- The Course of History -

The day Athenia has been waiting for has finally arrived. With all sides of the debate now unable to play any more cards or stack any more evidence or plays, the die has been cast and the Senate is to be convened. King Minas will be holding the Senate with the attendance of his eldest daughter Persephone at his side. The members of the royal and noble Houses who hold seats of barony, Heads of Houses or Master roles within the kingdom are flocking to the capitol. Not one seat in the Senate is to be empty on this day. For today, the course of history will be decided...


Event Participants

- Only members of the Senate or men invited by members of the Senate may attend.

Is was in the heat of the summer season and yet that morning dawned cold. Ever since the great biannual race to establish the king of the waves, Helios appeared less vibrant in his duties and the sun never seemed to burn of the chill that the Aegean waters drew in. Persephone woke and the first sensation she became conscious of was a dampness across her skin. Whether from nightmares the previous night or the misty, moist air that set her curtains dancing and found a home in her chambers, she could not be sure. A little due to each, perhaps.

Strangely, Persephone was awake before her ladies’ maids attended to her. Over the last few months she had been plagued with dark omens in her sleep; dreams that both scared her but held her fast in a world of unconsciousness. She had never been able to wait up naturally from them and had been relying, for some days now, on her ladies in waiting gently speaking with her to rouse her from sleep. This morning, however, she had been at peace the entire night. Not dreams, no nightmares - not that she could remember, anyway - and she was perfectly alert from the second she opened her eyes.

Sitting up in bed, Persephone swathed her palms over her face and then moved them to rub over her arms and up to her shoulders, as if comforting herself in the large expanse of bed that she barely filled.

As if her mind wanted to shut out thoughts of the rest of the day to follow, Persephone found herself fixating on small details. How the bed she slept in was at least twice her arm span and almost twice her height - unnecessary in its vastness. That her silken under gown in which she slept - that felt so smooth and slippery over her skin the previous evening was now clammy and wrinkled in the salty sea air. She felt bumps in her flesh as her skin reacted to the cold and she sat for at least a full two minutes considering an unnatural kink and curl to one of her longest locks of hair as it fell before her onto the bedsheets...

As she took a breath, Persephone felt her chest ache - with tension? Stress? Uncomfortable sleeping position? Either way she tried to push such a worry away. She could not afford to be ill or have her health jeopardised today. Or any day, in fact. She would have to remain in perfect health until her father passed at least. There was no time or room for two disease-stricken members of the Xanthos House. They were leaders of their people. And required, as such, to be strong.

With that bolstering thought in mind, Persephone flung her silken sheets to one side, exposing the entirety of both slim thighs and swung her legs over the side of the mattress. The gown fell to the floor like water as she stood up, releasing its folds from where they had been pinned beneath and wrapped around her legs, but the princess grabbed the shirts before they were able to find their place with gravity and held them out of the way so that she might cross her room to the balcony...

The reason her room was open to the elements that night - and every night during the summer months - was due to the palace being built at the top of the city and her chambers being several stories up. There was no way to access her balcony from below - or above - and she was therefore able to keep her bedrooms cool without concerns for invaders. Not that she particularly enjoyed it that morning.

A cold and damp dawn in the middle of hottest part of the year...

Persephone tried not to take that as a poor omen.

No, the thing that Persephone loved about her placement within the palace was that her balcony over looked the city. From where she stood - to them - she was but a shimmer of white silk and possibly a flash of black hair, but to her, the entire city was clear as day. She could see men with their carts, women with their wares... and far off in the distance the sailors at the port - no larger than insects - hurrying about the docks and ships with equally small dots of cargo being passed between them.

It wasn't that Persephone enjoyed looking down on the people of Athenia. But she enjoyed observing them from a position of knowledge. One that - to her own mind - clearly expressed her role and responsibility in life; to use her position and her power to be educated in how to serve and protect those she watched over. That was, at least, how her mother had always described it.

"Being born to privilege comes with the cost of our lives no longer being our own, Persephone..."

She could hear her mother's voice in her head, as clear as day, and was thankful that the door to her chambers was opened in that particular moment. Much longer down memory lane in her strangely nostalgic and wistful mood and she was likely to end up attending the Senate with a puffy face and bloodshot eyes. What a sight for the noblemen that would be...

As her ladies entered the room, hurried about the chamber to perform basic duties and then set out a chair into which Persephone would sit to be primped and primed, she smiled politely, conscious that the expression was unlikely to meet her eyes and took her seat as was habit.

Unlike most mornings when she would speak with the women, ask them about activities in the palace, what was happening in the city and if they had plans for anything in the near future, today Persephone stayed morbidly silent, answering their questions about her hair and attire with only nods and shakes of her head.

Most of her ladies had been with her for years so Persephone was confident that she was not offending them in her reserved answers but she couldn't help feel a little guilty. What she also couldn't help, however, was the strong feeling of nausea that had started to grip at her stomach and was therefore preventing her from engaging in idle chatter.

As if on que, the door opened for the second time that morning and permitted a servant with her breakfast tray of fruits and dry breads. Waiting for the young, female servant to leave before she outright refused any refreshments, Persephone instead turned to face her appearance in the looking glass before her.

As she had with her physical sensations only a few moments before, when wrapped in the linens of her bed, Persephone found herself focusing and analysing in minute detail the potential ruler she saw there...

With a rounded, oval face, full lips and eyes framed in lilting expressive curves, Persephone found herself frustrated by the femininity that she saw there and raised a hand to stop her maids in their ministrations of her hair.

"Not curled." She told them, breaking the silence for the first time. "Tie it up. Smooth and tight."

The ladies carried out the instructions without complaint, naturally understanding that this was not the day to offer alternative suggestions to the princess. Today was the day to obey as if she were already Queen.

Half an hour later and Persephone's hair was tied into a thick knot at the back of her head. The few tendrils that hung at her neck and around her face she had allowed the girls to curl for they would have looked unkempt otherwise, but she was not so lenient on the powders and creams they offered her for her face.

By the time she was ready for her clothing, Persephone's features had been heightened and dramatized. Her cheekbones looked straighter and higher, her brows were more defiant and her eyes had a thick and deliberate line above them that was native to lands further south. In short... she had instinctively instructed a look more fitting of an empress than the daughter of a king.

Her clothing took far less time.

Having known that the day would be difficult one - most likely from the moment she awoke - Persephone had instructed her gown of choice to be laid out the evening before so there was no such turmoil over choices when the sun came up.

The outfit she had chosen was one of the deepest blue - the exact shade of the Athenian flag and colours. As it was placed on her frame, the gown was light as air and circled her neck, then each of her wrists, leaving her back and arms bare. Around each bicep she had fitted matching custom jewellery - a swan and an owl in tandem, their wings encompassing her upper arms. The owl was the symbol of Athenia. The swan was the sigil of her House.

Today was a not a day to be subtle.

To that end, all of her jewellery, decoration and sandals were silver in colour. The crown her ladies then placed and fixed atop her head was gold. There would be no mistaking her claim to royal blood with such a show.

Persephone knew she had directed her ladies in her visage appropriately when Emilia knocked and entered her sister's chambers. She said little but the expanding of her eyes and the small smile on her lips - one of pride, Persephone hoped - was enough to tell her that she was presenting herself appropriately for such a day...

With little said between the sisters - for there was little that had not already been said in the months that had led to this day - Emilia simply stepped forward to embrace her sister - a hug that Persephone returned but perhaps not as fully as she might normally.

She felt like her entire being was made of ceramic or glass. That the slightest hint of emotion - a memory of her mother, the touch of her sister - would crack it and have her running for the hills.

She stomped down hard on the voice in the back of her head that tried to tell her something she didn't want to pay attention to. Something about only wanting to run because she lost either way this day...

Shutting it out of her conscious mind, Persephone nodded and thanked her ladies before turned to link arms with Emilia.

"Let us pray that father is well today."

For prayer they would need.

King Minas - while healthy enough to attend the Feast of Sinners day celebrations, his health had diminished at a rapid pace since then. Unable to barely lift himself from his bed and certainly unable to stand, Persephone had spent the last three days speaking at length with Aimias about how they would handle the Senate meet. For the king had to be there. There was no other way the legislation could be put forward for consideration...

As Persephone headed down the corridors with her sister, she lamented at the plan they had come up with...

Minas would attend the Senate.

Whether they had to carry him, haul him, drag the man's unconscious body to the podium and slap him awake at the right moment, it would happen. And while that made Persephone feel like a cruel excuse of a daughter, Aimias had been right in his advisement to her... That Minas would be heartbroken were they not to force his attendance. He had spent so much of his life - specifically in the last few months - leaving a legacy to his daughter. For them to allow it to fall at the final hurdle due to his health would be an insult no death could assuage them of.

Persephone took a deep breath as she approached her father's rooms. Knowing Aimias to be right didn't diminish that sick feeling in the bottom of her stomach that had now grown to twice its size.

Within the king's chambers there were all the people she expected to be there. There was her father, naturally, with several manservants supporting him as he attempted to eat and drink something... Aimias was there in place of Votis who was busy preparing the Senate and three different royal physicians stood to one side watching with a critical eye.

Persephone squeezed her sister's hand at the side of their father who had now become obviously ill. In only the two weeks since the Feast of Sinners, he had become thin in a gaunt and unhealthy manner. The bones in his face were more obvious, his hair was thinning and he actually now seemed frail. Such a huge change in so small a time period.

There would no denying the terminal nature of the king's health this time. All of the Senate would know. There would be no denying it and no hiding it. Which meant that all would recognise the importance of such a moment when it came to the law he would be proposing for qualification.

A law that changed legacy and inheritance was all well and good in theory when a king was healthy and there was time to appeal it or reverse certain choices. With a king so clearly on his way to Hades, there would be no going back from this decision - whichever the Senate ended up making.

Persephone mentally prayed to the Goddesses Hera and Athena. She needed their strength today if she was going to get through the plan she had affixed in place with a pirate no less. Her family's legacy in the hands of a ruffian.

She took a calming breath.

When her father was ready to be escorted from his rooms, dressed and in possession of a simple band crown rather than a heavy and demonstrative piece, Persephone took a natural step back in order for the current monarch to lead the way - no matter his slow and shuffling pace.

Minas, on the other hand, had other ideas and refused to budge from his doorway until Persephone had moved to lead the party herself.

Feeling that nausea twist in her gut again, Persephone refused to let her father see it or suffer doubt in her and, instead, turned on her heel with almost a flounce she was so determined to give it an air of confidence and led the procession down the corridor, listening to her father's steps and addressing her pace so as not to leave him behind or make it seem as if she was waiting on him...

It took them nearly ten minutes to get from the King's chambers to the carriage outside but Persephone was pleased to see her father still on his feet, with a determined glint in his eyes and his jaw hardened in determination as the servants opened the carriage door and helped him inside.

Persephone felt pride blossom in her chest. No matter the situation, the importance of the moment, or her father's health... he was still Minas. He was still her father. And he was determined to act as the king for as long as his body would physically allow.

Sending up a thankful prayer to Apollo for giving the king strength, Persephone then attended to a second carriage where she and Aimias would be escorted to the Senate. Before stepping up and into the vehicle however, Persephone paused long enough to give her sister a tight but brief squeeze. An embrace that only lasted long enough for Emilia to whisper - "Good luck, Sissy..." - in her ear before they separated.

Persephone wasn't sure if she felt bolstered or even more nervous when her sister took that moment to step back and curtsy to Persephone, as if she were already Queen. Instead, she simply smiled in thanks at the obvious attempt at encouragement and then accepted Aimias' hand in stepping up and into the carriage.

Once settled into her seat and the driver of the horses setting them into motion, Persephone felt her lungs inhale and then refuse to let go...

Today was the day... she told herself. Whether she was ready or not.

Aimias had been up since dawn. Not because the king’s condition warranted it, but because there was much to do and he was being trusted to do it. Sleep had been hard to come by, until his daughter had come knocking on his door, blanket in hand. He could hardly refuse the look of her, thumb in mouth, needing the comfort of her father. So he didn’t even hesitate as he picked her up and tucked her into the side her mother used to occupy. When he rose that morning, he pressed a pillow to her side, so she wouldn’t miss his presence too much. As he stepped out of the bedroom quarters of their suite, it brought him relief to see that her nanny was already there. He could freely leave now and do his duty.

Padding off to the baths, Aimias could feel the tension within the palati. The cusp of change was upon them, and the whole house was rooting for the Xanthos family. It overwhelmed the underlying grief, knowing that the King was far closer to death than any of them had expected. The few servants and slaves that he came across offered their respectful bows, not that he deserved them. As just an advisor, he didn’t feel as if he had earned it. He nodded his head to each, grateful that they still believed in him. In their cause.

While sitting in the baths, he tried to empty his mind, to focus on anything else but the upcoming vote. He tried not to run the numbers again, tried not to count each family, each senator, and each whispered edge they had. The testimony of the pirate and the lady would make all the difference, they had been sure. But he didn’t like taking chances, not with a family he’d been so close to from a young age. Minas has trusted him, trusted his advice, and had become like a father to him.

He would mourn his death silently, would be a rock for the girls to grieve, and would push the Queen into her new position with support and love. It was all he could do.

Using an old technique he learned during university, he started to recite old tomes he had memorized long ago. The old habit helped him relax, helped him clear his mind of his worries. He often did it on nights when he couldn’t sleep, or before a gathering when he needed his mind clear. And on today, of all days, he would need a clear mind.

Having spent far too long in meditation, he quickly left the tubs. Drying off, he changed into a sensible black chiton, the gold pin in place to show his position within the royal Athenian house. The palati was starting to come to life, and Aimias knew that it wouldn’t be long before the King was awake. Even though he had taken to sleeping more often, for longer stretches, King Minas would not miss this day for nothing.

There was no need to knock on the King’s quarters— one of the physicians was waiting for him at the door. His face was stoic, ”Good, you are here. He had a rough night.”

”Stress due to the meeting?” Aimias asked, his voice low in case the King could hear.

”Most likely. But I think it’s more than that. He wouldn’t take the potions last night, so he was most likely in pain last night as well. Said he wanted a clear head today.”

He will most likely suffer for it, Aimias thought sadly. The two men pressed forward into the room, quickly greeted by a dozen or so servants, all working in a flurry of motion around the King. A bath was being prepared, while one of the servants tried to convince the man to drink a steam cup of herbs. Minas was trying his best to ignore the girl, but Aimias stepped forward, plucking the cup and placing it in the hands of the king. “To start, Your Majesty. It will help ease your stomach and help with energy. You’ll need to eat more than broth today if you wish to have the strength to make it through the whole meeting.” He knew he wouldn’t be argued with, and he was proven correct as the contents of the mug were quickly consumed without further argument.

The bath was purfumed with herbs and oils, all backed by the herbalist and physicians who were treating the king. Frankincense, for healing. Cypress to improve his overall circulation. Lavender and vetiver to calm. The tea has been peppermint and ginger, with some marjoram to help with the pain. While it would not heal what was killing the King, it would go to ease his discomfort. Aimias stood towards the back of the room, his ever watchful eye on those who were close to the king. If anyone was going to try anything, he would be the first to notice.

Lucky for them, it didn’t seem as if anyone wished to stop the vote that would happen today. He chalked that up to Elias figuring it would go his way without a doubt.

A quick prayer to the Gods, but especially to Zeus, to give the King strength to make it through the meeting. And to Athenia, for the wisdom to know when to step in.

While the bath had not exactly put a spring in his step, the difference from the man who went into the bath and the man who came out was noticeable. The King has wasted away in the course of weeks, and Aimias was silently fretting the day when Minas would take his last breath. It would be a sad day, for the man had shown a faith in him that Aimias didn’t even see in himself. The young man had come into the Xanthos home and stranger, and now he felt like family. And that feeling was even stronger when Philipa was so well cared for, all at the courtesy of the King.

Minas would die. And he would mourn in his own, silent way. Much like he had the death of this wife. But this time, his focus would have to be the royal family. He would be critical to aiding the transition, and he refused to let him down.

They dressed the King, leaving any sort of heavy ornamental pieces of later. He was moved to the small table in his room, refusing to laying in bed to eat (although Aimias was sure that he was worried he wouldn’t be able to get back up if he was in bed). An initial argument rose between King and advisor over the meal, but once again, the calm logic of the younger man won out. That was when his daughters walked into the room. Aimias thanked the gods that their father was at least upright. The presence of the two girls would greatly assist his mood and disposition. The advisor gave Emilia a reassuring wink, bowing to Persephone before returning to the King’s side. Once his meal was adequately finished, the finishing touches were placed and they were ready to depart.

He watched the silent battle for leading the way and was unsurprised when Persephone took charge, allowing her father one more victory in a world where he would only see so few.

Aimias didn’t wait, didn’t seek permission. He simply stepped up to the King, offered his arm in support, and did not give him a choice in the matter. There was a small sense of relief in the dying man’s eyes, and together, the pair followed the eldest daughter towards the carriages.

The younger man was quick to hand the king off to the other servants, who would see he was assisted and comfortable in the carriage. He made his way to Persephone’s, quietly waiting for her to say goodbye to her sister. When the princess took his offered hand into the carriage, he gave her a small, reassuring smile. A moment was taken so she could carefully arrange her skirts before he stepped into the plush carriage with her. He took his seat across from her, looking out the window to give her a moment’s privacy.

She was as tense and a taunt bow, but who wouldn’t be with a day like this. The carriage rolled into motion and as soon as they were clear of the grounds, Aimias reached across, settling his hand on top of hers. He gave them a soft, comforting squeeze, then pulled them away. ”Worry not, your highness. The herbs seemed to have given him an appetite this morning. And his spirits are far better than they’ve been all week.” Aimias was not a man of many words, his focus on the subject always a bit intense and meaningful. ”He believes in you. Has faith in you. And he wouldn’t be forcing this vote if he didn’t. The Senate will pass the vote. And you will be Queen.”

His eyes softened, smile bittersweet. ”I’ve counted and recounted the vote several times. Those on the fence will side with us once they hear what has to be said.” At least, he was almost sure they would.

Persephone allowed the man before her to reach over and squeeze at her folded hands in her lap. She didn't return the gesture, nor move her hands at all at his touch - just kept them where they were a death grip wrapped around each other - for she knew that if she took even a moment to accept help or lean on another emotionally today, she would crack and it would all fall apart.

She felt as if she were wearing a mask. Her face heavy from the slightly stronger make-up she wore and her crown suddenly feeling a million times more prominent on her head. She felt as if the Gods were shining a beacon of light down onto her, idolising her as what she was supposed to be as opposed to what she was. It only made her straighten her spine and tighten her shoulders to the point where they actually hurt.

She didn't answer the man's assurances for she knew not what to say to him. Part of her was encouraged, thankful for his words. Another wanted him to swallow his own tongue, for what if being Queen was a role she was ill prepared for? One that was not rightfully hers? One that she would not want and could not do? She couldn't find the right words to express her concerns and knew that now was not the right time and place to do so...

Now... Today... it was her father's day. This was the day where all of his plans would come to fruition or his legacy would end. Her role in it was simply as a receptacle. A vessel to receive his dream if that was what came to pass. And she would have to deal with that in her own way later. She had no rights to assess it now - no matter how much more real the fears and concerns had become in the last twenty-four hours.

She had been so sure of what was the right course - so confident in her work towards it - just a few days ago. Now she had nothing by screaming worries bouncing around inside her body, making her stomach twist and her head hurt.

Persephone felt like she was losing her mind. And if she didn't de-stress at least a little, she was going to snap.

"How is Phillipa?" She asked the man suddenly, the topic of conversation entirely random in response to his assurances. Had she thoughts about it, Persephone would have been trusting that Aimias wouldn't take offence to her lack of response to his bolstering. Though, in truth, she was thinking little of empathy and additional perspectives barring the one that stared inwards.

"Has she adjusted to the new tutor?"

While Aimias was perfectly schooled and learned enough to teach his own daughter her basic words and such, the man was busy with his responsibilities outside of the family home and had therefore employed both a nanny and a tutor to help with Phillipa's progressive learning, despite her young age. The first he had hired had been an utter disaster and Phillipa had disliked them because - according to her - they breathed funny. Persephone had a strong suspicion it was because the man in question had whistled slightly when breathing through his nose. Instead, she had offered Aimias Danessa, the daughter of the old woman who had taught Persephone as a child. She had hoped that the younger girl - only eighteen in years - would be young enough for Phillipa to bond with but also mature enough - after the example set by her mother - to encourage learning in a way that was appropriate for a child so young...

Persephone tried to focus on so simple a conversation as the carriage continued through the streets. She refused to look out of the window to see the people or city she might one day rule and she refused to turn her thoughts inwards to discover that she was breaking skin in the palm of her hands with how tight her fingers were clenched on that her back was already protesting the severity of her posture.

Today was not a day to relent. Today was a day to survive.

"And now, oh Princess... you shall deal with me."

The blond image in the mirror smiled back at him, perfectly coiffed, not a crease in his chiton. The snow-white material fell to his ankles, lined with red and gold threads, with a himation the color of Stravos red draped over his left shoulder. The golden anchor of his house lay in the small indentation between his collar bones. Elias was leaving nothing to chance - absolutely nothing. He had one shot at this, and he'd be damned if he allowed some senile, dying King steal his rightful claim to the throne.

That claim was his.

It had been months of careful planning. One that the idiot prince of Colchis tried to unwind - Elias scoffed at his attempts. He had played right into his hands, despite what he thought. Did he take Elias of Stravos for a fool? He would not even think of playing such a ploy to endanger his own house and reputation, not without the appropriate cover up. The fact that the Senate was even entertaining the idea of someone like the pretty princess of Xanthos to be considered as an heir was a joke to him.

With another scoff, he turned away from his reflection after one last glance to ensure every blond strand was in its place. It would not do for him to walk out in anything but perfection after all - he had a reputation to uphold, and today of all days, Elias had to look impeccable.

With a smile on his lips, the young Stravos heir exited the family manor in which he had been residing over the past few months. His barony of Lyncestia had been left in the care of a steward he trusted, who had worked with him for years. For now, Elias had bigger issues to think of - a greater future in which he had to ensure would come to pass, for its fulfilment meant it would benefit Athenia... and fulfill his family's lifelong destiny. He was the firstborn son of a king's sister. He held as much claim to that throne as his cousins - even more, when he was of the superior gender and capability. The sort of capability he would imagine Persephone could only ever strive for, and never achieve.

Descending the stone steps towards the carriage bearing the Stravos crest and gilded in the colors of his house, Elias entered to its cushioned seats, settling as the servants closed the door behind him whilst he fastidiously arranged his clothes in a manner which would not crease and ruin his image. The whole ride there, the male kept his eyes on the streets whilst the wheels rumbled through the well-planned streets of the capital city.

What surprised Elias however, was when the carriage slowed. When he turned a questioning look to the accompanying outrider, the answer he got made the young lord raise a questioning, almost wry brow as his eyes peered out to the reason which had slowed his ride - the royal carriage of the Xanthos family. Were they late? And here Elias was expecting them to arrive early at the Senate. Last Kleio had informed him, Minas seemed to have taken a turn for the worst - just what Elias needed at this point. If he was right and the King showed his gaunt face at Senate - who would want to believe the decisions and arguments of someone as frail as Minas would look?

But what irritated the impatient male however, as he tapped in steady beats with the palms resting on his knee, was the amount of people whose eyes seemed to be following the carriage bearing the crest of the House Xanthos. His eyes narrowed watching the almost adoring way in which the eyes of the Athenians trailed after the carriage Elias was sure bore the royal family attending the Senate. He could not stay behind them. Elias wouldn't allow himself to be late. "Go around them. Use the smaller roads through the Outer Circle." his command was curt, and quickly followed, and the carriage soon picked up speed again, his eyes falling on the passing scenery of the capital city.

Why was there this need for this farce of a Senate meeting, the blond Stravos still found himself wondering even as he was on his way there. He had in all in the bag, did he not? If he counted the votes and the lands, they all leaned in his favor - it was a given. If one were to ask Elias if he was nervous, he would have laughed in the person's face, and waved them away as if they were a minor irritation. The Senate meet, at this point, simply served as an annoying blip in his daily activity - the faster he got it over with the better. Elias was thorough as a person with his plans, he knew better then to leave an opportunity for his enemy to swoop in.

That throne was as good as his.

By the time the carriage rolled to a stop outside the Senate house, a self-confident smile pulled at the baron's lips as the doors of the carriage was opened. In an assured manner, Elias stepped out, only offering an easy smile as a greeting to anyone who came up to him, but never going so far as to dip his head in respect. He wouldn't need to do any of that when he was King.

Hands behind his back, with his guards behind him and his assistant next to his step, Elias made his way into the Dikasitrio, his shoulders and posture primed and ready.

Circenia had her own agenda, she always had. Since she was a small child, she often begged, pleaded, and debated her way into anything and everything her heart desired. The baby of the family deserved all that the world could give her. It had become her norm. However, as she had aged, it didn't work the same. A sour expression and pouted lip rarely granted her anything from the people around her (with the exception of her husband, of course). This would be no different. Her brother, King Minas, and she had grown to believe in two very different ideas for the throne of Athenia. A tantrum on the floor with arms kicking, feet stomping, tears pouring, and screaming wasn't the professional procedure for this particular day.

Time flew away too fast as the lady of the house brushed through her entire wardobe to find something suitable. Everything she criticized for one error and then another. An hour passed in what felt like a second as she changed her chiton a million times. She was unsure to press the idea that she was a Stravos, or to remind the people that Circenia was just as much a Xanthos as her brother. And her son was just as much of the royal line as that pretentious Princess Persephone. And Elias was a male. Men had their place running the country, dealing with business, and anything to do with a foreign affair. Women should be examples of beauty to be decorated within the home. Catered, pampered, worshipped there.

She heard the stone of wheels on the street leaving the home. It was Elias leaving. She had impressed upon him to go alone, or at least just with Keikelius. Circenia wanted to be sure that he looked every bit an adult, independent, strong contender - a rightful heir going to the Senate. This was everything.

"Chara! Danae!" Her voice boomed down the hallways, loud entering every area of the home. It was the sounding bell to let them know that they would have to go. Despite not being able to enter the meeting or listen to the debate that was about to go down, the ladies of the Stravos family were going to be outside. They were going to show the people that they were there and they were important. "Chara! Danae!" The names repeated as she clasped yet another change in wardrobe around her neck. A fingertip idling on the large teardrop gem that hung from chains of twisted gold. The pendant rose and fell as she took one last deep breath. This was it.

With a hope that her daughters were moving, Circenia went outside to be sure that the other carriage was ready. Elias was well on his way. The dark-haired princess gripped the hand of the servant tightly as she was helped into the covered carriage. The Stravos colors hanging all around and the crest emblazoned on the doors. She had to keep her sanity as she worked through the day. Her mind racing with the kind words she must say in public. Circenia certainly could have a reputation for being less than warm at times.

She barked commands one after another to be sure that her daughters would know what to do, and maybe a little bit of a reminder for herself. "Remember to wave. To smile. This is your brother's birthright." Leaving just one more Stravos to go before the carriage would be trotting off to the decision of a lifetime. She would not be made a fool of. Athenia would not be the laughing stock of the realm because her brother had some insane notion that Persephone should do well on the throne.

Aimias had always enjoyed the company of Persephone. While not her personal tutor, she had often come to him for advice or assistant in whatever she was working on. Most of the time, they spent their time in lively political debates, a favored teaching method of his. Even if he agreed with her point of view, he often took the opposite side, just to make her think on her toes. He enjoyed challenging her, and the way she embraced each of his curveball arguments warmed his heart. He may not have been the most emotional of people, but he showed his affection for her in her education.

He believed that nothing spoke louder than time spent together.

Having spent so much time in her company, Aimias could tell just how nervous she was. He should have instructed her maids to have a calming tea prepared. One of chamomile and peppermint, to help ease her stomach, too. Perhaps it would have helped settle her. But, as well as he knew her, he was sure that only a vote in her favor would put her mind at ease.

Her change of topic hinted at the need for a distraction, and he was more than willing to provide just that. After all, what father didn’t want to talk about his child? His smile turned soft, ”This one ‘doesn’t smell like cheese’, so it seems like a good match.” At a few months over two, Phillipa was vocal. She was learning to speak her mind, to form options and to vocalize those without restraint. While the tutor was focusing on teaching her the basics of childhood, the poor woman was also working on the idea of ‘thinking before speaking’, something the young child had no wish to master.

”Luckily, Danessa seems to be a bit more adept to handle her in her precociousness and curiosity. They seem to enjoy each other.” The recommendation from the Princess had been much appreciated, at a time when he was struggling to find someone who was willing to handle her questioning mind. ”She has demanded that I ask you to come to have a tea party with her, as soon as you are able. To quote, ‘I miss my Phee.’ Perhaps, once life settles down, an afternoon can be arranged.” It would be a difficult task, but if they planned it right, it could coincide with the nooning meal, then a nap could follow shortly after. It could be months before it happened, but there was little he could refuse his daughter.

If he could arrange tea with the Queen, he would do it.

For her.

”As always, I am grateful for the suggestion.” His throat tightened a bit, knowing that he needed more to distract her but had little to say. ”I was not aware that the Lady Iris was back in court.” It certainly didn’t feel like a safe conversation, in regards to his personal life. But he was willing to throw it out there if only to give her something to think about besides the upcoming vote. ”I had not seen her in almost a decade.”

Rafail had always seen life as easy. It had always gone so smoothly, so easily with such little hardship. He supposed, as a result, it had weakened him to the concept that others might have greater issues to handle than which mistress he’d rather have share his bed that eve (Thesnia, of course, came with matters aplenty, although it seemed Papa preferred to make the decisions on that behalf and, thus, Rafail rarely found himself drastically occupied with it). Yet on some occasions, there came a point where he was forced to take part in far more serious matters. His main concern on this day was the Senate meeting, for this was to be a day when history was made and, despite the role that his position as Baron and member of the House of Marikas gave him, Rafail had not entirely understood the fuss about possible outcomes. He had no doubts regarding what the result of this meeting would be, and he was proud to say he would hold a part in it.

The youngest man in the Marikas family had been awoken far earlier than was his norm, his favoured lady still lying draped against his naked chest, raven tresses fanning out over the cushions when Deucalion had entered the room to alert him of the day's start. When breakfast had arrived - pancakes even though he was sure he'd made several comments about not liking them the previous morning - he'd shooed Elissa off with a final kiss and ordered a hot bath be prepared for him. Once thoroughly bathed with facial and massage out of the way, and lightly fragranced in lavender, he had moved onto the most complicated task of any morning: the selection of his chiton. It was only appropriate he wore the colours of the house he had chosen to support and which were, anyhow, his favourite to wear, and hence eventually settled on one of his darkest red chitons with golden trim, so similar to the Stravos colours and yet a slightly darker shade of red. He might have considered going all the way and making such support more obvious through the use of accessory but had opted against it, selecting only his standard golds and the Marikas signet ring he wore each day.

Both Papa and Pavlos were waiting by the entrance when he had finally come downstairs - Rafail briefly wondered whether they had caught sight of his lady as she had run out, though dismissed the thought when he noted the impatience in both of their expressions. "My apologies, Papa," he commented, deciding to ignore Pavlos as they made their way to the waiting carriage. Look at him on his best behaviour. "I was so preoccupied ensuring I looked my absolute best for the Senate meet that I must have lost track of time. I adore a long bath."

He sat beside his brother and opposite his father on the journey to the Senate, as per usual, mostly silent and leaning back in his seat save for whenever his father directed a comment in his direction. He may have held great respect for Papa but, on serious occasions such as this, he almost would have preferred if Deucalion and Barnabas did not travel separately alongside the other attendants and guards and could provide him with some words of interest. As such, it was not an exceptionally entertaining trip, but it saved them the walk and, admittedly, Rafail was not the greatest fan of walking in these sandals. They were gorgeous and gold but drastically impractical at the worst of times. Still, he reckoned he could not complain that they were taking a more comfortable mode of transport, so he refrained from doing so, instead quietly wondering the events of the day to come until they finally arrived at their destination.

It did not appear the Dikastrio was too crowded as of yet which served as a relief to Rafail. When it came to the Senate, he usually preferred to have things handled without forcing too much interaction with the older, boring men who haunted the place, and it was rarely a possibility. There was always someone who wished to speak with him or wished to talk to Papa or Pavlos and held up the entire family as a result. As he entered today, however, he was quick to acknowledge the presence of his friend and, thus, having excused himself from his family members and ordered his two attendants to await him to one side, made a beeline for the younger man.

"Brother!" he called out as he approached, more optimistic than he usually was. He was already convinced of success. Rafail ran a hand through his hair to ensure it remained perfectly placed and slicked back, smirking in that arrogant manner which was so common to him and bowing his head slightly out of respect for their equal status. "I take it you are as well prepared as ever for today. Perhaps when you take the throne you can ensure some comfort for your nearest and dearest friend, hm?"

The importance of this day weighed heavily on Panos' mind as he breakfasted earlier than usual that morning. He knew, eventually, it would come to this. He had known with enough time to play his own hand, but whether it was the a winning hand all came down to the events that lay ahead of him today.

He had spent many a late night and early morning debating and exploring the many pros and cons of the possible outcome. Whichever way it fell, Stravos or Xanthos, the outcome would send ripples throughout their society for years to come, possibly one more than the other.

He was lost deep in the recesses of his own thoughts when Pavlos finally came to tell him it was time. Panos nodded silently at his eldest son, a long sigh escaping his lungs. He rose slowly, straightened his chiton and as he passed his son, laid a hand of solidarity on his shoulder briefly, before passing. This was a big day for everyone.

Panos teeth were grinding with impatience at the disrespectful tardiness of his youngest son. The importance of this day seemed to be completely lost on him, and not for the first time, and certainly not the last, Panos felt as if any effort or hope he had ever laid in his youngest son was but for naught.

Finally, Rafail graced the family with his presence with a half-hearted apology. Panos stared at him, maybe with disbelief, maybe with annoyance, he couldn't even quite tell himself in that moment, but he was not amused, that much he was certain of. "This day is not about you, Rafail. You would do well to remember that today. Get in the carriage." He turned sharply on his heel and led the family out to meet the carriages, him and his sons in one, Sera and the girls in the other.

They made their way with relative ease, having still managed to leave early enough despite Rafail's tardiness. Only a few other families had arrived before them, and Panos was pleased that his family had arrived so promptly. It was a good look. He didn't imagine they had arrived too long after Stravos, which, while it irked him that they had gotten there first, was some consolation.

One thing was certain;

Today was going to be a big day. For everyone.

Keikelius had woken himself earlier than his wife and children, unable to shake the anxious tension from his limbs. Today's vote could go either way, and if it did not fall in favor of Persephone, it meant that his son's birthright was secured. If it did... well, he was to remain impartial in all of the matters, no matter how strongly he felt about some. His goal had been to see his son on the throne, and that was going to happen. Someday, somehow, it would be Elias wearing that crown. He would make sure of it.

He was entirely sure that his wife felt the same. Leaving her to their bed, he prepared and dressed himself in the silence of darkness. His floor-length crimson and gold chiton would not be missed despite the fact that he was only the Master of Trade. In actuality, he had little say in what was to go on in the senate. He could only attempt to turn a few minds here and there by laying on the charm.

Though it always left him feeling irritable and ill to do so.

Dressed and prepared for the meet, he ate a lite breakfast of fruit and cheese before setting out toward the senate. His own horse was all that was needed for just himself and it would give him ample time to think and debate with himself on his own time. Keikelius enjoyed the clatter of hooves on the stones, the pace he'd set with his stallion was lazy, if not brazen. Just as he was.

Making it to the dikastirio was simple and Keikelius dismounted easily, tying off his stallion where it would be safe. Brushing his hands down his front for only a moment, he slipped himself into the building with little fuss. He nodded at the few men already there and the few others that were scattered about outside without a way to enter before settling into his usual place on the senate floor. Arms crossed against his chest, the man kept his gaze on the entrance, his gaze hunting for his son as more and more people started to file inside of the building.

The sight of Elias with his guards made Keikelius lift his chin, cunning dark eyes watching the young man's every move. Keikelius' expression conveyed only what it needed to.

He best come out on top or Keikelius himself would be standing before Hades with blood on his hands. The threat wouldn't be missed. He knew that much.

Persephone knew what Aimias was doing. And she was highly thankful for it. Not only had he picked up on the fact that she needed a distraction from the day - some sort of mental reprieve from what the next few hours would hold - but he was also ensuring that that conversation extended for as long as her nerves required it.

He spoke of his daughter, returning her idle banter regarding the new tutor she had suggested. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Persephone was glad to hear that the little girl was taken to her. While it was impossible for a child of such a young age to be able to take formal lessons - in writing or in arithmetic - it was important for the growing mind to be encouraged to grow. To question, to be curious... to know that - when the time was right - she would have the answers she wanted, but that didn't stop her from being able to ask of them now. It was also significantly vital that the child personally like her tutor and enjoy her company. So, hiring one at a young age when children formed strong attachments was imperative to their future learning. And it looked that - between them - Lord Aimias and herself had found just that in Danessa. Hopefully it would only improve the learning of Phillipa down the line, even if she was not yet ready to sit down and learn her alphas and betas.

When Lord Aimias commented that the girl was pleased to find her new tutor did not smell of cheese, she instinctively offered a small smile - her lips showing her inner amusement and pleasure at the natural precociousness of the young girl, even if her eyes didn't light up and the rest of her features didn't exactly scream contented amusement. For, no matter what Persephone tried - whether her thoughts were on the present conversation or not, her body and emotions appeared to have a mind of their own. And that mind had determined that abject terror was where she would physically sit until the end of the day. Actually, it was likely that such emotions would persist until the end of the week or beyond. For, no matter which way the events of today went, the ramifications of such a decision would ripple outwards for many days - if not decades - to come... Today might be the catalyst of that impetus... but it was not to be a solitary and exclusive experience. This senate meet would continue metaphorically for years to come.

Lord Aimias commented on the girl - Danessa, Persephone reminded herself, they were talking of Danessa - being able to handle the more impassioned nature of Phillipa. At two the girl was rambunctious and energetic. Her father had created for her a world in which nothing was scary and nothing was a concern to the safety of her person, mind, family or emotional security. It was an innocent Persephone could remember but no longer retain - even when she tried. The death of a parent when young was a sure way of losing such certainty and confidence that nothing in the world could hurt you. Luckily, Phillipa was too young for the death of her mother to register in such a way and she had clearly been able to maintain such a mindset. Or rather, the early demise of a parent had lot stolen it from her. For that, Persephone was glad.

"It is likely her age." Persephone commented back, a small piece of her mind continuing a conversation that the rest of her attention flittered in and out of. She felt as if she were a strainer - her mind only retaining certain pieces of information of the chatter within the carriage and the rest of it being filled with nothing but air. Heavy, depressing and worrisome air that pushed at the inside of her skull. "Danessa is not yet so mature that she has lost the understanding of what it means to be young." She stated with a wisdom beyond her years. It had been a long time since the twenty-two-year-old could really be considered "young". Perhaps that was why her connection with Aimias was so strong and based in a foundation of mutual understanding and respect - despite the fact that he was a dozen years her senior. "She can manage the energy without been exhausted by it. The two will grow together, which should be nice."

As the topic of conversation came to a close, Persephone's trailing voice a clear indication of her lack of focus on it, she moved to glance out of the curtained window of the carriage. She did little to indicate her presence to whomever might be looking towards the vehicle, moving the curtain further into the interior rather than away from the gap, allowing her to sneak a look down the opening through than through it.

The people of Athenia continued about their day as if nothing were the matter. And so, they should. While the general populace of Athenia knew that the nobles of their land held Senate, and they knew that such an important meeting was held every six weeks in a mass scale - the meetings in between were held weekly but often reserved to small or trivial matters like barony disputes and trading restrictions - they knew not, most of the time, what was discussed within them. Every month and a half, the people would notice an excessive number of carriages with royal and noble house insignias, driving to the Dikastirio and back, with a few hours to span the interim. They knew that, on such a day, big decisions regarding their kingdom would be made. But, given that most of those decisions were never to affect the lives of the fishermen, labourers and seamstresses alike, they would not feel the tension and potential trauma to their lands that waiting in the wings. They would not know what was happening around them and the changes to history that were about to be made. They simply continued on their day - fulfilling their singular and simple list of tasks that were due between sunup and sundown... and then they would continue the same tomorrow. None-the-wiser that anything hand changed (if indeed it did) until the king died and a princess became Queen over a lord becoming King. It was then that the public would have to be handled...

Suddenly, the relaxed and calm feeling that watching her people's daily routines had settled in her stomach was set adrift again at the idea of what she would tell them should such events unfold as they did in her mind. The lower classes were a simple people - uneducated to understand the intricacies of politics. They knew what it meant to have a King. They knew what it meant for a King to die. They would not be expecting Persephone - no matter any love they might hold for her - to be the next to grace the throne. That would need to be another fight she would have in order to attain that which her father wanted for her.

Swallowing back a moment of panic, Persephone almost had it together until she spotted, through the crack between fabric and vehicle, a carriage with the markings of the House of Stravos. As if she had been blessed with foresight or psychic premonitions, Persephone instantly knew that the box drawn by two white steeds contained her cousin Elias. It could have been any Stravos. All were likely to be in attendance this day. But somewhere in her mind, her chest, her heart - whatever it was speaking to her in that moment - Persephone knew it was Elias... and the bottom of her stomach immediately seemed to disappear.

Snapping back from the window and sitting straighter than she ever had before, Persephone felt, for a horrible moment, that she was going to burst into tears. That all of the stress so far that day was too much and her body simply needed an outlet. The bizarre, but perfectly accurate, thought that such behaviour would only ruin the heavier make up her maids had pasted onto her that morning, seemed to hold her fast. She swallowed and tasted bile. She swallowed again and tasted dryness.

It was in that moment that Aimias proved his value and his insightfulness by continuing their conversation as if nothing had happened, ignoring Persephone's strange reactions to the outside world and simply picking a topic that seemed to pop into his head without cause or reason.

Iris. He was talking of Iris.

Her mind coming back into focus and the fog that seemed to have been covering her eyes for a moment clearing, Persephone focused on naught but his words for a good few minutes before she responded. Aimias seemed to understand the delay in her answer and did nothing to push her and for that she was also thankful.

"I remember..." Persephone began before clearing her throat, pretending her moment of panic had not occurred. "I remember introducing the two of you so long ago... You seemed... fond of each other before she was forced to attend to matters in Aetaea." Persephone didn't care if her words were too forward or lacked elegance or propriety. Her and Aimias were often candid (possibly not in a public setting despite the carriage) but such a topic would not be inappropriate for them within the convinces of her lessons and her studies. As such, her thoughts latched onto such discourse quickly, once again becoming that strained - and holding on to anything that might stick and start to combat the foggy feeling inside her own head.

"I think Lady Iris would be just as glad to see you, now that she has returned to active courtly service..."

It was just as she was starting to grasp the conversation properly with these words, however, that the carriage came to a shuddering halt.

In fact, it didn't. It was a smooth halt that did little else than make Persephone sway a few inched forward and back. But, for all intents and purposes - to her - it might as well have come to a stop with a clank, shudder and clatter. Like the sounds of a dungeon door swinging into place. There was no escape now. They were here.

Persephone did not exit the carriage straight away. She was physically unable. It was like all of her muscles had locked her bones into place. Her entire frame had actually started to become painful with tension.

Glancing at Aimias and the way he looked at her Persephone let the corner of her mouth quirk upwards a moment, reminded of his lessons to her years ago when she had first had to deal with the court by herself...

She took a deep breath. So deep that it expanded her chest outwards to its furthest peak, filled her lungs and then let it out very, very slowly. As she repeated this a few times, she was pleased to note that the fogginess was clearing.

While Aimias held the door of the carriage shut so that no servant could pull it from the other side and open up her presence to the nobility before she was ready, Persephone smiled at him again and started to recite.

The words she was unable to remember and likely would remain forgotten until the day she died, but for the purposes of Aimias memory they were a mix of old history tomes she had studied, parts of the Athenian legacy list with names, ages and dates of all the ancestors of each royal house, and a few extracts from fictional stories that her mother had read to her as a child. None of it made sense, her brain leapt from one to the other, a certain word to sentence prompting a different piece of memorised information that then trailed from her mouth. The point was, that in focusing on the thoughts that produce the words instead of those that produced the tension, Persephone felt her body begin to relax, her father's words in her head.

"You are the princess of Athenia." He had told her whenever she thought she couldn't do something or had failed in attaining a result that she wanted. "It is your job to succeed." He had encouraged. "You have no choice, but to attain that which your role requires. Which means you have the Gods on your side." He had always then smiled at her. "And who else in this world can say that? Worry, means that you have lost faith in their abilities... Have you lost faith?"

"No..." Persephone murmured to herself, as if she had fully lost her mind... "I have not lost faith..." She closed her eyes, her eyelids heavy with power and paint, her lashes thick with the stuck, as she prayed to Athenia for wisdom, to Hera for guidance... She prayed to Zeus for strength and to Hephaestus to have the ability to beat her political enemies into the ground as he would his weapons upon his anvil.

"I am Princess Persephone of Athenia. I am a Xanthos." She opened her eyes. "I shall not yield."

And with that, Persephone opened the damn door to the carriage herself.

Stepping out of the vehicle, Persephone found herself, as expected, in the courtyard of the Dikastirio.

The building itself was one of the largest and grandest in Athenia. It stood as high as three storeys but once inside there was only a single space between foundation and ceiling, and was large enough in circumference for the place to hold every member of the Athenian nobility should they all be men and permitted to enter. The room always looked half empty once it was full of all male nobles who had the rights to enter it and it had not, in all the years of Athenian history, ever been too small to accommodate the voting minds of the elite. It had also, though this fact was more a matter of pride than one of practicality... had never been set foot in by an enemy of the state. No invading force or raiding faction within Athenia - and there had been several as time had progressed - had ever had their members penetrate the walls of the political mind of the city and land. Many believed that such loyal chastity had been protected by the Goddess of reason and wisdom... the patron Goddess of their lands Athena. Otherwise believed, however, that it was architecture. The building was circular, which made it hard for intruders to hide and progress in stages around its walls. The walls themselves were set back, the columns before them holding up the overhang to a rounded smooth roof which meant that, other than shimmying up the columns themselves - an impossible feat when each were two feet thick in radius, there was no way to advance up the structure either. The doors themselves were made of metal over wood and short of forge-hot flames melting them off their hinges there was little entry to be had. The Athenian people were a proud and elitist species who considered themselves the intellectuals of Greece. The fact that their greatest stronghold in the land was their political nerve centre made all the sense in the world. For many believed it to be a more significant building than the royal palace - perhaps even that the Naos of the Gods...

In heralding that significance and importance, the land around the Dikastirio was also finely cared for. The main courtyard was almost as large as the building itself, though was square in shape and struck out from the circular building at its from, the metal doors of its entrance front and centre at the back of the open space. Walls twice as high as a man marked the circumference of the paved square so as to ensure no lower-class citizens might peak at the proceedings within, or overhear private information. The only break in these walls were as the barriers met the columns of the Dikastirio and the giant archway - large enough for two carriages to pass one another abreast in its entry - standing in the exact opposite position to the entrance of the building. In the space between were paved slabs of alabaster strong broken here and there but planted trees and citrus bushes that gave the space a natural and friendly feeling, the green detracting from the austere stonework in which it sat.

This open space was almost as significant as the building beyond for, while the men of the nation were able to attend the discussion inside it was just as significant to hear the chatter of their women, waiting in the space here, as the carriages stood to one side to await the required journey home. The women, after all, would be the ones to speak with their husbands before and after such talks and - despite their presence being banned from within the walls of the Dikastirio - their role in the changing political landscape of Athenia was just as significant. The only difference on days like today was... that a vote would be being carried out. Meaning that it was only the pillow talk preceding the day that was of use to the women of the nobility. Such talks after would have to be focused on how to deal with any decision made, unable to offer any change to the outcome...

It was clear on the faces of the women present that all of them were fully aware of this. Kept out of the verbal and political action, several stood with a tension similar to Persephone's or with a hostility towards the female members of other Houses.

Every, single one of them - without exception - of course, turned said gaze on Persephone the moment to exited the carriage.

Some stared at her with curiosity, or an inspective eye. Likely measuring her worth as much as they could in so silent a moment and whether they would ever be able to accept her as a Queen instead of a Princess... Others did not bother to disguise open animosity. Whether this was from the idea of her as ruler making them angry or simple jealousy over the fact that she would be allowed within the Senate based on her rank outshining her gender, she was uncertain. And she did not wish to contemplate it. Now was not the time for additional concerns on top of the ones she already had.

Noting that her father had not yet exited the carriage, she was pleased to see that a manservant had jumped down to open his door as soon as she had made her presence known. Clearly the King had determined that he was not to make an appearance before his eldest daughter and Persephone felt nerves and pride mingle together. She knew everything he did was to ensure their family's future and prove that she was the one to be seen a monarch of Athenia over him, despite him still living. But she also, in many ways, wished he wouldn't do such things. It only made the future laid before her all the more real...

With her spine straight, her posture impeccable and her head held high with her crown shining in place, Persephone moved from her carriage to her father's side her eyes on both his frame and gait, but also on that of the people who watched him. For some, this was their first time seeing the man so outwardly sick. Before they had managed to contain it, to hide it. They had chosen lighter crowns that still appeared heavy, they had selected chitons that flowed loosely but did not make him look as if he had lost weight. They had even persuaded him on occasion to partake in a rouged powder to give colour back to his face. Now, there were no such tricks to be played. It was impossible to hide the fact that the man was dying. The bones in his face had become clear, the skin beneath his jaw loose. He still walked straight but his step was a gentler one than his normal assured stride - like he was afraid that stepping down with too much force might jar his bones or joints.

The fact that he wore a simple band crown around his temples - a symbol of his royalty three times smaller than the ivy decorated piece atop Persephone's head told all who laid their eyes on the Xanthos pair exactly what they intended to be decided that day.

Waved away by her father when she attempted to step up and offer her arm for him to walk, Persephone obeyed the man and - this time - insisted on him going before her and heading into the building first. It was as he did so that Persephone turned to look at each noble woman in turn who had congregated outside, as the Xanthos carriages were moved to the far corner of the courtyard in order to make the vision of the main doors one free of obstruction. She stared them each down, never breaking eye contact until she was ready to move onto the next, determined to impress upon them the force of her own will.

Her stomach might be churning, her head might be foggy, she might have the almost overwhelming desire to simultaneously hide, cry and vomit. But that did not mean that could see that. They would never see that. She would permit them to only ever see, in her place, a Queen.

Turning to follow her father, Persephone mounted the shallow set of semi-circular steps that rippled out from the main doors and was bowed through them by a set of servants in Senate uniform.

She did not look back.

The inside of the Dikastirio was just as grand and imposing as its exterior. All comprised of hard and unyielding stone, there ran a circular corridor all around the central room. The corridor was roughly four feet wide and was often a place of loitering and congregation for those unready to make their way into the main hall as yet. It was here that many of the lower noblemen were awaiting the arrival of their vassals or the royal family - whichever was their penchant. Without glancing their way, or offering them any form of challenge as she did the women outside, Persephone chose, instead, to make her case of leadership by ignoring their presence, and with Aimias a step behind her and to her right, she strode forwards amongst the crowd, altering her path not one inch when it strayed too close to male toes and instead had them move out of her presence. Her father she watched being escorted into the main hall, every noble he passed bowing at his presence. Persephone was offered similar but shallower signs of respect as she moved through them, avoided the main entrance to the hall and continued down the corridor and around the outer exterior of the Senate. Her intended destination and the path there took the princess around the entire circumference of the Dikastirio and to its southern facing side where there were additional chambers build off the back of the structure. Here, the doors stretched further away from the main hall and Persephone paused only momentarily for the servants on either side of it to open the portal for her use.

The chambers inside were sparsely furnished and basic in use. They looked more like the study of a commanding officer in the guard, with maps of Athenia upon the walls, a simple rug over the stone floor and a few desks and chairs provided for the occupants. It was clear that such a room was not used on a regular basis by a single person as there was no personalisation or additional materials available for use. It was clearly a holding place - a temporary space for when needed.

This time, it was needed - and utilised - by Lord Votis.

Mentor and trainer to Lord Aimias, Votis was a kindly but shrewd man who had more wrinkles in his face than striations in his eyes and he smiled with all of them. And his excessive eyebrows.

Offering a deep bow to the daughter of a king he had been loyal to for what seemed like generations, the Chief Advisor to the crown spoke with both familiarity - for he had known Persephone since her birth - and respect for the position he - along with other Xanthos supporters - hoped that she would have attained by the end of the day.

"Lord Iason, was just here, Your Highness." He told her with a smile and gesture back towards the door. "He was informed of your arrival and therefore headed to the main entrance. You must have taken separate paths."

Persephone nodded in thanks for the information but it was not only Lord Iason for whom she had come to see, but the other occupant within the room. Lord Votis had been charged with watching the man, though this was almost laughable given his advanced age and the health and violent strength of the man he was in charge of supervising. The pirate Lukos of Magnemea was leant against one wall, a shoulder masking one corner of an old map of the kingdom and his face half cast in shadow from the large cabinet of books that he stood beside. He appeared no difference in attire or temper than he had the last time the princess had seen him but Persephone was not concerned. The more he looked like a rough and ragged pirate the more the Senate would believe that he had in fact been hired by Elias for violent pirate antics. So long as he came across as cognitively compos, there was little Persephone had to fear. She had simply wished to see him and assure herself of his presence before she had humiliated herself before the Senate announcing his attendance as a lie.

She offered the pirate a nod of her head in respect for his choice in holding to their agreement.

"No-one knows he is here?" Persephone asked Lord Votis, seeking reassurance that the Stravos clan were not being permitted even the few minutes they would gain in pulling a plan together.

"No, You Highness..." The Master informed her with a dip of his head. "I had servants fetch the man only an hour ago and brought here through the servants’ entrance." He gestured to a door that led away from the Senate room and out into a small, back courtyard and then into the streets of the capitol. "No-one saw us arrive, and Lord Iason has been with us since his arrival."

Persephone wondered momentarily at the discussions to be had between her future husband and the captain of the Aceton but put it to one side. Provided neither men were dying or bleeding - which clearly, they were not - she did not need to concern herself with any other thoughts on this day.

Unsure how to proceed with regards to Captain Lukos - any words she had felt contrived or insignificant for such a moment in her kingdom's history; if she thanked him or only sounded patronising, to speak with confidence that she was glad he was there sounded like she doubted he would have been and might have offended his honour. Instead she simply went with efficient information, hoping that a man used to his time being precious would appreciate such a tact.

"A servant will be sent to fetch you for your testament as soon as I announce it, Captain Lukos." She told the man. "Lord Votis will be with me and my father, the King, but Lord Aimias will stay with you until that point." She swallowed. "He will instruct you in the best way to communicate what it is you are here to say and will then guide you through the oath you are to make to Athena at the front of the Senate hall. You'll make said oath of truth before the rest of the nobility and then present your evidence. There may be people who wish to question you but that will all happen at the trial. Your testament is not under question at this time - it only needs to be sufficient to convince the King that the allegation is legitimate. Not that Elias actually committed the crime. You will simple arrive, vow, offer your testimony and once the King has ascertained what he needs to, you will be escorted out by Aimias. After that, you are free to go where you will. If all goes to plan there will be a trial in the next few weeks. I will send a messenger in a few days when all steps have been put in place for the legal change in the Stravos lands and I am able to uphold my end of our agreement - I’ll include information regarding the trial with it. Lord Aimias is entirely informed on such matters and you may ask him anything you like."

Taking a step back and turning towards the door, Persephone excused herself, trading one Chief Advisor for another, at her side.

"I must convene the Senate." She offered by way of an obvious excuse for her departure and then headed straight back out into the corridor.

"All will be well, my princess..." Lord Votis commented to her as she paused in her step - perhaps from nervousness, perhaps from relief that her key witness had indeed held true and turned up.

"I wish to believe you, Lord Votis, but I fear such eventualities are in the hands of the Gods now." Persephone responded as they started back around the Senate hall, their destination its main entrance, where her fiancé waited.

"Then we are in good standing, Princess, for I have prayed to them every day for a month." Lord Votis encouraged her.

"Have such limited faith in me, Lord Votis, that such prayers are required?" Persephone quipped back, her nerves getting the better of her.

"Such prayers are required to have the person I have the most faith in sit on the throne of my kingdom, Your Highness."

The smart and quick response ensured that Persephone held a small smile on her face as she rounded the final curve in the corridor to find the crowd of noble men had grown in number, Lord Iason among them. Persephone would wonder in future years if Votis had timed such a comment for directly that purpose and - given his cunning - she was highly suspicious that it was the case.

Joining Lord Iason and taking his hand momentarily - she was encouraged by a light squeezing of his fingers around her own, where no-one could see, Persephone turned to square her shoulders against the main doors of bronze that led into the main Senate Hall. Looking up she read the inscription above the entryway as she did every time; the words echoing inside her head.

Let words and hearts be true. For it is in Athenia's future that we thrive."

Swallowing, Persephone stepped forwards, Iason naturally taking a place to her left and a step back, while Lord Votis mirrored her on the other side.

The Senate Hall was huge and circular with staggered steps leading all the way to the central dais. That dais was where Persephone headed, knowing that it was her place in that moment to be looked down upon by the eyes of the nobility and praying that her spine would not crack under the pressure of so many gazes. Her father was already seated in his throne, supported on a raised platform in the wall facing the circular audience. It was the chair beside him that Persephone would take until it was her role in the proceedings. It was the throne of the Queen but one that she had sat in many times before after assuming her mother's responsibilities in support of her father. The significance of that particular seat seemed to echo all the stronger on this day.

The hall, which sported a large number of the nobility already - minus those still speaking with each other outside - had been full of chatter and noise when she had entered - even with the presence of her father in attendance. Upon her entry, however, the prattle died down to a hush whisper that permeated the air.

With her chiton in hand, Persephone descended the steps of the Senate Hall, her attention forwards and her posture defiant against any verbalised word or internal thought that might be cast her way and, after what felt like an age, she reached the central, circular space at ground level where any speaker was required to stand in order to address the upper classes of Athenian society. The scribes were already in place at their desks to one side, their quills, ink and parchment at the ready. Acknowledging their presence with a smile and nod - her father had always taught her that it paid to make friends with the writers of their history - the princess then turned to mount up the steps towards the second empty throne.

Lord Iason, as was arranged, stood on the ascending steps on one side of the platform, Lord Votis on the other, as if they were guards protecting the sanctity of the two within their enthroned places.

Ensuring that her gown was settled, her Athenian colours bold and daring, Persephone sat in her mother's seat, one hand on each arm and her legs together, knees kissing one another beneath her shirts and her back straight against the back of the chair. She did not allow the golden monstrosity of a piece of furniture support her posture or seat. Instead, she sat just an inch forward, her own pride keeping her upright. She would not slouch. She would not loosen.

She would not yield.

"Do you feel well enough, father?" Iris asked gently, settled across from Takis of Argyris as their carriage moved slowly toward the dikastririo. Green eyes watched the staunch, quiet features of her father's face as he shifted uncomfortably with each bump. It had been an effort to get him out of bed that morning, but he had been insistent that he would be attending, even if it killed him. The senate vote was one event he would be hard-pressed to miss.

The man lifted his gaze, clearing his throat and nodding his head just slightly, "Well enough to get through another senate meeting, Iris," he commented calmly, glancing at the papers in his lap. All notes compiled by his ever-vigilant daughter. "And I'm well enough prepared to make our vote, thanks to these," he added, giving her a weak smile. "Thank you. For everything," Takis murmured, turning his head to cough into the cloth in hand. He cleared his throat again, breathing out sharply.

Iris felt her throat tighten slightly, forcing herself to look away. "Its not like there is a brother in my place that could be doing this work for you," she noted, seeming to wave off the compliment. "It is just as much my duty as it is yours to ensure that Aetaea is and remains strong. There is no longer any reason to thank me, father. For anything. I do what you can no longer, and I am honored to do so," Iris murmured, hands settled anxiously in her lap. She fidgeted with the fabric of her sky blue chiton. The same one she had worn to court when Princess Persephone had been attacked.

Her gaze didn't break from the streets surrounding them. Looking anywhere but at her ailing father was the only action she could take to keep herself calm. The worries that fluttered through her mind were all too apparent. Would he make it through the meeting? Would stronger senators make a fool of him? Would he stick to what she had given him as research? Would his opinion continue to align with hers?

They had both agreed long before this day. They wished to see the princess on the throne. If anyone was deserving of the position, it was the Lady Persephone. No matter the opinions of others... birthrights meant nothing in comparison to actual logical, strategic placements. And Persephone's placement on the throne was as strategic as they could come. It wasn't a further grab for power, but an acknowledgment of the temperament and grace needed to run the Kingdom and keep their lands peaceful.

That had been the consensus that both Takis and Iris had come to in their discussions leading up the meeting. And it was vital that their opinions remained symmetrical. For Takis would not remain on this earth for very much longer, and the legacy left to his daughter was one she would have to match. Iris only prayed that her future husband felt the same way.

"Father?" Iris questioned quietly, tearing her gaze away from the streets.

"Mm?" Takis hummed, jolting out of his own thoughts when he realized Iris was attempting to speak to him.

Iris opened her mouth to speak and then shut it. Now was not the time, especially as the carriage came to a halt and the two of them shifted carefully onto solid ground. Takis leaned on Iris for just a moment, using his weakness as a guise to show her fatherly affection before he straightened up and lead himself directly into the senate without another word. Iris swallowed hard, following only as far as women were allowed. She attempted to make herself unavailable to the other ladies around her, but she wasn't entirely sure that was how things would work.

Ladies liked to gossip, and when it came to politics... ladies could be just as strong-minded and opinionated as their lords.

Daniil had been up since the twilight hour that proceeded the dawn. Her mind was a mass of jumbled thoughts she lifted her thumb to her mouth and began to chew on her nail.

In a different time and place things would have been different. She would have been in her uncle's shoes. Life would be the total opposite of what it is now. She chewed off a bit of her nail and then spit it across the room in a mild show of irritation. Nothing to be done about it now. From this day forward you need not ever think about it. It was not your fault and you know that so be a good Daughter of Marikas and support your Uncle Rafail to the best of your ability. she thought as she tossed off the light coverlet and slid out of the bed.

Hearing that Daniil was awake a servant quickly got up and moved to begin the perpetrations for the day. A tub was prepared for her, the room smelling of lavender, which Daniil insisted be placed in all her baths. It was said to be calming and she enjoyed that and she had a feeling that today she would need it a good deal. I will also likely be able to see friends and visit. she thought and that made her laugh softly.

Melissa? I will be wearing the chiton of pale yellow today." she told one of the servants and she watched under her eyelids as the young girl moved off to find the gown an matching items like ribbons for her hair and jewelry and bring it back into the room. Then that same servant ran out of the room to see that she had food and refreshment to break her fast.

Her breakfast was pancakes, a food that she enjoyed, cheese, and watered down wine. She was amused that the food chosen for the breaking of the fast was her favorite and her uncle's least favorite. Once she was done it was time to make her up and do her hair, which was plaited with ribbons intertwined in her hair. Melissa was just putting on the finishing touches as her mother, Sera, came into the room trailed by her sister Elena.

"Are we ready to join the others? Daniil are you finished? her voice was gentle and there was no sign of upset. Daniil was about to say something when Melissa placed a necklace on her neck that placed a yellow topaz like gem just above her cleavage. Matching earnings are put in her ears and a plain gold blacelet is placed on her right wrist. Then he sandals were placed on her feet and she looked at her mother and sister. "Now I am, yes."

Her mother nodded and smiled at her youngest daughter. Good choice of colors for toady. Sera said praising Daniil for her choices. Daniil blushed and then got to her feet. She smoothed out any wrinkles and then dropped in line as Sera led them down to where the menfolk gathered.

She greeted Pavlos with a nod of her head and a soft "Good morning Father. Pavlos gave his youngest a rae smile showing his approval of both her manner and her dress. Daniil blushes softly and then glances over at her Grandfather, She greeted him with a respectful bow and then dropped in to wait for Rafail, who was late.

Ahh yes my Uncle the Peacock. she thought amused. When Rafail does appear she takes note that he is dressed in blue and she could not think anything else then he looked good in it. She did not miss the slight that he paid her own father by ignoring him., but it was not her place to say or show any reaction to that, so she did not. She had to hide the smile that wanted to appear at her grandfather's chastisement of the man, and she did. After telling Rafi to get in the carriage, Pranos gave similar orders for the ladies an all of them complied without a word.

The ride was quiet, with everyone dealing with their own thoughts and feelings.

When the carriage came to a stop, the ladies got ready to depart. Daniil would be the last to do so as she was the youngest. She then moved off to walk around with her mother an sister wearing a genuine smile.

Twelve goddamn days he’d been stuck in Athenia. Twelve goddamn days he’d been waiting for one of Princess Persephone’s servants to come for him at his ship. Today it happened. Today would decide whether or not he lived until tomorrow. Either the princess would secure her vote, or he and his crew would be fighting their way out of port.

Persephone’s deal with him required his ship to stay in the Athenian harbor until the Senate Meet. One could only assume that they would be allowed to leave before nightfall and even if the princess got her way, he aimed to be gone as soon as he was able. Only a fool would stay longer.

Lord Votis’s servant came to the Aceton after sunrise. Lukos stood on deck, watching the servant approach. It was clear to him, even from where he stood that the servant had not been told what sort of person he was to escort. The man’s furtive glances, first to the Aceton’s right, then its left, bespoke his wish that he was somewhere else. While the ship itself wasn’t particularly terrifying, the rough men glaring down at him certainly were.

“I am come for...for Captain Lukos?” the servant’s voice was a clear tenor. What a pleasant singing voice he must have.

“Sure about that, boy?” Arktos bellowed in laughter and nudged Lukos’s shoulder but the captain merely smirked.

“You seem unsure,” Lukos taunted. Another round of laughter erupted from his men.

Their laughter turned into a donkey’s bray when the servant stiffened and, in a lovely alto pitch, declared from his place on the dock, “Lord Votis sent me for the captain.”

“Oh well if it’s his Lordship Votis, you’d better go, captain,” Arktos dipped into a clumsy bow. Lukos patted his head, shushing him with a ‘There, there’.

Scarlet crept up the servant’s face but the gumption to correct pirates came too late. Lukos was half way down the gangplank before the younger man, nearly a boy, finally worked up the courage to say accusingly, “You’re Captain Lukos.”

Lukos raised his eyebrows and let his dark eyes drift from the boy’s face, down his simply spun chiton, to the worn sandals. He flicked his gaze back up to lock eyes. “And you’re a slave.” The boy flinched like he’d been slapped. Confusion colored the boy’s face, blatantly unsure now of who was leading who because Lukos passed him and strode through the port, leaving the boy to scramble after him.

It was easy to taunt and jeer from the safety of his ship, surrounded by his crew. Now that he was heading toward the lion’s den of Athenia’s noble set, he was less inclined to a smile of any kind. The servant boy slipped in front of him and together they made their way through the streets until they came to the Dikastirio. It was a building he’d never looked twice at, and never considered he might enter.

They skirted the front of the building but rather than turn and go in through the entrance, he followed around to a less conspicuous door at the back. This didn’t offend him in the least. He preferred not to draw too much attention. He’d have enough of that later.

The gloomy corridor deposited them into a large, clean room. He glanced around, impressed with it despite himself. An enormous map hung suspended on one wall and he went to examine it. The light in here was less than ideal and shadows jumped with each flicker of candle flames.

Presently he was joined by two men. One was about his own age and obviously of noble blood, considering his clothing. The other too, was noble and also approximately 1,000 years old. This was Lord Votis. The other man Lukos eyed the way he’d done the servant boy. Up and down and never giving any sign of approval at what he saw. To Lord Iason, he said nothing.

Lord Votis, too, did not seem overly eager to speak. The three of them waited in silence. It was occasionally broken by the other two but Lukos kept his attention elsewhere. He didn’t want to think. If he expended thought, he’d be forced to face possibilities that were lethally unpleasant.

They waited there a long time until Lord Iason finally left. Lukos prowled around the room, side eyeing Lord Votis before leaning up against the map wall. He did not have long to wait after that. His attention was caught by the opening door and the woman coming through it.

Lord Votis rose from his chair and greeted the princess. Lukos looked away. He didn’t like to look at Persephone for long. She was easily one of the more beautiful women he’d ever met and there was something about her that encouraged staring. If he indulged the urge, he was positive he could look at her from morning until night and never tire of doing so. That unnerved him.

When she asked if anyone was aware of his presence, he too looked at Lord Votis for the answer. He sighed inaudibly at the incredibly relieving word of ‘No.’ Persephone looked to him. For a fraction of a second, he thought she looked unsure as to how to speak to him. But her features masked themselves and she didn’t try her friendly tactics this time. She simply told him what he needed to know, what would be required and what wouldn’t.

He liked this approach.

“Alright,” he was less convinced now than he had been before.

When she left, he folded his arms and looked Lord Aimias up and down again. “So, school me,” he sneered once the door was closed and the princess was well out of sight.

Lord Votis looked to the ceiling and closed his eyes as if in prayer.

The day had finally arrived. Whispers of Rafail’s endorsement of Elias of Stravos in his claim to the Athenian throne had torn through the court like wildfire. Agathe had her own, dissenting opinions on the matter, but she dare not make them known in the company of her family. She had an inkling that her mother, a Xanthos by birth, was supportive of Persephone’s claim while she knew for a fact that her father and grandfather felt closer to the throne should Elias win the vote. Agathe found herself to be caught in the middle.

The eldest of her sisters and the most politically proficient, she found herself torn between her desire to adhere to tradition and therefore a male heir and her preference for her half-brother Alehandros of Antonis to be the one making the demand in Elias’s place. Agathe mulled over her thoughts as her serving girl, Eudocia, intricately plaited her hair before presenting a cream chiton. Inattentive at best, she waved her hand for Eudocia to begin dressing her. As Eudocia added the finishing touches—a silver owl pendant and lapis lazuli teardrop earrings—the door to Agathe’s chambers opened to reveal her mother, Sera.

Upon spying her daughter’s state, the woman appeared satisfied and turned on her heel, presumably to collect her other children. Agathe trailed her mother through the door, turning to make her way to the foyer to join her father and grandfather. As the rest of the family gathered, Panos led the Marikases to the awaiting carriages. The trip to the dikastírio was prolonged by the tense silence. Miraculously, they still arrived relatively on time despite Rafail’s disregard for timeliness.

Agathe was the second to leave the women’s carriage, after her mother of course, followed by her younger sisters in successive birth order. A quick scan of the crowd drew her eye to the Stravos women. Agathe lifted her chin and exercised the tediously perfected control over her expression she reserved for courtly functions as she approached her aunt and cousins.

Danae didn’t understand why the Xanthos family seemed to think that this vote was going to do anything but fail, especially after the events of yesterday. The Marikas family was clearly throwing their lot in with her family and together they dwarfed the Xanthos family and their only ally left, Antonis. They had more lands, more barons, more funds, but most importantly, they had more votes. If everything worked out the way that Danae understood the Senate to work, the crown shouldn’t have any sort of chance. On paper, the outcome was clear and every signal pointed to Minas suffering from a humiliating defeat.

Yet, he called for the vote anyway.

It didn’t make sense, not in the slightest. She had tried to bring her concerns up to the other members of her family, just trying to find a set of ears that would let her work through her thoughts; but they all just saw her as a bother. Don’t worry yourself with such things. They had told her. Celebrate your brother’s victory! Her thoughts were quickly dismissed and her scowl was unfairly scolded. She couldn’t even be bothered to pretend to be happy, not when her mind was constantly turning trying to figure out why the crown would subject themselves to the embarrassment the Senate meeting was going to be. Athenians were proud and were ones to hold their heads high. They wouldn’t just do this. Something wasn’t right here.

Her anger over the engagement disappeared into a nervous knot that kept twisting itself over and over again in her stomach as she stepped into the carriage. Scooting over to the window, her mind wandered as her sister took her usual place next to her. Her eyes were unfocused, mouth moving silently and quickly as she ran through the numbers over and over, trying so many different combinations to lead to the solution that was just out of her grasp. Her fingers twitched as she struggled with the mental problem, a sign of her hidden stress that came from the numbers failing her. All her life, she had come to rely on the numbers always making sense. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t let this go. Danae couldn’t let this rest until she had the solution that let everything make sense.

“Move over.” Chara hissed sharply as she settled in next to Danae and also sat on the piles of fabric that was her little sister’s chiton. The youngest Stravos pulled on it, causing a small ripping noise to travel through the carriage. She immediately dropped the fabric and glanced up at her mother with a nervous expression, properly shaken out of her thoughts. Normally, Danae wouldn’t care too much for the state of her dresses and wouldn’t be bothered over such tiny tears, but this dress was different. It had been a part of the pile of gifts that the Marikas family had sent over that morning for the newly betrothed girl to wear to show off their fortune, both in wealth and luck for securing a Stravos girl for their son. It was clear that the gifts were for today and that was why Danae was laden down with an almost gaudy amount of jewelry. Gold and Silver bracelets, earrings with shining gemstones, a headband framing an uncomfortable top knot meant to resemble a crown. Danae hated it all. She hated how visible the sheer amount of precious metals made her like she was a walking gold bar when paired with the yellow fabric of her dress. This wasn’t something she’d ever chosen herself. Not when it was literally designed to force her to become some sort of sick little trophy for Rafail.

No, never in a million years would she tolerate that.

There was one thing though that Danae had to admit though that she liked. Around her neck was a low hanging necklace with red clawlike gemstones encased in gold, her true house colors. She refused to wear any of the other pieces in order to let this one take a center stage. It would be her subtle act of rebellion against the family that was desperate to claim her as one of their own. You could put her in as much yellow as they liked, they could change her name, but there was no way in hell she’d abandon her Stravos roots. She’d only do that over her dead body.

When her mother tried to remind her daughters how to behave, Danae couldn’t help, but deepen her scowl. She would not wave nor would she smile. Circenia should know that her youngest was not an actress and there would be nothing for her to happy about. However, she ducked her head as the carriage rumbled forward in order to hide it. The last thing Danae wanted today was a lecture from the woman.

However, the phrase that this was her brother’s birthright kept racing through her mind as Chara and Circenia lost themselves in their own conversation. Danae didn’t see it as his birthright, not when she saw him as a pompous strumpet. He wasn’t worthy of carrying on her family’s name when he barely embodied their ideals. Not that she’d ever say that aloud, but she knew it to be the truth.

Either way, it was hardly inspiring in his little sister.

Soon enough, the carriage arrived at the Senate and as it came to a halt, the three women prepared to make their grand entrance. It was then that a great sense of panic overcame Danae when she realized that they were now here, facing the numbers that didn’t add up. “Something isn’t right.” Danae blurted out as her eyes darted wildly between the other women, “Mother, please. Can’t you see it?” She practically begged, letting her plead to go home slide underneath her words.

It fell on deaf ears.

Chara instantly dismissed her sister’s concerns with a curt, “Oh would you just quit it? You and your stupid worries.” Shaking her head, the eldest Stravos child left the carriage with Circenia close behind. Danae took her usual place at the rear, her legs shaking underneath the long chiton. With her concerns dismissed, Danae fell into her usual silence as the family climbed the steps. The Stravos girl looked around as other noblewomen began to arrive.

“Agathe!” Chara called out when she caught sight with their Marikas cousins -- and soon to be Danae’s nieces. As the Marikas clan climbed the steps, Danae made a beeline to the cousin she was closest to, Daniil. It was typical for the girls to pair off like this, but instead of disappearing to other corners of the manor like the girls normally would, they were forced to all stand together in a strange sort of circle of the two families.

Wanting to get the obvious out of the way quickly, Danae turned to her favorite cousin due to their similar personalities, “I don’t want to be here. Please tell me he’s already inside.” She whispered under her breath as she tried to be interested in whatever the others were talking about. Hopefully, Daniil would know she was talking about her uncle and Danae’s fiance. She desperately didn’t want to see Rafail. That could be the only way this day could be any worse.

“I can’t believe they’re making me do this…” Danae said trailing off at the end. Hopefully, she could find an ally in her cousin, but who knew? Everything was already so topsy-turvy, she doubted there was anything else that could throw her for a loop.

Was it bad that she was already counting down the minutes until she could go home?

Panos stood silently with Pavlos, gazing about the Senate with feigned disinterest in his surroundings. In actual fact, he assessed the goings on like a hawk hunting for prey. He hands clasped resolutely behind his back, he made mental notes of everyone entering the Senate and who was speaking to whom. The atmosphere when they first arrived was somewhat quiet, dusty and solemn were the words that came to Panos' mind, but as more and more people arrived, the atmosphere gradually became more charged.

The entrance of the Princess only added to the electric energy surging about the vast room. Panos watched her closely. She walked with determination, her back as rigid as the pillars that held the roof above her head. Her expression was that of stony resilience, not betraying anything of her feelings. It was admirable, to be sure. But it was futile.

Today was not her day, she had to know that. Xanthos' claim to the throne had survived longer than Panos had originally given them credit for, but it had expired. History was turning again, and not on their path, Panos was sure of that.

He watched her take her seat, ever unyielding. She didn't look comfortable, and while Panos didn't have much of an aversion to the idea of a woman on the throne, he had to admit it did not suit her. Maybe it was her family's lack of deep royal roots. Such a thing was important in determining whether someone is worthy of the throne. If she looked so awkward now, with only symbolic power floating above her head, as it were, what would it look like to have real, heavy, burdening power? Panos imagined that straight, rigid back of hers wouldn't remain so for very long.

No, it was not her day.

Daniil came to a stop next to her eldest sister and she took a moment to look around and see who was there that she knew. She spied Cyrene and her smile widened, though unlike her sister, Daniil's smile was much more relaxed and genuine. She gave her long time friend a look that said that they needed to catch up with each other and then followed her when she moved over to speak the their aunt and cousins. And like her Agathe she smiled and it was much more relaxed then the norm.

Daniil looked around taking time to take everything in. She had been to caught up in her own thoughts of Linos and daydreaming of the future to totally focus on things like politics. Her head was plenty full of worry over her own future. She knew beyond a doubt that the there was a power shift coming within her own line. She was not exactly amused by it but being a woman she had no say in the matter, even if she disliked it.

She fought to keep her smile in place as she heard a familiar voice calling her sister away. The voice belonged to none other then her cousin Chara. She watch the pair go off and then instinctively looked around for he normal partner in crime and cousin, Danae.

"Yeah he's with Grandfather. Mind if I join you on the skiff called I don't want to be here." Daniil replied back with a knowing grin. Like her cousin she did her best to appear interested in the chatter of the day.

Daniil reached over and set a gentle hand on Danae's arm. She lifted her hand and then moved her hand into the folds of her gown. Feeling the small bag slide into her hand she smiled slightly. I wonder if Uncle Rafi has noticed yet? she thought as she fingered the bag. Inside the back was a necklace that by rights, belonged to Danae, and she was going to see it returned to her because she could not fathom why Rafi had it in the first place unless he was going to cause an issue by having it, and she did not put it past him to do so just so that she was the center of attention.

She let out a his as one of the many spear like points poked her hand. The necklace in question was a finely worked gold and ruby affair, the chain was worked in a long strand of links that reminded Daniil of bubbles. On either side were ten golden tear drops with a flawless ruby inside so that the only gold visible was a mere outline to the gem.

She slid her hand over and then tapped her cousin with the bag through a fold in her gown that was blocked from sight unless one was right on top of them.

After having spent the early morning alone after slipping out of the house, Zoe had her arms full of geraniums: pink, violet, white, and yellow. She grinned, moving away from the cliff tops she had spent the dark hours of the morning searching flowers upon. She was sure that she and Emilia were going to have such a fun time today, she was happy to have used her time to find all these!

A cheerful smile crossed her lips as she made her way through the tall grass that tickled her legs as she made her way back toward town. Her trusty dagger was strapped to her upper thigh as usual, who knew when she would need it? In fact, Elegance, the name she bestowed upon such a perfect blade, came in handy for parting the flowers from their roots, only leaving the stems and above. Alone, crossing the weeds, she patted the gold encrusted dagger through her chiton and whispered, in a soft singsong voice, "Don't worry, Elegance. You shall have your hunger satisfied soon. I just haven't selected a canvas beautiful enough yet to sate your thirst for the red liquid of life." She beamed, happily humming to herself as she finally escaped the vegetation that grew in stalks around the base of the cliffside she was leaving from.

Looking up at the cloudy sky, she was surprised how long she must have spent searching for flowers as the sun was out and it was now warm. She had been so hard at work gathering so many that the hours must have passed her by. She graced her way toward the town, and upon arriving, she noticed that the streets were eerily quiet. Usually people would be walking from place to place, going about their everyday, yet today it seemed that there was almost nobody around.

Oh right, there was that Senate thing happening today. Zoe had been so excited about meeting up with Emilia that she had totally forgotten the Senate meeting. It was supposed to be a huge deal, but Zoe paid it no mind. After all, her uncle seemed to have it all handled. Nothing for her to worry about, or so she thought. It wasn't going to change any way in how she lived her life. She was still going to paint. She was still going to hunt. She was still going to spend time with her sisters, cousin, and best friend. She was still going to hunt for the perfect canvases and decorate their bodies in blood. It mattered little to her who was on the throne as long as she could keep doing the things she wanted.

She made her way through the city, her bag hitting her hip with each step. Zoe was happily taking in every inch of the city, it never looked this way during the day. At night, yes, during the day, no. So, she smiled, thinking of how to use all this new information, seeing it barren in the light. However, as she continued to travel toward the palace, the lively sounds of people picked up. Her eyes widened, seeing the amount of people gathered around the Senate building. Even people not allowed in loitered around, hoping to get tidbits during the meeting. Why would they ever do that?

Zoe sighed, knowing she was going to have to move through the crowd. Not that it really bothered her, but she did spend lots of time gathering these flowers and she didn't want anyone to bump into her, destroying all her time and effort. She bit her lip, looking around doe-eyed. As she immersed herself in the crowd, she focused on trying to get to the opposite side, not bothering anyone. However, it was quite overwhelming. What kind of people made such a huge deal over something that wouldn't affect them? Life goes on no matter who's taken the throne. It wasn't this big of a deal.

Shaking her head, she weaved around people, ducking once under two men who were arguing, and continued on her way. As she actually approached the building, she noticed that it was mainly nobility this close. She felt relief that it was now less condense as she moved towards the opposite side. However, as she made her way closer to the building, even if she was only travelling tangentially toward it, she managed to stumble and run into somebody, the day she was going to spend with Emilia on her mind. As she fell to the ground, the flowers in her hands scattered all over the ground. She gasped, "Oh no! My flowers!" She quickly made work gathering them. "Oh no! Oh no! Are they ruined?" She checked them one by one as she picked them back up, looking for broken or bruised petals. Her face was sad with the innocent grief that came from dropping beautiful flowers. After finally gathering them all again, her eyes were met with who she had ran into. Oh right, she ran into somebody!

Eyes looking up at nobody other than Daniil of Marikas, she stood quickly, dropping her head, "I'm so sorry Lady Daniil. I was just trying to get to the palace quickly. I didn't mean to run into you. The streets around the Senate are not usually so full." Her heart pumped in her chest, cheeks becoming rosy. She glanced at her with her innocent, doe eyes. "I wanted to surprise my best friend with them... I hope she won't be upset that they fell onto the ground." It was then that she noticed that there was another lady beside Daniil. She glanced in her direction, noticing it was Lady Danae. Oh, what a small world it was! She nodded her head in her direction, "It's nice to see you too, Lady Danae." Actually, Zoe didn't really like or get along with Danae and usually avoided her, but it wasn't as if she hated her or anything. Just never thought she'd get along with somebody like her. Nothing to be rude or mean about. It was best to keep the amount of enemies low, anyway, lest she wanted her night excursions to be discovered. She bit her lip, nervously. She glanced slowly back and forth between the two, "I'm sorry. I hope I didn't interrupt anything."

This whole arrangement was against what Circenia had wanted for her family, her son, most importantly herself. Her brother was a silly old man if he thought that putting Persephone on the throne was a good idea. It was a solid way to have an uproar. An upheaval from those who were staunchly traditional. She turned to her sister the moment they had a chance to gather together. "What now? Every daughter of Greece will be able to attend Senate?" Sera was on her side. She had to be. Marikas and Stravos were now bound undeniably. A force to be reckoned with. Minas didn't seem to be paying attention.

However, while they were supposed to be showing their unity, Circenia turned to make a comment to her youngest, Danae. Lips parted to find that she had been abandoned. "Danae will be the death of me. Daughters." She tsked a few times before turning her attention towards the Senate. She wondered if it would be a long deliberation. She wondered if there was a way to spy on the entire proceedings. She'd love carve a hole into the wall and watch the entirety of the circus.

But, there she was. Useless on the outside. She had to trust her husband, her brother-in-law, and all of the others that were in there to fight for their side. Fight for Elias.

Fingers just began to tinker away at the jewels dangling from her neck. Circenia always had an overabundance of metals and gems dazzling each limb of her body. She was a princess and she was a Stravos. There was no expense too great. The Greek people would know true opulence if they should know a Stravos. Her chin was held high, as though she had already won it. If she tried hard enough... maybe it would be true.