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The explosion of talk from inside the senate had been enough to set the man on edge. Stravos had been dethroned in an impromptu trial that no noble family had seen coming. That alone was enough to talk about in large droves. It was a wonder that Keikelius had even been able to look his own wife and daughter in the eye. A sharp snapping of jaws had ensured that Elias rode back with the family in one single carriage.
Keikelius hard hardly spoken since the Senate meeting had completed. The Master of Trade had smiled, nodded, and given his vote without skipping a single beat. All in good faith and with promise of no treachery from him or his royal wife. The thought had settled in the back of his mind that Princess Circenia would be most affected by the loss of lands and titles. The moment the words had left his niece's mouth, Keikelius had started to count his lucky stars that Circenia would not add to the precarious nature of their sudden, lowered position.
His wife had a temper that could burn bridges and raze entire cities to the ground. This temperament had been entirely and completely alluring to Keikelius when the match had been made between Xanthos and Stravos. Despite Keikelius' ambitions, the hope had been to foster some warm and strong connection between the two powerful families. Clearly, Keikelius had failed his family in that regard. Better, his own son had broken down each and every bridge that Keiklius had spent his entire life building between his family and the others around them.
Staring out the side of the carriage that carried Elias, Chara, and Circenia, Keikelius only vaguely wondered where his other daughter had gotten off to. There had been some mention that the girl had run off upon arrival, to which Keikelius truly couldn't give the energy to worry. There were bigger things to worry about than the flippant nature of his youngest child. The horse that Keikelius had ridden to the Senate meeting trailed quietly behind, having been attached to the back of the carriage.
Lifting his gaze, Keikelius silently observed the sky above them. The bright blue hue was somewhat cheery for Keikelius' tastes. He still preferred the clouded skies and winded high seas to the clear sunshine that had graced them on this day. It was as if the gods were laughing at the misfortune of the House of Stravos. Now dissolved in the wake of the quiet treachery of his eldest son.
Keikelius brought his hand up to his lips, trailing his thumb under the curve of his bottom lip. Falling deeper into his thoughts, his mind raced from thought to thought and plan to plan. How did they fix what his ballsy, mistempered heir had broken? It wasn't the same as patching the hull of a ship or mending a chiton. If the assertions of the Princess had been true, which Keikelius was inclined to believe, then there would be little that could be done by way of deals and agreements.
If Elias had truly committed treason, there was little that anyone could do to save the Stravos family from ruin. And ruin was to come with the sudden loss of lands, taxes, and business that had been removed from their grasp in a few simple words. Still, Keikelius' expression didn't shift from the usual mask of boredom and silent contempt for everything going on around him. The carriage was eerily quiet. Even Chara had found that now was not the time to launch into conversation that no one would pay proper attention to.
Keikelius briefly recalled the events of his young life. Karkos of Stravos had been a tough force to reckon with. Add in the fact that Karkos had liked to raise his hand to his son when the young man slipped up in his own dealings, and Keikelius had endured a number of factors that had shaped his entire person when coupled with his military service and business experience. It had happened so many times and so often that it had become a normal feeling for Keikelius. The bruises under his tunics and chitons had been easy to hide, and even if they hadn’t, most had attributed it to boyish clumsiness, and then later to a test of strength and meddle with his military training.
One moment, in particular, stood out to Keikelius, however. The man had been fourteen at the time and the words that had come out of his mouth at a particular business meeting had earned him a number of licks with the whip. The failure and loss of a business prospect never sat well with Karkos and it had been vital that Keikelius recall his mistakes. So that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t find himself so foolish ever again. For the moment, Keikelius could recall clearly the feeling of leather striking his skin. He shifted in the seat of the carriage, pretending that he was simply settling into a more comfortable position.
Never had Keikelius been forced to make such an example of Elias. His had had never been forced in that direction, with any of his children. Keikelius liked to think that his sharp tongue and idle threats had been enough. He honestly thought that he had trained Elias better. The passing of his position as the head of house had been a symbol of good faith and trust in his son as Keikelius moved to take a higher position that suited his experience and ambitions. Not to mention, he had had every intention of keeping his son under his thumb. But this situation was absolutely abhorrent.
He briefly recalled the threat that Elias had thrown at the princess before he had been escorted out of the senate.
‘Watch your back, Princess. This isn’t over yet.’
Elias had even had the balls to threaten a member of immediate royalty. And the thought had only served to make Keikelius tense as he’d let his gaze bore into the back of his only son, flanked on both sides by guards instructed to remove the Stravos family from the Senate meeting. He had been granted his ability to remain, his title as Master of Trade superseding any title of, or lack thereof, nobility. It had been clear that a few senators had been none too keen on the idea of Keikelius being able to remain. Already, Keikelius knew, there would be rumors that father and son had been working together to take down the royal family by way of treason. An entire untruth, surely, but one that would spread like wildfire.
Even his queen of gossip and information would be no match for the vile words of courtiers and senators, for servants and civilians. Keikelius had to drop his gaze from the sky just to keep his lip from curling in utter disgust. The facade of calm and poise remained despite the annoying jostle of the carriage and the uncomfortable silence that had befallen the entire family.
It seemed, however, that Chara had suddenly found her voice. “Papa?” the woman questioned boldly, watching her father with a mildly resigned expression. “What is to happen now that we’ve been stripped of our nobility?”
His daughter was asking the real questions, it seemed. And truth be told, Keikelius didn’t actually know. Still, he couldn’t leave her with nothing at all. “We’ve lost our titles and our lands,” Keikelius noted calmly, dark gaze fixed on his eldest child, “This means we will earn no taxes from our tenants or the provinces’ business dealings. We no longer hold any land, so our wood supply for building ships have been removed from our inventories. In addition, we will no longer make anything off much of what our business was exporting. It is likely that the noble families can, and will choose every non-Stravos ship possible to use to ferry their goods. Our ports would have been stripped from us were they not the property of our personal business. We hold our wealth from our personal business, but that will only take us so far without bankrupting us. Should we find ships damaged or unfit to sail, the cost of repairs alone will eat at our coffers. Our only true saving grace is that our ports will still garner taxes,” Keikelius’ voice didn’t waver. In truth, the man sounded nothing but normal and matter-of-fact. There was no use in sugarcoating the entire fact that the Stravos were now penniless and bankrupt.
Elias had seen to that.
Chara seemed to flinch, turning her gaze away from the family to glance out the carriage, clearly frustrated by the course of events. There had been hopes of an advantageous marriage for the beauty. Especially on the part of her father. His own little princess deserved only the best and had King Minas had any male heirs, Keikelius would have long offered Chara’s hand to the crown prince. If anything, Chara had the most sense of both her siblings despite her overall nature. At this point, Keikelius would have been pleased to have solidified any marriage at all for her. It would have saved her the disgrace of losing her title due to her brother’s own misplaced ambitions.
Elias hadn’t simply bankrupted the family. Suddenly, any chances of his siblings, and even Elias himself, marrying well were off the table. Very few would associate with the Stravos and the cost of a dowry for one or both of Keikelius’ daughters would only further their despondency. His little girls would be forced to marry lower than their true status, and that alone was enough to start the kindling fires of anger in the pit of the man’s stomach. None of them deserved what had been handed to them at that Senate meeting. Elias, sure. Had Princess Persephone not stripped the family of their nobility, Keikelius would have petitioned to strip Elias of his without a second thought.
The boy was too rash. And he was just that, a boy. And he would remain a boy in Keikelius’ eyes until he showed some sense of maturity that was clearly lacking in all regards. His son had the looks and the grace, but Keikelius wasn’t convinced he truly had the intelligence to keep his mouth shut and his hands out of things they didn’t belong in, especially when it counted. Had Elias truly wanted to advocate for the throne, there were a number of different, less destructive means in which to take it. Whether Elias’ actions were true or false in the eyes of the Senate, little mattered now.
All was said and all was done.
Keikelius let his gaze rest on his son for a single moment, only giving a slight nod of acknowledgment. It was enough to give Elias a sense of peace. A sense that he was being let off, once again, with few consequences for his actions. Perhaps the loss of his titles was enough of a punishment. Perhaps Elias would see it that way. The punishment fit the crime, surely. But the punishment still didn’t fit the crimes that the ladies of the Stravos house had not committed. The family was punished for the sins of the son and that only added to the licking fire that seemed to curl up along his limbs now.
Gods, the carriage needed to move faster.
Falling entirely silent, Keikelius went back to watching the world move outside of their carriage. Already, he needed to figure out how to keep the family afloat financially. Would they have to sell their large manor? The barony house in Lyncestia? Would they have to sell horses, ships, art? And what would happen with Circenia?
That fear struck harder than he had expected it to. Circenia had married him for his wealth, and while the two had eventually fallen for each other… Keikelius shifted once more. There was a precarious balance that had been struck between him and his wife. She was able to spend to her heart’s content because they had had the means. And now? Now they couldn’t spend more than was absolutely necessary if they didn’t want to be living on the streets within a few months. Of course, Keikelius was to worry about the strain this loss was going to put on his relationship with his wife. He could only hope that her love for him ran deeper than her love for his wealth. Former wealth. To her, he could have just become nothing but a penniless lowborn man with little clout name save for the title he still health in the senate.
Not to mention that the loss would now affect his ability to do his job. The reputation he held had been smashed to pieces.
It was with that thought that the carriage came to a sudden halt in front of the manor. Taking a sobering breath, Keikelius rose from the carriage, stepping down onto solid ground. He was careful to help Chara down, keeping a firm hold on her and ensuring that she didn’t twist anything. Keikelius even went so far as to straighten a fold of her gorgeous chiton. Giving a small, gentle smile, he touched her chin affectionately before letting go and putting his focus on Circenia. He felt somber as he helped his wife down out of the carriage, his hands on her waist. He took a moment to lock eyes with her, trying to convey that they would be alright. He hadn’t worked out the minutiae of the entire situation, but that would take a few days to properly sort and assess. For now, he simply needed her to remain calm and firm in the face of their sudden adversity. That was truly all he was going to ask of her, if you didn’t count her staying as far from her brother as possible. Keikelius knew his wife’s temper enough to know that, if given the chance, she would leave a path of destruction in her wake.
There was a brief moment where Keikelius allowed his daughter and his wife to go ahead, waiting for Elias to descend from the carriage and join him on the ground. Keeping his hands at his sides, Keikelius turned and started to follow the ladies into the home, ensuring that Elias remained close behind him. The man paid absolutely no mind to the servants who were waiting there. No doubt they would hear the news shortly. No doubt many of them would be let go in an attempt to save the family a few drachmae. Good. He didn’t really care for a few of them anyway. Useless was what they were.
Just days before Circenia had been begging to fire a few of them. Keikelius wasn’t sure that the pretense under which their staff would be removed would truly be what she was hoping for, however.
Striding into the home and into the initial, warm living space, Keikelius glanced once at Circenia and Chara as they lingered by a table of food that had been spread out for their lunch. The table was spread with a hearty assortment of plums, figs, dates, olives, cheeses, breads, mutton, and fresh venison. The food had been placed neatly on expensive metal tableware, looking like something out of an art piece. The table had been covered with delicate crimson fabric edged with gold embroidery. Various pitchers of liquid were settled at one corner, accompanied by five goblets. One for each member of the Stravos family.
Reaching for one, Keikelius silently poured Circenia a glass of summer wine and passed it off to her. He poured a second for Chara and then glanced about the table of food. Sustenance wasn’t really on his list of priorities. The pause was meant to let him bide his time. To let him quell the increasing, agitating feeling of rage that had clung to him ever since he’d watched Elias as he was escorted from the Senate. Reaching over, he took an olive between large fingers, popping it into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully as he glanced back toward the wine.
It was eerily quiet and Keikelius could only imagine why. The tension in the air was almost palpable, but Keikelius still hadn’t addressed the entire situation. If anything, there was an air of assumption that Elias was going to meet no trouble whatsoever. Keikelius had half a mind to let that notion hang in the air and along Elias’ shoulders.
But Keikelius truly wasn’t that type of man. The businessman hadn’t made a name for himself in being brutal and without mercy for absolutely nothing. There were things Keikelius had done under the noses of his own family that would likely shock, awe, and terrify all at once. Besides, Keikelius truly wasn’t in the mood to toy with his son in the way he might have deserved. No, he wanted to build that air of confidence between them. That while the worst had truly happened, things could still be mended. LIke a blacksmith mending a broken blade. The Stravos still wouldn’t falter under the weight of their sentence.
Pouring himself a glass of the same summer wine, the Stravos man knocked the liquid back all at once, taking not even a breath to enjoy the liquid. Instead, he enjoyed the burn as it trailed down into the pit of his stomach, turning the roaring fire into a raging inferno. Taking yet another goblet, Keikelius filled it with wine and turned toward his son, approaching him slowly. He passed the cup off to Elias with a slight nod, moving back to the table to pour himself yet another glass.
Finally, he spoke to Elias, entirely ignoring the fact that his daughter and wife were in the room. “A valiant effort today, Elias,” he conceded, lifting his cup as if to give a toast. Whether Elias would drink the wine or not had yet to be seen and Keikelius truly paid no mind to little movements such as those. Instead, he fixed his son with a placid gaze and approached him. “How about a toast, Elias? To new paths and new beginnings and to our new position,” the corners of his lips even turned up into an interested smile, dark eyes alight with the promise of his words. Shaking his head, the smile still not leaving his face, he clapped Elias on the shoulder as he took a large swig of his wine.
Motioning one of the lingering servants over, he discarded the goblet into the woman’s hands with a slight nod. Turning his attention back to Elias.
There was literally no warning, no pretense, to Keikelius movements. The father’s grip suddenly tightened on Elias’ shoulder, almost in an effort to dig his fingers in. Surely, if he’d been something akin to a lion, Keikelius would have shredded the fabric of the man’s garb. Then he was moving swiftly, slightly crouched as, with his full strength, his fist connected with Elias’ stomach in an effort to knock all of the breath from his son’s lungs. Knowing just what it felt like to be punched so hard, Keikelius shifted himself to stand taller, holding a stunned, limp Elias against his shoulder.
Keikelius ignored the shriek of Chara from his side. The servant even reeled back with wide eyes, dropping the cup of wine onto the floor in front of her.
Rage lacing every word, Keikelius threaded his fingers into his son’s hair then, gripping it tight as he pulled Elias’ head back to look at him. The man could have vomited, Keikelius didn’t really care about that right then. Instead, he fixed his son with a sharp, venomous gaze. “The next time you pull a stunt like that, my son, I will lay your entrails out on the floor of this room and watch as the light leaves your eyes. And I’ll go to the hangman's noose delighted that I rid myself of the disgrace to my name, my father’s name, and my grandfather’s name.”
Without another word, Keikelius was dropping his son into a heap on the floor, listening to the struggle that came with attempting to get your breath after a hit such as that. Gritting his teeth, his features twisted with a rage that no one in the family had ever seen, Keikelius glared down at his son, the trembling of his hands the only sign that he was, in fact, reigning in the urge to simply cut Elias’ throat and be done with it. There would be little coming back from a disgrace such as the one that Elias had forced onto his family, and Keikelius would have happily greeted Hades without a second thought if it meant that he could have quelled the entirety of the events hot on their trail.
“Circenia, Chara,” Keikelius said very carefully, “I think it best you leave Elias and I alone,” his voice wavered only the slightest bit, carefully reigned anger edging a slight bite to his words. “Now.” He didn’t wait for either woman to leave, his glare still remaining rigid on the form of his son on the floor before him. That brief, hot flash of memory. The life of a soldier had been frigid, damning his already brutal and dangerous tendencies to a furtherment that only his stoic composure and calm demeanor could contain.
Letting out a sharp, shallow breath, Keikelius turned away sharply, stalking toward the table of food. No, it wasn’t enough to curb the anger. He’d bloodied men for far less. But this was his son and the extent of his power only went so far. The boy was a grown man and was considerably younger than Keikelius himself. Any further blows, regardless of the desire to keep Elias gasping in a heap, would be met with firm resistance. Bracing his hands against the table, he bowed his head, his shoulders tense, his body ready to spring into action at the slightest movement.
Desperate to find purchase on something, fingers gripped at the crimson tablecloth, shifting the plates slightly on the table while Keikelius worked on calming his own breathing. His own temper. There was much to be done, still. There was much to situate and sort and organize. It became a low chant in his mind. Calm resolve. Even breaths. Loss of sight with absolutely no sense of feeling. That was what he needed at that moment. Briefly, he pictured the calming hands of his wife, attempting to find anything to cling to that would end the sharp tang of rage still palpating the air.
And it didn’t subside. If anything, the rage grew into a firm burning. The thought of everything lost in just a few words of his idiot child. A child for all intents and purpose. A petulant bastard that he’d suddenly started to wish hadn’t made it to term. He would have had no heir if the only future presented to them had been this one. He would have rather seen the child born still for all the hell Elias had caused Keikelius. Forty years of work. Of Keikelius’ own blood and sweat and persistent resolve. The Stravos had been strong with Karkos. But they hadn’t flourished in the same way that Keikelius’ rule had encouraged. His slow ascent to power had been all of his doing. His marriage to Circenia had been a suggestion of his father, but he had no more stated something Keikelius already knew than he had stated the fact of the sky being blue. Plans, trade agreements, massive conglomerations, and takeovers. Land he had earned by marriage and right, money and taxes that he was entitled to for the years of service he had put into nurturing provinces…
Gone.
All because of the words of an arrogant, insolent, mediocre heir.
The rage and frustration bubbled over into a second terrifying display. With a sharp growl of fury, the table of food and wine crashed to the floor, fruit rolling across the stone and disappearing into different corners of the room. Wine, water, and milk beaded against rugs and the stone floor. The falling table set off a chain reaction, a large standing vase shattering to the floor across the path to the halls and the rest of the manor’s rooms.
Turning sharply on his heel, Keikelius faced Elias once more. “Do you have any idea what you have cost us, Elias? Everything that you have cost us, cost me? Your mother? Your sisters? Do you have any idea where your insolence and recklessness has left us?” Keikelius’ voice rose higher, louder, angrier with each word. “Forty years of work, Elias. Forty years of my own hard work because you found it wise to sink Athenian ships and cost the country money? Forty years plus the years of toil your grandfather and his father put in to make Stravos what it is? And you piss it away in an impulsive and reckless grab for the crown? I never taught you to be reckless, Elias,” Keikelius snapped sharply.
“I like to think that I taught you patience and diligence. We all wanted you on the throne but not at the cost of the family,” the Stravos man continued, taking a threatening step forward once more. “You have cost this family nearly everything we had. You’ve cost your mother her status. You’ve cost your sisters advantageous marriages and any chance of marrying upward. You’ve buried our name so far out at sea that the fucking Kracken won’t touch us! Leave it!” Keikelius suddenly snapped at the rush of servants that ran into the room, starting to try and clean up the mess.
“Leave it or you’re all fired.”
The scrambling, rushing of feet out of the room was like music to his ears. Keikelius’ gaze still hadn’t been torn from Elias. Nostrils flaring, Keikelius rubbed sharply at his chin and then his temple, working on finding another calming breath. Just one. Just one more and he wouldn’t ravage the remainder of the parlor. “But you know what, Elias?” Keikelius continued, “You’re going to fix this. All of it. You’re going to pay for every owl you have lost this family. You are going to pay for every ship, every single loss of cargo from here on out.” The man slowly crouched in front of his son, trying to meet him eye to eye. “You’re going to fix this mess that you made or I will ensure that you never see a glimpse of that crown in your lifetime,” he said darkly, his voice almost nothing but a sharp hiss.
“Because I will make good on my word, Elias. I am not a man of lies and idle threats. You will pick yourself up off of this floor and you will find a way to repair the damage you have brought upon this family. Even if that means you bribe and steal your way into advantageous marriages with deep coffers for your sisters. Even if it means you earn not a drachmae for your trouble. You’re an intelligent man, Elias. I’m sure you can see your options spread out before you. Do what you have to do, but you have two options open to you,” Keikelius warned, moving his hands slightly out to either side in order to simulate the movement of a scale.
“You took the title as the head of this house, Elias, but this is still my domain. You think you’re the only one with deep, dark connections? You will either ensure that our titles are once more secured or you will find yourself in a watery grave so far out to sea that even Poseidon will never be able to claim your body. And if you come across the crown in the process, congratulations. But as of now, you owe me a debt that I will not release until every single owl is in my pocket,” Keikelius continued to hiss, dark eyes full of threats of a stormy ocean and suffocating depths that even Elias would never be able to escape. “Do with that what you will, Elias. Have I made myself clear?” the man noted with sharply clenched teeth, ready to strike his son a second time should he find it proper to come back at Keikelius with any sort of talk that was not ‘Yes, sir.’
And he would not be satisfied until he heard the words of affirmation from Elias’ mouth. Rising slowly to his feet, he didn’t bother to shake out the ache in his hand. It was pleasant considering the pain’s source. Keikelius turned from Elias once more, moving across the floor to pick up the last goblet, Danae’s, that had been discarded onto the floor in his fury. With it firmly in hand, he grasped one of the metal pitchers, lifting it up and silently delighting to see there was a cup or two worth of wine still in the bottom. Pouring himself a third glass of the liquid, he knocked it back sharply, taking his time in once more savoring the burn.
He would wait, too. He would wait until Elias said something. Anything at all. And then he would make further reparations for Elias’ actions. There was a thin line of patience that would be tread until Elias did exactly as his father had said. Keikelius would not take an argument. Not after Elias had single-handedly thrown his own family to the wolves. Whether or not that crown settled in his lap or not, Keikelius would not accept anything else but his every demand, lest the Kingdom wanted to find a dead monarch sound asleep on his throne.
And Keikelius had been as truthful as they come. He would settle, nor would he truly rest until Elias had mended all that he had broken and paid his debts. There was no doubt in his mind that the consequences of not doing such things were far too high for even Elias to consider enduring.
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The explosion of talk from inside the senate had been enough to set the man on edge. Stravos had been dethroned in an impromptu trial that no noble family had seen coming. That alone was enough to talk about in large droves. It was a wonder that Keikelius had even been able to look his own wife and daughter in the eye. A sharp snapping of jaws had ensured that Elias rode back with the family in one single carriage.
Keikelius hard hardly spoken since the Senate meeting had completed. The Master of Trade had smiled, nodded, and given his vote without skipping a single beat. All in good faith and with promise of no treachery from him or his royal wife. The thought had settled in the back of his mind that Princess Circenia would be most affected by the loss of lands and titles. The moment the words had left his niece's mouth, Keikelius had started to count his lucky stars that Circenia would not add to the precarious nature of their sudden, lowered position.
His wife had a temper that could burn bridges and raze entire cities to the ground. This temperament had been entirely and completely alluring to Keikelius when the match had been made between Xanthos and Stravos. Despite Keikelius' ambitions, the hope had been to foster some warm and strong connection between the two powerful families. Clearly, Keikelius had failed his family in that regard. Better, his own son had broken down each and every bridge that Keiklius had spent his entire life building between his family and the others around them.
Staring out the side of the carriage that carried Elias, Chara, and Circenia, Keikelius only vaguely wondered where his other daughter had gotten off to. There had been some mention that the girl had run off upon arrival, to which Keikelius truly couldn't give the energy to worry. There were bigger things to worry about than the flippant nature of his youngest child. The horse that Keikelius had ridden to the Senate meeting trailed quietly behind, having been attached to the back of the carriage.
Lifting his gaze, Keikelius silently observed the sky above them. The bright blue hue was somewhat cheery for Keikelius' tastes. He still preferred the clouded skies and winded high seas to the clear sunshine that had graced them on this day. It was as if the gods were laughing at the misfortune of the House of Stravos. Now dissolved in the wake of the quiet treachery of his eldest son.
Keikelius brought his hand up to his lips, trailing his thumb under the curve of his bottom lip. Falling deeper into his thoughts, his mind raced from thought to thought and plan to plan. How did they fix what his ballsy, mistempered heir had broken? It wasn't the same as patching the hull of a ship or mending a chiton. If the assertions of the Princess had been true, which Keikelius was inclined to believe, then there would be little that could be done by way of deals and agreements.
If Elias had truly committed treason, there was little that anyone could do to save the Stravos family from ruin. And ruin was to come with the sudden loss of lands, taxes, and business that had been removed from their grasp in a few simple words. Still, Keikelius' expression didn't shift from the usual mask of boredom and silent contempt for everything going on around him. The carriage was eerily quiet. Even Chara had found that now was not the time to launch into conversation that no one would pay proper attention to.
Keikelius briefly recalled the events of his young life. Karkos of Stravos had been a tough force to reckon with. Add in the fact that Karkos had liked to raise his hand to his son when the young man slipped up in his own dealings, and Keikelius had endured a number of factors that had shaped his entire person when coupled with his military service and business experience. It had happened so many times and so often that it had become a normal feeling for Keikelius. The bruises under his tunics and chitons had been easy to hide, and even if they hadn’t, most had attributed it to boyish clumsiness, and then later to a test of strength and meddle with his military training.
One moment, in particular, stood out to Keikelius, however. The man had been fourteen at the time and the words that had come out of his mouth at a particular business meeting had earned him a number of licks with the whip. The failure and loss of a business prospect never sat well with Karkos and it had been vital that Keikelius recall his mistakes. So that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t find himself so foolish ever again. For the moment, Keikelius could recall clearly the feeling of leather striking his skin. He shifted in the seat of the carriage, pretending that he was simply settling into a more comfortable position.
Never had Keikelius been forced to make such an example of Elias. His had had never been forced in that direction, with any of his children. Keikelius liked to think that his sharp tongue and idle threats had been enough. He honestly thought that he had trained Elias better. The passing of his position as the head of house had been a symbol of good faith and trust in his son as Keikelius moved to take a higher position that suited his experience and ambitions. Not to mention, he had had every intention of keeping his son under his thumb. But this situation was absolutely abhorrent.
He briefly recalled the threat that Elias had thrown at the princess before he had been escorted out of the senate.
‘Watch your back, Princess. This isn’t over yet.’
Elias had even had the balls to threaten a member of immediate royalty. And the thought had only served to make Keikelius tense as he’d let his gaze bore into the back of his only son, flanked on both sides by guards instructed to remove the Stravos family from the Senate meeting. He had been granted his ability to remain, his title as Master of Trade superseding any title of, or lack thereof, nobility. It had been clear that a few senators had been none too keen on the idea of Keikelius being able to remain. Already, Keikelius knew, there would be rumors that father and son had been working together to take down the royal family by way of treason. An entire untruth, surely, but one that would spread like wildfire.
Even his queen of gossip and information would be no match for the vile words of courtiers and senators, for servants and civilians. Keikelius had to drop his gaze from the sky just to keep his lip from curling in utter disgust. The facade of calm and poise remained despite the annoying jostle of the carriage and the uncomfortable silence that had befallen the entire family.
It seemed, however, that Chara had suddenly found her voice. “Papa?” the woman questioned boldly, watching her father with a mildly resigned expression. “What is to happen now that we’ve been stripped of our nobility?”
His daughter was asking the real questions, it seemed. And truth be told, Keikelius didn’t actually know. Still, he couldn’t leave her with nothing at all. “We’ve lost our titles and our lands,” Keikelius noted calmly, dark gaze fixed on his eldest child, “This means we will earn no taxes from our tenants or the provinces’ business dealings. We no longer hold any land, so our wood supply for building ships have been removed from our inventories. In addition, we will no longer make anything off much of what our business was exporting. It is likely that the noble families can, and will choose every non-Stravos ship possible to use to ferry their goods. Our ports would have been stripped from us were they not the property of our personal business. We hold our wealth from our personal business, but that will only take us so far without bankrupting us. Should we find ships damaged or unfit to sail, the cost of repairs alone will eat at our coffers. Our only true saving grace is that our ports will still garner taxes,” Keikelius’ voice didn’t waver. In truth, the man sounded nothing but normal and matter-of-fact. There was no use in sugarcoating the entire fact that the Stravos were now penniless and bankrupt.
Elias had seen to that.
Chara seemed to flinch, turning her gaze away from the family to glance out the carriage, clearly frustrated by the course of events. There had been hopes of an advantageous marriage for the beauty. Especially on the part of her father. His own little princess deserved only the best and had King Minas had any male heirs, Keikelius would have long offered Chara’s hand to the crown prince. If anything, Chara had the most sense of both her siblings despite her overall nature. At this point, Keikelius would have been pleased to have solidified any marriage at all for her. It would have saved her the disgrace of losing her title due to her brother’s own misplaced ambitions.
Elias hadn’t simply bankrupted the family. Suddenly, any chances of his siblings, and even Elias himself, marrying well were off the table. Very few would associate with the Stravos and the cost of a dowry for one or both of Keikelius’ daughters would only further their despondency. His little girls would be forced to marry lower than their true status, and that alone was enough to start the kindling fires of anger in the pit of the man’s stomach. None of them deserved what had been handed to them at that Senate meeting. Elias, sure. Had Princess Persephone not stripped the family of their nobility, Keikelius would have petitioned to strip Elias of his without a second thought.
The boy was too rash. And he was just that, a boy. And he would remain a boy in Keikelius’ eyes until he showed some sense of maturity that was clearly lacking in all regards. His son had the looks and the grace, but Keikelius wasn’t convinced he truly had the intelligence to keep his mouth shut and his hands out of things they didn’t belong in, especially when it counted. Had Elias truly wanted to advocate for the throne, there were a number of different, less destructive means in which to take it. Whether Elias’ actions were true or false in the eyes of the Senate, little mattered now.
All was said and all was done.
Keikelius let his gaze rest on his son for a single moment, only giving a slight nod of acknowledgment. It was enough to give Elias a sense of peace. A sense that he was being let off, once again, with few consequences for his actions. Perhaps the loss of his titles was enough of a punishment. Perhaps Elias would see it that way. The punishment fit the crime, surely. But the punishment still didn’t fit the crimes that the ladies of the Stravos house had not committed. The family was punished for the sins of the son and that only added to the licking fire that seemed to curl up along his limbs now.
Gods, the carriage needed to move faster.
Falling entirely silent, Keikelius went back to watching the world move outside of their carriage. Already, he needed to figure out how to keep the family afloat financially. Would they have to sell their large manor? The barony house in Lyncestia? Would they have to sell horses, ships, art? And what would happen with Circenia?
That fear struck harder than he had expected it to. Circenia had married him for his wealth, and while the two had eventually fallen for each other… Keikelius shifted once more. There was a precarious balance that had been struck between him and his wife. She was able to spend to her heart’s content because they had had the means. And now? Now they couldn’t spend more than was absolutely necessary if they didn’t want to be living on the streets within a few months. Of course, Keikelius was to worry about the strain this loss was going to put on his relationship with his wife. He could only hope that her love for him ran deeper than her love for his wealth. Former wealth. To her, he could have just become nothing but a penniless lowborn man with little clout name save for the title he still health in the senate.
Not to mention that the loss would now affect his ability to do his job. The reputation he held had been smashed to pieces.
It was with that thought that the carriage came to a sudden halt in front of the manor. Taking a sobering breath, Keikelius rose from the carriage, stepping down onto solid ground. He was careful to help Chara down, keeping a firm hold on her and ensuring that she didn’t twist anything. Keikelius even went so far as to straighten a fold of her gorgeous chiton. Giving a small, gentle smile, he touched her chin affectionately before letting go and putting his focus on Circenia. He felt somber as he helped his wife down out of the carriage, his hands on her waist. He took a moment to lock eyes with her, trying to convey that they would be alright. He hadn’t worked out the minutiae of the entire situation, but that would take a few days to properly sort and assess. For now, he simply needed her to remain calm and firm in the face of their sudden adversity. That was truly all he was going to ask of her, if you didn’t count her staying as far from her brother as possible. Keikelius knew his wife’s temper enough to know that, if given the chance, she would leave a path of destruction in her wake.
There was a brief moment where Keikelius allowed his daughter and his wife to go ahead, waiting for Elias to descend from the carriage and join him on the ground. Keeping his hands at his sides, Keikelius turned and started to follow the ladies into the home, ensuring that Elias remained close behind him. The man paid absolutely no mind to the servants who were waiting there. No doubt they would hear the news shortly. No doubt many of them would be let go in an attempt to save the family a few drachmae. Good. He didn’t really care for a few of them anyway. Useless was what they were.
Just days before Circenia had been begging to fire a few of them. Keikelius wasn’t sure that the pretense under which their staff would be removed would truly be what she was hoping for, however.
Striding into the home and into the initial, warm living space, Keikelius glanced once at Circenia and Chara as they lingered by a table of food that had been spread out for their lunch. The table was spread with a hearty assortment of plums, figs, dates, olives, cheeses, breads, mutton, and fresh venison. The food had been placed neatly on expensive metal tableware, looking like something out of an art piece. The table had been covered with delicate crimson fabric edged with gold embroidery. Various pitchers of liquid were settled at one corner, accompanied by five goblets. One for each member of the Stravos family.
Reaching for one, Keikelius silently poured Circenia a glass of summer wine and passed it off to her. He poured a second for Chara and then glanced about the table of food. Sustenance wasn’t really on his list of priorities. The pause was meant to let him bide his time. To let him quell the increasing, agitating feeling of rage that had clung to him ever since he’d watched Elias as he was escorted from the Senate. Reaching over, he took an olive between large fingers, popping it into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully as he glanced back toward the wine.
It was eerily quiet and Keikelius could only imagine why. The tension in the air was almost palpable, but Keikelius still hadn’t addressed the entire situation. If anything, there was an air of assumption that Elias was going to meet no trouble whatsoever. Keikelius had half a mind to let that notion hang in the air and along Elias’ shoulders.
But Keikelius truly wasn’t that type of man. The businessman hadn’t made a name for himself in being brutal and without mercy for absolutely nothing. There were things Keikelius had done under the noses of his own family that would likely shock, awe, and terrify all at once. Besides, Keikelius truly wasn’t in the mood to toy with his son in the way he might have deserved. No, he wanted to build that air of confidence between them. That while the worst had truly happened, things could still be mended. LIke a blacksmith mending a broken blade. The Stravos still wouldn’t falter under the weight of their sentence.
Pouring himself a glass of the same summer wine, the Stravos man knocked the liquid back all at once, taking not even a breath to enjoy the liquid. Instead, he enjoyed the burn as it trailed down into the pit of his stomach, turning the roaring fire into a raging inferno. Taking yet another goblet, Keikelius filled it with wine and turned toward his son, approaching him slowly. He passed the cup off to Elias with a slight nod, moving back to the table to pour himself yet another glass.
Finally, he spoke to Elias, entirely ignoring the fact that his daughter and wife were in the room. “A valiant effort today, Elias,” he conceded, lifting his cup as if to give a toast. Whether Elias would drink the wine or not had yet to be seen and Keikelius truly paid no mind to little movements such as those. Instead, he fixed his son with a placid gaze and approached him. “How about a toast, Elias? To new paths and new beginnings and to our new position,” the corners of his lips even turned up into an interested smile, dark eyes alight with the promise of his words. Shaking his head, the smile still not leaving his face, he clapped Elias on the shoulder as he took a large swig of his wine.
Motioning one of the lingering servants over, he discarded the goblet into the woman’s hands with a slight nod. Turning his attention back to Elias.
There was literally no warning, no pretense, to Keikelius movements. The father’s grip suddenly tightened on Elias’ shoulder, almost in an effort to dig his fingers in. Surely, if he’d been something akin to a lion, Keikelius would have shredded the fabric of the man’s garb. Then he was moving swiftly, slightly crouched as, with his full strength, his fist connected with Elias’ stomach in an effort to knock all of the breath from his son’s lungs. Knowing just what it felt like to be punched so hard, Keikelius shifted himself to stand taller, holding a stunned, limp Elias against his shoulder.
Keikelius ignored the shriek of Chara from his side. The servant even reeled back with wide eyes, dropping the cup of wine onto the floor in front of her.
Rage lacing every word, Keikelius threaded his fingers into his son’s hair then, gripping it tight as he pulled Elias’ head back to look at him. The man could have vomited, Keikelius didn’t really care about that right then. Instead, he fixed his son with a sharp, venomous gaze. “The next time you pull a stunt like that, my son, I will lay your entrails out on the floor of this room and watch as the light leaves your eyes. And I’ll go to the hangman's noose delighted that I rid myself of the disgrace to my name, my father’s name, and my grandfather’s name.”
Without another word, Keikelius was dropping his son into a heap on the floor, listening to the struggle that came with attempting to get your breath after a hit such as that. Gritting his teeth, his features twisted with a rage that no one in the family had ever seen, Keikelius glared down at his son, the trembling of his hands the only sign that he was, in fact, reigning in the urge to simply cut Elias’ throat and be done with it. There would be little coming back from a disgrace such as the one that Elias had forced onto his family, and Keikelius would have happily greeted Hades without a second thought if it meant that he could have quelled the entirety of the events hot on their trail.
“Circenia, Chara,” Keikelius said very carefully, “I think it best you leave Elias and I alone,” his voice wavered only the slightest bit, carefully reigned anger edging a slight bite to his words. “Now.” He didn’t wait for either woman to leave, his glare still remaining rigid on the form of his son on the floor before him. That brief, hot flash of memory. The life of a soldier had been frigid, damning his already brutal and dangerous tendencies to a furtherment that only his stoic composure and calm demeanor could contain.
Letting out a sharp, shallow breath, Keikelius turned away sharply, stalking toward the table of food. No, it wasn’t enough to curb the anger. He’d bloodied men for far less. But this was his son and the extent of his power only went so far. The boy was a grown man and was considerably younger than Keikelius himself. Any further blows, regardless of the desire to keep Elias gasping in a heap, would be met with firm resistance. Bracing his hands against the table, he bowed his head, his shoulders tense, his body ready to spring into action at the slightest movement.
Desperate to find purchase on something, fingers gripped at the crimson tablecloth, shifting the plates slightly on the table while Keikelius worked on calming his own breathing. His own temper. There was much to be done, still. There was much to situate and sort and organize. It became a low chant in his mind. Calm resolve. Even breaths. Loss of sight with absolutely no sense of feeling. That was what he needed at that moment. Briefly, he pictured the calming hands of his wife, attempting to find anything to cling to that would end the sharp tang of rage still palpating the air.
And it didn’t subside. If anything, the rage grew into a firm burning. The thought of everything lost in just a few words of his idiot child. A child for all intents and purpose. A petulant bastard that he’d suddenly started to wish hadn’t made it to term. He would have had no heir if the only future presented to them had been this one. He would have rather seen the child born still for all the hell Elias had caused Keikelius. Forty years of work. Of Keikelius’ own blood and sweat and persistent resolve. The Stravos had been strong with Karkos. But they hadn’t flourished in the same way that Keikelius’ rule had encouraged. His slow ascent to power had been all of his doing. His marriage to Circenia had been a suggestion of his father, but he had no more stated something Keikelius already knew than he had stated the fact of the sky being blue. Plans, trade agreements, massive conglomerations, and takeovers. Land he had earned by marriage and right, money and taxes that he was entitled to for the years of service he had put into nurturing provinces…
Gone.
All because of the words of an arrogant, insolent, mediocre heir.
The rage and frustration bubbled over into a second terrifying display. With a sharp growl of fury, the table of food and wine crashed to the floor, fruit rolling across the stone and disappearing into different corners of the room. Wine, water, and milk beaded against rugs and the stone floor. The falling table set off a chain reaction, a large standing vase shattering to the floor across the path to the halls and the rest of the manor’s rooms.
Turning sharply on his heel, Keikelius faced Elias once more. “Do you have any idea what you have cost us, Elias? Everything that you have cost us, cost me? Your mother? Your sisters? Do you have any idea where your insolence and recklessness has left us?” Keikelius’ voice rose higher, louder, angrier with each word. “Forty years of work, Elias. Forty years of my own hard work because you found it wise to sink Athenian ships and cost the country money? Forty years plus the years of toil your grandfather and his father put in to make Stravos what it is? And you piss it away in an impulsive and reckless grab for the crown? I never taught you to be reckless, Elias,” Keikelius snapped sharply.
“I like to think that I taught you patience and diligence. We all wanted you on the throne but not at the cost of the family,” the Stravos man continued, taking a threatening step forward once more. “You have cost this family nearly everything we had. You’ve cost your mother her status. You’ve cost your sisters advantageous marriages and any chance of marrying upward. You’ve buried our name so far out at sea that the fucking Kracken won’t touch us! Leave it!” Keikelius suddenly snapped at the rush of servants that ran into the room, starting to try and clean up the mess.
“Leave it or you’re all fired.”
The scrambling, rushing of feet out of the room was like music to his ears. Keikelius’ gaze still hadn’t been torn from Elias. Nostrils flaring, Keikelius rubbed sharply at his chin and then his temple, working on finding another calming breath. Just one. Just one more and he wouldn’t ravage the remainder of the parlor. “But you know what, Elias?” Keikelius continued, “You’re going to fix this. All of it. You’re going to pay for every owl you have lost this family. You are going to pay for every ship, every single loss of cargo from here on out.” The man slowly crouched in front of his son, trying to meet him eye to eye. “You’re going to fix this mess that you made or I will ensure that you never see a glimpse of that crown in your lifetime,” he said darkly, his voice almost nothing but a sharp hiss.
“Because I will make good on my word, Elias. I am not a man of lies and idle threats. You will pick yourself up off of this floor and you will find a way to repair the damage you have brought upon this family. Even if that means you bribe and steal your way into advantageous marriages with deep coffers for your sisters. Even if it means you earn not a drachmae for your trouble. You’re an intelligent man, Elias. I’m sure you can see your options spread out before you. Do what you have to do, but you have two options open to you,” Keikelius warned, moving his hands slightly out to either side in order to simulate the movement of a scale.
“You took the title as the head of this house, Elias, but this is still my domain. You think you’re the only one with deep, dark connections? You will either ensure that our titles are once more secured or you will find yourself in a watery grave so far out to sea that even Poseidon will never be able to claim your body. And if you come across the crown in the process, congratulations. But as of now, you owe me a debt that I will not release until every single owl is in my pocket,” Keikelius continued to hiss, dark eyes full of threats of a stormy ocean and suffocating depths that even Elias would never be able to escape. “Do with that what you will, Elias. Have I made myself clear?” the man noted with sharply clenched teeth, ready to strike his son a second time should he find it proper to come back at Keikelius with any sort of talk that was not ‘Yes, sir.’
And he would not be satisfied until he heard the words of affirmation from Elias’ mouth. Rising slowly to his feet, he didn’t bother to shake out the ache in his hand. It was pleasant considering the pain’s source. Keikelius turned from Elias once more, moving across the floor to pick up the last goblet, Danae’s, that had been discarded onto the floor in his fury. With it firmly in hand, he grasped one of the metal pitchers, lifting it up and silently delighting to see there was a cup or two worth of wine still in the bottom. Pouring himself a third glass of the liquid, he knocked it back sharply, taking his time in once more savoring the burn.
He would wait, too. He would wait until Elias said something. Anything at all. And then he would make further reparations for Elias’ actions. There was a thin line of patience that would be tread until Elias did exactly as his father had said. Keikelius would not take an argument. Not after Elias had single-handedly thrown his own family to the wolves. Whether or not that crown settled in his lap or not, Keikelius would not accept anything else but his every demand, lest the Kingdom wanted to find a dead monarch sound asleep on his throne.
And Keikelius had been as truthful as they come. He would settle, nor would he truly rest until Elias had mended all that he had broken and paid his debts. There was no doubt in his mind that the consequences of not doing such things were far too high for even Elias to consider enduring.
The explosion of talk from inside the senate had been enough to set the man on edge. Stravos had been dethroned in an impromptu trial that no noble family had seen coming. That alone was enough to talk about in large droves. It was a wonder that Keikelius had even been able to look his own wife and daughter in the eye. A sharp snapping of jaws had ensured that Elias rode back with the family in one single carriage.
Keikelius hard hardly spoken since the Senate meeting had completed. The Master of Trade had smiled, nodded, and given his vote without skipping a single beat. All in good faith and with promise of no treachery from him or his royal wife. The thought had settled in the back of his mind that Princess Circenia would be most affected by the loss of lands and titles. The moment the words had left his niece's mouth, Keikelius had started to count his lucky stars that Circenia would not add to the precarious nature of their sudden, lowered position.
His wife had a temper that could burn bridges and raze entire cities to the ground. This temperament had been entirely and completely alluring to Keikelius when the match had been made between Xanthos and Stravos. Despite Keikelius' ambitions, the hope had been to foster some warm and strong connection between the two powerful families. Clearly, Keikelius had failed his family in that regard. Better, his own son had broken down each and every bridge that Keiklius had spent his entire life building between his family and the others around them.
Staring out the side of the carriage that carried Elias, Chara, and Circenia, Keikelius only vaguely wondered where his other daughter had gotten off to. There had been some mention that the girl had run off upon arrival, to which Keikelius truly couldn't give the energy to worry. There were bigger things to worry about than the flippant nature of his youngest child. The horse that Keikelius had ridden to the Senate meeting trailed quietly behind, having been attached to the back of the carriage.
Lifting his gaze, Keikelius silently observed the sky above them. The bright blue hue was somewhat cheery for Keikelius' tastes. He still preferred the clouded skies and winded high seas to the clear sunshine that had graced them on this day. It was as if the gods were laughing at the misfortune of the House of Stravos. Now dissolved in the wake of the quiet treachery of his eldest son.
Keikelius brought his hand up to his lips, trailing his thumb under the curve of his bottom lip. Falling deeper into his thoughts, his mind raced from thought to thought and plan to plan. How did they fix what his ballsy, mistempered heir had broken? It wasn't the same as patching the hull of a ship or mending a chiton. If the assertions of the Princess had been true, which Keikelius was inclined to believe, then there would be little that could be done by way of deals and agreements.
If Elias had truly committed treason, there was little that anyone could do to save the Stravos family from ruin. And ruin was to come with the sudden loss of lands, taxes, and business that had been removed from their grasp in a few simple words. Still, Keikelius' expression didn't shift from the usual mask of boredom and silent contempt for everything going on around him. The carriage was eerily quiet. Even Chara had found that now was not the time to launch into conversation that no one would pay proper attention to.
Keikelius briefly recalled the events of his young life. Karkos of Stravos had been a tough force to reckon with. Add in the fact that Karkos had liked to raise his hand to his son when the young man slipped up in his own dealings, and Keikelius had endured a number of factors that had shaped his entire person when coupled with his military service and business experience. It had happened so many times and so often that it had become a normal feeling for Keikelius. The bruises under his tunics and chitons had been easy to hide, and even if they hadn’t, most had attributed it to boyish clumsiness, and then later to a test of strength and meddle with his military training.
One moment, in particular, stood out to Keikelius, however. The man had been fourteen at the time and the words that had come out of his mouth at a particular business meeting had earned him a number of licks with the whip. The failure and loss of a business prospect never sat well with Karkos and it had been vital that Keikelius recall his mistakes. So that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t find himself so foolish ever again. For the moment, Keikelius could recall clearly the feeling of leather striking his skin. He shifted in the seat of the carriage, pretending that he was simply settling into a more comfortable position.
Never had Keikelius been forced to make such an example of Elias. His had had never been forced in that direction, with any of his children. Keikelius liked to think that his sharp tongue and idle threats had been enough. He honestly thought that he had trained Elias better. The passing of his position as the head of house had been a symbol of good faith and trust in his son as Keikelius moved to take a higher position that suited his experience and ambitions. Not to mention, he had had every intention of keeping his son under his thumb. But this situation was absolutely abhorrent.
He briefly recalled the threat that Elias had thrown at the princess before he had been escorted out of the senate.
‘Watch your back, Princess. This isn’t over yet.’
Elias had even had the balls to threaten a member of immediate royalty. And the thought had only served to make Keikelius tense as he’d let his gaze bore into the back of his only son, flanked on both sides by guards instructed to remove the Stravos family from the Senate meeting. He had been granted his ability to remain, his title as Master of Trade superseding any title of, or lack thereof, nobility. It had been clear that a few senators had been none too keen on the idea of Keikelius being able to remain. Already, Keikelius knew, there would be rumors that father and son had been working together to take down the royal family by way of treason. An entire untruth, surely, but one that would spread like wildfire.
Even his queen of gossip and information would be no match for the vile words of courtiers and senators, for servants and civilians. Keikelius had to drop his gaze from the sky just to keep his lip from curling in utter disgust. The facade of calm and poise remained despite the annoying jostle of the carriage and the uncomfortable silence that had befallen the entire family.
It seemed, however, that Chara had suddenly found her voice. “Papa?” the woman questioned boldly, watching her father with a mildly resigned expression. “What is to happen now that we’ve been stripped of our nobility?”
His daughter was asking the real questions, it seemed. And truth be told, Keikelius didn’t actually know. Still, he couldn’t leave her with nothing at all. “We’ve lost our titles and our lands,” Keikelius noted calmly, dark gaze fixed on his eldest child, “This means we will earn no taxes from our tenants or the provinces’ business dealings. We no longer hold any land, so our wood supply for building ships have been removed from our inventories. In addition, we will no longer make anything off much of what our business was exporting. It is likely that the noble families can, and will choose every non-Stravos ship possible to use to ferry their goods. Our ports would have been stripped from us were they not the property of our personal business. We hold our wealth from our personal business, but that will only take us so far without bankrupting us. Should we find ships damaged or unfit to sail, the cost of repairs alone will eat at our coffers. Our only true saving grace is that our ports will still garner taxes,” Keikelius’ voice didn’t waver. In truth, the man sounded nothing but normal and matter-of-fact. There was no use in sugarcoating the entire fact that the Stravos were now penniless and bankrupt.
Elias had seen to that.
Chara seemed to flinch, turning her gaze away from the family to glance out the carriage, clearly frustrated by the course of events. There had been hopes of an advantageous marriage for the beauty. Especially on the part of her father. His own little princess deserved only the best and had King Minas had any male heirs, Keikelius would have long offered Chara’s hand to the crown prince. If anything, Chara had the most sense of both her siblings despite her overall nature. At this point, Keikelius would have been pleased to have solidified any marriage at all for her. It would have saved her the disgrace of losing her title due to her brother’s own misplaced ambitions.
Elias hadn’t simply bankrupted the family. Suddenly, any chances of his siblings, and even Elias himself, marrying well were off the table. Very few would associate with the Stravos and the cost of a dowry for one or both of Keikelius’ daughters would only further their despondency. His little girls would be forced to marry lower than their true status, and that alone was enough to start the kindling fires of anger in the pit of the man’s stomach. None of them deserved what had been handed to them at that Senate meeting. Elias, sure. Had Princess Persephone not stripped the family of their nobility, Keikelius would have petitioned to strip Elias of his without a second thought.
The boy was too rash. And he was just that, a boy. And he would remain a boy in Keikelius’ eyes until he showed some sense of maturity that was clearly lacking in all regards. His son had the looks and the grace, but Keikelius wasn’t convinced he truly had the intelligence to keep his mouth shut and his hands out of things they didn’t belong in, especially when it counted. Had Elias truly wanted to advocate for the throne, there were a number of different, less destructive means in which to take it. Whether Elias’ actions were true or false in the eyes of the Senate, little mattered now.
All was said and all was done.
Keikelius let his gaze rest on his son for a single moment, only giving a slight nod of acknowledgment. It was enough to give Elias a sense of peace. A sense that he was being let off, once again, with few consequences for his actions. Perhaps the loss of his titles was enough of a punishment. Perhaps Elias would see it that way. The punishment fit the crime, surely. But the punishment still didn’t fit the crimes that the ladies of the Stravos house had not committed. The family was punished for the sins of the son and that only added to the licking fire that seemed to curl up along his limbs now.
Gods, the carriage needed to move faster.
Falling entirely silent, Keikelius went back to watching the world move outside of their carriage. Already, he needed to figure out how to keep the family afloat financially. Would they have to sell their large manor? The barony house in Lyncestia? Would they have to sell horses, ships, art? And what would happen with Circenia?
That fear struck harder than he had expected it to. Circenia had married him for his wealth, and while the two had eventually fallen for each other… Keikelius shifted once more. There was a precarious balance that had been struck between him and his wife. She was able to spend to her heart’s content because they had had the means. And now? Now they couldn’t spend more than was absolutely necessary if they didn’t want to be living on the streets within a few months. Of course, Keikelius was to worry about the strain this loss was going to put on his relationship with his wife. He could only hope that her love for him ran deeper than her love for his wealth. Former wealth. To her, he could have just become nothing but a penniless lowborn man with little clout name save for the title he still health in the senate.
Not to mention that the loss would now affect his ability to do his job. The reputation he held had been smashed to pieces.
It was with that thought that the carriage came to a sudden halt in front of the manor. Taking a sobering breath, Keikelius rose from the carriage, stepping down onto solid ground. He was careful to help Chara down, keeping a firm hold on her and ensuring that she didn’t twist anything. Keikelius even went so far as to straighten a fold of her gorgeous chiton. Giving a small, gentle smile, he touched her chin affectionately before letting go and putting his focus on Circenia. He felt somber as he helped his wife down out of the carriage, his hands on her waist. He took a moment to lock eyes with her, trying to convey that they would be alright. He hadn’t worked out the minutiae of the entire situation, but that would take a few days to properly sort and assess. For now, he simply needed her to remain calm and firm in the face of their sudden adversity. That was truly all he was going to ask of her, if you didn’t count her staying as far from her brother as possible. Keikelius knew his wife’s temper enough to know that, if given the chance, she would leave a path of destruction in her wake.
There was a brief moment where Keikelius allowed his daughter and his wife to go ahead, waiting for Elias to descend from the carriage and join him on the ground. Keeping his hands at his sides, Keikelius turned and started to follow the ladies into the home, ensuring that Elias remained close behind him. The man paid absolutely no mind to the servants who were waiting there. No doubt they would hear the news shortly. No doubt many of them would be let go in an attempt to save the family a few drachmae. Good. He didn’t really care for a few of them anyway. Useless was what they were.
Just days before Circenia had been begging to fire a few of them. Keikelius wasn’t sure that the pretense under which their staff would be removed would truly be what she was hoping for, however.
Striding into the home and into the initial, warm living space, Keikelius glanced once at Circenia and Chara as they lingered by a table of food that had been spread out for their lunch. The table was spread with a hearty assortment of plums, figs, dates, olives, cheeses, breads, mutton, and fresh venison. The food had been placed neatly on expensive metal tableware, looking like something out of an art piece. The table had been covered with delicate crimson fabric edged with gold embroidery. Various pitchers of liquid were settled at one corner, accompanied by five goblets. One for each member of the Stravos family.
Reaching for one, Keikelius silently poured Circenia a glass of summer wine and passed it off to her. He poured a second for Chara and then glanced about the table of food. Sustenance wasn’t really on his list of priorities. The pause was meant to let him bide his time. To let him quell the increasing, agitating feeling of rage that had clung to him ever since he’d watched Elias as he was escorted from the Senate. Reaching over, he took an olive between large fingers, popping it into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully as he glanced back toward the wine.
It was eerily quiet and Keikelius could only imagine why. The tension in the air was almost palpable, but Keikelius still hadn’t addressed the entire situation. If anything, there was an air of assumption that Elias was going to meet no trouble whatsoever. Keikelius had half a mind to let that notion hang in the air and along Elias’ shoulders.
But Keikelius truly wasn’t that type of man. The businessman hadn’t made a name for himself in being brutal and without mercy for absolutely nothing. There were things Keikelius had done under the noses of his own family that would likely shock, awe, and terrify all at once. Besides, Keikelius truly wasn’t in the mood to toy with his son in the way he might have deserved. No, he wanted to build that air of confidence between them. That while the worst had truly happened, things could still be mended. LIke a blacksmith mending a broken blade. The Stravos still wouldn’t falter under the weight of their sentence.
Pouring himself a glass of the same summer wine, the Stravos man knocked the liquid back all at once, taking not even a breath to enjoy the liquid. Instead, he enjoyed the burn as it trailed down into the pit of his stomach, turning the roaring fire into a raging inferno. Taking yet another goblet, Keikelius filled it with wine and turned toward his son, approaching him slowly. He passed the cup off to Elias with a slight nod, moving back to the table to pour himself yet another glass.
Finally, he spoke to Elias, entirely ignoring the fact that his daughter and wife were in the room. “A valiant effort today, Elias,” he conceded, lifting his cup as if to give a toast. Whether Elias would drink the wine or not had yet to be seen and Keikelius truly paid no mind to little movements such as those. Instead, he fixed his son with a placid gaze and approached him. “How about a toast, Elias? To new paths and new beginnings and to our new position,” the corners of his lips even turned up into an interested smile, dark eyes alight with the promise of his words. Shaking his head, the smile still not leaving his face, he clapped Elias on the shoulder as he took a large swig of his wine.
Motioning one of the lingering servants over, he discarded the goblet into the woman’s hands with a slight nod. Turning his attention back to Elias.
There was literally no warning, no pretense, to Keikelius movements. The father’s grip suddenly tightened on Elias’ shoulder, almost in an effort to dig his fingers in. Surely, if he’d been something akin to a lion, Keikelius would have shredded the fabric of the man’s garb. Then he was moving swiftly, slightly crouched as, with his full strength, his fist connected with Elias’ stomach in an effort to knock all of the breath from his son’s lungs. Knowing just what it felt like to be punched so hard, Keikelius shifted himself to stand taller, holding a stunned, limp Elias against his shoulder.
Keikelius ignored the shriek of Chara from his side. The servant even reeled back with wide eyes, dropping the cup of wine onto the floor in front of her.
Rage lacing every word, Keikelius threaded his fingers into his son’s hair then, gripping it tight as he pulled Elias’ head back to look at him. The man could have vomited, Keikelius didn’t really care about that right then. Instead, he fixed his son with a sharp, venomous gaze. “The next time you pull a stunt like that, my son, I will lay your entrails out on the floor of this room and watch as the light leaves your eyes. And I’ll go to the hangman's noose delighted that I rid myself of the disgrace to my name, my father’s name, and my grandfather’s name.”
Without another word, Keikelius was dropping his son into a heap on the floor, listening to the struggle that came with attempting to get your breath after a hit such as that. Gritting his teeth, his features twisted with a rage that no one in the family had ever seen, Keikelius glared down at his son, the trembling of his hands the only sign that he was, in fact, reigning in the urge to simply cut Elias’ throat and be done with it. There would be little coming back from a disgrace such as the one that Elias had forced onto his family, and Keikelius would have happily greeted Hades without a second thought if it meant that he could have quelled the entirety of the events hot on their trail.
“Circenia, Chara,” Keikelius said very carefully, “I think it best you leave Elias and I alone,” his voice wavered only the slightest bit, carefully reigned anger edging a slight bite to his words. “Now.” He didn’t wait for either woman to leave, his glare still remaining rigid on the form of his son on the floor before him. That brief, hot flash of memory. The life of a soldier had been frigid, damning his already brutal and dangerous tendencies to a furtherment that only his stoic composure and calm demeanor could contain.
Letting out a sharp, shallow breath, Keikelius turned away sharply, stalking toward the table of food. No, it wasn’t enough to curb the anger. He’d bloodied men for far less. But this was his son and the extent of his power only went so far. The boy was a grown man and was considerably younger than Keikelius himself. Any further blows, regardless of the desire to keep Elias gasping in a heap, would be met with firm resistance. Bracing his hands against the table, he bowed his head, his shoulders tense, his body ready to spring into action at the slightest movement.
Desperate to find purchase on something, fingers gripped at the crimson tablecloth, shifting the plates slightly on the table while Keikelius worked on calming his own breathing. His own temper. There was much to be done, still. There was much to situate and sort and organize. It became a low chant in his mind. Calm resolve. Even breaths. Loss of sight with absolutely no sense of feeling. That was what he needed at that moment. Briefly, he pictured the calming hands of his wife, attempting to find anything to cling to that would end the sharp tang of rage still palpating the air.
And it didn’t subside. If anything, the rage grew into a firm burning. The thought of everything lost in just a few words of his idiot child. A child for all intents and purpose. A petulant bastard that he’d suddenly started to wish hadn’t made it to term. He would have had no heir if the only future presented to them had been this one. He would have rather seen the child born still for all the hell Elias had caused Keikelius. Forty years of work. Of Keikelius’ own blood and sweat and persistent resolve. The Stravos had been strong with Karkos. But they hadn’t flourished in the same way that Keikelius’ rule had encouraged. His slow ascent to power had been all of his doing. His marriage to Circenia had been a suggestion of his father, but he had no more stated something Keikelius already knew than he had stated the fact of the sky being blue. Plans, trade agreements, massive conglomerations, and takeovers. Land he had earned by marriage and right, money and taxes that he was entitled to for the years of service he had put into nurturing provinces…
Gone.
All because of the words of an arrogant, insolent, mediocre heir.
The rage and frustration bubbled over into a second terrifying display. With a sharp growl of fury, the table of food and wine crashed to the floor, fruit rolling across the stone and disappearing into different corners of the room. Wine, water, and milk beaded against rugs and the stone floor. The falling table set off a chain reaction, a large standing vase shattering to the floor across the path to the halls and the rest of the manor’s rooms.
Turning sharply on his heel, Keikelius faced Elias once more. “Do you have any idea what you have cost us, Elias? Everything that you have cost us, cost me? Your mother? Your sisters? Do you have any idea where your insolence and recklessness has left us?” Keikelius’ voice rose higher, louder, angrier with each word. “Forty years of work, Elias. Forty years of my own hard work because you found it wise to sink Athenian ships and cost the country money? Forty years plus the years of toil your grandfather and his father put in to make Stravos what it is? And you piss it away in an impulsive and reckless grab for the crown? I never taught you to be reckless, Elias,” Keikelius snapped sharply.
“I like to think that I taught you patience and diligence. We all wanted you on the throne but not at the cost of the family,” the Stravos man continued, taking a threatening step forward once more. “You have cost this family nearly everything we had. You’ve cost your mother her status. You’ve cost your sisters advantageous marriages and any chance of marrying upward. You’ve buried our name so far out at sea that the fucking Kracken won’t touch us! Leave it!” Keikelius suddenly snapped at the rush of servants that ran into the room, starting to try and clean up the mess.
“Leave it or you’re all fired.”
The scrambling, rushing of feet out of the room was like music to his ears. Keikelius’ gaze still hadn’t been torn from Elias. Nostrils flaring, Keikelius rubbed sharply at his chin and then his temple, working on finding another calming breath. Just one. Just one more and he wouldn’t ravage the remainder of the parlor. “But you know what, Elias?” Keikelius continued, “You’re going to fix this. All of it. You’re going to pay for every owl you have lost this family. You are going to pay for every ship, every single loss of cargo from here on out.” The man slowly crouched in front of his son, trying to meet him eye to eye. “You’re going to fix this mess that you made or I will ensure that you never see a glimpse of that crown in your lifetime,” he said darkly, his voice almost nothing but a sharp hiss.
“Because I will make good on my word, Elias. I am not a man of lies and idle threats. You will pick yourself up off of this floor and you will find a way to repair the damage you have brought upon this family. Even if that means you bribe and steal your way into advantageous marriages with deep coffers for your sisters. Even if it means you earn not a drachmae for your trouble. You’re an intelligent man, Elias. I’m sure you can see your options spread out before you. Do what you have to do, but you have two options open to you,” Keikelius warned, moving his hands slightly out to either side in order to simulate the movement of a scale.
“You took the title as the head of this house, Elias, but this is still my domain. You think you’re the only one with deep, dark connections? You will either ensure that our titles are once more secured or you will find yourself in a watery grave so far out to sea that even Poseidon will never be able to claim your body. And if you come across the crown in the process, congratulations. But as of now, you owe me a debt that I will not release until every single owl is in my pocket,” Keikelius continued to hiss, dark eyes full of threats of a stormy ocean and suffocating depths that even Elias would never be able to escape. “Do with that what you will, Elias. Have I made myself clear?” the man noted with sharply clenched teeth, ready to strike his son a second time should he find it proper to come back at Keikelius with any sort of talk that was not ‘Yes, sir.’
And he would not be satisfied until he heard the words of affirmation from Elias’ mouth. Rising slowly to his feet, he didn’t bother to shake out the ache in his hand. It was pleasant considering the pain’s source. Keikelius turned from Elias once more, moving across the floor to pick up the last goblet, Danae’s, that had been discarded onto the floor in his fury. With it firmly in hand, he grasped one of the metal pitchers, lifting it up and silently delighting to see there was a cup or two worth of wine still in the bottom. Pouring himself a third glass of the liquid, he knocked it back sharply, taking his time in once more savoring the burn.
He would wait, too. He would wait until Elias said something. Anything at all. And then he would make further reparations for Elias’ actions. There was a thin line of patience that would be tread until Elias did exactly as his father had said. Keikelius would not take an argument. Not after Elias had single-handedly thrown his own family to the wolves. Whether or not that crown settled in his lap or not, Keikelius would not accept anything else but his every demand, lest the Kingdom wanted to find a dead monarch sound asleep on his throne.
And Keikelius had been as truthful as they come. He would settle, nor would he truly rest until Elias had mended all that he had broken and paid his debts. There was no doubt in his mind that the consequences of not doing such things were far too high for even Elias to consider enduring.
The decision of the Senate was lauded as a tough one, though Circenia knew full well that her brother was just attempting some senile pipe dream. It was supposed to be hard to choose whether the line was supposed to stay as it was or if it would now be passed down to a daughter. What a can of worms that would open. Women in the Senate? Women leading a country? It was nearly laughable considering Princess Circenia was never allowed to stand in the room where they were conversing. She was stuck on the outside waiting to her what she thought was going to be good news. She was waiting for the confirmation from the people to agree that Elias would be so close to the crown, she could touch it. She would be the Queen Mother and she would tell her sister to deal with it. She hadn’t raised her son right.
What might be considered the worst moment of her life, the ride back to their home. A manor which was one of the very few things they were allowed to retain. Circenia didn’t speak a word. Actually she didn’t so much as hum, peep, or click her teeth in distaste. Her thin mauve lips pressed together with teeth biting down hard. The taste of iron flooded her mouth as she had bitten so hard to keep from speaking she had cut straight through. Circenia was known for her temper. She had been displaying her tantrums since she was a toddler in halls of the palati. That was no secret. However, Keikelius gave a look that reminded her to keep her wits about her. Her chin turned up and nose in the air as though nothing had changed.
On the other hand, it could have been pure shock that saved her family that surrounded her from being completely slaughtered to start a new one. She might have been so distraught by the mere mention of what was in front of her that left her for a lack of words. No way she would be able to put a thought together with the proper syntax. She had more questions than answers. But, she had more faith in her son than that of Persephone. Circenia would not be like that stupid niece of hers and jump to conclusions so quickly. She was sure that she had taught her son better than that. The thought that he had gone rogue with such a big decision made her more angry than the deed itself. They were a family.
Sharp, long, nails dug into the soft wood of the painted carriage as she was silently taking out the rage that she had within. The scratches breaking into the silence with a crude scraping noise to annoy all who were around her. Keikelius’ thoughts were correct. Had she been without the confines of a carriage, she might be leaving a tornade of damage behind her. The deep breaths taking in and out. While they were able to take the money and the prestige of her marriage, they could not take away that she was still a Princess. Her lids closed for the remainder of the ride back to the manor. She was in her own little world. Her fingers running over different pieces of her jewelry now. They were the small reminders that she hadn’t lost everything. Her mother’s necklace more dear to her than anything. A queen had worn this.
Chara had dared to ask questions. Shut your mouth. The pain of the words and the reminders of everything they had lost caused her to tighten her face once again. She wanted to lay on the ground to kick and scream. It had always worked as a child. This was absurd. But, to cope, her hand wrapped around the pendant of her necklace as she pressed her eyes closed tighter. She wanted to tell Chara to just shut up. But, one word would start a flood of a thousand. And words would lead to tears of anger. Anger that would cause her to assault her family. Circenia was perfectly capable of slapping and raking claws across anyone within reach.
It was a sign to leave her alone. And they did. There was nothing but silence around her besides the typical sounds of the streets. Thank the gods that the news hadn’t traveled yet and they weren’t harassed on their ride home. She would not have been able to handle that. Circenia was full well ready to lock herself in her room for the next forever until they were able to prove her son’s innocence. No one would want the princess to go bitch out her brother about her niece… he’d likely be harassed into an early grave and they would say she killed the King or some nonsense like that. It was better to be locked away at home… for everyone’s sake.
Her eyes only came open once again when the carriage jerked to a stop. They had reached their destination with very little in their way. That was a blessing. Circenia’s hand was placed into her husbands with a tight squeeze, those nails that left marks in the wood of the carriage now digging into Keikelius. She wanted an explanation. She wanted to know what was said. She wanted to know so much more than she knew. None of the gossip she had tracked let on that Persephone would be putting out such a big accusation. And none of her grape vines had lead her to believe that her own son was up to nefarious dealings. There was a sense of worthlessness boiling through her veins. The glare from her eyes made it clear that she preferred Keik to just not talk. And he complied as she and Chara moved ahead of he and Elias.
She was calm until she walked into the room. A setting of food fit for a future king. The celebration they could have only assumed was going to happen. It didn’t. It had gone awry. Circenia had held it together so far, she really had. But, the site of the decadent delicacies in front of her had her fuming. A hand curled around a plate of figs. They were flung into the air and hit against the wall, like marks of fig stuck to the wall as the plate clattered to the ground. She only picked up one of olives to throw in the same direction. She had to destroy something. This was her outlet, or someone was likely to lose their life.
Keikelius quick thinking to occupy her raging hand with that of a glass of wine was a good one. Though, to be fair, for a moment she had half wanted to throw it in her husband and son’s face. Men couldn’t do anything, could they. The next moment quiet with just the sounds of the family sipping at their wine. Circenia had still been absolutely speechless since leaving the square.
Her husband was the first to break through, yet again, perhaps attempting to force her to look on the bright side of things? Not that she could see a single silver lining of this situation. Her attention darted to the grasp Keik took on Elias. And in an instant, something she would have never expected and had never seen from Keikelius had erupted in front of her eyes. She was far too old to have been surprised by it. She knew her husband had a hidden penchant for violence. But, never aimed at their children. For now, she did nothing. One punch to his stomach was not something to have her running to her son’s aid, no matter how much she adored him. Circenia finished off the wine that he had poured for her. She desperately needed more, but what would happen if they ran out and she wouldn’t be able to maintain a constant state of inebriation to deal with this? Her eyes absent-mindedly looked down into the empty goblet and threw it against the wall with another clank. It fell into the pile with the other items she had thrown before.
“I think it best you leave Elias and I alone,”
Bold words to say to a princess. Her head jerked as she looked to him to protest. And she would if she had the strength to deal with it. Her words would be for later. If Keikelius thought that everything was going to be okay or that this was somehow fixable. It was going to be written in history and she was damned if she was going to be drug down with the wrong family. The only problem was the issue that she was blood related to both sides of this. Her own son and her niece at odds for the same crown. She just wished she would have been able to witness what had apparently warranted the abuse Keikelius was following through with.
Her tongue ran across her lips before they finally parted to speak. ”I’ll have you remember that there is no replacing the one male offspring we managed.” A breath sucked in. She couldn’t afford for Keikelius to lose control and beat the boy to an early grave.
”Now.”
That insistence was the one that would cost Keikelius a warm wife in his bed that night. Ready to reply his own words back to him… best to leave her alone - now. And while she wanted to stay and protest, she turned with a snort to corral her daughter to the stairs to spend time away from the men of the household. The servants would have plenty to clean up, right before they would be thrown out on their asses.
Chara had gone her separate way, she knew much better than to bother her mother in such a mood. She had her own things to cry about. A marriage was not going to happen any time soon - if ever. And she had just witnessed her father beat her brother if only one hit - but she could only dread what more was going to happen when they had left the room. Even with the warning by her own mother.
She arrived in her bedroom to stand and stare. Circenia fought the urge to run back to the stairs to eavesdrop on her husband’s wrath. The thought of it wavering between anger and passion. Under any other circumstances, she might have looked at his rash outburst as something that initially would have her dragging him to the bedroom. She appreciated when he would focus his temper on a mutual enemy. However, she had her doubts that their son was the one to be beaten. Course, she hadn’t heard the obscene threat Elias had slung at Princess Persephone.
Circenia moved past her moment of stoicism and moved to her collection of jewelry. Her fingers running across the colored gems and shiny silvers and golds. She had so many she could no longer count. There were not even enough events left in her lifetime to wear them all again. But, she needed them. Cherished them all the same. Some of which she was going to have to part with to eat the way she was accustomed. To pay some of the servants she couldn’t part with. Circenia had never cooked anything in her life, the cook would have to stay.
While Keikelius was being loud downstairs, Circenia started to tear apart their bedroom while left alone unstoppable. Her hand grabbed a handful of necklaces to toss them harshly against a wall. Fingers grabbed at the sheets and layers of wool to throw every which way. A deep growl and scream released as she tossed her collection of chitons around the room. Poor Keikelius had a mess of a household. A son that he was currently yelling at, a wife who was destroying anything that wasn’t too heavy, one daughter sobbing, and finally the youngest daughter who was nowhere to be found. Circenia couldn’t even bring herself to think about it as she hissed.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
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The decision of the Senate was lauded as a tough one, though Circenia knew full well that her brother was just attempting some senile pipe dream. It was supposed to be hard to choose whether the line was supposed to stay as it was or if it would now be passed down to a daughter. What a can of worms that would open. Women in the Senate? Women leading a country? It was nearly laughable considering Princess Circenia was never allowed to stand in the room where they were conversing. She was stuck on the outside waiting to her what she thought was going to be good news. She was waiting for the confirmation from the people to agree that Elias would be so close to the crown, she could touch it. She would be the Queen Mother and she would tell her sister to deal with it. She hadn’t raised her son right.
What might be considered the worst moment of her life, the ride back to their home. A manor which was one of the very few things they were allowed to retain. Circenia didn’t speak a word. Actually she didn’t so much as hum, peep, or click her teeth in distaste. Her thin mauve lips pressed together with teeth biting down hard. The taste of iron flooded her mouth as she had bitten so hard to keep from speaking she had cut straight through. Circenia was known for her temper. She had been displaying her tantrums since she was a toddler in halls of the palati. That was no secret. However, Keikelius gave a look that reminded her to keep her wits about her. Her chin turned up and nose in the air as though nothing had changed.
On the other hand, it could have been pure shock that saved her family that surrounded her from being completely slaughtered to start a new one. She might have been so distraught by the mere mention of what was in front of her that left her for a lack of words. No way she would be able to put a thought together with the proper syntax. She had more questions than answers. But, she had more faith in her son than that of Persephone. Circenia would not be like that stupid niece of hers and jump to conclusions so quickly. She was sure that she had taught her son better than that. The thought that he had gone rogue with such a big decision made her more angry than the deed itself. They were a family.
Sharp, long, nails dug into the soft wood of the painted carriage as she was silently taking out the rage that she had within. The scratches breaking into the silence with a crude scraping noise to annoy all who were around her. Keikelius’ thoughts were correct. Had she been without the confines of a carriage, she might be leaving a tornade of damage behind her. The deep breaths taking in and out. While they were able to take the money and the prestige of her marriage, they could not take away that she was still a Princess. Her lids closed for the remainder of the ride back to the manor. She was in her own little world. Her fingers running over different pieces of her jewelry now. They were the small reminders that she hadn’t lost everything. Her mother’s necklace more dear to her than anything. A queen had worn this.
Chara had dared to ask questions. Shut your mouth. The pain of the words and the reminders of everything they had lost caused her to tighten her face once again. She wanted to lay on the ground to kick and scream. It had always worked as a child. This was absurd. But, to cope, her hand wrapped around the pendant of her necklace as she pressed her eyes closed tighter. She wanted to tell Chara to just shut up. But, one word would start a flood of a thousand. And words would lead to tears of anger. Anger that would cause her to assault her family. Circenia was perfectly capable of slapping and raking claws across anyone within reach.
It was a sign to leave her alone. And they did. There was nothing but silence around her besides the typical sounds of the streets. Thank the gods that the news hadn’t traveled yet and they weren’t harassed on their ride home. She would not have been able to handle that. Circenia was full well ready to lock herself in her room for the next forever until they were able to prove her son’s innocence. No one would want the princess to go bitch out her brother about her niece… he’d likely be harassed into an early grave and they would say she killed the King or some nonsense like that. It was better to be locked away at home… for everyone’s sake.
Her eyes only came open once again when the carriage jerked to a stop. They had reached their destination with very little in their way. That was a blessing. Circenia’s hand was placed into her husbands with a tight squeeze, those nails that left marks in the wood of the carriage now digging into Keikelius. She wanted an explanation. She wanted to know what was said. She wanted to know so much more than she knew. None of the gossip she had tracked let on that Persephone would be putting out such a big accusation. And none of her grape vines had lead her to believe that her own son was up to nefarious dealings. There was a sense of worthlessness boiling through her veins. The glare from her eyes made it clear that she preferred Keik to just not talk. And he complied as she and Chara moved ahead of he and Elias.
She was calm until she walked into the room. A setting of food fit for a future king. The celebration they could have only assumed was going to happen. It didn’t. It had gone awry. Circenia had held it together so far, she really had. But, the site of the decadent delicacies in front of her had her fuming. A hand curled around a plate of figs. They were flung into the air and hit against the wall, like marks of fig stuck to the wall as the plate clattered to the ground. She only picked up one of olives to throw in the same direction. She had to destroy something. This was her outlet, or someone was likely to lose their life.
Keikelius quick thinking to occupy her raging hand with that of a glass of wine was a good one. Though, to be fair, for a moment she had half wanted to throw it in her husband and son’s face. Men couldn’t do anything, could they. The next moment quiet with just the sounds of the family sipping at their wine. Circenia had still been absolutely speechless since leaving the square.
Her husband was the first to break through, yet again, perhaps attempting to force her to look on the bright side of things? Not that she could see a single silver lining of this situation. Her attention darted to the grasp Keik took on Elias. And in an instant, something she would have never expected and had never seen from Keikelius had erupted in front of her eyes. She was far too old to have been surprised by it. She knew her husband had a hidden penchant for violence. But, never aimed at their children. For now, she did nothing. One punch to his stomach was not something to have her running to her son’s aid, no matter how much she adored him. Circenia finished off the wine that he had poured for her. She desperately needed more, but what would happen if they ran out and she wouldn’t be able to maintain a constant state of inebriation to deal with this? Her eyes absent-mindedly looked down into the empty goblet and threw it against the wall with another clank. It fell into the pile with the other items she had thrown before.
“I think it best you leave Elias and I alone,”
Bold words to say to a princess. Her head jerked as she looked to him to protest. And she would if she had the strength to deal with it. Her words would be for later. If Keikelius thought that everything was going to be okay or that this was somehow fixable. It was going to be written in history and she was damned if she was going to be drug down with the wrong family. The only problem was the issue that she was blood related to both sides of this. Her own son and her niece at odds for the same crown. She just wished she would have been able to witness what had apparently warranted the abuse Keikelius was following through with.
Her tongue ran across her lips before they finally parted to speak. ”I’ll have you remember that there is no replacing the one male offspring we managed.” A breath sucked in. She couldn’t afford for Keikelius to lose control and beat the boy to an early grave.
”Now.”
That insistence was the one that would cost Keikelius a warm wife in his bed that night. Ready to reply his own words back to him… best to leave her alone - now. And while she wanted to stay and protest, she turned with a snort to corral her daughter to the stairs to spend time away from the men of the household. The servants would have plenty to clean up, right before they would be thrown out on their asses.
Chara had gone her separate way, she knew much better than to bother her mother in such a mood. She had her own things to cry about. A marriage was not going to happen any time soon - if ever. And she had just witnessed her father beat her brother if only one hit - but she could only dread what more was going to happen when they had left the room. Even with the warning by her own mother.
She arrived in her bedroom to stand and stare. Circenia fought the urge to run back to the stairs to eavesdrop on her husband’s wrath. The thought of it wavering between anger and passion. Under any other circumstances, she might have looked at his rash outburst as something that initially would have her dragging him to the bedroom. She appreciated when he would focus his temper on a mutual enemy. However, she had her doubts that their son was the one to be beaten. Course, she hadn’t heard the obscene threat Elias had slung at Princess Persephone.
Circenia moved past her moment of stoicism and moved to her collection of jewelry. Her fingers running across the colored gems and shiny silvers and golds. She had so many she could no longer count. There were not even enough events left in her lifetime to wear them all again. But, she needed them. Cherished them all the same. Some of which she was going to have to part with to eat the way she was accustomed. To pay some of the servants she couldn’t part with. Circenia had never cooked anything in her life, the cook would have to stay.
While Keikelius was being loud downstairs, Circenia started to tear apart their bedroom while left alone unstoppable. Her hand grabbed a handful of necklaces to toss them harshly against a wall. Fingers grabbed at the sheets and layers of wool to throw every which way. A deep growl and scream released as she tossed her collection of chitons around the room. Poor Keikelius had a mess of a household. A son that he was currently yelling at, a wife who was destroying anything that wasn’t too heavy, one daughter sobbing, and finally the youngest daughter who was nowhere to be found. Circenia couldn’t even bring herself to think about it as she hissed.
The decision of the Senate was lauded as a tough one, though Circenia knew full well that her brother was just attempting some senile pipe dream. It was supposed to be hard to choose whether the line was supposed to stay as it was or if it would now be passed down to a daughter. What a can of worms that would open. Women in the Senate? Women leading a country? It was nearly laughable considering Princess Circenia was never allowed to stand in the room where they were conversing. She was stuck on the outside waiting to her what she thought was going to be good news. She was waiting for the confirmation from the people to agree that Elias would be so close to the crown, she could touch it. She would be the Queen Mother and she would tell her sister to deal with it. She hadn’t raised her son right.
What might be considered the worst moment of her life, the ride back to their home. A manor which was one of the very few things they were allowed to retain. Circenia didn’t speak a word. Actually she didn’t so much as hum, peep, or click her teeth in distaste. Her thin mauve lips pressed together with teeth biting down hard. The taste of iron flooded her mouth as she had bitten so hard to keep from speaking she had cut straight through. Circenia was known for her temper. She had been displaying her tantrums since she was a toddler in halls of the palati. That was no secret. However, Keikelius gave a look that reminded her to keep her wits about her. Her chin turned up and nose in the air as though nothing had changed.
On the other hand, it could have been pure shock that saved her family that surrounded her from being completely slaughtered to start a new one. She might have been so distraught by the mere mention of what was in front of her that left her for a lack of words. No way she would be able to put a thought together with the proper syntax. She had more questions than answers. But, she had more faith in her son than that of Persephone. Circenia would not be like that stupid niece of hers and jump to conclusions so quickly. She was sure that she had taught her son better than that. The thought that he had gone rogue with such a big decision made her more angry than the deed itself. They were a family.
Sharp, long, nails dug into the soft wood of the painted carriage as she was silently taking out the rage that she had within. The scratches breaking into the silence with a crude scraping noise to annoy all who were around her. Keikelius’ thoughts were correct. Had she been without the confines of a carriage, she might be leaving a tornade of damage behind her. The deep breaths taking in and out. While they were able to take the money and the prestige of her marriage, they could not take away that she was still a Princess. Her lids closed for the remainder of the ride back to the manor. She was in her own little world. Her fingers running over different pieces of her jewelry now. They were the small reminders that she hadn’t lost everything. Her mother’s necklace more dear to her than anything. A queen had worn this.
Chara had dared to ask questions. Shut your mouth. The pain of the words and the reminders of everything they had lost caused her to tighten her face once again. She wanted to lay on the ground to kick and scream. It had always worked as a child. This was absurd. But, to cope, her hand wrapped around the pendant of her necklace as she pressed her eyes closed tighter. She wanted to tell Chara to just shut up. But, one word would start a flood of a thousand. And words would lead to tears of anger. Anger that would cause her to assault her family. Circenia was perfectly capable of slapping and raking claws across anyone within reach.
It was a sign to leave her alone. And they did. There was nothing but silence around her besides the typical sounds of the streets. Thank the gods that the news hadn’t traveled yet and they weren’t harassed on their ride home. She would not have been able to handle that. Circenia was full well ready to lock herself in her room for the next forever until they were able to prove her son’s innocence. No one would want the princess to go bitch out her brother about her niece… he’d likely be harassed into an early grave and they would say she killed the King or some nonsense like that. It was better to be locked away at home… for everyone’s sake.
Her eyes only came open once again when the carriage jerked to a stop. They had reached their destination with very little in their way. That was a blessing. Circenia’s hand was placed into her husbands with a tight squeeze, those nails that left marks in the wood of the carriage now digging into Keikelius. She wanted an explanation. She wanted to know what was said. She wanted to know so much more than she knew. None of the gossip she had tracked let on that Persephone would be putting out such a big accusation. And none of her grape vines had lead her to believe that her own son was up to nefarious dealings. There was a sense of worthlessness boiling through her veins. The glare from her eyes made it clear that she preferred Keik to just not talk. And he complied as she and Chara moved ahead of he and Elias.
She was calm until she walked into the room. A setting of food fit for a future king. The celebration they could have only assumed was going to happen. It didn’t. It had gone awry. Circenia had held it together so far, she really had. But, the site of the decadent delicacies in front of her had her fuming. A hand curled around a plate of figs. They were flung into the air and hit against the wall, like marks of fig stuck to the wall as the plate clattered to the ground. She only picked up one of olives to throw in the same direction. She had to destroy something. This was her outlet, or someone was likely to lose their life.
Keikelius quick thinking to occupy her raging hand with that of a glass of wine was a good one. Though, to be fair, for a moment she had half wanted to throw it in her husband and son’s face. Men couldn’t do anything, could they. The next moment quiet with just the sounds of the family sipping at their wine. Circenia had still been absolutely speechless since leaving the square.
Her husband was the first to break through, yet again, perhaps attempting to force her to look on the bright side of things? Not that she could see a single silver lining of this situation. Her attention darted to the grasp Keik took on Elias. And in an instant, something she would have never expected and had never seen from Keikelius had erupted in front of her eyes. She was far too old to have been surprised by it. She knew her husband had a hidden penchant for violence. But, never aimed at their children. For now, she did nothing. One punch to his stomach was not something to have her running to her son’s aid, no matter how much she adored him. Circenia finished off the wine that he had poured for her. She desperately needed more, but what would happen if they ran out and she wouldn’t be able to maintain a constant state of inebriation to deal with this? Her eyes absent-mindedly looked down into the empty goblet and threw it against the wall with another clank. It fell into the pile with the other items she had thrown before.
“I think it best you leave Elias and I alone,”
Bold words to say to a princess. Her head jerked as she looked to him to protest. And she would if she had the strength to deal with it. Her words would be for later. If Keikelius thought that everything was going to be okay or that this was somehow fixable. It was going to be written in history and she was damned if she was going to be drug down with the wrong family. The only problem was the issue that she was blood related to both sides of this. Her own son and her niece at odds for the same crown. She just wished she would have been able to witness what had apparently warranted the abuse Keikelius was following through with.
Her tongue ran across her lips before they finally parted to speak. ”I’ll have you remember that there is no replacing the one male offspring we managed.” A breath sucked in. She couldn’t afford for Keikelius to lose control and beat the boy to an early grave.
”Now.”
That insistence was the one that would cost Keikelius a warm wife in his bed that night. Ready to reply his own words back to him… best to leave her alone - now. And while she wanted to stay and protest, she turned with a snort to corral her daughter to the stairs to spend time away from the men of the household. The servants would have plenty to clean up, right before they would be thrown out on their asses.
Chara had gone her separate way, she knew much better than to bother her mother in such a mood. She had her own things to cry about. A marriage was not going to happen any time soon - if ever. And she had just witnessed her father beat her brother if only one hit - but she could only dread what more was going to happen when they had left the room. Even with the warning by her own mother.
She arrived in her bedroom to stand and stare. Circenia fought the urge to run back to the stairs to eavesdrop on her husband’s wrath. The thought of it wavering between anger and passion. Under any other circumstances, she might have looked at his rash outburst as something that initially would have her dragging him to the bedroom. She appreciated when he would focus his temper on a mutual enemy. However, she had her doubts that their son was the one to be beaten. Course, she hadn’t heard the obscene threat Elias had slung at Princess Persephone.
Circenia moved past her moment of stoicism and moved to her collection of jewelry. Her fingers running across the colored gems and shiny silvers and golds. She had so many she could no longer count. There were not even enough events left in her lifetime to wear them all again. But, she needed them. Cherished them all the same. Some of which she was going to have to part with to eat the way she was accustomed. To pay some of the servants she couldn’t part with. Circenia had never cooked anything in her life, the cook would have to stay.
While Keikelius was being loud downstairs, Circenia started to tear apart their bedroom while left alone unstoppable. Her hand grabbed a handful of necklaces to toss them harshly against a wall. Fingers grabbed at the sheets and layers of wool to throw every which way. A deep growl and scream released as she tossed her collection of chitons around the room. Poor Keikelius had a mess of a household. A son that he was currently yelling at, a wife who was destroying anything that wasn’t too heavy, one daughter sobbing, and finally the youngest daughter who was nowhere to be found. Circenia couldn’t even bring herself to think about it as she hissed.
It was to be the day of his ultimate triumph. There was nothing she could do to truly stand opposed, not when the moment of her embarrassment rode so high. It was to be a triumph for the House of Stravos, and they would shower them in laurels and glory that would shine brighter than the sun itself. And then, there he was, Lukos, not meeting his eyes. Terror struck through him as he realized that someone had compelled him there. And Aimias spoke on behalf of his news, though it was unbelievably clear to Elias from the very first part of that fool's lips that his voice was merely puppeted by that of Persephone and her interests.
They had found him, they had turned him to their benefit, and so in one moment they were undone. It was unbelievable how quickly his life had fallen from the heights of glory to the base of worthless value in just a few short, sputtered breaths. That foolish child of a Princess had somehow gained her advantage over him, and twisted his joy into the ash of failures. He protested, of course, he swore he was being misrepresented and that they conspired, of course, and he made things worse in the rashness of his fury by cursing Persephone. That was a mistake... but at this point, there were no fine choices to be had.
If he was able to implicate her as conspiring to shame their house, make that story stick, then any curse against her would be later found fair. It was not untenable. But for now, all he saw was problems. Solutions were nowhere near his mind. Revenge was all he could imagine, and he stewed in silence. The rage boiling in his father was not seen; disappointment was truly presumed, certainly, and he knew he would be rightfully blamed for their falling, but he was trapped in his own mind. Every moment of that meeting was analyzed and reviewed, every face and every eye. He scanned through his sharp memory of those moments, and sought those who looked more horrified than furious; those who, like him, saw their fortunes tied to his failure. Those who had nothing to do with this betrayal, and who could potentially be used to chart his path back into glory. But amidst that mire of thought, there was also a strain of hopelessness he was unable to fight off entirely.
He had failed. His family would be forgotten to history. It was his fault. His own arrogance had done this, his mistakes would cost the sisters he loved their futures, and he would never see the pride on his father's face he so yearned to bask in the warmth of. The pain and horror of knowing that history would only know the name of Stravos, much less the name of Elias, as a footnote in Persephone's story was of gripping terror for the young man who until this moment assumed that petulant woman to be little but a stumbling stone for his path to victory.
Even in the depths of his self-doubt and self-hatred, he could not stop but look upon these moments and question the most common thing: how? How did this come to pass? At what point did Lukos find his loyalties twisted? When suspecting his life to end in shame and destitution, he still wondered at how to exact his revenge on at least those without guards, on where he could slip his dagger into the back of Lukos above all. That man singularly held the loss of his future, and he felt his anger return as he repurposed his blame upon him. These, and these alone, were the warring thoughts that slipped through his mind as this dark-minded Lord of Stravos, for all that Lordship meant now, brooded within their carriage, unmindful of their destination or those around him. They spoke some, but it was little but whispers and wind, his mind miles away from the present.
It was not until the carriage came to a stop that he remembered the moment in which they lived in the least. It shook him from his reverie, and he nodded to his father as they stepped down outside of their estates. It was strange to look upon this home he took for granted; he realized as his gaze slid over its marble it that they may very never see this home, soon, that their lands and homes could be forfeit entirely as consequence, if not by law, then by funds. It was unimaginable, and he chose to savor its sight, and let the rage of surrendering this home bolster him further. His family did not seem more than irritated at him, but perhaps they thought the shame he felt was enough. Perhaps they wisely knew that he alone was their chance for prosperity, and not to weigh him down with their doubts. He did not know, but he did appreciate the silence, as he feared their more vocal, histrionic displeasures.
Food was not a welcome distraction, however. He held no appetite, pushing his meal around as he but nibbled what he absolutely must. His meal was barely touched when his father was finished with his own and finally spoke. A brow raised in suspicion at the claim of his valiant effort, as even he felt that such words were nonsense. Presuming his condescension as the meaning of it, he merely grimaced and nodded his assent, to appease his father's idle passive method of condemnation. The man furthered this aggressive mockery, suggesting a toast, and Elias was hardly pleased. Only at the man's deep urging, did he lift his drink, clearly suspicious and unenthusiastic at this turn of events. A sip was taken, and little else. Wine and meal were but ash on his tongue, their taste absent, but he made no effort to fight his father's mockeries.
In truth, Elias knew he deserved them. He deserved the man's scorn; he was far from what his father's dreams of him had been. And then violence fell upon him, taking the strong young man by surprise. Keikelius was never a violent man, and his son was of sincere military precision, having truly flourished in his self-image of this Warrior-Scion, this chosen perfect ideal that he had fashioned himself into, and it would be folly for his father to ever think that he could best his son in this arena. But that presumed the fairness of warning in such a fight. His father offered none, and then little quarter once begun, raining pain on him as he drove his fist into Elias's gut and sent him staggered and slumped. He was dragged upwards from his seat, unable to catch his breath for what felt like hours as the air burned against his lungs, when his patriarch yanked his head up to stare into his eyes and explain himself. He swore his orders, commanding his son to obey in a way he had never needed to before, threatening to gut his child should he fail.
He demanded he pull no stunt like that again, dismissed their family and their servants, and then urged his son to do whatever it took. This was clearly one meaning to Elias, who watched as his father raged, as he stewed, as he frothed, upending the table and darkening the room with the shadow his soul's burning fire cast. The only meaning he could deride: he must do whatever it takes to reclaim their family's power. And if he fails, he dies. On and on he spoke, of the consequences Elias well knew, and spoke to his son as if he remained a child. Finally, he felt recovered enough, as he began to stand, rising under the hateful words his father spat. The diatribe continued, long after he restored himself, and brushed dirt and detritus from his cloth, and let his eyes pierce once more against his raging father. "Perhaps I missed a word or two while recovering, but I suspect I have gathered the full estimation of your desires," he assured his father bitterly, a rage returned to his eyes that had been absent. For all his father's bluster and hate, he was emboldened, not cowed.
Until this moment, he was angry, doubtful, but now, he had purpose restored. He did not have his father's support, and he was alone now, with only his dwindling power in his grasp. This gave him a surge of desperate hate that burned strong inside of him, rekindling a fire that had sputtered out the moment he caught sight of the Pirate against the far wall. "You will get everything you are owed, father. This is my vow to you. I will not rest until I see you in the place you deserve, and my sisters wed to noble Lords that must kiss our ring in thanks for what we grant them."
Yes, in that moment, his son was certain beyond words of his vow, and that confidence shone in his unhesitating speech. He would give his father all that man deserved from his son.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
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It was to be the day of his ultimate triumph. There was nothing she could do to truly stand opposed, not when the moment of her embarrassment rode so high. It was to be a triumph for the House of Stravos, and they would shower them in laurels and glory that would shine brighter than the sun itself. And then, there he was, Lukos, not meeting his eyes. Terror struck through him as he realized that someone had compelled him there. And Aimias spoke on behalf of his news, though it was unbelievably clear to Elias from the very first part of that fool's lips that his voice was merely puppeted by that of Persephone and her interests.
They had found him, they had turned him to their benefit, and so in one moment they were undone. It was unbelievable how quickly his life had fallen from the heights of glory to the base of worthless value in just a few short, sputtered breaths. That foolish child of a Princess had somehow gained her advantage over him, and twisted his joy into the ash of failures. He protested, of course, he swore he was being misrepresented and that they conspired, of course, and he made things worse in the rashness of his fury by cursing Persephone. That was a mistake... but at this point, there were no fine choices to be had.
If he was able to implicate her as conspiring to shame their house, make that story stick, then any curse against her would be later found fair. It was not untenable. But for now, all he saw was problems. Solutions were nowhere near his mind. Revenge was all he could imagine, and he stewed in silence. The rage boiling in his father was not seen; disappointment was truly presumed, certainly, and he knew he would be rightfully blamed for their falling, but he was trapped in his own mind. Every moment of that meeting was analyzed and reviewed, every face and every eye. He scanned through his sharp memory of those moments, and sought those who looked more horrified than furious; those who, like him, saw their fortunes tied to his failure. Those who had nothing to do with this betrayal, and who could potentially be used to chart his path back into glory. But amidst that mire of thought, there was also a strain of hopelessness he was unable to fight off entirely.
He had failed. His family would be forgotten to history. It was his fault. His own arrogance had done this, his mistakes would cost the sisters he loved their futures, and he would never see the pride on his father's face he so yearned to bask in the warmth of. The pain and horror of knowing that history would only know the name of Stravos, much less the name of Elias, as a footnote in Persephone's story was of gripping terror for the young man who until this moment assumed that petulant woman to be little but a stumbling stone for his path to victory.
Even in the depths of his self-doubt and self-hatred, he could not stop but look upon these moments and question the most common thing: how? How did this come to pass? At what point did Lukos find his loyalties twisted? When suspecting his life to end in shame and destitution, he still wondered at how to exact his revenge on at least those without guards, on where he could slip his dagger into the back of Lukos above all. That man singularly held the loss of his future, and he felt his anger return as he repurposed his blame upon him. These, and these alone, were the warring thoughts that slipped through his mind as this dark-minded Lord of Stravos, for all that Lordship meant now, brooded within their carriage, unmindful of their destination or those around him. They spoke some, but it was little but whispers and wind, his mind miles away from the present.
It was not until the carriage came to a stop that he remembered the moment in which they lived in the least. It shook him from his reverie, and he nodded to his father as they stepped down outside of their estates. It was strange to look upon this home he took for granted; he realized as his gaze slid over its marble it that they may very never see this home, soon, that their lands and homes could be forfeit entirely as consequence, if not by law, then by funds. It was unimaginable, and he chose to savor its sight, and let the rage of surrendering this home bolster him further. His family did not seem more than irritated at him, but perhaps they thought the shame he felt was enough. Perhaps they wisely knew that he alone was their chance for prosperity, and not to weigh him down with their doubts. He did not know, but he did appreciate the silence, as he feared their more vocal, histrionic displeasures.
Food was not a welcome distraction, however. He held no appetite, pushing his meal around as he but nibbled what he absolutely must. His meal was barely touched when his father was finished with his own and finally spoke. A brow raised in suspicion at the claim of his valiant effort, as even he felt that such words were nonsense. Presuming his condescension as the meaning of it, he merely grimaced and nodded his assent, to appease his father's idle passive method of condemnation. The man furthered this aggressive mockery, suggesting a toast, and Elias was hardly pleased. Only at the man's deep urging, did he lift his drink, clearly suspicious and unenthusiastic at this turn of events. A sip was taken, and little else. Wine and meal were but ash on his tongue, their taste absent, but he made no effort to fight his father's mockeries.
In truth, Elias knew he deserved them. He deserved the man's scorn; he was far from what his father's dreams of him had been. And then violence fell upon him, taking the strong young man by surprise. Keikelius was never a violent man, and his son was of sincere military precision, having truly flourished in his self-image of this Warrior-Scion, this chosen perfect ideal that he had fashioned himself into, and it would be folly for his father to ever think that he could best his son in this arena. But that presumed the fairness of warning in such a fight. His father offered none, and then little quarter once begun, raining pain on him as he drove his fist into Elias's gut and sent him staggered and slumped. He was dragged upwards from his seat, unable to catch his breath for what felt like hours as the air burned against his lungs, when his patriarch yanked his head up to stare into his eyes and explain himself. He swore his orders, commanding his son to obey in a way he had never needed to before, threatening to gut his child should he fail.
He demanded he pull no stunt like that again, dismissed their family and their servants, and then urged his son to do whatever it took. This was clearly one meaning to Elias, who watched as his father raged, as he stewed, as he frothed, upending the table and darkening the room with the shadow his soul's burning fire cast. The only meaning he could deride: he must do whatever it takes to reclaim their family's power. And if he fails, he dies. On and on he spoke, of the consequences Elias well knew, and spoke to his son as if he remained a child. Finally, he felt recovered enough, as he began to stand, rising under the hateful words his father spat. The diatribe continued, long after he restored himself, and brushed dirt and detritus from his cloth, and let his eyes pierce once more against his raging father. "Perhaps I missed a word or two while recovering, but I suspect I have gathered the full estimation of your desires," he assured his father bitterly, a rage returned to his eyes that had been absent. For all his father's bluster and hate, he was emboldened, not cowed.
Until this moment, he was angry, doubtful, but now, he had purpose restored. He did not have his father's support, and he was alone now, with only his dwindling power in his grasp. This gave him a surge of desperate hate that burned strong inside of him, rekindling a fire that had sputtered out the moment he caught sight of the Pirate against the far wall. "You will get everything you are owed, father. This is my vow to you. I will not rest until I see you in the place you deserve, and my sisters wed to noble Lords that must kiss our ring in thanks for what we grant them."
Yes, in that moment, his son was certain beyond words of his vow, and that confidence shone in his unhesitating speech. He would give his father all that man deserved from his son.
It was to be the day of his ultimate triumph. There was nothing she could do to truly stand opposed, not when the moment of her embarrassment rode so high. It was to be a triumph for the House of Stravos, and they would shower them in laurels and glory that would shine brighter than the sun itself. And then, there he was, Lukos, not meeting his eyes. Terror struck through him as he realized that someone had compelled him there. And Aimias spoke on behalf of his news, though it was unbelievably clear to Elias from the very first part of that fool's lips that his voice was merely puppeted by that of Persephone and her interests.
They had found him, they had turned him to their benefit, and so in one moment they were undone. It was unbelievable how quickly his life had fallen from the heights of glory to the base of worthless value in just a few short, sputtered breaths. That foolish child of a Princess had somehow gained her advantage over him, and twisted his joy into the ash of failures. He protested, of course, he swore he was being misrepresented and that they conspired, of course, and he made things worse in the rashness of his fury by cursing Persephone. That was a mistake... but at this point, there were no fine choices to be had.
If he was able to implicate her as conspiring to shame their house, make that story stick, then any curse against her would be later found fair. It was not untenable. But for now, all he saw was problems. Solutions were nowhere near his mind. Revenge was all he could imagine, and he stewed in silence. The rage boiling in his father was not seen; disappointment was truly presumed, certainly, and he knew he would be rightfully blamed for their falling, but he was trapped in his own mind. Every moment of that meeting was analyzed and reviewed, every face and every eye. He scanned through his sharp memory of those moments, and sought those who looked more horrified than furious; those who, like him, saw their fortunes tied to his failure. Those who had nothing to do with this betrayal, and who could potentially be used to chart his path back into glory. But amidst that mire of thought, there was also a strain of hopelessness he was unable to fight off entirely.
He had failed. His family would be forgotten to history. It was his fault. His own arrogance had done this, his mistakes would cost the sisters he loved their futures, and he would never see the pride on his father's face he so yearned to bask in the warmth of. The pain and horror of knowing that history would only know the name of Stravos, much less the name of Elias, as a footnote in Persephone's story was of gripping terror for the young man who until this moment assumed that petulant woman to be little but a stumbling stone for his path to victory.
Even in the depths of his self-doubt and self-hatred, he could not stop but look upon these moments and question the most common thing: how? How did this come to pass? At what point did Lukos find his loyalties twisted? When suspecting his life to end in shame and destitution, he still wondered at how to exact his revenge on at least those without guards, on where he could slip his dagger into the back of Lukos above all. That man singularly held the loss of his future, and he felt his anger return as he repurposed his blame upon him. These, and these alone, were the warring thoughts that slipped through his mind as this dark-minded Lord of Stravos, for all that Lordship meant now, brooded within their carriage, unmindful of their destination or those around him. They spoke some, but it was little but whispers and wind, his mind miles away from the present.
It was not until the carriage came to a stop that he remembered the moment in which they lived in the least. It shook him from his reverie, and he nodded to his father as they stepped down outside of their estates. It was strange to look upon this home he took for granted; he realized as his gaze slid over its marble it that they may very never see this home, soon, that their lands and homes could be forfeit entirely as consequence, if not by law, then by funds. It was unimaginable, and he chose to savor its sight, and let the rage of surrendering this home bolster him further. His family did not seem more than irritated at him, but perhaps they thought the shame he felt was enough. Perhaps they wisely knew that he alone was their chance for prosperity, and not to weigh him down with their doubts. He did not know, but he did appreciate the silence, as he feared their more vocal, histrionic displeasures.
Food was not a welcome distraction, however. He held no appetite, pushing his meal around as he but nibbled what he absolutely must. His meal was barely touched when his father was finished with his own and finally spoke. A brow raised in suspicion at the claim of his valiant effort, as even he felt that such words were nonsense. Presuming his condescension as the meaning of it, he merely grimaced and nodded his assent, to appease his father's idle passive method of condemnation. The man furthered this aggressive mockery, suggesting a toast, and Elias was hardly pleased. Only at the man's deep urging, did he lift his drink, clearly suspicious and unenthusiastic at this turn of events. A sip was taken, and little else. Wine and meal were but ash on his tongue, their taste absent, but he made no effort to fight his father's mockeries.
In truth, Elias knew he deserved them. He deserved the man's scorn; he was far from what his father's dreams of him had been. And then violence fell upon him, taking the strong young man by surprise. Keikelius was never a violent man, and his son was of sincere military precision, having truly flourished in his self-image of this Warrior-Scion, this chosen perfect ideal that he had fashioned himself into, and it would be folly for his father to ever think that he could best his son in this arena. But that presumed the fairness of warning in such a fight. His father offered none, and then little quarter once begun, raining pain on him as he drove his fist into Elias's gut and sent him staggered and slumped. He was dragged upwards from his seat, unable to catch his breath for what felt like hours as the air burned against his lungs, when his patriarch yanked his head up to stare into his eyes and explain himself. He swore his orders, commanding his son to obey in a way he had never needed to before, threatening to gut his child should he fail.
He demanded he pull no stunt like that again, dismissed their family and their servants, and then urged his son to do whatever it took. This was clearly one meaning to Elias, who watched as his father raged, as he stewed, as he frothed, upending the table and darkening the room with the shadow his soul's burning fire cast. The only meaning he could deride: he must do whatever it takes to reclaim their family's power. And if he fails, he dies. On and on he spoke, of the consequences Elias well knew, and spoke to his son as if he remained a child. Finally, he felt recovered enough, as he began to stand, rising under the hateful words his father spat. The diatribe continued, long after he restored himself, and brushed dirt and detritus from his cloth, and let his eyes pierce once more against his raging father. "Perhaps I missed a word or two while recovering, but I suspect I have gathered the full estimation of your desires," he assured his father bitterly, a rage returned to his eyes that had been absent. For all his father's bluster and hate, he was emboldened, not cowed.
Until this moment, he was angry, doubtful, but now, he had purpose restored. He did not have his father's support, and he was alone now, with only his dwindling power in his grasp. This gave him a surge of desperate hate that burned strong inside of him, rekindling a fire that had sputtered out the moment he caught sight of the Pirate against the far wall. "You will get everything you are owed, father. This is my vow to you. I will not rest until I see you in the place you deserve, and my sisters wed to noble Lords that must kiss our ring in thanks for what we grant them."
Yes, in that moment, his son was certain beyond words of his vow, and that confidence shone in his unhesitating speech. He would give his father all that man deserved from his son.
Moving quickly through the streets, a young girl made her way to the inner circle. Though, by the looks of her, you would never know that she had called the elite neighborhood her home for the last sixteen years. Danae of Stravos was in a sorry state as she pushed through the crowds that used to make way for her. Her peplos, a fabric of beautiful red and gold was now torn beyond repair and the edge of fabric was caked in mud. It was utterly ruined, but she didn't care. She couldn't care. The tears that flowed openly from her eyes weren't for the missing jewels she had been adorned in that morning. Oh how different things had been just a few hours ago! How could it be that she went from a shining Athenian gem to a worthless piece of cobble so quickly?
She had even lost the crown that she never knew she had nor did Danae realize she cared for. Everytime she closed her eyes, even just for a brief moment, she could still see her beautiful braid, uncut this far in her life, drop to the deck of that wretched ship that belonged to that horrible man who had helped their just and merciful princess ruin her life. She had done nothing wrong and yet she could still see that awful man's twisted grin as she demanded that he fix what he had destroyed. Danae could still feel his hot breath in her ear as he taunted her with that sharp knife that he gracefully danced over her neck. Shallow, little cuts were all that he left and those had been her fault as they came from her squirming in his grip, trying to release herself.
He had whispered horrible things to her. Promises of death and reminders of how far her family had fallen from grace. The words that meant nothing to him would haunt her for a long time to come. Though she was lucky she know had the ability to muse over them at all. He was going to kill her. Lukos talked of slitting her throat and tossing her lifeless corpse into the water when she would never be found. She shouldn't be alive. He was going to take everything from her.
In the end all he took was her hair.
What was left of her once long locks was now tucked up under a filthy, coarse blanket Danae had stolen from her father's shipyards to hide the shame she had endured. Her face barely peered out of the fabric bunched up around her, covering the crudely cut mess on her head and the bright crimson stain on her neck. The cloth roughly scratched her exposed skin, giving her half the mind as she hurried along the route from the docks to her home; a path she traveled many times with her father. (Little did she know, the docks were now the only thing her family had left.) But her discomfort did nothing to loosen her white-knuckled grip on the makeshift cloak. The thought was being seen so battered, so broken when she had fought for so long to be strong… it scared her just as much as feeling that knife on her neck.
All she needed to do was keep her throat still and get to the one place she would be safe.
But every breath hurt. The shallow cut had stopped spilling onto her fair skin, foolishly unblemished before the pirate had left his mark in the form of big splotchy bruises dotting her skin. Not enough time had passed yet for the ugly purples and blues to make themselves known, but Danae could feel the blood pooling underneath. Each inhale and exhale brought pain to her as it was jostled about. It felt as if something was still caught there… almost as if the man still had his arm wrapped tightly around it, threatening to squeeze the life out of her and not spill a drop of her precious, but useless royal blood in the process.
He should have killed her.
Yet, he didn’t.
Danae didn't understand why he didn't do it. Nor did she want to. All she hoped for was that Lukos could disappear from the face of the earth. At least that way he could ruin no more lives on that stupid ship or by testifying in the senate for liars and false, power-hungry princesses. As the streets thinned out, she knew in her heart that the blame for what happened rest with the pair of them. Not her brother. Danae swore to herself to never forget what they did to her. Nor would she ever find forgiveness for them. They had wronged her. She would be dumb to disregard what they had done?
And for what? To make that fool of a girl queen.
No.
She would never let go of what happened.
This was their fault. Not her family's.
As these angry thoughts faded with exhaustion. the familiar shape of her home came into view. She noticed the family's carriage nearby and her heart sank. She knew how long it would have taken them to return. They clearly did not spend much time at the Senate. Did that mean they did not bother to look for her? They couldn't have, if they were now home. A new set of sobs racked through her chest as a new crop of fears of merely being an afterthought to her family overcame her. Had it been Chara or Elias who had run off, would they have stayed longer? Would they have refused to leave until the precious gems of the Stravos household were found?
She couldn't push these questions and their obvious answers from her mind as Danae wearily climbed the front steps. She could tell that something was wrong long before she made it through the front entrance. After all, she could hear her father shouting from out here and the girl physically shrunk back, taken aback by the acts of violence occurring inside. She had never known her father to yell like this and even though she couldn't make out the words, she knew that she would not find reassurances of safety with him. It was the one thing she needed and the thought of him turning his anger out on her was almost enough to convince her to turn around and find another place to hide until the world was right.
But Danny was so tired. She needed to find rest and she didn't know anywhere else to go. So, she quietly and reluctantly crossed the threshold into the home she once knew as safe and secure. It would never be that way again after Elias's actions today.
Moving past the screaming from the dining hall and unable to take another step forward, Danae fell upon the lush cushions decorating the courtyard. It didn’t fail to escape her attention that the furniture was still in the same configuration as it had been at Chara’s little party. Could that have only been a few days ago? How could her world change so dramatically, so quickly? She knew in that moment as she pulled the filthy blanket, the only barrier between who she had been that morning and what she had just recently become, around her shaking body and over her head. A shudder rocked through her body as she felt the rough fabric scratch at the back of her neck, something that she wouldn’t have had to feel if she had just learned to stay put and leave well enough alone. But what had happened couldn’t be undone.
Lukos had done well enough to teach her that today.
She curled into herself on the small couch, trying to make herself as small as possible. Perhaps if she could shield herself and make herself unseen, the horrible eye of the fates would turn their gaze away from her. “Please… leave me be.” Danae quietly muttered, but the rest of her prayer for mercy died on her lips as her throat exploded in pain. A strangled groan did escape her though as she waited for it to pass, for the loose blood to still. She couldn’t even tell what hurt more, the cut opening anew or the other scar that Lukos had left in her mind, making her hyper-aware of every movement her aching throat made. If whispering hurt that much, there was no way Danae could talk.Nor did she want to, now knowing how horrible it would feel.. It would probably be quite a while before her voice would be heard again.
A small sob began to build in her chest, but she tried to swallow it down and not alert the warring men nearby who were shouting about the now lost future that had once been promised to her. There may have been a pair of closed, heavy doors between them and her, but she could hear every word. It was a nice chorus to the crashing jewels and animalistic screams that came from the upstairs where her mother was laying waste to the life they all had built here. It's all gone. Everything was now destroyed. How could it come crashing down so quickly? Why were they now being punished for her brother’s mistake?
Normally her blood would boil at such angry, hateful thoughts swirled around her mind, but she no longer had the energy to light that fire within her. The spell of exhaustion that overcame her in that moment was so powerful that she stopped flinching at the sharp words behind her and the horrible shattering from upstairs. In fact, it now brought her a twisted sense of calm as her mind dulled and her eyes began to pull themselves down. As chaotic as this house was... as lost and hopeless everything now seemed… she knew that in this moment she was now safe. With her father, brother, and mother all nearby, no more harm would come to her today and for that she was grateful.
Her world may be shattered, her mind broken and her future held nothing, but uncertainty… but she was alive. Right now, that was all that truly mattered to the youngest Stravos as she pulled the blanket a bit tighter around her as Hypnos lulled her into an uneasy, dreamless sleep. She was alive and she was safe.
Perhaps, in time, the fates would be kinder to the girl who was now paying the price for others wrongdoing.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Moving quickly through the streets, a young girl made her way to the inner circle. Though, by the looks of her, you would never know that she had called the elite neighborhood her home for the last sixteen years. Danae of Stravos was in a sorry state as she pushed through the crowds that used to make way for her. Her peplos, a fabric of beautiful red and gold was now torn beyond repair and the edge of fabric was caked in mud. It was utterly ruined, but she didn't care. She couldn't care. The tears that flowed openly from her eyes weren't for the missing jewels she had been adorned in that morning. Oh how different things had been just a few hours ago! How could it be that she went from a shining Athenian gem to a worthless piece of cobble so quickly?
She had even lost the crown that she never knew she had nor did Danae realize she cared for. Everytime she closed her eyes, even just for a brief moment, she could still see her beautiful braid, uncut this far in her life, drop to the deck of that wretched ship that belonged to that horrible man who had helped their just and merciful princess ruin her life. She had done nothing wrong and yet she could still see that awful man's twisted grin as she demanded that he fix what he had destroyed. Danae could still feel his hot breath in her ear as he taunted her with that sharp knife that he gracefully danced over her neck. Shallow, little cuts were all that he left and those had been her fault as they came from her squirming in his grip, trying to release herself.
He had whispered horrible things to her. Promises of death and reminders of how far her family had fallen from grace. The words that meant nothing to him would haunt her for a long time to come. Though she was lucky she know had the ability to muse over them at all. He was going to kill her. Lukos talked of slitting her throat and tossing her lifeless corpse into the water when she would never be found. She shouldn't be alive. He was going to take everything from her.
In the end all he took was her hair.
What was left of her once long locks was now tucked up under a filthy, coarse blanket Danae had stolen from her father's shipyards to hide the shame she had endured. Her face barely peered out of the fabric bunched up around her, covering the crudely cut mess on her head and the bright crimson stain on her neck. The cloth roughly scratched her exposed skin, giving her half the mind as she hurried along the route from the docks to her home; a path she traveled many times with her father. (Little did she know, the docks were now the only thing her family had left.) But her discomfort did nothing to loosen her white-knuckled grip on the makeshift cloak. The thought was being seen so battered, so broken when she had fought for so long to be strong… it scared her just as much as feeling that knife on her neck.
All she needed to do was keep her throat still and get to the one place she would be safe.
But every breath hurt. The shallow cut had stopped spilling onto her fair skin, foolishly unblemished before the pirate had left his mark in the form of big splotchy bruises dotting her skin. Not enough time had passed yet for the ugly purples and blues to make themselves known, but Danae could feel the blood pooling underneath. Each inhale and exhale brought pain to her as it was jostled about. It felt as if something was still caught there… almost as if the man still had his arm wrapped tightly around it, threatening to squeeze the life out of her and not spill a drop of her precious, but useless royal blood in the process.
He should have killed her.
Yet, he didn’t.
Danae didn't understand why he didn't do it. Nor did she want to. All she hoped for was that Lukos could disappear from the face of the earth. At least that way he could ruin no more lives on that stupid ship or by testifying in the senate for liars and false, power-hungry princesses. As the streets thinned out, she knew in her heart that the blame for what happened rest with the pair of them. Not her brother. Danae swore to herself to never forget what they did to her. Nor would she ever find forgiveness for them. They had wronged her. She would be dumb to disregard what they had done?
And for what? To make that fool of a girl queen.
No.
She would never let go of what happened.
This was their fault. Not her family's.
As these angry thoughts faded with exhaustion. the familiar shape of her home came into view. She noticed the family's carriage nearby and her heart sank. She knew how long it would have taken them to return. They clearly did not spend much time at the Senate. Did that mean they did not bother to look for her? They couldn't have, if they were now home. A new set of sobs racked through her chest as a new crop of fears of merely being an afterthought to her family overcame her. Had it been Chara or Elias who had run off, would they have stayed longer? Would they have refused to leave until the precious gems of the Stravos household were found?
She couldn't push these questions and their obvious answers from her mind as Danae wearily climbed the front steps. She could tell that something was wrong long before she made it through the front entrance. After all, she could hear her father shouting from out here and the girl physically shrunk back, taken aback by the acts of violence occurring inside. She had never known her father to yell like this and even though she couldn't make out the words, she knew that she would not find reassurances of safety with him. It was the one thing she needed and the thought of him turning his anger out on her was almost enough to convince her to turn around and find another place to hide until the world was right.
But Danny was so tired. She needed to find rest and she didn't know anywhere else to go. So, she quietly and reluctantly crossed the threshold into the home she once knew as safe and secure. It would never be that way again after Elias's actions today.
Moving past the screaming from the dining hall and unable to take another step forward, Danae fell upon the lush cushions decorating the courtyard. It didn’t fail to escape her attention that the furniture was still in the same configuration as it had been at Chara’s little party. Could that have only been a few days ago? How could her world change so dramatically, so quickly? She knew in that moment as she pulled the filthy blanket, the only barrier between who she had been that morning and what she had just recently become, around her shaking body and over her head. A shudder rocked through her body as she felt the rough fabric scratch at the back of her neck, something that she wouldn’t have had to feel if she had just learned to stay put and leave well enough alone. But what had happened couldn’t be undone.
Lukos had done well enough to teach her that today.
She curled into herself on the small couch, trying to make herself as small as possible. Perhaps if she could shield herself and make herself unseen, the horrible eye of the fates would turn their gaze away from her. “Please… leave me be.” Danae quietly muttered, but the rest of her prayer for mercy died on her lips as her throat exploded in pain. A strangled groan did escape her though as she waited for it to pass, for the loose blood to still. She couldn’t even tell what hurt more, the cut opening anew or the other scar that Lukos had left in her mind, making her hyper-aware of every movement her aching throat made. If whispering hurt that much, there was no way Danae could talk.Nor did she want to, now knowing how horrible it would feel.. It would probably be quite a while before her voice would be heard again.
A small sob began to build in her chest, but she tried to swallow it down and not alert the warring men nearby who were shouting about the now lost future that had once been promised to her. There may have been a pair of closed, heavy doors between them and her, but she could hear every word. It was a nice chorus to the crashing jewels and animalistic screams that came from the upstairs where her mother was laying waste to the life they all had built here. It's all gone. Everything was now destroyed. How could it come crashing down so quickly? Why were they now being punished for her brother’s mistake?
Normally her blood would boil at such angry, hateful thoughts swirled around her mind, but she no longer had the energy to light that fire within her. The spell of exhaustion that overcame her in that moment was so powerful that she stopped flinching at the sharp words behind her and the horrible shattering from upstairs. In fact, it now brought her a twisted sense of calm as her mind dulled and her eyes began to pull themselves down. As chaotic as this house was... as lost and hopeless everything now seemed… she knew that in this moment she was now safe. With her father, brother, and mother all nearby, no more harm would come to her today and for that she was grateful.
Her world may be shattered, her mind broken and her future held nothing, but uncertainty… but she was alive. Right now, that was all that truly mattered to the youngest Stravos as she pulled the blanket a bit tighter around her as Hypnos lulled her into an uneasy, dreamless sleep. She was alive and she was safe.
Perhaps, in time, the fates would be kinder to the girl who was now paying the price for others wrongdoing.
Moving quickly through the streets, a young girl made her way to the inner circle. Though, by the looks of her, you would never know that she had called the elite neighborhood her home for the last sixteen years. Danae of Stravos was in a sorry state as she pushed through the crowds that used to make way for her. Her peplos, a fabric of beautiful red and gold was now torn beyond repair and the edge of fabric was caked in mud. It was utterly ruined, but she didn't care. She couldn't care. The tears that flowed openly from her eyes weren't for the missing jewels she had been adorned in that morning. Oh how different things had been just a few hours ago! How could it be that she went from a shining Athenian gem to a worthless piece of cobble so quickly?
She had even lost the crown that she never knew she had nor did Danae realize she cared for. Everytime she closed her eyes, even just for a brief moment, she could still see her beautiful braid, uncut this far in her life, drop to the deck of that wretched ship that belonged to that horrible man who had helped their just and merciful princess ruin her life. She had done nothing wrong and yet she could still see that awful man's twisted grin as she demanded that he fix what he had destroyed. Danae could still feel his hot breath in her ear as he taunted her with that sharp knife that he gracefully danced over her neck. Shallow, little cuts were all that he left and those had been her fault as they came from her squirming in his grip, trying to release herself.
He had whispered horrible things to her. Promises of death and reminders of how far her family had fallen from grace. The words that meant nothing to him would haunt her for a long time to come. Though she was lucky she know had the ability to muse over them at all. He was going to kill her. Lukos talked of slitting her throat and tossing her lifeless corpse into the water when she would never be found. She shouldn't be alive. He was going to take everything from her.
In the end all he took was her hair.
What was left of her once long locks was now tucked up under a filthy, coarse blanket Danae had stolen from her father's shipyards to hide the shame she had endured. Her face barely peered out of the fabric bunched up around her, covering the crudely cut mess on her head and the bright crimson stain on her neck. The cloth roughly scratched her exposed skin, giving her half the mind as she hurried along the route from the docks to her home; a path she traveled many times with her father. (Little did she know, the docks were now the only thing her family had left.) But her discomfort did nothing to loosen her white-knuckled grip on the makeshift cloak. The thought was being seen so battered, so broken when she had fought for so long to be strong… it scared her just as much as feeling that knife on her neck.
All she needed to do was keep her throat still and get to the one place she would be safe.
But every breath hurt. The shallow cut had stopped spilling onto her fair skin, foolishly unblemished before the pirate had left his mark in the form of big splotchy bruises dotting her skin. Not enough time had passed yet for the ugly purples and blues to make themselves known, but Danae could feel the blood pooling underneath. Each inhale and exhale brought pain to her as it was jostled about. It felt as if something was still caught there… almost as if the man still had his arm wrapped tightly around it, threatening to squeeze the life out of her and not spill a drop of her precious, but useless royal blood in the process.
He should have killed her.
Yet, he didn’t.
Danae didn't understand why he didn't do it. Nor did she want to. All she hoped for was that Lukos could disappear from the face of the earth. At least that way he could ruin no more lives on that stupid ship or by testifying in the senate for liars and false, power-hungry princesses. As the streets thinned out, she knew in her heart that the blame for what happened rest with the pair of them. Not her brother. Danae swore to herself to never forget what they did to her. Nor would she ever find forgiveness for them. They had wronged her. She would be dumb to disregard what they had done?
And for what? To make that fool of a girl queen.
No.
She would never let go of what happened.
This was their fault. Not her family's.
As these angry thoughts faded with exhaustion. the familiar shape of her home came into view. She noticed the family's carriage nearby and her heart sank. She knew how long it would have taken them to return. They clearly did not spend much time at the Senate. Did that mean they did not bother to look for her? They couldn't have, if they were now home. A new set of sobs racked through her chest as a new crop of fears of merely being an afterthought to her family overcame her. Had it been Chara or Elias who had run off, would they have stayed longer? Would they have refused to leave until the precious gems of the Stravos household were found?
She couldn't push these questions and their obvious answers from her mind as Danae wearily climbed the front steps. She could tell that something was wrong long before she made it through the front entrance. After all, she could hear her father shouting from out here and the girl physically shrunk back, taken aback by the acts of violence occurring inside. She had never known her father to yell like this and even though she couldn't make out the words, she knew that she would not find reassurances of safety with him. It was the one thing she needed and the thought of him turning his anger out on her was almost enough to convince her to turn around and find another place to hide until the world was right.
But Danny was so tired. She needed to find rest and she didn't know anywhere else to go. So, she quietly and reluctantly crossed the threshold into the home she once knew as safe and secure. It would never be that way again after Elias's actions today.
Moving past the screaming from the dining hall and unable to take another step forward, Danae fell upon the lush cushions decorating the courtyard. It didn’t fail to escape her attention that the furniture was still in the same configuration as it had been at Chara’s little party. Could that have only been a few days ago? How could her world change so dramatically, so quickly? She knew in that moment as she pulled the filthy blanket, the only barrier between who she had been that morning and what she had just recently become, around her shaking body and over her head. A shudder rocked through her body as she felt the rough fabric scratch at the back of her neck, something that she wouldn’t have had to feel if she had just learned to stay put and leave well enough alone. But what had happened couldn’t be undone.
Lukos had done well enough to teach her that today.
She curled into herself on the small couch, trying to make herself as small as possible. Perhaps if she could shield herself and make herself unseen, the horrible eye of the fates would turn their gaze away from her. “Please… leave me be.” Danae quietly muttered, but the rest of her prayer for mercy died on her lips as her throat exploded in pain. A strangled groan did escape her though as she waited for it to pass, for the loose blood to still. She couldn’t even tell what hurt more, the cut opening anew or the other scar that Lukos had left in her mind, making her hyper-aware of every movement her aching throat made. If whispering hurt that much, there was no way Danae could talk.Nor did she want to, now knowing how horrible it would feel.. It would probably be quite a while before her voice would be heard again.
A small sob began to build in her chest, but she tried to swallow it down and not alert the warring men nearby who were shouting about the now lost future that had once been promised to her. There may have been a pair of closed, heavy doors between them and her, but she could hear every word. It was a nice chorus to the crashing jewels and animalistic screams that came from the upstairs where her mother was laying waste to the life they all had built here. It's all gone. Everything was now destroyed. How could it come crashing down so quickly? Why were they now being punished for her brother’s mistake?
Normally her blood would boil at such angry, hateful thoughts swirled around her mind, but she no longer had the energy to light that fire within her. The spell of exhaustion that overcame her in that moment was so powerful that she stopped flinching at the sharp words behind her and the horrible shattering from upstairs. In fact, it now brought her a twisted sense of calm as her mind dulled and her eyes began to pull themselves down. As chaotic as this house was... as lost and hopeless everything now seemed… she knew that in this moment she was now safe. With her father, brother, and mother all nearby, no more harm would come to her today and for that she was grateful.
Her world may be shattered, her mind broken and her future held nothing, but uncertainty… but she was alive. Right now, that was all that truly mattered to the youngest Stravos as she pulled the blanket a bit tighter around her as Hypnos lulled her into an uneasy, dreamless sleep. She was alive and she was safe.
Perhaps, in time, the fates would be kinder to the girl who was now paying the price for others wrongdoing.
"Good," Keikelius said, his voice taking on a tone of calm that hadn't been used in minutes, hours. All of his previous swagger, the delight of toying with prey dancing in his eyes... it all faltered in an instant. Rubbing sharply at his jaw, Keikelius' hand drifted in front of his mouth, his breathing heavy in an attempt to steady himself. His temper. For a moment, he felt true guilt for what he'd done to his own son. He had once vowed never to lay a hand on one of his children in anger. He had once vowed not to do as his own father had done and scar his own children.
But a fist had been the easiest of it for Keikelius. The softer blow of what had always been a toss up. Sometimes he got the blade, others the whip. When he was lucky? Always the fists. He'd always hoped for the fists.
Blue eyes closed slowly, the man's shoulders seeming to relax as he thought through his previous actions, his words. "Did you do it, Elias?" he questioned then, watching his son once more. "Did you commit treason? Did you sink those ships?" At that moment, he truly needed to know. And then the heaviness set in. The voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he didn't actually want to know if it was truly his son's life on the line. He didn't want to think about the fact that, while Keikelius threatened, he would never truly take the life of any of his children.
But the senate? The military? The law?
If all was true, Elias was as good as dead. The thought shredded something in Keikelius and just for a moment, his breathing wavered slightly. "Don't tell me," Keikelius said calmly, brows furrowed and eyes closed, "Because I don't actually want to know, Elias," he murmured quietly. The bravado and angered spring in his step was gone. He simply leaned back into the wall, taking a moment to compose himself once more.
Then he was pushing away from the wall, approaching his son. He put a hand on Elias' shoulder, looking him in the eye for a single moment. Squeezing lightly, as if in apology for his anger and his actions, while well deserved, he then let go and let himself out the double doors into the patio space.
The moment his eyes landed on the tiny form of his daughter, Keikelius was moving, utter panic in his bones. Danae had never been one to pull so far in on herself, especially in the public areas of the home. And for a moment, she looked small. Too small. Too much like a doe wounded in a forest, content to lie down and waste away.
"Danae," Keikelius said gently, his expression softening when he realized that she was asleep. Frowning, he reached a hand down, gently touching her cheek and slipping the blanket back a little. Shock thundered through him at the sight he found. The injuries on her person. Were he not deflated from the fight with Elias, he might have fallen into a rage once more. But in that moment, the only thing that actually mattered was ensuring that his children, all of them, remained alive and mentally stable.
He ignored his wife's raging up in the bedroom, gently scooping his arms under his daughter and lifting her slowly from the lounge. Keikelius was soft, gentle, "Shh, shh," he breathed quietly, starting with her toward the stairs. "Elias," he called as softly as he could over his shoulder, needing him to follow. "Chara," he called up the stairs as he took the first step.
For a single moment, the man, defeated by what felt like a million losses, needed to see all of his children together. Safe and, while not unharmed, in tact. He only cast a glare at the door of his rooms as he came up to the top step, deigning not to feed into Circenia's rage. Pressing open the door to Danae's room, he carried her carefully toward the bed. "Danae?" he questioned quietly down at her. "I've got you," he mumbled, complete, true worry in his eyes.
What the hell had happened to her?
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"Good," Keikelius said, his voice taking on a tone of calm that hadn't been used in minutes, hours. All of his previous swagger, the delight of toying with prey dancing in his eyes... it all faltered in an instant. Rubbing sharply at his jaw, Keikelius' hand drifted in front of his mouth, his breathing heavy in an attempt to steady himself. His temper. For a moment, he felt true guilt for what he'd done to his own son. He had once vowed never to lay a hand on one of his children in anger. He had once vowed not to do as his own father had done and scar his own children.
But a fist had been the easiest of it for Keikelius. The softer blow of what had always been a toss up. Sometimes he got the blade, others the whip. When he was lucky? Always the fists. He'd always hoped for the fists.
Blue eyes closed slowly, the man's shoulders seeming to relax as he thought through his previous actions, his words. "Did you do it, Elias?" he questioned then, watching his son once more. "Did you commit treason? Did you sink those ships?" At that moment, he truly needed to know. And then the heaviness set in. The voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he didn't actually want to know if it was truly his son's life on the line. He didn't want to think about the fact that, while Keikelius threatened, he would never truly take the life of any of his children.
But the senate? The military? The law?
If all was true, Elias was as good as dead. The thought shredded something in Keikelius and just for a moment, his breathing wavered slightly. "Don't tell me," Keikelius said calmly, brows furrowed and eyes closed, "Because I don't actually want to know, Elias," he murmured quietly. The bravado and angered spring in his step was gone. He simply leaned back into the wall, taking a moment to compose himself once more.
Then he was pushing away from the wall, approaching his son. He put a hand on Elias' shoulder, looking him in the eye for a single moment. Squeezing lightly, as if in apology for his anger and his actions, while well deserved, he then let go and let himself out the double doors into the patio space.
The moment his eyes landed on the tiny form of his daughter, Keikelius was moving, utter panic in his bones. Danae had never been one to pull so far in on herself, especially in the public areas of the home. And for a moment, she looked small. Too small. Too much like a doe wounded in a forest, content to lie down and waste away.
"Danae," Keikelius said gently, his expression softening when he realized that she was asleep. Frowning, he reached a hand down, gently touching her cheek and slipping the blanket back a little. Shock thundered through him at the sight he found. The injuries on her person. Were he not deflated from the fight with Elias, he might have fallen into a rage once more. But in that moment, the only thing that actually mattered was ensuring that his children, all of them, remained alive and mentally stable.
He ignored his wife's raging up in the bedroom, gently scooping his arms under his daughter and lifting her slowly from the lounge. Keikelius was soft, gentle, "Shh, shh," he breathed quietly, starting with her toward the stairs. "Elias," he called as softly as he could over his shoulder, needing him to follow. "Chara," he called up the stairs as he took the first step.
For a single moment, the man, defeated by what felt like a million losses, needed to see all of his children together. Safe and, while not unharmed, in tact. He only cast a glare at the door of his rooms as he came up to the top step, deigning not to feed into Circenia's rage. Pressing open the door to Danae's room, he carried her carefully toward the bed. "Danae?" he questioned quietly down at her. "I've got you," he mumbled, complete, true worry in his eyes.
What the hell had happened to her?
"Good," Keikelius said, his voice taking on a tone of calm that hadn't been used in minutes, hours. All of his previous swagger, the delight of toying with prey dancing in his eyes... it all faltered in an instant. Rubbing sharply at his jaw, Keikelius' hand drifted in front of his mouth, his breathing heavy in an attempt to steady himself. His temper. For a moment, he felt true guilt for what he'd done to his own son. He had once vowed never to lay a hand on one of his children in anger. He had once vowed not to do as his own father had done and scar his own children.
But a fist had been the easiest of it for Keikelius. The softer blow of what had always been a toss up. Sometimes he got the blade, others the whip. When he was lucky? Always the fists. He'd always hoped for the fists.
Blue eyes closed slowly, the man's shoulders seeming to relax as he thought through his previous actions, his words. "Did you do it, Elias?" he questioned then, watching his son once more. "Did you commit treason? Did you sink those ships?" At that moment, he truly needed to know. And then the heaviness set in. The voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he didn't actually want to know if it was truly his son's life on the line. He didn't want to think about the fact that, while Keikelius threatened, he would never truly take the life of any of his children.
But the senate? The military? The law?
If all was true, Elias was as good as dead. The thought shredded something in Keikelius and just for a moment, his breathing wavered slightly. "Don't tell me," Keikelius said calmly, brows furrowed and eyes closed, "Because I don't actually want to know, Elias," he murmured quietly. The bravado and angered spring in his step was gone. He simply leaned back into the wall, taking a moment to compose himself once more.
Then he was pushing away from the wall, approaching his son. He put a hand on Elias' shoulder, looking him in the eye for a single moment. Squeezing lightly, as if in apology for his anger and his actions, while well deserved, he then let go and let himself out the double doors into the patio space.
The moment his eyes landed on the tiny form of his daughter, Keikelius was moving, utter panic in his bones. Danae had never been one to pull so far in on herself, especially in the public areas of the home. And for a moment, she looked small. Too small. Too much like a doe wounded in a forest, content to lie down and waste away.
"Danae," Keikelius said gently, his expression softening when he realized that she was asleep. Frowning, he reached a hand down, gently touching her cheek and slipping the blanket back a little. Shock thundered through him at the sight he found. The injuries on her person. Were he not deflated from the fight with Elias, he might have fallen into a rage once more. But in that moment, the only thing that actually mattered was ensuring that his children, all of them, remained alive and mentally stable.
He ignored his wife's raging up in the bedroom, gently scooping his arms under his daughter and lifting her slowly from the lounge. Keikelius was soft, gentle, "Shh, shh," he breathed quietly, starting with her toward the stairs. "Elias," he called as softly as he could over his shoulder, needing him to follow. "Chara," he called up the stairs as he took the first step.
For a single moment, the man, defeated by what felt like a million losses, needed to see all of his children together. Safe and, while not unharmed, in tact. He only cast a glare at the door of his rooms as he came up to the top step, deigning not to feed into Circenia's rage. Pressing open the door to Danae's room, he carried her carefully toward the bed. "Danae?" he questioned quietly down at her. "I've got you," he mumbled, complete, true worry in his eyes.
What the hell had happened to her?
Chara had distanced herself as quickly as her mother’s orders hit her ears. She was never one to simply turn her back on an argument but she saw the fiery look in her mother’s eye and the anger that was held in her father’s. They were rightly furious with her younger brother and Chara would not be subjected to their wrath as well. Ascending the steps to her chambers, Chara removed herself from eye sight but not from ear shot.
Elias had damned them all but the slap that echoed shortly after signaled something far worse in the Stravos household. Chara’s mind was racing, deciding what of her plans were now lost and which ones might be salvaged. The game was always moving and until all pieces were off the board, they were still in play. There were alliances she could call on, favors that were owed to her and coins that could be exchanged for even more.
However, Chara knew that none of this mattered until she retrieved Elias’ side of the story. Her brother was no fool; rash as he may be…he would not have thrown everything they had worked for away? Right?
Moments dragged by, feeling as if time was now working even slower than before until her father’s voice finally called up to her. Chara pushed herself from the door, spotting her mother and brother still below and her father bringing her youngest sister up towards her room.
Chara followed but lingered in the doorway, Danae not enjoying her sister in her quarters during the best of times. There was something wrong and another blow to their family.
Something that would not stand.
“Father?” Chara’s voice was sweet as always, “Father, please…what is happening?”
She might have been clever and a charmer in her own right but Chara still adored her father and craved both his attention and his support.
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Staff Team
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Chara had distanced herself as quickly as her mother’s orders hit her ears. She was never one to simply turn her back on an argument but she saw the fiery look in her mother’s eye and the anger that was held in her father’s. They were rightly furious with her younger brother and Chara would not be subjected to their wrath as well. Ascending the steps to her chambers, Chara removed herself from eye sight but not from ear shot.
Elias had damned them all but the slap that echoed shortly after signaled something far worse in the Stravos household. Chara’s mind was racing, deciding what of her plans were now lost and which ones might be salvaged. The game was always moving and until all pieces were off the board, they were still in play. There were alliances she could call on, favors that were owed to her and coins that could be exchanged for even more.
However, Chara knew that none of this mattered until she retrieved Elias’ side of the story. Her brother was no fool; rash as he may be…he would not have thrown everything they had worked for away? Right?
Moments dragged by, feeling as if time was now working even slower than before until her father’s voice finally called up to her. Chara pushed herself from the door, spotting her mother and brother still below and her father bringing her youngest sister up towards her room.
Chara followed but lingered in the doorway, Danae not enjoying her sister in her quarters during the best of times. There was something wrong and another blow to their family.
Something that would not stand.
“Father?” Chara’s voice was sweet as always, “Father, please…what is happening?”
She might have been clever and a charmer in her own right but Chara still adored her father and craved both his attention and his support.
Chara had distanced herself as quickly as her mother’s orders hit her ears. She was never one to simply turn her back on an argument but she saw the fiery look in her mother’s eye and the anger that was held in her father’s. They were rightly furious with her younger brother and Chara would not be subjected to their wrath as well. Ascending the steps to her chambers, Chara removed herself from eye sight but not from ear shot.
Elias had damned them all but the slap that echoed shortly after signaled something far worse in the Stravos household. Chara’s mind was racing, deciding what of her plans were now lost and which ones might be salvaged. The game was always moving and until all pieces were off the board, they were still in play. There were alliances she could call on, favors that were owed to her and coins that could be exchanged for even more.
However, Chara knew that none of this mattered until she retrieved Elias’ side of the story. Her brother was no fool; rash as he may be…he would not have thrown everything they had worked for away? Right?
Moments dragged by, feeling as if time was now working even slower than before until her father’s voice finally called up to her. Chara pushed herself from the door, spotting her mother and brother still below and her father bringing her youngest sister up towards her room.
Chara followed but lingered in the doorway, Danae not enjoying her sister in her quarters during the best of times. There was something wrong and another blow to their family.
Something that would not stand.
“Father?” Chara’s voice was sweet as always, “Father, please…what is happening?”
She might have been clever and a charmer in her own right but Chara still adored her father and craved both his attention and his support.
Keikelius kept his gaze on his daughter, keeping his anger and rage at whoever had done this to his little girl at bay. After the anger and frustration of the day, there needed to be no more yelling. No more tension in the air. No more violence and no more resentment. At that moment, the only thing that mattered to him was his children. They were all safe. They were all alive. And hopefully, if Elias played his cards right, he would remain that way.
Settling at the edge of the bed, Keikelius shifted slightly, reaching down to pull some of the blankets up around Danae. His gaze drifted toward Chara as she entered, lured by his call. Reaching out, he motioned her closer, finding that he needed something else to ground him in the absence of his raging wife. "Someone hurt your sister," Keikelius murmured absently, silently working at tucking his youngest child in.
Brows furrowed, he tried to think of who would even dare. What was their reasoning? Why had they harmed… in essence, a child? She was sixteen, but that didn't make her as mature or knowledgeable of protecting herself as a young woman of Chara's age. Taking a few long moments to watch Danae, the father found himself at a loss. Lost between defeat and outright rage. Outright desire to raze the entire city of Athenia to the ground in order to figure out who had hurt her. Deciding that it would do no good for the already tarnished image of the Stravos house, Keikelius rose to his feet, turning more to Chara.
Reaching out, he placed both hands on her cheeks, bringing her close to press his lips to her forehead. "Keep an eye on her," Keikelius said quietly. Chara's was the room closest to Danae's. "If you hear her wake, come and get me," the lord murmured as quietly as he could. "Don't tell your mother yet," was his final order before he led Chara out of the room, leaving Danae's door open as they went.
Then he released Chara, and shuffled silently toward his own room. He paused at the entrance, listening to what was going on behind the closed door. Bracing himself for whatever his wife would most assuredly throw his way, Keikelius stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
And with that, the home fell silent, though no less tumultuous in nature. As it would likely remain in the coming weeks.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Keikelius kept his gaze on his daughter, keeping his anger and rage at whoever had done this to his little girl at bay. After the anger and frustration of the day, there needed to be no more yelling. No more tension in the air. No more violence and no more resentment. At that moment, the only thing that mattered to him was his children. They were all safe. They were all alive. And hopefully, if Elias played his cards right, he would remain that way.
Settling at the edge of the bed, Keikelius shifted slightly, reaching down to pull some of the blankets up around Danae. His gaze drifted toward Chara as she entered, lured by his call. Reaching out, he motioned her closer, finding that he needed something else to ground him in the absence of his raging wife. "Someone hurt your sister," Keikelius murmured absently, silently working at tucking his youngest child in.
Brows furrowed, he tried to think of who would even dare. What was their reasoning? Why had they harmed… in essence, a child? She was sixteen, but that didn't make her as mature or knowledgeable of protecting herself as a young woman of Chara's age. Taking a few long moments to watch Danae, the father found himself at a loss. Lost between defeat and outright rage. Outright desire to raze the entire city of Athenia to the ground in order to figure out who had hurt her. Deciding that it would do no good for the already tarnished image of the Stravos house, Keikelius rose to his feet, turning more to Chara.
Reaching out, he placed both hands on her cheeks, bringing her close to press his lips to her forehead. "Keep an eye on her," Keikelius said quietly. Chara's was the room closest to Danae's. "If you hear her wake, come and get me," the lord murmured as quietly as he could. "Don't tell your mother yet," was his final order before he led Chara out of the room, leaving Danae's door open as they went.
Then he released Chara, and shuffled silently toward his own room. He paused at the entrance, listening to what was going on behind the closed door. Bracing himself for whatever his wife would most assuredly throw his way, Keikelius stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
And with that, the home fell silent, though no less tumultuous in nature. As it would likely remain in the coming weeks.
Keikelius kept his gaze on his daughter, keeping his anger and rage at whoever had done this to his little girl at bay. After the anger and frustration of the day, there needed to be no more yelling. No more tension in the air. No more violence and no more resentment. At that moment, the only thing that mattered to him was his children. They were all safe. They were all alive. And hopefully, if Elias played his cards right, he would remain that way.
Settling at the edge of the bed, Keikelius shifted slightly, reaching down to pull some of the blankets up around Danae. His gaze drifted toward Chara as she entered, lured by his call. Reaching out, he motioned her closer, finding that he needed something else to ground him in the absence of his raging wife. "Someone hurt your sister," Keikelius murmured absently, silently working at tucking his youngest child in.
Brows furrowed, he tried to think of who would even dare. What was their reasoning? Why had they harmed… in essence, a child? She was sixteen, but that didn't make her as mature or knowledgeable of protecting herself as a young woman of Chara's age. Taking a few long moments to watch Danae, the father found himself at a loss. Lost between defeat and outright rage. Outright desire to raze the entire city of Athenia to the ground in order to figure out who had hurt her. Deciding that it would do no good for the already tarnished image of the Stravos house, Keikelius rose to his feet, turning more to Chara.
Reaching out, he placed both hands on her cheeks, bringing her close to press his lips to her forehead. "Keep an eye on her," Keikelius said quietly. Chara's was the room closest to Danae's. "If you hear her wake, come and get me," the lord murmured as quietly as he could. "Don't tell your mother yet," was his final order before he led Chara out of the room, leaving Danae's door open as they went.
Then he released Chara, and shuffled silently toward his own room. He paused at the entrance, listening to what was going on behind the closed door. Bracing himself for whatever his wife would most assuredly throw his way, Keikelius stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
And with that, the home fell silent, though no less tumultuous in nature. As it would likely remain in the coming weeks.