? Looks like it will start soon, and I would hate to hold you up."
