It had been harder than Vasia had anticipated, slipping out of the archontiko. Of course, where usually her father would be swept up in work, it was a cruel game of Até that the man had instead been lingering around the house paying far too much attention to what his daughter was up to. Vasia had made three passes by his study to see if he had yet left before eventually giving up and announcing that she was going shopping for ribbon. Who could ever have enough ribbons? Never mind that the blonde girl was not really given to getting lost in girlish adornments, it was far enough from Lacides’ sphere of expertise that she knew he would not question it.

Her maid had been sworn to secrecy,and Vasia trusted the woman well enough, and so the girl, clutching a folded missive close to her chest, had taken the carriage to the Naos of Themis. Objectively to satisfy her curiosity about the old gods, the Antonis girl left her lady’s maid busy with her embroidery in the carriage, whilst the young woman disembarked and approached the quiet, almost forgotten temple.

Her skin prickled with excitement - not out of some misplaced piety, but because of who she was here to meet. Leonides. Her brother. Well of a sort. Vasia had been as shocked as anyone when news of the boy had emerged, living evidence of a misstep her father would ever have had them know. Had anybody know, truly. And she too had felt some stirring of anger at the betrayal of their dear sweet mother. That was natural, expected.

But Vasia was not angry at this boy, this boy who had plucked up enough courage to try and speak to his father, despite what a stern man Lacides of Antonis was meant to be. And when word had gotten out that her father had send his bastard son away without even having the decency to face him… Vasia had felt the injustice of it, and it had been all the excuse she needed. Not that it had been hard to reach out to the boy, just a missive sent on to the home of his mother, her own Aunt’s former retainer. She had worded her letter carefully, because she had to be clear that she was not acting on behalf of the Dynasteia Antonis. Her Father, her brothers. They would not have been pleased to know of her writing to Leonides. But Vasia could not hold the sin of their father against this poor boy who had only wanted to know where he’d come from.

Long, elegant fingers clutched the return missive she had received. It was poorly worded, Leonidas clearly had not benefited from the education she had been lucky enough to be given, but it had said enough. A time, a day , a place. And Vasia’s heart thrilled with the excitement of it. Her footsteps seemed loud upon the cool stone, the girl walked quickly and purposefully forward, eyes keen and bright as she looked about her for one that might be her kin. What would he be like? Would he have a look of her father about him? Would he look like Patros? They were not so different in age, after all.

In spite of her nerves, Vasia did not doubt the rightness in this decision of hers. She wanted to know Leonidas, and he deserved to be able to ask what questions he might have about his family, even if he could not openly claim them. She drew reassurance from her conviction. And perhaps also from the knife she had bound to her thigh, just in case.

As it turned out, it was not hard to spot the writer of the letter she clasped. There was no one else about save for the figure of a young man, still gawkish with youth, and Vasia stopped and cleared her throat, waiting for him to turn.

“Leonidas? It is Leonidas isn’t it?” She realised then that she was not quite sure how to greet him, and so gave a polite dip of her head, before smiling graciously. “ I am so glad that you came.”