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Persephone blushed a little deeper as Iason removed his hand from the valley between her thighs, the touch of his fingers through her folds setting off little jitters and aftershocks through her pelvic floor. Even when there was nothing sexual about the movement - simply a withdrawal of his hand - she was so sensitive there now that the intent didn't matter. His other hand, however, seemed to calm the heat as he cupped her cheek with such tenderness it had Persephone's chest ache.
As Iason leant in to kiss her, Persephone felt a wash of relief surge through her, followed quickly by a warm, soft and sleepy feeling that coursed through her body. After the tension in her limbs, now her muscles grew heavy and tired and Iason's kiss brought forward a rush of affection. She had just exposed herself, her vulnerability, to this man and he kissed her as if she were something sacred not scandalous. He offered affection and care to her. Their kiss was sweet and slow and a little languid as Persephone felt lost in a hazy afterglow of her peak. But its lack of speed didn't diminish its impact. Persephone wondered if a little piece of her soul wasn’t given away within that kiss. She had never felt so personally close to anyone else in her life.
With the softness of her muscles and calm in her belly, came her body feeling heavy and Persephone shifted to sit upon Iason's lap, as he guided her to, without complaint. The touch sent little swells of sensitivity between her thighs and she felt herself inhale sharply at the contact. At such a break between their lips, Iason broke away to smile at her and Persephone sensed all the tension in her chest suddenly disappear. He rubbed his nose against her own and she grinned in open personal connection. No regality, no decorum. Just Perse. Smiling.
She responded to him as he offered her a second quick kiss of the lips and then leant back enough to speak. Persephone was smiling, her eyes half closed in dreamy contentedness, her face turned into his palm that still held her face when he spoke those three small words.
The second they left his lips, Persephone's eyes flew wide her face turning to stare across the small gap between them, her mouth opening. And just like that, the tension in her lungs and around her heart was back, her pulse was hammering a mile a minute and she felt her head go a little foggy. Her mouth tried to form words, shut and then tried again but the only thing Persephone could push past her lips was her most instinct thought, however nonsensical it was in the situation -
"You can’t... I mean... Why?"
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Persephone blushed a little deeper as Iason removed his hand from the valley between her thighs, the touch of his fingers through her folds setting off little jitters and aftershocks through her pelvic floor. Even when there was nothing sexual about the movement - simply a withdrawal of his hand - she was so sensitive there now that the intent didn't matter. His other hand, however, seemed to calm the heat as he cupped her cheek with such tenderness it had Persephone's chest ache.
As Iason leant in to kiss her, Persephone felt a wash of relief surge through her, followed quickly by a warm, soft and sleepy feeling that coursed through her body. After the tension in her limbs, now her muscles grew heavy and tired and Iason's kiss brought forward a rush of affection. She had just exposed herself, her vulnerability, to this man and he kissed her as if she were something sacred not scandalous. He offered affection and care to her. Their kiss was sweet and slow and a little languid as Persephone felt lost in a hazy afterglow of her peak. But its lack of speed didn't diminish its impact. Persephone wondered if a little piece of her soul wasn’t given away within that kiss. She had never felt so personally close to anyone else in her life.
With the softness of her muscles and calm in her belly, came her body feeling heavy and Persephone shifted to sit upon Iason's lap, as he guided her to, without complaint. The touch sent little swells of sensitivity between her thighs and she felt herself inhale sharply at the contact. At such a break between their lips, Iason broke away to smile at her and Persephone sensed all the tension in her chest suddenly disappear. He rubbed his nose against her own and she grinned in open personal connection. No regality, no decorum. Just Perse. Smiling.
She responded to him as he offered her a second quick kiss of the lips and then leant back enough to speak. Persephone was smiling, her eyes half closed in dreamy contentedness, her face turned into his palm that still held her face when he spoke those three small words.
The second they left his lips, Persephone's eyes flew wide her face turning to stare across the small gap between them, her mouth opening. And just like that, the tension in her lungs and around her heart was back, her pulse was hammering a mile a minute and she felt her head go a little foggy. Her mouth tried to form words, shut and then tried again but the only thing Persephone could push past her lips was her most instinct thought, however nonsensical it was in the situation -
"You can’t... I mean... Why?"
Persephone blushed a little deeper as Iason removed his hand from the valley between her thighs, the touch of his fingers through her folds setting off little jitters and aftershocks through her pelvic floor. Even when there was nothing sexual about the movement - simply a withdrawal of his hand - she was so sensitive there now that the intent didn't matter. His other hand, however, seemed to calm the heat as he cupped her cheek with such tenderness it had Persephone's chest ache.
As Iason leant in to kiss her, Persephone felt a wash of relief surge through her, followed quickly by a warm, soft and sleepy feeling that coursed through her body. After the tension in her limbs, now her muscles grew heavy and tired and Iason's kiss brought forward a rush of affection. She had just exposed herself, her vulnerability, to this man and he kissed her as if she were something sacred not scandalous. He offered affection and care to her. Their kiss was sweet and slow and a little languid as Persephone felt lost in a hazy afterglow of her peak. But its lack of speed didn't diminish its impact. Persephone wondered if a little piece of her soul wasn’t given away within that kiss. She had never felt so personally close to anyone else in her life.
With the softness of her muscles and calm in her belly, came her body feeling heavy and Persephone shifted to sit upon Iason's lap, as he guided her to, without complaint. The touch sent little swells of sensitivity between her thighs and she felt herself inhale sharply at the contact. At such a break between their lips, Iason broke away to smile at her and Persephone sensed all the tension in her chest suddenly disappear. He rubbed his nose against her own and she grinned in open personal connection. No regality, no decorum. Just Perse. Smiling.
She responded to him as he offered her a second quick kiss of the lips and then leant back enough to speak. Persephone was smiling, her eyes half closed in dreamy contentedness, her face turned into his palm that still held her face when he spoke those three small words.
The second they left his lips, Persephone's eyes flew wide her face turning to stare across the small gap between them, her mouth opening. And just like that, the tension in her lungs and around her heart was back, her pulse was hammering a mile a minute and she felt her head go a little foggy. Her mouth tried to form words, shut and then tried again but the only thing Persephone could push past her lips was her most instinct thought, however nonsensical it was in the situation -
"You can’t... I mean... Why?"
In all the time he’d known her, he had never seen her look so utterly relaxed, content. She had always held some form of decorum up as a shield, or been so vulnerably open he had been afraid to look too closely. This though, this was a different kind of ease that made everything about her seem to be surrounded in a haze of warmth, light and affection mingling to make her beauty even more obvious. His own eyes were still dark with a desire he’d never felt for anyone else, body tense and eager for more though she seemed to need a moment of her own.
The words had slipped from his lips without much thought, and he leaned in to her once again, pausing as she suddenly seemed startled. Iason stayed where he was, the effort of lifting his torso and holding it from the rock distracting him enough from the burning want that he could formulate actual phrases. With a deep breath that he blew out slowly, he smiled easily, his arms sliding around her in an embrace to hold her and secure her reassurance that he meant all he said.
”Because you’re...you.” It felt like a silly response, and he had to think for a moment to make more sense of what she was asking him. There were obvious reasons, her beauty and poise, but then there were more subtle things. The way she interacted with Dorothea, the horses, what he had seen of her relationship with her sister.
”Your strength, your fierce loyalty and love of the people you care about. I saw it in Athenia, and now here with my family.” His fingers traced slight circles against her tunic but that wasn’t enough and he slid them beneath the material to find skin once more, just a touch of comfort and a need to be close to her.
”When you smile at me, it feels as if all is well, I feel at ease. Your brilliance is something quiet, lingering beneath a mask of perfection, but when it shines...no man could best you.” This time he pressed an affectionate kiss to her cheek and lingered there, the heat of her skin against his own sending a radiating warmth through his body and his fingers tightened against her. She had to know, had to see what there was to love. ”And you drive me mad. I’ve never….desired...anyone so much. If this all is not love, I look forward to seeing how it grows.”
Relaxing back against the rock, he drew her with him but allowed her space to pull back if she wished, a slight smile of affection evident even through his next teasing phrase. Just looking at her it was easy to see everything he had just described, as if it was all written on her face.
”Does that satisfy you, your majesty?”
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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In all the time he’d known her, he had never seen her look so utterly relaxed, content. She had always held some form of decorum up as a shield, or been so vulnerably open he had been afraid to look too closely. This though, this was a different kind of ease that made everything about her seem to be surrounded in a haze of warmth, light and affection mingling to make her beauty even more obvious. His own eyes were still dark with a desire he’d never felt for anyone else, body tense and eager for more though she seemed to need a moment of her own.
The words had slipped from his lips without much thought, and he leaned in to her once again, pausing as she suddenly seemed startled. Iason stayed where he was, the effort of lifting his torso and holding it from the rock distracting him enough from the burning want that he could formulate actual phrases. With a deep breath that he blew out slowly, he smiled easily, his arms sliding around her in an embrace to hold her and secure her reassurance that he meant all he said.
”Because you’re...you.” It felt like a silly response, and he had to think for a moment to make more sense of what she was asking him. There were obvious reasons, her beauty and poise, but then there were more subtle things. The way she interacted with Dorothea, the horses, what he had seen of her relationship with her sister.
”Your strength, your fierce loyalty and love of the people you care about. I saw it in Athenia, and now here with my family.” His fingers traced slight circles against her tunic but that wasn’t enough and he slid them beneath the material to find skin once more, just a touch of comfort and a need to be close to her.
”When you smile at me, it feels as if all is well, I feel at ease. Your brilliance is something quiet, lingering beneath a mask of perfection, but when it shines...no man could best you.” This time he pressed an affectionate kiss to her cheek and lingered there, the heat of her skin against his own sending a radiating warmth through his body and his fingers tightened against her. She had to know, had to see what there was to love. ”And you drive me mad. I’ve never….desired...anyone so much. If this all is not love, I look forward to seeing how it grows.”
Relaxing back against the rock, he drew her with him but allowed her space to pull back if she wished, a slight smile of affection evident even through his next teasing phrase. Just looking at her it was easy to see everything he had just described, as if it was all written on her face.
”Does that satisfy you, your majesty?”
In all the time he’d known her, he had never seen her look so utterly relaxed, content. She had always held some form of decorum up as a shield, or been so vulnerably open he had been afraid to look too closely. This though, this was a different kind of ease that made everything about her seem to be surrounded in a haze of warmth, light and affection mingling to make her beauty even more obvious. His own eyes were still dark with a desire he’d never felt for anyone else, body tense and eager for more though she seemed to need a moment of her own.
The words had slipped from his lips without much thought, and he leaned in to her once again, pausing as she suddenly seemed startled. Iason stayed where he was, the effort of lifting his torso and holding it from the rock distracting him enough from the burning want that he could formulate actual phrases. With a deep breath that he blew out slowly, he smiled easily, his arms sliding around her in an embrace to hold her and secure her reassurance that he meant all he said.
”Because you’re...you.” It felt like a silly response, and he had to think for a moment to make more sense of what she was asking him. There were obvious reasons, her beauty and poise, but then there were more subtle things. The way she interacted with Dorothea, the horses, what he had seen of her relationship with her sister.
”Your strength, your fierce loyalty and love of the people you care about. I saw it in Athenia, and now here with my family.” His fingers traced slight circles against her tunic but that wasn’t enough and he slid them beneath the material to find skin once more, just a touch of comfort and a need to be close to her.
”When you smile at me, it feels as if all is well, I feel at ease. Your brilliance is something quiet, lingering beneath a mask of perfection, but when it shines...no man could best you.” This time he pressed an affectionate kiss to her cheek and lingered there, the heat of her skin against his own sending a radiating warmth through his body and his fingers tightened against her. She had to know, had to see what there was to love. ”And you drive me mad. I’ve never….desired...anyone so much. If this all is not love, I look forward to seeing how it grows.”
Relaxing back against the rock, he drew her with him but allowed her space to pull back if she wished, a slight smile of affection evident even through his next teasing phrase. Just looking at her it was easy to see everything he had just described, as if it was all written on her face.
”Does that satisfy you, your majesty?”
Persephone found her eyes to widen, her expression to numb and her heart to tighten with each word that parted Iason's lips. His impressions of her were that which she had been taught to exude her entire life; be impressive, be vibrant, be engaging, be authoritative. She had been trained to behave in the way he described. But, never once had she thought that such traits were part of her nature. She had always considered them as resulting symptoms of the lessons of her youth. She had actively and deliberately utilised no such teachings, ever since she'd been on Dimitrou land and it was clear that Iason's affections had only grown since she had been in Taengea. Which meant he saw such awe-inspiring qualities in the woman she was, not the Queen she had been taught to be. And while it was exceptionally hard for Persephone to take a compliment: mostly because she had been surrounded with flattery masking hidden agendas for so long; she knew, at least logically, that Iason meant what he said. She had been in his presence and learnt his best qualities long enough to believe that at least.
So, however much it made her feel deliciously nervous or sweetly awkward, Persephone was at least able to accept his words. Even if she couldn't quite bring herself to do it verbally. She just hoped that the softening of her expression and the warmth in her eyes were enough to communicate her belief in him and his assurances of adoration.
Dipping her head and brushing a lock of hair behind her ear once more - such a tick was rapidly becoming a habit when she felt awkward under flattery - Persephone's gaze turned down to see Iason's hands disappearing beneath her tunic and she felt the stirrings of heat once more in her lower belly. Surprised that she could still feel after the wracking shudders he had sent her into only moments before, Persephone bit her lower lip as a soft and dull throbbing began between her legs, a sign of contentment slipping from her tongue. It was as if her body now knew what it meant to be pleasured by a man and was eager for a repeat performance.
Looking up to her partner, she took his encouragement in hand and leaned forwards in order to draw closer as he sat back. She hovered, their faces close as they seemed to hold a connection without words for a moment, her own lips working to find some vocal offering of gratitude that would match his sentiments. Or the words that would return his affections.
But Persephone was not in love. Whilst she couldn't know that in its entirety; for she knew not what it meant to be in love - Persephone was fairly certain that the care and loyalty she felt for Iason was rapidly escalating in that direction, but her own nervous heart and analytical mind were restraining the progress to a more practical pace. But such words were hardly that of romantic utterances the likes of which would be suitable to respond to Iason’s heart-warming words...
Instead, Persephone reached up in order to feel at Iason's face, brushing the backs of her fingers over the growing stubble upon his jaw line and the sharp angle where jaw turned up towards ear. She felt the curls of his hair around his ears. She smiled.
"You make it hard for me to take myself seriously, my Lord." She quipped back at him, before frowning and inhaling slowly as she endeavoured to be honest with the man she had promised to spend her life with. "I cannot offer you the same words, Iason, but I can offer you my own truths...? And that is that I have cared for no man, as I care for you." And in the hopes that, if such words weren't enough, her actions could redress the deficit, Persephone then leaned in and sealed the honesty of her vow with a kiss of contradictions. Experienced it seemed for, after their practicing thus far, she found a sweet and sensitive angle immediately. And yet it was matched with an innocent gentleness that she hoped communicated her sincerity. The kiss, chaste as it was, was promise of her truthfulness and - she hoped - held hopeful possibility of any and all future growth of her feelings towards the man that was rapidly becoming the linchpin of her world.
This character is currently a work in progress.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Persephone found her eyes to widen, her expression to numb and her heart to tighten with each word that parted Iason's lips. His impressions of her were that which she had been taught to exude her entire life; be impressive, be vibrant, be engaging, be authoritative. She had been trained to behave in the way he described. But, never once had she thought that such traits were part of her nature. She had always considered them as resulting symptoms of the lessons of her youth. She had actively and deliberately utilised no such teachings, ever since she'd been on Dimitrou land and it was clear that Iason's affections had only grown since she had been in Taengea. Which meant he saw such awe-inspiring qualities in the woman she was, not the Queen she had been taught to be. And while it was exceptionally hard for Persephone to take a compliment: mostly because she had been surrounded with flattery masking hidden agendas for so long; she knew, at least logically, that Iason meant what he said. She had been in his presence and learnt his best qualities long enough to believe that at least.
So, however much it made her feel deliciously nervous or sweetly awkward, Persephone was at least able to accept his words. Even if she couldn't quite bring herself to do it verbally. She just hoped that the softening of her expression and the warmth in her eyes were enough to communicate her belief in him and his assurances of adoration.
Dipping her head and brushing a lock of hair behind her ear once more - such a tick was rapidly becoming a habit when she felt awkward under flattery - Persephone's gaze turned down to see Iason's hands disappearing beneath her tunic and she felt the stirrings of heat once more in her lower belly. Surprised that she could still feel after the wracking shudders he had sent her into only moments before, Persephone bit her lower lip as a soft and dull throbbing began between her legs, a sign of contentment slipping from her tongue. It was as if her body now knew what it meant to be pleasured by a man and was eager for a repeat performance.
Looking up to her partner, she took his encouragement in hand and leaned forwards in order to draw closer as he sat back. She hovered, their faces close as they seemed to hold a connection without words for a moment, her own lips working to find some vocal offering of gratitude that would match his sentiments. Or the words that would return his affections.
But Persephone was not in love. Whilst she couldn't know that in its entirety; for she knew not what it meant to be in love - Persephone was fairly certain that the care and loyalty she felt for Iason was rapidly escalating in that direction, but her own nervous heart and analytical mind were restraining the progress to a more practical pace. But such words were hardly that of romantic utterances the likes of which would be suitable to respond to Iason’s heart-warming words...
Instead, Persephone reached up in order to feel at Iason's face, brushing the backs of her fingers over the growing stubble upon his jaw line and the sharp angle where jaw turned up towards ear. She felt the curls of his hair around his ears. She smiled.
"You make it hard for me to take myself seriously, my Lord." She quipped back at him, before frowning and inhaling slowly as she endeavoured to be honest with the man she had promised to spend her life with. "I cannot offer you the same words, Iason, but I can offer you my own truths...? And that is that I have cared for no man, as I care for you." And in the hopes that, if such words weren't enough, her actions could redress the deficit, Persephone then leaned in and sealed the honesty of her vow with a kiss of contradictions. Experienced it seemed for, after their practicing thus far, she found a sweet and sensitive angle immediately. And yet it was matched with an innocent gentleness that she hoped communicated her sincerity. The kiss, chaste as it was, was promise of her truthfulness and - she hoped - held hopeful possibility of any and all future growth of her feelings towards the man that was rapidly becoming the linchpin of her world.
Persephone found her eyes to widen, her expression to numb and her heart to tighten with each word that parted Iason's lips. His impressions of her were that which she had been taught to exude her entire life; be impressive, be vibrant, be engaging, be authoritative. She had been trained to behave in the way he described. But, never once had she thought that such traits were part of her nature. She had always considered them as resulting symptoms of the lessons of her youth. She had actively and deliberately utilised no such teachings, ever since she'd been on Dimitrou land and it was clear that Iason's affections had only grown since she had been in Taengea. Which meant he saw such awe-inspiring qualities in the woman she was, not the Queen she had been taught to be. And while it was exceptionally hard for Persephone to take a compliment: mostly because she had been surrounded with flattery masking hidden agendas for so long; she knew, at least logically, that Iason meant what he said. She had been in his presence and learnt his best qualities long enough to believe that at least.
So, however much it made her feel deliciously nervous or sweetly awkward, Persephone was at least able to accept his words. Even if she couldn't quite bring herself to do it verbally. She just hoped that the softening of her expression and the warmth in her eyes were enough to communicate her belief in him and his assurances of adoration.
Dipping her head and brushing a lock of hair behind her ear once more - such a tick was rapidly becoming a habit when she felt awkward under flattery - Persephone's gaze turned down to see Iason's hands disappearing beneath her tunic and she felt the stirrings of heat once more in her lower belly. Surprised that she could still feel after the wracking shudders he had sent her into only moments before, Persephone bit her lower lip as a soft and dull throbbing began between her legs, a sign of contentment slipping from her tongue. It was as if her body now knew what it meant to be pleasured by a man and was eager for a repeat performance.
Looking up to her partner, she took his encouragement in hand and leaned forwards in order to draw closer as he sat back. She hovered, their faces close as they seemed to hold a connection without words for a moment, her own lips working to find some vocal offering of gratitude that would match his sentiments. Or the words that would return his affections.
But Persephone was not in love. Whilst she couldn't know that in its entirety; for she knew not what it meant to be in love - Persephone was fairly certain that the care and loyalty she felt for Iason was rapidly escalating in that direction, but her own nervous heart and analytical mind were restraining the progress to a more practical pace. But such words were hardly that of romantic utterances the likes of which would be suitable to respond to Iason’s heart-warming words...
Instead, Persephone reached up in order to feel at Iason's face, brushing the backs of her fingers over the growing stubble upon his jaw line and the sharp angle where jaw turned up towards ear. She felt the curls of his hair around his ears. She smiled.
"You make it hard for me to take myself seriously, my Lord." She quipped back at him, before frowning and inhaling slowly as she endeavoured to be honest with the man she had promised to spend her life with. "I cannot offer you the same words, Iason, but I can offer you my own truths...? And that is that I have cared for no man, as I care for you." And in the hopes that, if such words weren't enough, her actions could redress the deficit, Persephone then leaned in and sealed the honesty of her vow with a kiss of contradictions. Experienced it seemed for, after their practicing thus far, she found a sweet and sensitive angle immediately. And yet it was matched with an innocent gentleness that she hoped communicated her sincerity. The kiss, chaste as it was, was promise of her truthfulness and - she hoped - held hopeful possibility of any and all future growth of her feelings towards the man that was rapidly becoming the linchpin of her world.
Iason could feel the hesitation, the slight struggle in her reply but he tried to keep his expression neutral. Her fingers brushing along his jaw was soothing, and he closed his eyes as she scratched her nails softly against his stubble, humming with pleasure. Smiling broadly at her responding quip, he felt the nerves melt from him as she teased him back. Whatever she was going to say may not have been a declaration of love, but she didn’t despise him.
Opening his eyes to meet her gaze as she spoke, he gave a nod of understanding. Perhaps that was what he ought to have said instead of love, that he cared for her more than he’d ever cared for any other. Her phrasing made sense, and though there was an inkling of disappointment, he wasn’t unhappy with such a response.
”The truth is all I need.”
Her lips on his seemed to seal that, and he met her eagerly, hands sliding further up her back to draw her against him. Her skin was so soft, perfectly smooth without any kind of mark upon it and it sent awe through him every time he was permitted to touch her. His own skin was fine enough, but it was rough and his body hard compared to her own. It felt as if they should not be able to be on the same level.
Not wanting to let go, he shifted once again to draw his hands down to her hips to pull her against him. She was so small, when they were this close it was far more obvious how lithe she was, and how well she fit with him. He was curious still, what this could mean for them, what else could pass between them, whether or not he could pull those sounds from her again.
”So...was that...something you would wish again? Were you satisfied?” He felt so awkward asking, but he tried to smile and keep close to her so she couldn’t see it in his eyes. He wanted her answer to be yes, to get that confirmation that he wasn’t a completely lost cause.
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Iason could feel the hesitation, the slight struggle in her reply but he tried to keep his expression neutral. Her fingers brushing along his jaw was soothing, and he closed his eyes as she scratched her nails softly against his stubble, humming with pleasure. Smiling broadly at her responding quip, he felt the nerves melt from him as she teased him back. Whatever she was going to say may not have been a declaration of love, but she didn’t despise him.
Opening his eyes to meet her gaze as she spoke, he gave a nod of understanding. Perhaps that was what he ought to have said instead of love, that he cared for her more than he’d ever cared for any other. Her phrasing made sense, and though there was an inkling of disappointment, he wasn’t unhappy with such a response.
”The truth is all I need.”
Her lips on his seemed to seal that, and he met her eagerly, hands sliding further up her back to draw her against him. Her skin was so soft, perfectly smooth without any kind of mark upon it and it sent awe through him every time he was permitted to touch her. His own skin was fine enough, but it was rough and his body hard compared to her own. It felt as if they should not be able to be on the same level.
Not wanting to let go, he shifted once again to draw his hands down to her hips to pull her against him. She was so small, when they were this close it was far more obvious how lithe she was, and how well she fit with him. He was curious still, what this could mean for them, what else could pass between them, whether or not he could pull those sounds from her again.
”So...was that...something you would wish again? Were you satisfied?” He felt so awkward asking, but he tried to smile and keep close to her so she couldn’t see it in his eyes. He wanted her answer to be yes, to get that confirmation that he wasn’t a completely lost cause.
Iason could feel the hesitation, the slight struggle in her reply but he tried to keep his expression neutral. Her fingers brushing along his jaw was soothing, and he closed his eyes as she scratched her nails softly against his stubble, humming with pleasure. Smiling broadly at her responding quip, he felt the nerves melt from him as she teased him back. Whatever she was going to say may not have been a declaration of love, but she didn’t despise him.
Opening his eyes to meet her gaze as she spoke, he gave a nod of understanding. Perhaps that was what he ought to have said instead of love, that he cared for her more than he’d ever cared for any other. Her phrasing made sense, and though there was an inkling of disappointment, he wasn’t unhappy with such a response.
”The truth is all I need.”
Her lips on his seemed to seal that, and he met her eagerly, hands sliding further up her back to draw her against him. Her skin was so soft, perfectly smooth without any kind of mark upon it and it sent awe through him every time he was permitted to touch her. His own skin was fine enough, but it was rough and his body hard compared to her own. It felt as if they should not be able to be on the same level.
Not wanting to let go, he shifted once again to draw his hands down to her hips to pull her against him. She was so small, when they were this close it was far more obvious how lithe she was, and how well she fit with him. He was curious still, what this could mean for them, what else could pass between them, whether or not he could pull those sounds from her again.
”So...was that...something you would wish again? Were you satisfied?” He felt so awkward asking, but he tried to smile and keep close to her so she couldn’t see it in his eyes. He wanted her answer to be yes, to get that confirmation that he wasn’t a completely lost cause.
The truth is all I need.
It was a statement that Persephone openly believed. Iason was a man she had not previously had the fortunate to meet: who said exactly what he meant. Raised from infancy by servants who told her only what they thought she wanted to hear and from her pubescent years by those of Court saying only that which they wanted to say but in a manner that only communicated what they wanted her to hear, Iason’s (and the Dimitrou clan in generals') adherence to honesty was as surprising and difficult to adjust to as it was truly appreciated and loved. There were no games with Iason, no tricks or machinations. In fact, Persephone was fairly certain that any miscommunications between the two of them had been her own fault for over thinking and assuming there to be additional layers to their conversations that didn't exist.
That was to say, Iason was far from simple. He was not an unintelligent man. Persephone had seen the way his mind worked, had noted his choices in behaviour, how he had comported himself in Athenia. The man was knowledgeable and while he might not have loved to socialise within high society, he was a skilled courtier. Which meant that he had every ability, skill and opportunity to manipulate fact and instead held true to honesty. It was just like how he had the opportunity to be a king... or a member of even high nobility than he currently stood, grasping for more power and glory and yet he remained true to a simple vision he had always anticipated for his life: being a baron, husband and father.
And such a dream could only be shared truly with one person.
And he had chosen her.
As their kiss broke off, soft and sensitive to the end, Persephone's lips naturally curved into what wasn't actually a smile but more a resting expression that had turned into one of contentment. Her lashes fluttered upwards, as Iason sort to speak with her on what he had encouraged her body to do, causing a brilliant flush to touch at the base of Persephone's neck and the far edges of her cheekbones. With a quick smile, a haughty lifting of her chin as her own lessons in decorum came to her rescue, Persephone's eyes flashed with humour.
"Are you fishing for a compliment, Lord Iason?" She asked him with a tone of fake indignation, before her expression broke, her smile turned looser and more relaxed and she leaned in to press her lips to his once more. Her next words were murmured against his lips.
"That was the first time I have ever felt as such." She told him. "But I promise you I would not want it to be the last."
The colour in the far reaches of her cheekbone seemed to drift forwards towards the peaks of her facial structure at such an admittance, but when Iason moved his hand towards her in a way that suggested he had meant now rather than at an undisclosed further time, Persephone was surprised and quickly reached down to wrap her fingers around his wrist once more, this time gently and with a lazy pace of movement. Her fingers fluttered around the ridge of his joint and over the thick tendons in his arm, as she realised that she was a little nervous in her next suggestion...
"Do partnerships not offer pleasure in equal turns?" She asked the man with a glance that met his eye but couldn't seem to hold it for very long. She licked her lips, the tip of her tongue pink against the swollen red of her mouth; her lips turned thicker and more voluptuous by Iason's attentions. "Perhaps if we were to return to the manor...?" She suggested, still brave enough to meet the line of his stare but innocent and coy enough to break it quickly. "I would like to share in our pleasure with you, Iason…"
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The truth is all I need.
It was a statement that Persephone openly believed. Iason was a man she had not previously had the fortunate to meet: who said exactly what he meant. Raised from infancy by servants who told her only what they thought she wanted to hear and from her pubescent years by those of Court saying only that which they wanted to say but in a manner that only communicated what they wanted her to hear, Iason’s (and the Dimitrou clan in generals') adherence to honesty was as surprising and difficult to adjust to as it was truly appreciated and loved. There were no games with Iason, no tricks or machinations. In fact, Persephone was fairly certain that any miscommunications between the two of them had been her own fault for over thinking and assuming there to be additional layers to their conversations that didn't exist.
That was to say, Iason was far from simple. He was not an unintelligent man. Persephone had seen the way his mind worked, had noted his choices in behaviour, how he had comported himself in Athenia. The man was knowledgeable and while he might not have loved to socialise within high society, he was a skilled courtier. Which meant that he had every ability, skill and opportunity to manipulate fact and instead held true to honesty. It was just like how he had the opportunity to be a king... or a member of even high nobility than he currently stood, grasping for more power and glory and yet he remained true to a simple vision he had always anticipated for his life: being a baron, husband and father.
And such a dream could only be shared truly with one person.
And he had chosen her.
As their kiss broke off, soft and sensitive to the end, Persephone's lips naturally curved into what wasn't actually a smile but more a resting expression that had turned into one of contentment. Her lashes fluttered upwards, as Iason sort to speak with her on what he had encouraged her body to do, causing a brilliant flush to touch at the base of Persephone's neck and the far edges of her cheekbones. With a quick smile, a haughty lifting of her chin as her own lessons in decorum came to her rescue, Persephone's eyes flashed with humour.
"Are you fishing for a compliment, Lord Iason?" She asked him with a tone of fake indignation, before her expression broke, her smile turned looser and more relaxed and she leaned in to press her lips to his once more. Her next words were murmured against his lips.
"That was the first time I have ever felt as such." She told him. "But I promise you I would not want it to be the last."
The colour in the far reaches of her cheekbone seemed to drift forwards towards the peaks of her facial structure at such an admittance, but when Iason moved his hand towards her in a way that suggested he had meant now rather than at an undisclosed further time, Persephone was surprised and quickly reached down to wrap her fingers around his wrist once more, this time gently and with a lazy pace of movement. Her fingers fluttered around the ridge of his joint and over the thick tendons in his arm, as she realised that she was a little nervous in her next suggestion...
"Do partnerships not offer pleasure in equal turns?" She asked the man with a glance that met his eye but couldn't seem to hold it for very long. She licked her lips, the tip of her tongue pink against the swollen red of her mouth; her lips turned thicker and more voluptuous by Iason's attentions. "Perhaps if we were to return to the manor...?" She suggested, still brave enough to meet the line of his stare but innocent and coy enough to break it quickly. "I would like to share in our pleasure with you, Iason…"
The truth is all I need.
It was a statement that Persephone openly believed. Iason was a man she had not previously had the fortunate to meet: who said exactly what he meant. Raised from infancy by servants who told her only what they thought she wanted to hear and from her pubescent years by those of Court saying only that which they wanted to say but in a manner that only communicated what they wanted her to hear, Iason’s (and the Dimitrou clan in generals') adherence to honesty was as surprising and difficult to adjust to as it was truly appreciated and loved. There were no games with Iason, no tricks or machinations. In fact, Persephone was fairly certain that any miscommunications between the two of them had been her own fault for over thinking and assuming there to be additional layers to their conversations that didn't exist.
That was to say, Iason was far from simple. He was not an unintelligent man. Persephone had seen the way his mind worked, had noted his choices in behaviour, how he had comported himself in Athenia. The man was knowledgeable and while he might not have loved to socialise within high society, he was a skilled courtier. Which meant that he had every ability, skill and opportunity to manipulate fact and instead held true to honesty. It was just like how he had the opportunity to be a king... or a member of even high nobility than he currently stood, grasping for more power and glory and yet he remained true to a simple vision he had always anticipated for his life: being a baron, husband and father.
And such a dream could only be shared truly with one person.
And he had chosen her.
As their kiss broke off, soft and sensitive to the end, Persephone's lips naturally curved into what wasn't actually a smile but more a resting expression that had turned into one of contentment. Her lashes fluttered upwards, as Iason sort to speak with her on what he had encouraged her body to do, causing a brilliant flush to touch at the base of Persephone's neck and the far edges of her cheekbones. With a quick smile, a haughty lifting of her chin as her own lessons in decorum came to her rescue, Persephone's eyes flashed with humour.
"Are you fishing for a compliment, Lord Iason?" She asked him with a tone of fake indignation, before her expression broke, her smile turned looser and more relaxed and she leaned in to press her lips to his once more. Her next words were murmured against his lips.
"That was the first time I have ever felt as such." She told him. "But I promise you I would not want it to be the last."
The colour in the far reaches of her cheekbone seemed to drift forwards towards the peaks of her facial structure at such an admittance, but when Iason moved his hand towards her in a way that suggested he had meant now rather than at an undisclosed further time, Persephone was surprised and quickly reached down to wrap her fingers around his wrist once more, this time gently and with a lazy pace of movement. Her fingers fluttered around the ridge of his joint and over the thick tendons in his arm, as she realised that she was a little nervous in her next suggestion...
"Do partnerships not offer pleasure in equal turns?" She asked the man with a glance that met his eye but couldn't seem to hold it for very long. She licked her lips, the tip of her tongue pink against the swollen red of her mouth; her lips turned thicker and more voluptuous by Iason's attentions. "Perhaps if we were to return to the manor...?" She suggested, still brave enough to meet the line of his stare but innocent and coy enough to break it quickly. "I would like to share in our pleasure with you, Iason…"
The way her skin flushed in response told him what he had hoped to know, and his grin spread as she caught his hand. He hadn’t been intending on anything else, but he also didn’t hate having her holding onto him in such a way. Instead, he let his arms wrap around her waist again, marveling at the way her blush travelled from her neck to her cheeks. She was much more willing to kiss him now, more able to initiate affection and share it between them than when they had first begun to test their limits together.
What he hadn’t expected was an offer of something in return. His eyes had started to droop slightly in contentment as her fingers played over the muscles of his arm and wrist, but they were open and alert once again, catching the way her tongue played over her lips. Swallowing to try to ensure that his throat which had gone dry in that instant wouldn’t betray him, Iason nodded slightly.
”If...you wish.”
Coherent thought wasn’t really working for him at the moment, and his body which had finally started to cool felt like it was going to catch fire again. Without a further word, he caught her up in his arms and stood, whistling for his mount and speaking to her hair as he waited for the gelding to reach them.
”Ride with me back?”
It wasn’t so much a question as an acknowledgement to himself that he didn’t want to be parted from her for even the space of time it would take for them to get back to the manor. Not to mention, as he knew the terrain like the back of his hand, he could take them at a far quicker pace than they might have otherwise gone. Waiting for her assent, he lifted her onto Bucephalus’ back, swinging up behind her and setting them off with one arm around her, the other guiding the gelding. Seeing she was being left behind, Persephone’s mare gave an indignant whicker before following them, unwilling to be parted from her herd.
The journey back felt like it took forever, with her back pressed to his chest he was able to sneak a few kisses to the curve of her neck as he allowed the horse to get them home without much guidance. It would take all of the self control he had left to ensure that they were put up properly before returning to the manor proper with his entire family absent for the senate meet and varying events that followed.
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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The way her skin flushed in response told him what he had hoped to know, and his grin spread as she caught his hand. He hadn’t been intending on anything else, but he also didn’t hate having her holding onto him in such a way. Instead, he let his arms wrap around her waist again, marveling at the way her blush travelled from her neck to her cheeks. She was much more willing to kiss him now, more able to initiate affection and share it between them than when they had first begun to test their limits together.
What he hadn’t expected was an offer of something in return. His eyes had started to droop slightly in contentment as her fingers played over the muscles of his arm and wrist, but they were open and alert once again, catching the way her tongue played over her lips. Swallowing to try to ensure that his throat which had gone dry in that instant wouldn’t betray him, Iason nodded slightly.
”If...you wish.”
Coherent thought wasn’t really working for him at the moment, and his body which had finally started to cool felt like it was going to catch fire again. Without a further word, he caught her up in his arms and stood, whistling for his mount and speaking to her hair as he waited for the gelding to reach them.
”Ride with me back?”
It wasn’t so much a question as an acknowledgement to himself that he didn’t want to be parted from her for even the space of time it would take for them to get back to the manor. Not to mention, as he knew the terrain like the back of his hand, he could take them at a far quicker pace than they might have otherwise gone. Waiting for her assent, he lifted her onto Bucephalus’ back, swinging up behind her and setting them off with one arm around her, the other guiding the gelding. Seeing she was being left behind, Persephone’s mare gave an indignant whicker before following them, unwilling to be parted from her herd.
The journey back felt like it took forever, with her back pressed to his chest he was able to sneak a few kisses to the curve of her neck as he allowed the horse to get them home without much guidance. It would take all of the self control he had left to ensure that they were put up properly before returning to the manor proper with his entire family absent for the senate meet and varying events that followed.
The way her skin flushed in response told him what he had hoped to know, and his grin spread as she caught his hand. He hadn’t been intending on anything else, but he also didn’t hate having her holding onto him in such a way. Instead, he let his arms wrap around her waist again, marveling at the way her blush travelled from her neck to her cheeks. She was much more willing to kiss him now, more able to initiate affection and share it between them than when they had first begun to test their limits together.
What he hadn’t expected was an offer of something in return. His eyes had started to droop slightly in contentment as her fingers played over the muscles of his arm and wrist, but they were open and alert once again, catching the way her tongue played over her lips. Swallowing to try to ensure that his throat which had gone dry in that instant wouldn’t betray him, Iason nodded slightly.
”If...you wish.”
Coherent thought wasn’t really working for him at the moment, and his body which had finally started to cool felt like it was going to catch fire again. Without a further word, he caught her up in his arms and stood, whistling for his mount and speaking to her hair as he waited for the gelding to reach them.
”Ride with me back?”
It wasn’t so much a question as an acknowledgement to himself that he didn’t want to be parted from her for even the space of time it would take for them to get back to the manor. Not to mention, as he knew the terrain like the back of his hand, he could take them at a far quicker pace than they might have otherwise gone. Waiting for her assent, he lifted her onto Bucephalus’ back, swinging up behind her and setting them off with one arm around her, the other guiding the gelding. Seeing she was being left behind, Persephone’s mare gave an indignant whicker before following them, unwilling to be parted from her herd.
The journey back felt like it took forever, with her back pressed to his chest he was able to sneak a few kisses to the curve of her neck as he allowed the horse to get them home without much guidance. It would take all of the self control he had left to ensure that they were put up properly before returning to the manor proper with his entire family absent for the senate meet and varying events that followed.
Initially, Persephone felt disappointment tinged with concern that she had gotten something wrong. She had offered the return of… pleasuring Iason because she had wanted to. Because she did not want to solely be the one in their dynamic constantly taking, without returning the affection or experiences that Iason offered her. Whilst she would never say she felt pressured into suggesting such an act on her part, she had indeed spoken in the hopes of pleasing him, more than herself. Yet, his response was but a simple... "If... you wish."...
If she wished? For a moment, Persephone wondered if she had gotten it all wrong, if he was merely humouring her offer and that she had failed to suggestion that which men enjoyed. Perhaps she had done so out of turn, or out of character, or perhaps men did not simply operate in the same way that the female anatomy was formed. Persephone was just starting to feel the curls of embarrassment and awkwardness unfurl in her belly when Iason was suddenly encouraging her up, moving them both to standing within a few seconds. Within another, he was calling over his horse; all with an efficient speed that suggested enough eagerness to chase away her concerns. She had not been wrong. Iason had just been hedging his words. His actions spoke of an excitement in her proposed plan that had her worries defused quickly enough.
When the man turned to murmur a simple question towards her, his lips and breath stirring her hair that now fell in several more curls around her face than had been loosed upon her leaving the Dimitrou manor, she smiled at the tenderness implied by such intimacy. She nodded simply with an agreement to his suggestion, for it was one of the first times Iason had asked her for anything.
"Alright." Was her simple acceptance, the word light and sweet, as the curling of her lips turned its tone bright and positive. She was perfectly capable of riding back herself, and it was the fact that she knew Iason to be aware of this - that his offer was not a condescension of her skills on the back of a horse - that had her agreeing to his offer. There was no judgement to be had here. Just the prolonged enjoyment of each other's company. It was for this same reason that Persephone allowed Iason to help her onto the back of his mount and she stayed calmly balanced in place as he joined her, settling his pelvis behind her bottom and her back to his chest.
As Iason curled an arm around her middle, Persephone leant into his touch, her shoulders cushioned by the breadth of his chest. She felt a small fire spark once more in her lower belly as Iason's fingers spread possessively over her middle, holding her close as he directed the horse with his other. Her mind flickered to a few moments earlier when those fingers had brushed her body just a little lower than they did now. She was still... alert between her thighs, feeling the shifts and movements of her garments against her heightened sensitivities. Each shift and movement of the horse beneath her had the curve of her rear pressing up against Iason's pelvis and her shoulders brushing against his collarbone. His arm was like a delicious abrasion against her side and over her middle and she was struggling to concentrate on anything that was occurring beyond the boundary of her own skin. She found herself licking her lips and her breath deepening as she placed a hand to the forearm curled around her and ran the palm of her hand from elbow to wrist. There, she rested her hand over his and boldly interlocked her fingers between his own.
Something had happened on that rock in the middle of the meadow. For, suddenly, it felt like such a small thing to touch Iason so innocently. After he had caressed her as he had... a simple holding of hands felt like nothing anymore. Her inhibitions had been stripped away forcefully by the intensity of what they had shared and Persephone felt herself growing more positive of her future.
She had always respected Iason. She had always liked Iason. But now it was becoming clear that, not only did she care greatly for him: his humility, his bravery, his compassion and kindness... she was also finding herself physically drawn to him. The concept of going to bed with the man that would be her husband no longer seemed clouded in a fog of fearful ignorance... but the mist and steam of unknown pleasures...
As they rode back, Iason moved to make kisses along the side of her neck and Persephone did nothing to stop him. Her head turned towards his a little in a moment of ticklish coyness but otherwise she was open and accepting of his touch. His lips left little sparks of heat along her skin and she felt herself blush again. How many times could a woman warm in the cheeks before she become wholly and permanently overheated? Her fingers squeezed with his as they rode, air leaving her lungs on a soft and contented sigh as she allowed the man to take care of their journey and ensure her mare was brought safely with them. For some of the distance, Persephone closed her eyes, enjoying the touch of his mouth against her nape, the sunlight speckling through the trees on her face, the gentle sway of the animal beneath them... the way their fingers twisted and played at her middle.
She was opening her eyes from just such a moment of bliss when they approached the gates of the Dimitrou manor. They rode down the slabbed pathway to the main house only to find some of the shine of her mood diminished in a moment of confusion when she spotted Demetrius standing by the stables, apparently waiting for them... Disengaging their hands and allowing Iason to dismount behind her first, Persephone then swung a leg over the back of the horse and came to the ground herself.
"Demetrius..." She greeted with a friendly smile but an expression of uncertainty at the severe expression on his face.
She and soldier had not talked greatly since her escape from Athenia. But by joining them in their rush for safety, the man had cemented himself in the position of trusted ally, regardless of the limited time they had spent in one of another's company. Persephone had tended to the wounds he had received during the attack (however poorly - it had taken her four attempts to secure the bandage with any great degree of security) and he in turn had been performing a protective service in her employ. But even then, the two of them did not know each other well and Persephone was struggling to decode his expression. Standing there, there appeared to be too much going on for him to react to all at once. He seemed... jumpy. Elated but with the determination to be serious.
"Is everything alright?" She asked the gladiator come bodyguard, as she stepped forward with friendly concern for the man...
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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Initially, Persephone felt disappointment tinged with concern that she had gotten something wrong. She had offered the return of… pleasuring Iason because she had wanted to. Because she did not want to solely be the one in their dynamic constantly taking, without returning the affection or experiences that Iason offered her. Whilst she would never say she felt pressured into suggesting such an act on her part, she had indeed spoken in the hopes of pleasing him, more than herself. Yet, his response was but a simple... "If... you wish."...
If she wished? For a moment, Persephone wondered if she had gotten it all wrong, if he was merely humouring her offer and that she had failed to suggestion that which men enjoyed. Perhaps she had done so out of turn, or out of character, or perhaps men did not simply operate in the same way that the female anatomy was formed. Persephone was just starting to feel the curls of embarrassment and awkwardness unfurl in her belly when Iason was suddenly encouraging her up, moving them both to standing within a few seconds. Within another, he was calling over his horse; all with an efficient speed that suggested enough eagerness to chase away her concerns. She had not been wrong. Iason had just been hedging his words. His actions spoke of an excitement in her proposed plan that had her worries defused quickly enough.
When the man turned to murmur a simple question towards her, his lips and breath stirring her hair that now fell in several more curls around her face than had been loosed upon her leaving the Dimitrou manor, she smiled at the tenderness implied by such intimacy. She nodded simply with an agreement to his suggestion, for it was one of the first times Iason had asked her for anything.
"Alright." Was her simple acceptance, the word light and sweet, as the curling of her lips turned its tone bright and positive. She was perfectly capable of riding back herself, and it was the fact that she knew Iason to be aware of this - that his offer was not a condescension of her skills on the back of a horse - that had her agreeing to his offer. There was no judgement to be had here. Just the prolonged enjoyment of each other's company. It was for this same reason that Persephone allowed Iason to help her onto the back of his mount and she stayed calmly balanced in place as he joined her, settling his pelvis behind her bottom and her back to his chest.
As Iason curled an arm around her middle, Persephone leant into his touch, her shoulders cushioned by the breadth of his chest. She felt a small fire spark once more in her lower belly as Iason's fingers spread possessively over her middle, holding her close as he directed the horse with his other. Her mind flickered to a few moments earlier when those fingers had brushed her body just a little lower than they did now. She was still... alert between her thighs, feeling the shifts and movements of her garments against her heightened sensitivities. Each shift and movement of the horse beneath her had the curve of her rear pressing up against Iason's pelvis and her shoulders brushing against his collarbone. His arm was like a delicious abrasion against her side and over her middle and she was struggling to concentrate on anything that was occurring beyond the boundary of her own skin. She found herself licking her lips and her breath deepening as she placed a hand to the forearm curled around her and ran the palm of her hand from elbow to wrist. There, she rested her hand over his and boldly interlocked her fingers between his own.
Something had happened on that rock in the middle of the meadow. For, suddenly, it felt like such a small thing to touch Iason so innocently. After he had caressed her as he had... a simple holding of hands felt like nothing anymore. Her inhibitions had been stripped away forcefully by the intensity of what they had shared and Persephone felt herself growing more positive of her future.
She had always respected Iason. She had always liked Iason. But now it was becoming clear that, not only did she care greatly for him: his humility, his bravery, his compassion and kindness... she was also finding herself physically drawn to him. The concept of going to bed with the man that would be her husband no longer seemed clouded in a fog of fearful ignorance... but the mist and steam of unknown pleasures...
As they rode back, Iason moved to make kisses along the side of her neck and Persephone did nothing to stop him. Her head turned towards his a little in a moment of ticklish coyness but otherwise she was open and accepting of his touch. His lips left little sparks of heat along her skin and she felt herself blush again. How many times could a woman warm in the cheeks before she become wholly and permanently overheated? Her fingers squeezed with his as they rode, air leaving her lungs on a soft and contented sigh as she allowed the man to take care of their journey and ensure her mare was brought safely with them. For some of the distance, Persephone closed her eyes, enjoying the touch of his mouth against her nape, the sunlight speckling through the trees on her face, the gentle sway of the animal beneath them... the way their fingers twisted and played at her middle.
She was opening her eyes from just such a moment of bliss when they approached the gates of the Dimitrou manor. They rode down the slabbed pathway to the main house only to find some of the shine of her mood diminished in a moment of confusion when she spotted Demetrius standing by the stables, apparently waiting for them... Disengaging their hands and allowing Iason to dismount behind her first, Persephone then swung a leg over the back of the horse and came to the ground herself.
"Demetrius..." She greeted with a friendly smile but an expression of uncertainty at the severe expression on his face.
She and soldier had not talked greatly since her escape from Athenia. But by joining them in their rush for safety, the man had cemented himself in the position of trusted ally, regardless of the limited time they had spent in one of another's company. Persephone had tended to the wounds he had received during the attack (however poorly - it had taken her four attempts to secure the bandage with any great degree of security) and he in turn had been performing a protective service in her employ. But even then, the two of them did not know each other well and Persephone was struggling to decode his expression. Standing there, there appeared to be too much going on for him to react to all at once. He seemed... jumpy. Elated but with the determination to be serious.
"Is everything alright?" She asked the gladiator come bodyguard, as she stepped forward with friendly concern for the man...
Initially, Persephone felt disappointment tinged with concern that she had gotten something wrong. She had offered the return of… pleasuring Iason because she had wanted to. Because she did not want to solely be the one in their dynamic constantly taking, without returning the affection or experiences that Iason offered her. Whilst she would never say she felt pressured into suggesting such an act on her part, she had indeed spoken in the hopes of pleasing him, more than herself. Yet, his response was but a simple... "If... you wish."...
If she wished? For a moment, Persephone wondered if she had gotten it all wrong, if he was merely humouring her offer and that she had failed to suggestion that which men enjoyed. Perhaps she had done so out of turn, or out of character, or perhaps men did not simply operate in the same way that the female anatomy was formed. Persephone was just starting to feel the curls of embarrassment and awkwardness unfurl in her belly when Iason was suddenly encouraging her up, moving them both to standing within a few seconds. Within another, he was calling over his horse; all with an efficient speed that suggested enough eagerness to chase away her concerns. She had not been wrong. Iason had just been hedging his words. His actions spoke of an excitement in her proposed plan that had her worries defused quickly enough.
When the man turned to murmur a simple question towards her, his lips and breath stirring her hair that now fell in several more curls around her face than had been loosed upon her leaving the Dimitrou manor, she smiled at the tenderness implied by such intimacy. She nodded simply with an agreement to his suggestion, for it was one of the first times Iason had asked her for anything.
"Alright." Was her simple acceptance, the word light and sweet, as the curling of her lips turned its tone bright and positive. She was perfectly capable of riding back herself, and it was the fact that she knew Iason to be aware of this - that his offer was not a condescension of her skills on the back of a horse - that had her agreeing to his offer. There was no judgement to be had here. Just the prolonged enjoyment of each other's company. It was for this same reason that Persephone allowed Iason to help her onto the back of his mount and she stayed calmly balanced in place as he joined her, settling his pelvis behind her bottom and her back to his chest.
As Iason curled an arm around her middle, Persephone leant into his touch, her shoulders cushioned by the breadth of his chest. She felt a small fire spark once more in her lower belly as Iason's fingers spread possessively over her middle, holding her close as he directed the horse with his other. Her mind flickered to a few moments earlier when those fingers had brushed her body just a little lower than they did now. She was still... alert between her thighs, feeling the shifts and movements of her garments against her heightened sensitivities. Each shift and movement of the horse beneath her had the curve of her rear pressing up against Iason's pelvis and her shoulders brushing against his collarbone. His arm was like a delicious abrasion against her side and over her middle and she was struggling to concentrate on anything that was occurring beyond the boundary of her own skin. She found herself licking her lips and her breath deepening as she placed a hand to the forearm curled around her and ran the palm of her hand from elbow to wrist. There, she rested her hand over his and boldly interlocked her fingers between his own.
Something had happened on that rock in the middle of the meadow. For, suddenly, it felt like such a small thing to touch Iason so innocently. After he had caressed her as he had... a simple holding of hands felt like nothing anymore. Her inhibitions had been stripped away forcefully by the intensity of what they had shared and Persephone felt herself growing more positive of her future.
She had always respected Iason. She had always liked Iason. But now it was becoming clear that, not only did she care greatly for him: his humility, his bravery, his compassion and kindness... she was also finding herself physically drawn to him. The concept of going to bed with the man that would be her husband no longer seemed clouded in a fog of fearful ignorance... but the mist and steam of unknown pleasures...
As they rode back, Iason moved to make kisses along the side of her neck and Persephone did nothing to stop him. Her head turned towards his a little in a moment of ticklish coyness but otherwise she was open and accepting of his touch. His lips left little sparks of heat along her skin and she felt herself blush again. How many times could a woman warm in the cheeks before she become wholly and permanently overheated? Her fingers squeezed with his as they rode, air leaving her lungs on a soft and contented sigh as she allowed the man to take care of their journey and ensure her mare was brought safely with them. For some of the distance, Persephone closed her eyes, enjoying the touch of his mouth against her nape, the sunlight speckling through the trees on her face, the gentle sway of the animal beneath them... the way their fingers twisted and played at her middle.
She was opening her eyes from just such a moment of bliss when they approached the gates of the Dimitrou manor. They rode down the slabbed pathway to the main house only to find some of the shine of her mood diminished in a moment of confusion when she spotted Demetrius standing by the stables, apparently waiting for them... Disengaging their hands and allowing Iason to dismount behind her first, Persephone then swung a leg over the back of the horse and came to the ground herself.
"Demetrius..." She greeted with a friendly smile but an expression of uncertainty at the severe expression on his face.
She and soldier had not talked greatly since her escape from Athenia. But by joining them in their rush for safety, the man had cemented himself in the position of trusted ally, regardless of the limited time they had spent in one of another's company. Persephone had tended to the wounds he had received during the attack (however poorly - it had taken her four attempts to secure the bandage with any great degree of security) and he in turn had been performing a protective service in her employ. But even then, the two of them did not know each other well and Persephone was struggling to decode his expression. Standing there, there appeared to be too much going on for him to react to all at once. He seemed... jumpy. Elated but with the determination to be serious.
"Is everything alright?" She asked the gladiator come bodyguard, as she stepped forward with friendly concern for the man...
As soon as he had received confirmation that the letter came from one of the Queen’s advisors, Demetrius had packed up his things and Olena, making sure the woman’s distinctive hair was covered as they rode together on the same horse out of Vasiliadon. Only after they were clear of the city did either of them breathe properly, a laugh of relief exhaled from his chest. They’d done it, they’d escaped together and they were both finally free, together.
The trip back to the Dimitrou lands was simple enough, no one had an urge to stop the couple as they rode along, and since they travelled light there was no reason for them to look suspicious aside from the fine horse he’d been given to make the trip. It was early afternoon the next day when they finally rode up to the manor house, and as they dismounted, Dima handing the horse over to the hostlers and being told the Queen and her consort were out for a ride, decided to wait by the stables.
Olena was allowed the option of waiting with him or seeking out food, choosing to settle their things in the small space they’d been granted before she returned to his side. As Dima waited, he looked at the letter. He couldn’t read the words written upon the paper, but the man who had delivered it had summarized the news to give the proper urgency to his return. He wondered how they might feel, joy he supposed at knowing the young princess was alive. Emilia had been kind to him during the one encounter they’d had, and he was relieved to hear nothing bad had happened to her during the attack.
When the sound of hoofs alerted him to the return, he stood and stepped from the stables, keeping his expression even as he bowed deeply to the queen as she slid from the back of her horse. The two of them had been riding on the same mount, looking far more comfortable with one another than they had on the boat, and for that he was glad. Life was easier with someone you loved by your side.
He nodded at her question, holding out the letter with little added pomp or circumstance. He had done his duty and all that was asked of him.
”News, your majesty. From Lord Aimias, regarding the safety of Princess Emilia.”
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As soon as he had received confirmation that the letter came from one of the Queen’s advisors, Demetrius had packed up his things and Olena, making sure the woman’s distinctive hair was covered as they rode together on the same horse out of Vasiliadon. Only after they were clear of the city did either of them breathe properly, a laugh of relief exhaled from his chest. They’d done it, they’d escaped together and they were both finally free, together.
The trip back to the Dimitrou lands was simple enough, no one had an urge to stop the couple as they rode along, and since they travelled light there was no reason for them to look suspicious aside from the fine horse he’d been given to make the trip. It was early afternoon the next day when they finally rode up to the manor house, and as they dismounted, Dima handing the horse over to the hostlers and being told the Queen and her consort were out for a ride, decided to wait by the stables.
Olena was allowed the option of waiting with him or seeking out food, choosing to settle their things in the small space they’d been granted before she returned to his side. As Dima waited, he looked at the letter. He couldn’t read the words written upon the paper, but the man who had delivered it had summarized the news to give the proper urgency to his return. He wondered how they might feel, joy he supposed at knowing the young princess was alive. Emilia had been kind to him during the one encounter they’d had, and he was relieved to hear nothing bad had happened to her during the attack.
When the sound of hoofs alerted him to the return, he stood and stepped from the stables, keeping his expression even as he bowed deeply to the queen as she slid from the back of her horse. The two of them had been riding on the same mount, looking far more comfortable with one another than they had on the boat, and for that he was glad. Life was easier with someone you loved by your side.
He nodded at her question, holding out the letter with little added pomp or circumstance. He had done his duty and all that was asked of him.
”News, your majesty. From Lord Aimias, regarding the safety of Princess Emilia.”
As soon as he had received confirmation that the letter came from one of the Queen’s advisors, Demetrius had packed up his things and Olena, making sure the woman’s distinctive hair was covered as they rode together on the same horse out of Vasiliadon. Only after they were clear of the city did either of them breathe properly, a laugh of relief exhaled from his chest. They’d done it, they’d escaped together and they were both finally free, together.
The trip back to the Dimitrou lands was simple enough, no one had an urge to stop the couple as they rode along, and since they travelled light there was no reason for them to look suspicious aside from the fine horse he’d been given to make the trip. It was early afternoon the next day when they finally rode up to the manor house, and as they dismounted, Dima handing the horse over to the hostlers and being told the Queen and her consort were out for a ride, decided to wait by the stables.
Olena was allowed the option of waiting with him or seeking out food, choosing to settle their things in the small space they’d been granted before she returned to his side. As Dima waited, he looked at the letter. He couldn’t read the words written upon the paper, but the man who had delivered it had summarized the news to give the proper urgency to his return. He wondered how they might feel, joy he supposed at knowing the young princess was alive. Emilia had been kind to him during the one encounter they’d had, and he was relieved to hear nothing bad had happened to her during the attack.
When the sound of hoofs alerted him to the return, he stood and stepped from the stables, keeping his expression even as he bowed deeply to the queen as she slid from the back of her horse. The two of them had been riding on the same mount, looking far more comfortable with one another than they had on the boat, and for that he was glad. Life was easier with someone you loved by your side.
He nodded at her question, holding out the letter with little added pomp or circumstance. He had done his duty and all that was asked of him.
”News, your majesty. From Lord Aimias, regarding the safety of Princess Emilia.”
He had been so serious for much of the journey. It was a man she didn’t know, was sure that she would never know at this rate. As children, the two had been full of happiness and laughter. He was always the first one to tease her, or to play a prank on his brother and enlist her to assist in the jest. But the world had been cruel, and she wondered if the laughter would ever come back.
Could they heal without it?
The only laughter that either of them seemed to mutter had been out of relief. They were free, and there was a simple joy in breathing in the air knowing that fact.
As they neared the lands, Olena grew quieter and quieter. There was a strange combination of memories swirling in her mind, between that of their long lost home and that of her Senator’s country home. Both were painful, in their own ways. And both had been things she had hoped to forget. As much as she tried to ignore the feelings, they were overwhelming. And when they finally dismounted for him to deliver his message, she let the panic settle into her chest as she did her duty of settling their things into the small space that was theirs before returning to back to him outside the stables.
At the sound of hoofbeats, she took to hiding behind him, her own desire to stay out of the way and go unnoticed in her plain brown chiton was too powerful. She didn’t care that this lady and her man were a Queen and soon to be King. She wasn’t sure she wanted anything to do with the pair. Let Dima deliver his message and then they could be on their way. That was all she wanted-- more distance between themselves and the town in which she was a wanted woman.
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He had been so serious for much of the journey. It was a man she didn’t know, was sure that she would never know at this rate. As children, the two had been full of happiness and laughter. He was always the first one to tease her, or to play a prank on his brother and enlist her to assist in the jest. But the world had been cruel, and she wondered if the laughter would ever come back.
Could they heal without it?
The only laughter that either of them seemed to mutter had been out of relief. They were free, and there was a simple joy in breathing in the air knowing that fact.
As they neared the lands, Olena grew quieter and quieter. There was a strange combination of memories swirling in her mind, between that of their long lost home and that of her Senator’s country home. Both were painful, in their own ways. And both had been things she had hoped to forget. As much as she tried to ignore the feelings, they were overwhelming. And when they finally dismounted for him to deliver his message, she let the panic settle into her chest as she did her duty of settling their things into the small space that was theirs before returning to back to him outside the stables.
At the sound of hoofbeats, she took to hiding behind him, her own desire to stay out of the way and go unnoticed in her plain brown chiton was too powerful. She didn’t care that this lady and her man were a Queen and soon to be King. She wasn’t sure she wanted anything to do with the pair. Let Dima deliver his message and then they could be on their way. That was all she wanted-- more distance between themselves and the town in which she was a wanted woman.
He had been so serious for much of the journey. It was a man she didn’t know, was sure that she would never know at this rate. As children, the two had been full of happiness and laughter. He was always the first one to tease her, or to play a prank on his brother and enlist her to assist in the jest. But the world had been cruel, and she wondered if the laughter would ever come back.
Could they heal without it?
The only laughter that either of them seemed to mutter had been out of relief. They were free, and there was a simple joy in breathing in the air knowing that fact.
As they neared the lands, Olena grew quieter and quieter. There was a strange combination of memories swirling in her mind, between that of their long lost home and that of her Senator’s country home. Both were painful, in their own ways. And both had been things she had hoped to forget. As much as she tried to ignore the feelings, they were overwhelming. And when they finally dismounted for him to deliver his message, she let the panic settle into her chest as she did her duty of settling their things into the small space that was theirs before returning to back to him outside the stables.
At the sound of hoofbeats, she took to hiding behind him, her own desire to stay out of the way and go unnoticed in her plain brown chiton was too powerful. She didn’t care that this lady and her man were a Queen and soon to be King. She wasn’t sure she wanted anything to do with the pair. Let Dima deliver his message and then they could be on their way. That was all she wanted-- more distance between themselves and the town in which she was a wanted woman.
As Iason took control of the horses and their reins to be seen to by servants that stepped forward from the inner shadows of the stables, Persephone turned her attentions, as was appropriate, to the young soldier who had been travelling with them. Whilst their manner of meeting and acquaintance was unusual to say the least and he had seen her in many an un-Queenly fashion due to the extraneous circumstances of her recent life, the man had never forgotten her rank nor failed to uphold it. Demetrius was clearly not familiar with the formal level of etiquette of the higher houses - for why would he be - but while his behaviour would never have met with approval in the Court or Senate, his tone and general demeanour were always very respectful in the short time that she had known him. Persephone had always found such humility and deference uniquely charming. And she had always done her best to treat him with respect in return, never assuming him to be an unintelligent brute or deceitful gladiator of slave birth.
It was for this reason that she did not immediate ask as to the identity of the woman who stood just behind him. Clad and shawled, there was little of the woman on display but her height and the round softness of her features made it impossible for her to be mistaken for a man. Clearly, she knew Demetrius well as she stood beside him with great trust and he made no objection to how she used him like a shield. Persephone felt curiosity stir at the story behind the two and where the girl had come from given that she certainly hadn't been with them on the journey from Athenia. Persephone had been well aware that she was the only female on that voyage.
Any further thought on the topic, however, was succinctly cut off when the young man answered her query as to his presence. Demetrius held out a piece of rolled parchment that was open but Persephone had found out along their journey that Demetrius was illiterate so she took no offence. Instead, she reached out to take it as the man commented that it was news from Lord Aimias.
A smile started to unfold over her lips as she secured the letter in her own hands. The smile was polite and a little awkward as she wasn't sure how she felt to have a message from home proffered to her when she was finally starting to come to terms with her future here in Taengea.
Between one heartbeat and the next, however, Demetrius finished his sentence and Persephone's fingers froze where they latched onto the thin paper, her eyes unseeing of the message scrawled before her in neat penmanship. Everything seemed turned to stone, including her mind as Persephone felt her thoughts scrambling to find the words that she needed to express. Words that felt trapped in her lungs. Her chest hurt and she wondered why, only to realise she hadn't exhaled in over a minute. The air left her in a sharp gust that formed the confused word - "What?" - but she didn't actually listen for an answer. She didn't need one, because she had heard Demetrius perfectly clearly.
News regarding the safety of Princess Emilia... the safety... Emilia...
Persephone felt herself stretch. Whilst her heart jumped high into her throat with euphoric elation, her stomach took the opposite direction and dived for her toes. What was left in the middle was a hollow and aching feeling that festered nausea and guilt.
If Emilia was still alive... Then...
Then Persephone had left her.
But no. No!
There was no way that Persephone would have ever left her sister behind. There was no possible way in which Emilia would have been kept alive in the palace. It made no sense. The attack upon the palace had been to remove Xanthos from rule. If they killed Persephone then they simply replaced one Xanthos Queen with another. Emilia would have taken over. It wouldn't have made any political or logistical sense to have left her alive. She knew that. It was why Iason had encouraged her to run - there had been soldiers all over the wing that contained her sister's bedchambers. He knew that they couldn't reach her in time to save her and that trying would only ensure their mutual demise. So, they had run. Persephone had protested at the time, she had fought Iason tooth and nail and refused to leave Emilia. But after the escape, as time had formed logic and logic cemented into certainty, Persephone had grown to accept the death of her sister. Demetrius had to have misunderstood the meaning. He couldn't read the note. Perhaps the messenger had simply said it was news of Emilia and Demetrius had assumed it to be positive...?
Her breathing coming in little hiccups that she didn't seem able to control, her back still ramrod straight as if her mind were falling back on what it knew best - hiding in the habits of familiarity - Persephone swallowed and turned to the letter, her gaze reading over the words several times before they actually started to make sense.
Initially, once she could make sense of the message, Persephone realised quickly that there was no real meaning. There were hints at the state of Athenia but little that Persephone could know for sure. The words themselves were likely a smoke screen, the true intent hidden in wordplay or in some kind of code. Until she noted the message at the bottom. To read the note by candlelight.
Almost unable to believe that Aimias had used a trick so infantile and simple - because of course, people would expect him to use something complex, something that code breakers might pour over if the letter was ever discovered - the manner in which they had passed notes to one another when Persephone was young was a perfect means of secrecy. For no-one would check for so simply a solution from a Master of the Senate.
As the light had begun to fade in the late afternoon, Persephone looked up to witness a servant heading for the main oil dish, hanging from one of the manor walls across from the stables. The servant held a candle in its saucer and a long wooden reed that she was able to use to transfer the flame from wick to oil, lighting the outside lamp for the use of her masters.
Ignoring the others around her - for Persephone now behaved as if they had all disappeared - her steps hurried and her manner almost graceless for the first time in her adult-life, Persephone moved towards the light and, as the servant curtsied and moved out of her way, the young Queen lifted the letter so that the light of the flames could be seen through the parchment, the heat of the flames warming the letter and marking out the hidden message...
Sprite lives. Elias has taken over. Send news when you can.
Persephone's palm instinctively flattened against her lips, as her frame finally caved to bend forwards, her demeanour suggesting she might be sick. It was only with the gesture that Persephone realised that she was crying, her fingers instantly wet at the touch to her face. Swallowing what felt like a mixture of bile and fire, Persephone wiped at her cheeks quickly and ineffectively, her lips moving but no sound issuing from them, as if she were praying or trying to formulate some kind of response to the news that was impossible to understand.
Her sister was alive. Emilia was alive. She still had family. She still had a relative in Athenia. Her sister was still with her - still there to be with her. Such thoughts had joy shooting through her bloodstream and screaming through her heart.
But immediately on its heels were the natural leaps of logic and understanding...
Emilia was alone. In Athenia. Where Elias had taken control. Which meant Emilia had to have been subdued in some way. If Elias was wanting power - which she knew he would be - and had been able to convince the nobility that she was dead then Emilia was next in line. Why had he kept her alive? What was he planning? If he had taken over but Emilia was still regent that had to mean he was controlling her in some way.
Fury and dread burned in Persephone's gut as she felt her fingers tighten on the missive, the paper buckling and fragmenting beneath her grip.
The burning turned inward and seemed ready to eat away at her innards when given a healthy dose of guilt and responsibility. Whatever Elias was doing to Emilia... however he was controlling her... it was Persephone's fault. She had left her sister there. To be controlled, to be used. To be harmed and overruled and turned into some kind of puppet. Not to mention the fact that she was there alone. No father, no sister.
Aimias was there. Persephone knew this and had great faith in the family friend who had been more of a brother to her than anyone else since she was young. But with his position he would be limited in what he could do. And with the support Persephone had had from the Dimitrou house the last few weeks, she knew only too well that you could have all the support in the world from others but feeling like the last of your blood was still a lonely existence.
An existence that she had condemned her sister to.
Feeling like she was about to be sick, Persephone didn't know what to do. Her thoughts fractured and flew in every direction. At one moment exhilarated, at another burning with hatred, in a heartbeat it morphed into self-resentment, followed by despair and hopelessness, then anger and determination. And suddenly she was back to exhilarated. It happened in seconds, the changes bouncing around inside herself so that she didn't know how to land her thoughts, how to frame her words, how to direct her actions.
It was all too much.
After everything that had happened in the last month. After everything that Persephone had gone through, emotionally, physically... the grief of leaving her life and world behind, the stress of finding a new path for herself, the horror of this new revelation... Persephone felt sure she would either faint or throw up.
In the end, her body decided on the latter.
Hurrying towards the corner of the building, blinded by tears and her hand trying to lead the way, flattened against the wall as she scrambled to get away from the others - a natural instinct to hide her weaknesses - Persephone was unable to make it around the wall and out of sight before her stomach rebelled. She felt her belly cramp, her abdomen betrayed her and Persephone bent double, her midday repast falling to the dirt floor beneath her feet as she coughed and retched against the injustice of fate and the way the Gods played with the strings of mortal lives...
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As Iason took control of the horses and their reins to be seen to by servants that stepped forward from the inner shadows of the stables, Persephone turned her attentions, as was appropriate, to the young soldier who had been travelling with them. Whilst their manner of meeting and acquaintance was unusual to say the least and he had seen her in many an un-Queenly fashion due to the extraneous circumstances of her recent life, the man had never forgotten her rank nor failed to uphold it. Demetrius was clearly not familiar with the formal level of etiquette of the higher houses - for why would he be - but while his behaviour would never have met with approval in the Court or Senate, his tone and general demeanour were always very respectful in the short time that she had known him. Persephone had always found such humility and deference uniquely charming. And she had always done her best to treat him with respect in return, never assuming him to be an unintelligent brute or deceitful gladiator of slave birth.
It was for this reason that she did not immediate ask as to the identity of the woman who stood just behind him. Clad and shawled, there was little of the woman on display but her height and the round softness of her features made it impossible for her to be mistaken for a man. Clearly, she knew Demetrius well as she stood beside him with great trust and he made no objection to how she used him like a shield. Persephone felt curiosity stir at the story behind the two and where the girl had come from given that she certainly hadn't been with them on the journey from Athenia. Persephone had been well aware that she was the only female on that voyage.
Any further thought on the topic, however, was succinctly cut off when the young man answered her query as to his presence. Demetrius held out a piece of rolled parchment that was open but Persephone had found out along their journey that Demetrius was illiterate so she took no offence. Instead, she reached out to take it as the man commented that it was news from Lord Aimias.
A smile started to unfold over her lips as she secured the letter in her own hands. The smile was polite and a little awkward as she wasn't sure how she felt to have a message from home proffered to her when she was finally starting to come to terms with her future here in Taengea.
Between one heartbeat and the next, however, Demetrius finished his sentence and Persephone's fingers froze where they latched onto the thin paper, her eyes unseeing of the message scrawled before her in neat penmanship. Everything seemed turned to stone, including her mind as Persephone felt her thoughts scrambling to find the words that she needed to express. Words that felt trapped in her lungs. Her chest hurt and she wondered why, only to realise she hadn't exhaled in over a minute. The air left her in a sharp gust that formed the confused word - "What?" - but she didn't actually listen for an answer. She didn't need one, because she had heard Demetrius perfectly clearly.
News regarding the safety of Princess Emilia... the safety... Emilia...
Persephone felt herself stretch. Whilst her heart jumped high into her throat with euphoric elation, her stomach took the opposite direction and dived for her toes. What was left in the middle was a hollow and aching feeling that festered nausea and guilt.
If Emilia was still alive... Then...
Then Persephone had left her.
But no. No!
There was no way that Persephone would have ever left her sister behind. There was no possible way in which Emilia would have been kept alive in the palace. It made no sense. The attack upon the palace had been to remove Xanthos from rule. If they killed Persephone then they simply replaced one Xanthos Queen with another. Emilia would have taken over. It wouldn't have made any political or logistical sense to have left her alive. She knew that. It was why Iason had encouraged her to run - there had been soldiers all over the wing that contained her sister's bedchambers. He knew that they couldn't reach her in time to save her and that trying would only ensure their mutual demise. So, they had run. Persephone had protested at the time, she had fought Iason tooth and nail and refused to leave Emilia. But after the escape, as time had formed logic and logic cemented into certainty, Persephone had grown to accept the death of her sister. Demetrius had to have misunderstood the meaning. He couldn't read the note. Perhaps the messenger had simply said it was news of Emilia and Demetrius had assumed it to be positive...?
Her breathing coming in little hiccups that she didn't seem able to control, her back still ramrod straight as if her mind were falling back on what it knew best - hiding in the habits of familiarity - Persephone swallowed and turned to the letter, her gaze reading over the words several times before they actually started to make sense.
Initially, once she could make sense of the message, Persephone realised quickly that there was no real meaning. There were hints at the state of Athenia but little that Persephone could know for sure. The words themselves were likely a smoke screen, the true intent hidden in wordplay or in some kind of code. Until she noted the message at the bottom. To read the note by candlelight.
Almost unable to believe that Aimias had used a trick so infantile and simple - because of course, people would expect him to use something complex, something that code breakers might pour over if the letter was ever discovered - the manner in which they had passed notes to one another when Persephone was young was a perfect means of secrecy. For no-one would check for so simply a solution from a Master of the Senate.
As the light had begun to fade in the late afternoon, Persephone looked up to witness a servant heading for the main oil dish, hanging from one of the manor walls across from the stables. The servant held a candle in its saucer and a long wooden reed that she was able to use to transfer the flame from wick to oil, lighting the outside lamp for the use of her masters.
Ignoring the others around her - for Persephone now behaved as if they had all disappeared - her steps hurried and her manner almost graceless for the first time in her adult-life, Persephone moved towards the light and, as the servant curtsied and moved out of her way, the young Queen lifted the letter so that the light of the flames could be seen through the parchment, the heat of the flames warming the letter and marking out the hidden message...
Sprite lives. Elias has taken over. Send news when you can.
Persephone's palm instinctively flattened against her lips, as her frame finally caved to bend forwards, her demeanour suggesting she might be sick. It was only with the gesture that Persephone realised that she was crying, her fingers instantly wet at the touch to her face. Swallowing what felt like a mixture of bile and fire, Persephone wiped at her cheeks quickly and ineffectively, her lips moving but no sound issuing from them, as if she were praying or trying to formulate some kind of response to the news that was impossible to understand.
Her sister was alive. Emilia was alive. She still had family. She still had a relative in Athenia. Her sister was still with her - still there to be with her. Such thoughts had joy shooting through her bloodstream and screaming through her heart.
But immediately on its heels were the natural leaps of logic and understanding...
Emilia was alone. In Athenia. Where Elias had taken control. Which meant Emilia had to have been subdued in some way. If Elias was wanting power - which she knew he would be - and had been able to convince the nobility that she was dead then Emilia was next in line. Why had he kept her alive? What was he planning? If he had taken over but Emilia was still regent that had to mean he was controlling her in some way.
Fury and dread burned in Persephone's gut as she felt her fingers tighten on the missive, the paper buckling and fragmenting beneath her grip.
The burning turned inward and seemed ready to eat away at her innards when given a healthy dose of guilt and responsibility. Whatever Elias was doing to Emilia... however he was controlling her... it was Persephone's fault. She had left her sister there. To be controlled, to be used. To be harmed and overruled and turned into some kind of puppet. Not to mention the fact that she was there alone. No father, no sister.
Aimias was there. Persephone knew this and had great faith in the family friend who had been more of a brother to her than anyone else since she was young. But with his position he would be limited in what he could do. And with the support Persephone had had from the Dimitrou house the last few weeks, she knew only too well that you could have all the support in the world from others but feeling like the last of your blood was still a lonely existence.
An existence that she had condemned her sister to.
Feeling like she was about to be sick, Persephone didn't know what to do. Her thoughts fractured and flew in every direction. At one moment exhilarated, at another burning with hatred, in a heartbeat it morphed into self-resentment, followed by despair and hopelessness, then anger and determination. And suddenly she was back to exhilarated. It happened in seconds, the changes bouncing around inside herself so that she didn't know how to land her thoughts, how to frame her words, how to direct her actions.
It was all too much.
After everything that had happened in the last month. After everything that Persephone had gone through, emotionally, physically... the grief of leaving her life and world behind, the stress of finding a new path for herself, the horror of this new revelation... Persephone felt sure she would either faint or throw up.
In the end, her body decided on the latter.
Hurrying towards the corner of the building, blinded by tears and her hand trying to lead the way, flattened against the wall as she scrambled to get away from the others - a natural instinct to hide her weaknesses - Persephone was unable to make it around the wall and out of sight before her stomach rebelled. She felt her belly cramp, her abdomen betrayed her and Persephone bent double, her midday repast falling to the dirt floor beneath her feet as she coughed and retched against the injustice of fate and the way the Gods played with the strings of mortal lives...
As Iason took control of the horses and their reins to be seen to by servants that stepped forward from the inner shadows of the stables, Persephone turned her attentions, as was appropriate, to the young soldier who had been travelling with them. Whilst their manner of meeting and acquaintance was unusual to say the least and he had seen her in many an un-Queenly fashion due to the extraneous circumstances of her recent life, the man had never forgotten her rank nor failed to uphold it. Demetrius was clearly not familiar with the formal level of etiquette of the higher houses - for why would he be - but while his behaviour would never have met with approval in the Court or Senate, his tone and general demeanour were always very respectful in the short time that she had known him. Persephone had always found such humility and deference uniquely charming. And she had always done her best to treat him with respect in return, never assuming him to be an unintelligent brute or deceitful gladiator of slave birth.
It was for this reason that she did not immediate ask as to the identity of the woman who stood just behind him. Clad and shawled, there was little of the woman on display but her height and the round softness of her features made it impossible for her to be mistaken for a man. Clearly, she knew Demetrius well as she stood beside him with great trust and he made no objection to how she used him like a shield. Persephone felt curiosity stir at the story behind the two and where the girl had come from given that she certainly hadn't been with them on the journey from Athenia. Persephone had been well aware that she was the only female on that voyage.
Any further thought on the topic, however, was succinctly cut off when the young man answered her query as to his presence. Demetrius held out a piece of rolled parchment that was open but Persephone had found out along their journey that Demetrius was illiterate so she took no offence. Instead, she reached out to take it as the man commented that it was news from Lord Aimias.
A smile started to unfold over her lips as she secured the letter in her own hands. The smile was polite and a little awkward as she wasn't sure how she felt to have a message from home proffered to her when she was finally starting to come to terms with her future here in Taengea.
Between one heartbeat and the next, however, Demetrius finished his sentence and Persephone's fingers froze where they latched onto the thin paper, her eyes unseeing of the message scrawled before her in neat penmanship. Everything seemed turned to stone, including her mind as Persephone felt her thoughts scrambling to find the words that she needed to express. Words that felt trapped in her lungs. Her chest hurt and she wondered why, only to realise she hadn't exhaled in over a minute. The air left her in a sharp gust that formed the confused word - "What?" - but she didn't actually listen for an answer. She didn't need one, because she had heard Demetrius perfectly clearly.
News regarding the safety of Princess Emilia... the safety... Emilia...
Persephone felt herself stretch. Whilst her heart jumped high into her throat with euphoric elation, her stomach took the opposite direction and dived for her toes. What was left in the middle was a hollow and aching feeling that festered nausea and guilt.
If Emilia was still alive... Then...
Then Persephone had left her.
But no. No!
There was no way that Persephone would have ever left her sister behind. There was no possible way in which Emilia would have been kept alive in the palace. It made no sense. The attack upon the palace had been to remove Xanthos from rule. If they killed Persephone then they simply replaced one Xanthos Queen with another. Emilia would have taken over. It wouldn't have made any political or logistical sense to have left her alive. She knew that. It was why Iason had encouraged her to run - there had been soldiers all over the wing that contained her sister's bedchambers. He knew that they couldn't reach her in time to save her and that trying would only ensure their mutual demise. So, they had run. Persephone had protested at the time, she had fought Iason tooth and nail and refused to leave Emilia. But after the escape, as time had formed logic and logic cemented into certainty, Persephone had grown to accept the death of her sister. Demetrius had to have misunderstood the meaning. He couldn't read the note. Perhaps the messenger had simply said it was news of Emilia and Demetrius had assumed it to be positive...?
Her breathing coming in little hiccups that she didn't seem able to control, her back still ramrod straight as if her mind were falling back on what it knew best - hiding in the habits of familiarity - Persephone swallowed and turned to the letter, her gaze reading over the words several times before they actually started to make sense.
Initially, once she could make sense of the message, Persephone realised quickly that there was no real meaning. There were hints at the state of Athenia but little that Persephone could know for sure. The words themselves were likely a smoke screen, the true intent hidden in wordplay or in some kind of code. Until she noted the message at the bottom. To read the note by candlelight.
Almost unable to believe that Aimias had used a trick so infantile and simple - because of course, people would expect him to use something complex, something that code breakers might pour over if the letter was ever discovered - the manner in which they had passed notes to one another when Persephone was young was a perfect means of secrecy. For no-one would check for so simply a solution from a Master of the Senate.
As the light had begun to fade in the late afternoon, Persephone looked up to witness a servant heading for the main oil dish, hanging from one of the manor walls across from the stables. The servant held a candle in its saucer and a long wooden reed that she was able to use to transfer the flame from wick to oil, lighting the outside lamp for the use of her masters.
Ignoring the others around her - for Persephone now behaved as if they had all disappeared - her steps hurried and her manner almost graceless for the first time in her adult-life, Persephone moved towards the light and, as the servant curtsied and moved out of her way, the young Queen lifted the letter so that the light of the flames could be seen through the parchment, the heat of the flames warming the letter and marking out the hidden message...
Sprite lives. Elias has taken over. Send news when you can.
Persephone's palm instinctively flattened against her lips, as her frame finally caved to bend forwards, her demeanour suggesting she might be sick. It was only with the gesture that Persephone realised that she was crying, her fingers instantly wet at the touch to her face. Swallowing what felt like a mixture of bile and fire, Persephone wiped at her cheeks quickly and ineffectively, her lips moving but no sound issuing from them, as if she were praying or trying to formulate some kind of response to the news that was impossible to understand.
Her sister was alive. Emilia was alive. She still had family. She still had a relative in Athenia. Her sister was still with her - still there to be with her. Such thoughts had joy shooting through her bloodstream and screaming through her heart.
But immediately on its heels were the natural leaps of logic and understanding...
Emilia was alone. In Athenia. Where Elias had taken control. Which meant Emilia had to have been subdued in some way. If Elias was wanting power - which she knew he would be - and had been able to convince the nobility that she was dead then Emilia was next in line. Why had he kept her alive? What was he planning? If he had taken over but Emilia was still regent that had to mean he was controlling her in some way.
Fury and dread burned in Persephone's gut as she felt her fingers tighten on the missive, the paper buckling and fragmenting beneath her grip.
The burning turned inward and seemed ready to eat away at her innards when given a healthy dose of guilt and responsibility. Whatever Elias was doing to Emilia... however he was controlling her... it was Persephone's fault. She had left her sister there. To be controlled, to be used. To be harmed and overruled and turned into some kind of puppet. Not to mention the fact that she was there alone. No father, no sister.
Aimias was there. Persephone knew this and had great faith in the family friend who had been more of a brother to her than anyone else since she was young. But with his position he would be limited in what he could do. And with the support Persephone had had from the Dimitrou house the last few weeks, she knew only too well that you could have all the support in the world from others but feeling like the last of your blood was still a lonely existence.
An existence that she had condemned her sister to.
Feeling like she was about to be sick, Persephone didn't know what to do. Her thoughts fractured and flew in every direction. At one moment exhilarated, at another burning with hatred, in a heartbeat it morphed into self-resentment, followed by despair and hopelessness, then anger and determination. And suddenly she was back to exhilarated. It happened in seconds, the changes bouncing around inside herself so that she didn't know how to land her thoughts, how to frame her words, how to direct her actions.
It was all too much.
After everything that had happened in the last month. After everything that Persephone had gone through, emotionally, physically... the grief of leaving her life and world behind, the stress of finding a new path for herself, the horror of this new revelation... Persephone felt sure she would either faint or throw up.
In the end, her body decided on the latter.
Hurrying towards the corner of the building, blinded by tears and her hand trying to lead the way, flattened against the wall as she scrambled to get away from the others - a natural instinct to hide her weaknesses - Persephone was unable to make it around the wall and out of sight before her stomach rebelled. She felt her belly cramp, her abdomen betrayed her and Persephone bent double, her midday repast falling to the dirt floor beneath her feet as she coughed and retched against the injustice of fate and the way the Gods played with the strings of mortal lives...
The sight of the gladiator and his new companion outside the stables was curious, he hadn't heard word of the man leaving the Dimitrou manor in Vasiliadon which meant his departure had been quick. News from Athenia and word of Emilia was all that would have brought him back. His heart both rose and sank, and as Persephone dismounted and moved toward the other man, he gave a nod before taking their horses to the grooms, pausing only a few moments to reluctantly turn over the care of the mounts to one of the stable hands. It was rare for him to not wipe down and tend to Bucephalus himself after a ride, but this felt a rare instance where he could.
He returned in time to see his betrothed moving quickly toward the servant, exchanging a puzzled glance with Demetrius and acknowledging the woman behind him with a nod. There had been a moment of discussion between them on the boat, and though there hadn't been a good deal of detail, the baron had gathered that the gladiator had been looking for someone. If this was her, he was glad that they had finally found one another. He himself was quite content with the way his morning had gone, but as he caught sight of Persephone suddenly curling in on herself in apparent distress.
Iason felt cold as she stumbled toward the corner of the house, quickening his pace toward her as she tried to turn out of sight. Whatever had happened was enough to cause a clear physical reaction, and he feared for the news that might have been sent regarding his young sister-in-law to be. It was a constant prick of guilt in the back of his mind that he hadn't first found the youngest princess and brought her to the queen's room with him. If he'd only been faster, more clever, he could have saved them both.
Sounds of retching were the last he had ever thought her capable of, and as he reached out to steady her with an attempt at a soothing hum. Holding her shoulder steady with one hand and tracing a circle on her back with the other, he waited until it had been a few heartbeats before he tried to ask her what had happened. If it was this bad, so bad she was physically ill, he tried to brace himself for the worst.
"Come inside, what's happened?"
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The sight of the gladiator and his new companion outside the stables was curious, he hadn't heard word of the man leaving the Dimitrou manor in Vasiliadon which meant his departure had been quick. News from Athenia and word of Emilia was all that would have brought him back. His heart both rose and sank, and as Persephone dismounted and moved toward the other man, he gave a nod before taking their horses to the grooms, pausing only a few moments to reluctantly turn over the care of the mounts to one of the stable hands. It was rare for him to not wipe down and tend to Bucephalus himself after a ride, but this felt a rare instance where he could.
He returned in time to see his betrothed moving quickly toward the servant, exchanging a puzzled glance with Demetrius and acknowledging the woman behind him with a nod. There had been a moment of discussion between them on the boat, and though there hadn't been a good deal of detail, the baron had gathered that the gladiator had been looking for someone. If this was her, he was glad that they had finally found one another. He himself was quite content with the way his morning had gone, but as he caught sight of Persephone suddenly curling in on herself in apparent distress.
Iason felt cold as she stumbled toward the corner of the house, quickening his pace toward her as she tried to turn out of sight. Whatever had happened was enough to cause a clear physical reaction, and he feared for the news that might have been sent regarding his young sister-in-law to be. It was a constant prick of guilt in the back of his mind that he hadn't first found the youngest princess and brought her to the queen's room with him. If he'd only been faster, more clever, he could have saved them both.
Sounds of retching were the last he had ever thought her capable of, and as he reached out to steady her with an attempt at a soothing hum. Holding her shoulder steady with one hand and tracing a circle on her back with the other, he waited until it had been a few heartbeats before he tried to ask her what had happened. If it was this bad, so bad she was physically ill, he tried to brace himself for the worst.
"Come inside, what's happened?"
The sight of the gladiator and his new companion outside the stables was curious, he hadn't heard word of the man leaving the Dimitrou manor in Vasiliadon which meant his departure had been quick. News from Athenia and word of Emilia was all that would have brought him back. His heart both rose and sank, and as Persephone dismounted and moved toward the other man, he gave a nod before taking their horses to the grooms, pausing only a few moments to reluctantly turn over the care of the mounts to one of the stable hands. It was rare for him to not wipe down and tend to Bucephalus himself after a ride, but this felt a rare instance where he could.
He returned in time to see his betrothed moving quickly toward the servant, exchanging a puzzled glance with Demetrius and acknowledging the woman behind him with a nod. There had been a moment of discussion between them on the boat, and though there hadn't been a good deal of detail, the baron had gathered that the gladiator had been looking for someone. If this was her, he was glad that they had finally found one another. He himself was quite content with the way his morning had gone, but as he caught sight of Persephone suddenly curling in on herself in apparent distress.
Iason felt cold as she stumbled toward the corner of the house, quickening his pace toward her as she tried to turn out of sight. Whatever had happened was enough to cause a clear physical reaction, and he feared for the news that might have been sent regarding his young sister-in-law to be. It was a constant prick of guilt in the back of his mind that he hadn't first found the youngest princess and brought her to the queen's room with him. If he'd only been faster, more clever, he could have saved them both.
Sounds of retching were the last he had ever thought her capable of, and as he reached out to steady her with an attempt at a soothing hum. Holding her shoulder steady with one hand and tracing a circle on her back with the other, he waited until it had been a few heartbeats before he tried to ask her what had happened. If it was this bad, so bad she was physically ill, he tried to brace himself for the worst.
"Come inside, what's happened?"
Persephone felt shame burn tears into her eyes and her stomach rebel on her as the muscles contracted. She wasn't sure why her physicality had revolted against her so. She didn't know if she was angry that she hadn't been there for her sister - that her body was punishing her. She didn't know if it was professing retribution for her own cowardice in running for her life without first being assured of her sister's demise. She didn't know if she was simply overwhelmed with so much emotion in the last few weeks - both up and down - that she simply didn't know how to react anymore and her belly was manifesting her natural desire to reject another blow to her feelings.
She watched between silky walls of hair as she was sick onto the ground - thankfully in only a small splatter upon the stonework as she hadn't stopped to eat breakfast that morning. She was careful to avoid catching her hair in the crossfire, as well as her clothing... in the hopes that - if she had managed to move out of site, she would be able to keep her physical weakness a secret from those around her.
Blinded by the searing in her eyes and the sheer panic that Demetrius' letter had inspired, Persephone had no idea that she hadn't managed to hide herself from view, until she felt a hand upon her back, a soothing hum drifting over her shoulder. She knew the touch, and the voice and squeezed her eyes shut in humiliation that Iason had had to witness her most horrendous bout of impropriety.
She had lost herself in his arms only a short while ago, been intimate with him in a way that only lovers could. And now he would have this mental image alongside that memory of herself, bent double, unable to cope with controlling her own stomach.
All Hail the Queen, indeed.
With murmurs and mumbles that were a constant stream of assurances and apologies - more the latter than the former - Persephone wiped her mouth carefully, hidden amongst her long black hair, and allowed herself to be steered in away from the sunshine.
She noted the change of light, the change of air, and realised that she was now indoors but she had no idea if she had been brought into the house or the stables or anywhere else until she was guided into a cushioned seat that she recognised as being part of one of the Dimitrou estates reading rooms.
Unable to express herself clearly up until that point, Persephone finally looked up at her betrothed, who crouched before her chair, his face grim but his presence constant and reassuring.
"I left her." Persephone said, in a voice that sounded hollow even to her own ears. Her eyes were shining bright with tears and her face was an utterly vulnerable expression of weakness. It wasn't every day that a Queen openly admitted to making so catastrophic a mistake.
The letter that she had been delivered crumpled a little in her fingertips as she held it out to Iason. Whether he would know how to read it or not, she didn't know but handing it over seemed to make the most sense as her words weren't coming out in the right order.
"She's alive and I left her behind. Iason!" Persephone reached forward and grabbed at the front of his tunic, almost falling from the chair that she had only sat upon the very edge of. "How could I do that? She's alive and suffering Gods knows what, and I just left her there!"
It was then that the tears started to fall...
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Persephone felt shame burn tears into her eyes and her stomach rebel on her as the muscles contracted. She wasn't sure why her physicality had revolted against her so. She didn't know if she was angry that she hadn't been there for her sister - that her body was punishing her. She didn't know if it was professing retribution for her own cowardice in running for her life without first being assured of her sister's demise. She didn't know if she was simply overwhelmed with so much emotion in the last few weeks - both up and down - that she simply didn't know how to react anymore and her belly was manifesting her natural desire to reject another blow to her feelings.
She watched between silky walls of hair as she was sick onto the ground - thankfully in only a small splatter upon the stonework as she hadn't stopped to eat breakfast that morning. She was careful to avoid catching her hair in the crossfire, as well as her clothing... in the hopes that - if she had managed to move out of site, she would be able to keep her physical weakness a secret from those around her.
Blinded by the searing in her eyes and the sheer panic that Demetrius' letter had inspired, Persephone had no idea that she hadn't managed to hide herself from view, until she felt a hand upon her back, a soothing hum drifting over her shoulder. She knew the touch, and the voice and squeezed her eyes shut in humiliation that Iason had had to witness her most horrendous bout of impropriety.
She had lost herself in his arms only a short while ago, been intimate with him in a way that only lovers could. And now he would have this mental image alongside that memory of herself, bent double, unable to cope with controlling her own stomach.
All Hail the Queen, indeed.
With murmurs and mumbles that were a constant stream of assurances and apologies - more the latter than the former - Persephone wiped her mouth carefully, hidden amongst her long black hair, and allowed herself to be steered in away from the sunshine.
She noted the change of light, the change of air, and realised that she was now indoors but she had no idea if she had been brought into the house or the stables or anywhere else until she was guided into a cushioned seat that she recognised as being part of one of the Dimitrou estates reading rooms.
Unable to express herself clearly up until that point, Persephone finally looked up at her betrothed, who crouched before her chair, his face grim but his presence constant and reassuring.
"I left her." Persephone said, in a voice that sounded hollow even to her own ears. Her eyes were shining bright with tears and her face was an utterly vulnerable expression of weakness. It wasn't every day that a Queen openly admitted to making so catastrophic a mistake.
The letter that she had been delivered crumpled a little in her fingertips as she held it out to Iason. Whether he would know how to read it or not, she didn't know but handing it over seemed to make the most sense as her words weren't coming out in the right order.
"She's alive and I left her behind. Iason!" Persephone reached forward and grabbed at the front of his tunic, almost falling from the chair that she had only sat upon the very edge of. "How could I do that? She's alive and suffering Gods knows what, and I just left her there!"
It was then that the tears started to fall...
Persephone felt shame burn tears into her eyes and her stomach rebel on her as the muscles contracted. She wasn't sure why her physicality had revolted against her so. She didn't know if she was angry that she hadn't been there for her sister - that her body was punishing her. She didn't know if it was professing retribution for her own cowardice in running for her life without first being assured of her sister's demise. She didn't know if she was simply overwhelmed with so much emotion in the last few weeks - both up and down - that she simply didn't know how to react anymore and her belly was manifesting her natural desire to reject another blow to her feelings.
She watched between silky walls of hair as she was sick onto the ground - thankfully in only a small splatter upon the stonework as she hadn't stopped to eat breakfast that morning. She was careful to avoid catching her hair in the crossfire, as well as her clothing... in the hopes that - if she had managed to move out of site, she would be able to keep her physical weakness a secret from those around her.
Blinded by the searing in her eyes and the sheer panic that Demetrius' letter had inspired, Persephone had no idea that she hadn't managed to hide herself from view, until she felt a hand upon her back, a soothing hum drifting over her shoulder. She knew the touch, and the voice and squeezed her eyes shut in humiliation that Iason had had to witness her most horrendous bout of impropriety.
She had lost herself in his arms only a short while ago, been intimate with him in a way that only lovers could. And now he would have this mental image alongside that memory of herself, bent double, unable to cope with controlling her own stomach.
All Hail the Queen, indeed.
With murmurs and mumbles that were a constant stream of assurances and apologies - more the latter than the former - Persephone wiped her mouth carefully, hidden amongst her long black hair, and allowed herself to be steered in away from the sunshine.
She noted the change of light, the change of air, and realised that she was now indoors but she had no idea if she had been brought into the house or the stables or anywhere else until she was guided into a cushioned seat that she recognised as being part of one of the Dimitrou estates reading rooms.
Unable to express herself clearly up until that point, Persephone finally looked up at her betrothed, who crouched before her chair, his face grim but his presence constant and reassuring.
"I left her." Persephone said, in a voice that sounded hollow even to her own ears. Her eyes were shining bright with tears and her face was an utterly vulnerable expression of weakness. It wasn't every day that a Queen openly admitted to making so catastrophic a mistake.
The letter that she had been delivered crumpled a little in her fingertips as she held it out to Iason. Whether he would know how to read it or not, she didn't know but handing it over seemed to make the most sense as her words weren't coming out in the right order.
"She's alive and I left her behind. Iason!" Persephone reached forward and grabbed at the front of his tunic, almost falling from the chair that she had only sat upon the very edge of. "How could I do that? She's alive and suffering Gods knows what, and I just left her there!"
It was then that the tears started to fall...
In all their time together, he had never been foolish enough to think that he knew all of his fiancee's emotions, but he certainly thought he had a better handle on them than what he was seeing now. This loss of control he had only ever seen before sprung from grief, and his own stomach tightened at the thought of the sweet princess facing some sort of horrible fate because he hadn't been fast enough. If he had just run faster, grabbed Persephone faster, gotten there on time, she would be safe with them now and no doubt bonding with Dorothea and Alexa.
Wrapping an arm around her and using the other to brace her shoulder closest to him so she didn't simply topple over, the baron guided her toward the mansion and tossed a quick look back at Demetrius. The other man looked confused enough, but there was also a sort of grim understanding. There had been loss on his end as well, the sort of loss that allowed the former gladiator to understand without needing to ask questions. Instead the fair haired man turned back to his lady, embracing her before Iason's attention was turned to the door and they were finally inside.
The day had gone in so many different directions already, from the elation in the field to this, and when he finally sat Persephone in a chair, his expression was one of deep concern. Kneeling in front of her, he placed a hand on her knee and brought himself level so he could cup her cheek with another. She felt clammy, not unusual for someone who had been ill so violently, but otherwise not unwell so at least there was that. It was clear before she spoke that whatever news she had received was not the pleasant sort, but when Iason heard the words, knew that Emilia was alive, he felt some small sense of hope.
If Emilia was alive that meant there was hope that she could be given to them, perhaps there could be a negotiation. It wasn't unheard of for a ransom to be paid, and if all those in power wanted now was to keep that power, why would they not agree to a sum in exchange? He was quiet for a moment as he considered the different possibilities, thumb stroking her cheek absently before he brought up her hand to kiss it. He could give so little comfort in this, only pledge his support as always.
"She is alive, but we don't know that she's suffering. She's alive, Persephone. Which means you can see her again, it means we could negotiate for her, bring her home with us. This is good news, not ill."
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In all their time together, he had never been foolish enough to think that he knew all of his fiancee's emotions, but he certainly thought he had a better handle on them than what he was seeing now. This loss of control he had only ever seen before sprung from grief, and his own stomach tightened at the thought of the sweet princess facing some sort of horrible fate because he hadn't been fast enough. If he had just run faster, grabbed Persephone faster, gotten there on time, she would be safe with them now and no doubt bonding with Dorothea and Alexa.
Wrapping an arm around her and using the other to brace her shoulder closest to him so she didn't simply topple over, the baron guided her toward the mansion and tossed a quick look back at Demetrius. The other man looked confused enough, but there was also a sort of grim understanding. There had been loss on his end as well, the sort of loss that allowed the former gladiator to understand without needing to ask questions. Instead the fair haired man turned back to his lady, embracing her before Iason's attention was turned to the door and they were finally inside.
The day had gone in so many different directions already, from the elation in the field to this, and when he finally sat Persephone in a chair, his expression was one of deep concern. Kneeling in front of her, he placed a hand on her knee and brought himself level so he could cup her cheek with another. She felt clammy, not unusual for someone who had been ill so violently, but otherwise not unwell so at least there was that. It was clear before she spoke that whatever news she had received was not the pleasant sort, but when Iason heard the words, knew that Emilia was alive, he felt some small sense of hope.
If Emilia was alive that meant there was hope that she could be given to them, perhaps there could be a negotiation. It wasn't unheard of for a ransom to be paid, and if all those in power wanted now was to keep that power, why would they not agree to a sum in exchange? He was quiet for a moment as he considered the different possibilities, thumb stroking her cheek absently before he brought up her hand to kiss it. He could give so little comfort in this, only pledge his support as always.
"She is alive, but we don't know that she's suffering. She's alive, Persephone. Which means you can see her again, it means we could negotiate for her, bring her home with us. This is good news, not ill."
In all their time together, he had never been foolish enough to think that he knew all of his fiancee's emotions, but he certainly thought he had a better handle on them than what he was seeing now. This loss of control he had only ever seen before sprung from grief, and his own stomach tightened at the thought of the sweet princess facing some sort of horrible fate because he hadn't been fast enough. If he had just run faster, grabbed Persephone faster, gotten there on time, she would be safe with them now and no doubt bonding with Dorothea and Alexa.
Wrapping an arm around her and using the other to brace her shoulder closest to him so she didn't simply topple over, the baron guided her toward the mansion and tossed a quick look back at Demetrius. The other man looked confused enough, but there was also a sort of grim understanding. There had been loss on his end as well, the sort of loss that allowed the former gladiator to understand without needing to ask questions. Instead the fair haired man turned back to his lady, embracing her before Iason's attention was turned to the door and they were finally inside.
The day had gone in so many different directions already, from the elation in the field to this, and when he finally sat Persephone in a chair, his expression was one of deep concern. Kneeling in front of her, he placed a hand on her knee and brought himself level so he could cup her cheek with another. She felt clammy, not unusual for someone who had been ill so violently, but otherwise not unwell so at least there was that. It was clear before she spoke that whatever news she had received was not the pleasant sort, but when Iason heard the words, knew that Emilia was alive, he felt some small sense of hope.
If Emilia was alive that meant there was hope that she could be given to them, perhaps there could be a negotiation. It wasn't unheard of for a ransom to be paid, and if all those in power wanted now was to keep that power, why would they not agree to a sum in exchange? He was quiet for a moment as he considered the different possibilities, thumb stroking her cheek absently before he brought up her hand to kiss it. He could give so little comfort in this, only pledge his support as always.
"She is alive, but we don't know that she's suffering. She's alive, Persephone. Which means you can see her again, it means we could negotiate for her, bring her home with us. This is good news, not ill."
The words Iason spoke were true enough but they fell on slightly denying ears. She heard them, understood them and then her brain rejected them, too focused on its own internal emotions: fear, grief and the worst of them all... guilt.
Her hands shook a little in his hold but stilled slightly as he kissed one, bringing her view and sense of reality back into the space between them instead of closeted up in her head where it could only spiral into panic and shame. She shook her head at his encouragement, his support and comfort.
"I left her." She repeated, as if this was her only focal point and thought. She looked towards Iason, silently beseeching that he understood. "It was a promise. I told my mother that I would always look after her - always. My father too. That was my one responsibility: protect Emilia."
As if her emotions were too much for her to even sit straight, Persephone slipped from where she was perched on the edge of the chair, her knees coming to the ground and her frame naturally seeking Iason's as she came level with him. She placed her hands over her face as if to hide from the accusations that she imagined the ghosts of her parents throwing at her, and leaned in towards Iason's chest, seeking comfort as a child might.
And he was the only one she now felt able to ask it of.
Her voice was muffled against his chest with her next words - "I failed them." - her deepest fears and shame unable to be spoken where the world could hear; only where she was sure her betrothed would be the only one to witness them, as she sought to be understood by the man she had grown so close to.
Failure had never been an option in Persephone's world. Perfection was the only acceptable state for a princess or queen. To put a toe, a feature out of place - to cry in a garden with your intended - all were failures that were apology worthy. To leave the last of your blood - the one you swore would be protected at all costs - to the hands of those who had tried to murder your family and secure your throne? Such a ruinous shame for a princess, a queen... and a sister.
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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The words Iason spoke were true enough but they fell on slightly denying ears. She heard them, understood them and then her brain rejected them, too focused on its own internal emotions: fear, grief and the worst of them all... guilt.
Her hands shook a little in his hold but stilled slightly as he kissed one, bringing her view and sense of reality back into the space between them instead of closeted up in her head where it could only spiral into panic and shame. She shook her head at his encouragement, his support and comfort.
"I left her." She repeated, as if this was her only focal point and thought. She looked towards Iason, silently beseeching that he understood. "It was a promise. I told my mother that I would always look after her - always. My father too. That was my one responsibility: protect Emilia."
As if her emotions were too much for her to even sit straight, Persephone slipped from where she was perched on the edge of the chair, her knees coming to the ground and her frame naturally seeking Iason's as she came level with him. She placed her hands over her face as if to hide from the accusations that she imagined the ghosts of her parents throwing at her, and leaned in towards Iason's chest, seeking comfort as a child might.
And he was the only one she now felt able to ask it of.
Her voice was muffled against his chest with her next words - "I failed them." - her deepest fears and shame unable to be spoken where the world could hear; only where she was sure her betrothed would be the only one to witness them, as she sought to be understood by the man she had grown so close to.
Failure had never been an option in Persephone's world. Perfection was the only acceptable state for a princess or queen. To put a toe, a feature out of place - to cry in a garden with your intended - all were failures that were apology worthy. To leave the last of your blood - the one you swore would be protected at all costs - to the hands of those who had tried to murder your family and secure your throne? Such a ruinous shame for a princess, a queen... and a sister.
The words Iason spoke were true enough but they fell on slightly denying ears. She heard them, understood them and then her brain rejected them, too focused on its own internal emotions: fear, grief and the worst of them all... guilt.
Her hands shook a little in his hold but stilled slightly as he kissed one, bringing her view and sense of reality back into the space between them instead of closeted up in her head where it could only spiral into panic and shame. She shook her head at his encouragement, his support and comfort.
"I left her." She repeated, as if this was her only focal point and thought. She looked towards Iason, silently beseeching that he understood. "It was a promise. I told my mother that I would always look after her - always. My father too. That was my one responsibility: protect Emilia."
As if her emotions were too much for her to even sit straight, Persephone slipped from where she was perched on the edge of the chair, her knees coming to the ground and her frame naturally seeking Iason's as she came level with him. She placed her hands over her face as if to hide from the accusations that she imagined the ghosts of her parents throwing at her, and leaned in towards Iason's chest, seeking comfort as a child might.
And he was the only one she now felt able to ask it of.
Her voice was muffled against his chest with her next words - "I failed them." - her deepest fears and shame unable to be spoken where the world could hear; only where she was sure her betrothed would be the only one to witness them, as she sought to be understood by the man she had grown so close to.
Failure had never been an option in Persephone's world. Perfection was the only acceptable state for a princess or queen. To put a toe, a feature out of place - to cry in a garden with your intended - all were failures that were apology worthy. To leave the last of your blood - the one you swore would be protected at all costs - to the hands of those who had tried to murder your family and secure your throne? Such a ruinous shame for a princess, a queen... and a sister.
Somehow in her mind she wasn't able to see the good in this. While Iason's own guilt was assuaged with the knowledge that the girl he had thought he'd left for dead was alive, Persephone seemingly couldn't focus on anything except that she had been left. It was bewildering to him, but as she rocked forward and curled against his chest he could do nothing but wrap his arms about her and hold her close. In such a state she was more vulnerable now than he had ever seen her, and as much as he had wished for her to open up he hadn't wanted to see her so wounded.
There was nothing he could do or say, and instead Iason sat back on the floor, pulling her with him and cradling her close. Every so often he dropped a kiss on her head, one hand sliding along her back in as comforting a caress as he could manage. Whenever one of the servants passed by he shook his head, simply waiting and comforting where he could. A silent pitcher of water was left beside them before the last of the Dimitrou staff took their leave.
"We will get her back. I promise you, I'll keep you both safe til my last breath."
It was a bold comment, but he'd already told her of his love, the love that had surprised him so much that he had sent up prayers to Aphrodite and Artemis as she was the patron of their house alike to see if either goddess could assist him in his confusion. None had answered but here as he closed his eyes and kept her company through her tears he couldn't imagine what else this could possibly be.
Under his breath Iason began to hum, an old song his mother had sung to him once, and though he didn't think he had much of a fine voice it was at least able to carry a hint of a tune. His fingers traced absent patterns along her back and shoulders as his head nestled against her own, absorbing as much of her grief as he could to allow her to feel right again.
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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Somehow in her mind she wasn't able to see the good in this. While Iason's own guilt was assuaged with the knowledge that the girl he had thought he'd left for dead was alive, Persephone seemingly couldn't focus on anything except that she had been left. It was bewildering to him, but as she rocked forward and curled against his chest he could do nothing but wrap his arms about her and hold her close. In such a state she was more vulnerable now than he had ever seen her, and as much as he had wished for her to open up he hadn't wanted to see her so wounded.
There was nothing he could do or say, and instead Iason sat back on the floor, pulling her with him and cradling her close. Every so often he dropped a kiss on her head, one hand sliding along her back in as comforting a caress as he could manage. Whenever one of the servants passed by he shook his head, simply waiting and comforting where he could. A silent pitcher of water was left beside them before the last of the Dimitrou staff took their leave.
"We will get her back. I promise you, I'll keep you both safe til my last breath."
It was a bold comment, but he'd already told her of his love, the love that had surprised him so much that he had sent up prayers to Aphrodite and Artemis as she was the patron of their house alike to see if either goddess could assist him in his confusion. None had answered but here as he closed his eyes and kept her company through her tears he couldn't imagine what else this could possibly be.
Under his breath Iason began to hum, an old song his mother had sung to him once, and though he didn't think he had much of a fine voice it was at least able to carry a hint of a tune. His fingers traced absent patterns along her back and shoulders as his head nestled against her own, absorbing as much of her grief as he could to allow her to feel right again.
Somehow in her mind she wasn't able to see the good in this. While Iason's own guilt was assuaged with the knowledge that the girl he had thought he'd left for dead was alive, Persephone seemingly couldn't focus on anything except that she had been left. It was bewildering to him, but as she rocked forward and curled against his chest he could do nothing but wrap his arms about her and hold her close. In such a state she was more vulnerable now than he had ever seen her, and as much as he had wished for her to open up he hadn't wanted to see her so wounded.
There was nothing he could do or say, and instead Iason sat back on the floor, pulling her with him and cradling her close. Every so often he dropped a kiss on her head, one hand sliding along her back in as comforting a caress as he could manage. Whenever one of the servants passed by he shook his head, simply waiting and comforting where he could. A silent pitcher of water was left beside them before the last of the Dimitrou staff took their leave.
"We will get her back. I promise you, I'll keep you both safe til my last breath."
It was a bold comment, but he'd already told her of his love, the love that had surprised him so much that he had sent up prayers to Aphrodite and Artemis as she was the patron of their house alike to see if either goddess could assist him in his confusion. None had answered but here as he closed his eyes and kept her company through her tears he couldn't imagine what else this could possibly be.
Under his breath Iason began to hum, an old song his mother had sung to him once, and though he didn't think he had much of a fine voice it was at least able to carry a hint of a tune. His fingers traced absent patterns along her back and shoulders as his head nestled against her own, absorbing as much of her grief as he could to allow her to feel right again.