In an effort to draw the people's attentions away from the havoc at the palace three days ago, the noble ladies of the city are carrying out the tradition of theïkós éndysis, the clothing of the statue of Athena in the great temple. In honour of the Goddess, and to show the thanks for escorting the soul of the late king to the Underworld, the noble women of the capitol congregate in the courtyard of the Temple of Athena to weave and sew together a himation of bright colours and designs. The common folk are encouraged to help by providing the materials, offering fruit and refreshment and handling the raw fabric as the noble ladies and their retainers knit, weave and sew in honour of the Goddess. If the Senate had hoped to keep tongues from wagging of the recent palace attack, however, culminating the women of the city into one place probably wasn't the best idea...
Following her mother and sister out of the ornate carriage that had brought them to the Naos of Athena, Danae could hardly believe that it had been only a mere twenty days since the Stravos family had fallen into disgrace. Time had seemed to have stopped on that day and yet somehow here they were just the same. What surprised her even more though was how quickly they were all resuming their average life as if nothing terrible had happened.
Trailing after the elder women up the temple steps, Danae assumed that this was in part due to the king’s death and the subsequent raid upon the palace. These events had thrown the whole city into chaos just like her family, so perhaps it was easy for them to take advantage of how the whole kingdom was recovering together. The young girl didn’t know for sure. It was hard to know what was happening in the city beyond the room she had hardly left in that timeframe due to the endless shame that the Senate meeting and her personal run-in with Lukos had brought her. Truthfully, if it was up to her, Danae would have preferred to not leave her room at all until the world was right again. However, even she knew that the theïkós éndysis was not an event to be lightly missed.
After all, it was one thing to defy the royal family by trying to avoid the funeral; it was another thing entirely to avoid an event meant to bring honor to a goddess.
So, her family must have been pleasantly surprised to see Danae ready herself for the event without protest that morning. She had even forgone her usual palette of muted, lighter tones when it came to the fabric of her peplos and simple headdress, ordered in the aftermath in the funeral to prevent more protests from forming in the time it would take for her hair to grow back to its full length. Instead of grays and blues like she preferred, she selected a ruby red adorned with gold details. Her house colors.
Despite everything that happened, Danae was still a Stravos and she needed to look the part.
She still stayed behind her family as they entered the workspace, already teeming with noblewomen of all ranks and classes along with their ladies-in-waiting. Scattered throughout the room were bundles of bunched up fabric waiting to be embroidered by the scores of women and girls milling about the temple space. There was a slight buzz to space as the countless voices mixed together and made their words indiscernible. Only a few words were able to break above the noise along with peals of laughter from some of the younger girls huddled together or the occasional cry of a babe who was still too young to be parted from their mother for more than a few hours. Letting her eyelids close for a moment, the noise became comforting almost, reminding her of all the previous years her family had participated in the festivities and the generally happy memories that she associated with the event.
However, as she opened her eyes again and saw how some of the younger girls kept glancing over at the three Stravos women with narrowed eyes and pointed whispers to each other, Danae could sense that any happy memories from this year’s event would not be easily found.
Her face burned underneath their glare, forcing her to turn away from them so they wouldn’t be able to see her natural insecurities take hold of her once more. Danae didn’t need to look at the other women in the room to know that those girls weren’t the only ones looking at her family like that, given everything that had happened in the last twenty days. Of course, not everyone would look at the women like they were to avoid at any cost. Some of the glances would be sympathetic while even more would just simply ignore the newly non-noble family. Though, that didn’t stop her mind from racing and that familiar bubble of panic from surfacing within the young girl.
Knowing how she normally lashed out whenever her insecurities came roaring to the surface, Danae quickly made the decision to move away from her mother and sister while they were not paying attention to the sixteen-year-old. (It wasn’t that hard to do, truthfully, as her self-imposed silence aided in them not noticing her absence.) She made sure to hold her head though as she darted towards the far side of the room where only a few of those present had gathered. After all, she refused to admit defeat in the eyes of others despite the overwhelming shame she felt from the actions of her brother and her failed attempts to fix his disaster had brought upon her and her family.
You did nothing wrong, she quietly reminded herself as she spied an empty spot that she could claim and might offer her the solitude that she had grown used too, This is their fault. Not yours.
Silently repeating these affirmations in her head, Danae refused to look at anyone as she settled down in front of the large himation. Instead, she poured all of her focus into the fabric in front her, noting the embroidery that had already been done as she quickly waved over one of the nearby commonfolk who was handing out supplies. Without saying a word to the young girl, she took the necessary thread colors needed to continue the work that others had started in addition to those that were a brilliant ruby red and dazzling gold, her house colors. The fabric in front of her did not designate the need for such colors, but Danae hardly cared for that. She would make a place for them if need be and there was no one close enough to her to tell her otherwise. Plus, it was hardly like anyone would notice one or two anchors hidden among the yards upon yards of fabric...
A sly smirk appeared on her face as she bent over the work before her, taking pride in the symbolism of her rebellious act as she let her mind wander. Thoughts of burning swans and crowns fitted for her own head pulled her so thoroughly from the numbing task of sewing before her that Danae didn’t even notice when a few strands of her shortened hair slipped out from the decorated headdress she wore to hide the extra shame that came with that event.
Someone else though didn’t fail to notice though… someone who up until this point had only heard second-hand about the chaos her family had been through and believed that shaming them was not an action to be admired…
Daniil let out a long sigh. Considering recent events she really did not want to go join in on a sewing circle, but her mother insisted that all of her daughters attend. It was not going to be said that House Marikas shirked its part in an event like this. Daniil did not want to spend time away from her visitor, her handsome Kotas Prince but as Pavlos pointed out, there were things that he should see before he made for home so that he could tell his family of the kingdom along with herself.
She bathed and dressed in a gown of deep green accented with a key pattern in black. She had attempted to dress in grey, which would have matched her mood, but Sera forbade it. Her mood turned more grey at the idea of not having her favorite horse to ride. Yes, she had the use of any of her father's stable, but like her Uncle Rafi, she had her own personal favorites. It was still a mystery as to who had taken her. Daniil's horse was very special to her as it had been a gift from Rafi in an attempt to bond with his niece, a bet that paid off. Like her, his temper was very short on the matter of his missing horse. What truly mystified the dark haired girl was why steal the trophies as well? We they attempting to shame them? Her mind was constantly working to figure that out.
She was careful to pack her short sword in the saddle bags. Ever since the raid on the palace, she had heeded the words that Yiannis told her and kept her sword close. She had also packed her flute. It was another one of her hidden talents. If she could not sew, she could at least provide entertainment for those that were sewing.
Once she reached the temple, Daniil dismounted the horse, made sure it was tied up, and then retrieved her flute and tucked it within her gown before she entered the building. Slowly she looked for a spot and took note of whom she saw there. Catching sight of her Stravos cousin, Daniil moved to join her and then paused as something caught her eye. She knew that they were untied in their shared displeasure at the antics that had happened to the house. Personally if Daniil could have given all the menfolk a sound beating, she would have. She remembered to this day, her rage at being told what had transpired within the Senate walls and she was furious. The menfolk of the house had been treated to Daniil going silent and acting like they were not there. That lasted all of about a week and then Pavlos called a halt to her antics and that led to her basically throwing up her hands in frustration and letting it go.
She shook her head, a small frown appearing on her face before she moved to find a spot to sit not far away and set to work, still frowning slightly.
She couldn't believe that four days had passed already. Time had seemed to drag on since the funeral, yet now that Cyrene was back in the Naos of Athena, it seemed only a moment ago that she had watched as her fallen king was set ablaze, that she had felt the fear rise in her that Athenia would change. Perhaps that was the reason why, she thought to herself, that time had seemed so short. She had yet to calm the storm her mind had created, and since glimpsing Persephone's stony demeanour during her father's funeral, she couldn't help but feel that this had all been planned. Barely a fortnight after the line of succession had been changed, King Minas passed. It was much too much of a coincidence for Cyrene's liking. As she had stewed over the events of the past few weeks, she wondered how she'd been so blind to everything beforehand. Such a short time ago, she was sure that Athenia was a kingdom of morals. Now, she wasn't so sure.
Yet here she sat, by her lady Sera and her other retainers, her thoughts far away from the gossip that filled the temple as she absently gazed the mindless work in front of her. Even with the shocking news of the attack on the palace, Cyrene could not bring herself to care for the gossip and instead decided to refrain from it under the guise of working dutifully at the himation. How could these women sit and prattle on about rumours, she wondered, while there were bigger issues to worry about? And how did it take her so long to realize there were issues in the first place? She could only chalk it up to her upbringing: it only made sense that she didn't understand the inner workings of politics, it wasn't a woman's place. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was naïve for not knowing them. That she was an idiot.
Before she could really beat herself down, she was interrupted from her tempestuous thoughts by the entrance of the Stravos women. If not for the hush that fell over the noblewomen, she likely wouldn't have looked up from her work, but she did, to find herself almost surprised. Considering the rumours spread about their family, she wouldn't have blamed them for not attending. Yet, they came. Cyrene watched in silence as the three set to work, her eyes trailing the youngest, Danae. Though she'd never said more than a few words to the girl, she felt sadness for her situation. Stripped of her titles due to the actions of someone else. Yet, she managed to stand proud through it. For that, Cyrene commended her.
For a short while, she snuck quick glances at the Stravos from her seat next to Lady Sera, wondering what could be going on in the young girl's head. She couldn't begin to imagine what she'd gone through, and she didn't want to, really. Cyrene hoped she would never have to know the shame of being stripped of her title. And, strangely, she felt the urge to go over and speak to the girl.
But she stayed where she was. At least, until she finished stitching the flower she'd been working on, at which point she excused herself from her lady to go and find more colours of thread. After approaching Danae's spot and hunting down a woman holding a basket of supplies, she quickly sat down next to her and resumed her needlework as if she'd been there the whole time. She knew not what to expect from approaching the Stravos so boldly, yet she remained unwavering in her decision. It took her a few seconds to come up with the right words to say, but she managed to utter them without stumbling.
"Good morning, Lady Danae."
She could only hope she wouldn't reopen any fresh wounds with her intrepidity. Danae of Stravos
Tuning out the world around her, Danae took up the red thread she had been offered and attempted to stitch a small flower into the fabric. It took her a few moments as her general ineptitude with embroidery and her shaking hands --brought on by the anxiety of being here-- worked against her. However, bit by bit a small flower began to emerge in the fabric beneath Danae. She smiled at her success as she regarded the small bright red bloom, taking a bit of pride in the mere fact that it was recognizable as a bit of flora. Normally, when she tried to do this sort of thing, the results were more akin to just a mess of thread within the fabric than anything that could be identified. So, this tiny flower was a bit of a victory for Danae.
Her heart swelled a bit more than it should have given the circumstances, a clear indicator of how desperately Danae needed something to be proud of like this in recent days. Eyeing the golden thread nearby, Danae decided at that moment that she wanted to mark this small success in her own subtle way. Confident that no one was looking, she tied off the red fabric and took the golden string instead and set about stitching in a small anchor in the center of the petals. Carefully, as she didn’t want to mar it at the last moment, she leaned over the fabric and added her house sigil to the dress that would put onto the patron goddess of the kingdom. She couldn’t help, but think of how fitting this was for the struggles her family had been through recently. Like this flower, they had been reduced to something almost unnoticeable within the grander scheme of things and yet they were still there, present in the fabric that was Athenia.
They could be reduced and outshone by others, but they were still there. They were leaving their mark on what was happening, regardless of what others would have wanted and now that the anchor was partially stitched into the fabric, ripping it out would destroy part of the dress. That wasn’t too unlike what Persephone had done at the Senate meeting, irreparably damaging the political scene of Athenia and her own reputation. It was all symbolic for the girl.
As Danae was working on navigating the small curve of the anchor, she felt a new presence approach her and settle next to her. Startled, as she had somehow convinced herself that she would be left alone throughout the course of the event, Danae accidentally poked the needle through the fabric too quickly. The sharp tool jabbed her thumb causing Danae to give a small yelp in surprise as she pulled her hands back so that no blood would drip onto the fabric. Quickly, she wrapped her thumb instead in the red of her dress as she glanced over at the intruder. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of the young Cyrene of Nikolaos seated next to her.
It was a rather surprising sight to say the least, given the other girl's connections to other houses. Danae knew that Cyrene served as a lady-in-waiting for Sera of Marikias, a family who had yet to comment either way on the new status of their blood relatives. However, the loss of their nobility undoubtedly helped the ancient house as their removal only strengthened their own claims for the throne of Athenia. She wouldn’t have been surprised if they had celebrated the news if this were the case. In addition to this, the blonde next to her was a member of Varonos Nikolaos, a barony of the Xanthos family. For her family’s sake, Cyrene’s loyalty to the actions of their leige house had to remain unquestioned.
So, then why was their middle daughter now seated next to Danae of all people.
The Stravos girl couldn’t comprehend it and just stared at her new companion, who to Cyrene’s credit, didn’t seem all that bothered by Danae’s startled expression. Instead, she focused on another part of the embroidery as if she wasn’t making a political statement at that moment. It didn’t make sense, but the now selective mute couldn’t question her on it… no matter how much she wanted to.
When Cyrene addressed Danae, she could feel her own eyes misting at her words. She called me Lady, the young girl silently thought to herself, both knowing full well that thanks to what happened at the Senate, she was no longer entitled to such formalities. Not when for all intents and purposes she was now legally seen as Danae of Athenia, not Danae of Stravos. If Cyrene’s intentions were questionable a moment ago, there was no mistaking them now and it filled the disgraced girl with hope. After all, here was the daughter of the Xanthos Baron disregarding the decision by the royal family, treating Danae as if nothing had changed.
Danae didn’t know how much she needed that. Not until she was now confronted with how for the first time in nearly three weeks someone wasn’t treating her as if she was some wounded animal from what happened. Through her small actions, Cyrene was acting as if everything was normal.
Danae didn’t know how badly she needed that until now.
A small part of her wanted to let her tears of gratitude fall from her eyes as she wrapped her arms around the girl. However, Danae’s pride kept her in place, not daring to move an inch in case this was all some sort of dream that would be ruined in an instant. This was real though. Against everything Danae had told herself in the past three weeks, this was happening.
Knowing that she needed to recognize this somehow in order to keep the facade of everything being normal, Danae somehow managed to push back against her own shame and fear to croak out, “And to you, Lady Cyrene.” Her voice was gravelly and far more quiet than it should be, clearly showing that this was the first time she had used it in such a long time. Hearing how awful her own voice sounded shattered the happiness that Cyrene had brought to her.
She had sounded broken. It sounded defeated. It was not a voice, it was the noise of failure.
And it hurt for Danae to hear it.
Suddenly ashamed everything, Danae could feel tears welling in her eyes, but this time she couldn’t hide them. Turning away, a single tear fell from her eye and a small sniffle could be heard. However, Danae quickly brushed her sleeve against her face in order to hide it. Wiping against it, Danae had a moment to herself, trying to push back against the horrible, self-deprecating thoughts that had plagued her mind. However, it was so hard to do, especially when they were the only things she had known for the time being.
It was going to take quite a bit of reassurance in order to get Danae out of this state if it was even possible at this point. It seemed utterly hopeless to the girl, but little did she know that Cyrene hadn’t approached her for the purpose of making a political statement. No, instead she was here to show Danae that was she wasn’t alone. That she wasn’t defined by the actions of other players in this big chess game she was only a part of. Instead, she was a person who didn’t deserve to be caught in this mess.
Luckily for her, it wasn’t likely that Cyrene was going to walk away until Danae understood it to be true, no matter how long it takes.
It was difficult for Cyrene to brush off the shock that painted Danae of Stravos's face when she approached, flinching when she saw the girl accidentally prick herself with her needle. But, she was quite sure that the brunette would rather not be coddled. Cyrene knew well enough what it meant to be patronized, but she was quite sure she would never be bold enough to speak up for herself. But, she wouldn't subject anyone else to that specific brand of irritation. So, she pretended as if she didn't see the girl's slip-up. This would be a difficult conversation to navigate, but Cyrene had placed exactly why she felt such a strong urge to talk to Danae: she couldn't bear to see a girl destined for success shamed into submission. Perhaps this was Cyrene's way of fighting back against the childhood that molded her into passivity.
Cyrene's eyes widened when the girl croaked out a response. She wasn't sure what she was expecting to come from the Stravos's mouth, but her voice was so hoarse, as if she'd spent too much time screaming or crying. Or, perhaps the rumors were true: maybe she hadn't spoken for the past three weeks. It would explain why her throat sounded so sore. It was out of use. She couldn't be sure, but what was certain was that Danae was in pain. Cyrene wouldn't question her on it.
And it didn't seem she needed to, either, as tears quickly formed in the younger girl's eyes and Cyrene found herself in an even more precarious position. It seemed that Danae of Stravos was dealing with She had never found herself in such a situation, and of course there was no clear cut way for her to navigate it. Could she navigate it? It seemed that there was no other choice than to try. Cyrene stopped her stitching and turned a bit to face Danae.
In a quiet voice, she answered the girl by saying,"It's...alright." Cyrene carefully placed her hand on the girl's arm, trying to offer some sort of reassurance, though she wasn't sure what she could really do to help the girl. The Nikolaos moved closer, doing her best to avoid making a scene, speaking in hushed tones as to keep their conversation quiet. "Or, at least...it will be alright, with time. Forgive my impudence, as I can't know what you're going through, but...you've made it this far. You are still Lady Danae of Stravos. Please believe me, nobody-and I mean nobody-can take that away from you, unless you let them." Cyrene knew not where her words came from, only that she hated to see such a young girl caught in the crossfire of a power-grab. "Don't let them. You have nothing to be ashamed of."
With that, she let go of the girl and put space back in between them, picking up her needle and resuming her stitching. Did I really just say that?, Cyrene thought. What was I thinking? What if my words only anger her? There could be no telling: All Cyrene could do was carry on and pretend as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. She could only hope that Lady Danae would do the same.
If one gazed upon the eldest Stravos, one would never think any shame had been brought to their family. She held her head high, as she always did, as if the recent events had never taken place to begin with. That was exactly the front Chara wanted to put on, though, as she walked towards the temple.
Unlike her sister, who had barely been seen, Chara had tried her best not to hide away. Hiding only meant that one had something to hide, and nothing fruitful would ever come from Chara appearing to be anything less than what she had always been.
She was a courtier of the house of Stravos ― proud to bear the name of her parents. Still, her sister's hesitance hadn't been lost on her, and before they had exited the carriage, she had offered the younger girl's hand a light squeeze.
A sign of comfort, it nothing else. But as soon has the gesture had been offered, it was gone, and Chara had put on her mask of defiance and pride once more.
As the space before them was revealed, Chara's eyes studied everything. From who was there, to which place she could seat herself that would offer her a good viewing point. She wanted to see everything, hear everything. The glances their way weren't easily concealed, either, though Chara met them with a raised chin and a narrowed pair of eyes of her own.
If they had something to say, they could say it to their faces.
Once again, Chara's eyes swept over the crowd, finally landing upon a familiar face. Offering her mother a nod, Chara stepped forward and entered the crowd of women and ladies.
"Agathe." Chara greeted her cousin. She didn't wait for an invitation before she took a seat next to the younger woman. Straightening her back, she lifted her fingers to touch the fabric before her. Though Chara wouldn't admit to it, there was some comfort to be found in having her cousin around. Where her sister would easily shy away from conflict, she'd always seen Agathe as someone who faced things head on. Just as Chara often did.
It was not the kind of event that Vasia would have relished attending. Though the act of sewing could be useful as mindless distraction, it was something she tended to do alone, when she wanted to just shut off the rest of her mind for a while. So, the concept of sitting around with half the noblewomen of Athenia and listening to them prattle about nonsense would not usually have featured high on her list of must dos.
But this was different. In the wake of the King’s death, the raid on the palace, Vasia had deemed it important that the women did what they could to establish some normality again. And in the limited options available to them, this gathering for theïkós éndysis was possibly the best possible solution.
Bring people together, turn their eyes away from the troubles that had beset the palati. Diversion.
Vasia had not been able to dissuade the retinue of guards that had accompanied her and her lady’s maid in making the journey to the temple, despite her best efforts and fiercest glares. The Lord Stelios had commanded it they said, and for some unfathomable, infuriating reason, the meat heads seemed to hold more fear of her dolt of a brother than they did of her. That was something she would have to change, she thought, as she rose to her feet and accepted the footman’s hand to assist her down from the carriage.
“Thank you” Vasia said sweetly, pausing to wait for her girl to step down after her. Sophia was laden with swathes of fabric, and the noblewoman did not hesitate in reaching over to take half of it from the servant, it was too hot and heavy to stand upon ceremony in such things.
She led the way through the people who had gathered outside of the temple, a serene smile upon her face as she paused to set down the fabric bundle before the commonfolk who were sorting it. “The Goddess will smile upon your diligence” The words were left with the women even as Vasia rose and glanced toward Sophia who set down a similar pile. And as the two women made their way inside, the golden-haired daughter of Lacides bent her head toward her servant. “ We will see now which ladies have been too eager for gossip and have gotten here already” she said with a roll of her eyes, and then straightened as they reached the area where the Ladies and courtiers of Athenia were sitting, weaving and threading wishes into a raiment for a goddess.
Vasia let her gaze sweep slowly over those gathered, marking who was present and who was not, and eyes as blue as nemesia flowers stilled upon the Stavros women. There was no great love between their houses, it was true, but the Lady Antonis found something to admire in their courage in presenting themselves here this day, and not hiding away despite the whispers that would be passed about them in every corner of the room. “Come, Sophia” she said, and picker her way carefully through to stand beside Chara who she greeted with a thoughtful smile.
“May I join you, Lady Chara?” Vasia did not wait for an answer before she gathered the length of her violet gown in her fingers, and settled herself upon the klismos. Without further ado, she reached for the fabric that had been laid out for their use, and accepting the fine needle and thread proffered by her girl, started to work a delicate floral motif into the heavy swathe that she laid across her knee.
Her voice was matter of fact as she spoke. “ I daresay Aphrodite will have enough gowns for a seasons wear by the time we are done”
Daniil of MarikasChara of StravosVasia of Antonis A sewing circle was the absolute last place Agathe of Marikas wanted to be. The entire kingdom appeared to be unraveling before her eyes since the death of her uncle, King Minas. The eldest Marikas was shrewd enough to see through this thinly-veiled attempt to cling to normalcy and she did not care for it in the least. But Sera had made her wishes known and all three of her daughters were to be present or risk the wrath of their father, spurred on by Sera of course.
And so Agathe had bathed and dressed in a cream chiton with the finest of golden accents embroidered along its edges—the young woman’s favorite way to don her family’s colors. She chose matching gold fibulae bearing the Marikas crest and a simple gold chain that sported a quartz pendant. With the help of Eudocia, her hair was curled and plaited until it could be piled onto her head and effectively kept out of her face. Agathe had just slipped her feet into a pair of soft leather sandals when a knock at her chamber doors signaled that it was time to depart.
As she climbed into the family’s carriage, she noted the absence of her youngest sister with surprise. A quick glance toward the stableyard revealed Daniil astride one of the family’s horses. Only slightly bemused, Agathe settled on the bench next to Elena. It made some sort of twisted sense, she supposed, for their mother to allow Daniil to ride to the temple rather than take the carriage. As Daniil and their uncle Rafail had both experienced the recent theft of their prized horses, perhaps Sera believed the youngest Marikas would take some comfort in the fresh air on the back of a beast.
The ride to the temple was short, though it felt twice as long as they rode in an uncharacteristic silence. As Agathe exited the carriage, she took a moment to quickly assess the other carriages already at the temple. The Stravos carriage stood out and Agathe could not help the tendrils of unease that tangled with her relief at knowing her beloved cousin Chara was already in attendance. After everything Elias had done in the Senate meeting, it took a great display of courage for the Stravos women to continue consorting within the noble ranks as they were.
Composing herself, Agathe made her entrance on Sera’s heels and a sharp look cast in Elena’s direction to remind her of her place in the family hierarchy. A scan of the women already working on the himation did not reveal her cousin and so, at Sera’s behest, Agathe begrudgingly took a seat on the nearest klinē and picked up a swath of fabric to begin working on a small owl—both for Athena and for the Marikas. As she worked, a familiar voice speaking her name caught her attention. She looked up as Chara settled next to her.
Agathe reached for her cousin’s hand to offer a comforting—and most importantly subtle—squeeze, retracting her own hand as Vasia of Antonis approached the pair. Weary interest flickered across her features as Vasia claimed the adjacent klismos without waiting for Chara to answer her query. Vasia’s observation regarding the sheer number of gowns Aphrodite would have to choose from by the end of theïkós éndysis earned a quiet laugh from the otherwise stoic woman.
“I believe the difficulty, Lady Vasia, lies in convincing the goddess to actually wear them,” Agathe quipped with a meaningful glance in her cousin’s direction.
Circenia of Stravos would never let it be said that she was a coward.
So it was when the day of the theïkós éndysis arrived, the Stravos matriarch marched out of the house with Chara and Danae in tow, determined that the inevitable stares and gossip would not keep them at bay. Stripped of their nobility or no, she and her children were still of the royal line, and it was her brother that had just passed. They had every right to be at such an event. She was still a princess of Athenia, and she would not let the rest of the kingdom forget it.
Stepping from the carriage that had brought them to the Naos of Athena, Circenia turned to assist her daughters in disembarking before turning to face the temple with her head held high. Not a trace of anxiety could be found in the lines of her proud face, even if her heart beat a little faster than it usually did. Swathed in a rich crimson chiton with a golden gossamer epiblema wrapped around her waist and fastened artfully about her shoulders, the princess was resplendent in the colors of her house, carrying herself with all the confidence of a woman who’s never known disgrace a day in her life. A diamond tiara was nestled among her impeccably dressed ebony curls, glittering in the midday sun. They could point and stare and whisper all they liked, but the ladies of the Court would be reminded who she was.
When they entered the courtyard, a hush fell over the area, while dozens of prying eyes turned to look their way. Circenia was not immune to the weight of their collective gaze, but was careful to keep her face neutral and her posture straight. She worried more for her daughters than she did for herself, but to her great pride, Chara carried herself just as confidently as her mother had taught her. Danae, on the other hand… she could feel the girl’s anxiety at her back more keenly than she felt her own, her heart aching for her youngest. She longed to reach out and comfort her, to assure her that all would be well, but she knew her willful daughter well. She’d never allow it, not from her, and especially not in such a public forum. When Danae moved to walk by her, seeking her own little corner in which to hide, Circenia brushed her shoulder in reassurance, trying to convey what strength she could through that simple touch.
Scanning the crowd, she let her eyes linger on each of them in turn, defiantly meeting each of their gazes with a cool aloofness that dared them all to say a word. Circenia was not a woman to be trifled with, a fact she was sure most of them knew. No matter her son’s mistakes, she would expect nothing less than the deference she was due.
Her steps even and unhurried, she trailed somewhat behind Chara over to where her sister Sera sat with her nieces, Agathe and Elena. Her smile was bright and false when she leaned down to greet her sister, dropping a kiss on both cheeks before nodding to each of the girls in turn. She and Sera didn’t always get along even in the best of times, but Minas had been Sera’s brother, too. They were still family.
Ignoring the stares and whispers, she took a seat at her surprised sister’s side and picked up the length of fabric in front of her, accepting a needle and a few skeins of thread from one of the serving girls attending them.
“A pleasant afternoon for this, wouldn’t you say, dear sister?” she asked Sera, her voice amiable enough. Carefully, she set to work, the beginnings of a bright golden flower forming under skilled fingers. Her sister offered a murmur of agreement, though she made no further comment to continue the conversation. Circenia supposed it was the best she could hope for. At least she wasn’t casting her away.
Circenia kept a careful eye on Chara nearby, noting Agathe’s easy greeting of her eldest daughter. She started to relax just a bit more until she saw Vasia of Antonis approach. Suspiciously, she watched the girl settle near Chara, unsure of her motives. Did she mean to humiliate her? Was she there to gawk at the eldest child of the Stravos? She was behaving pleasantly enough, but Circenia trusted no one outside of her own House, especially not after everything that had happened. Should any of them make a move or say a word out of turn, she’d be on them faster than they could blink.
However, it seemed Chara was handling herself well enough, so instead, she sought the location of her youngest among the throng of women that crowded the temple grounds. Seeing her tucked in a corner away from the others and talking to one of Sera’s retainers, she searched Danae’s face for any signs of distress. Seeing nothing there that might cause her alarm, she felt some of the tension in her shoulders ease. Perhaps today might not turn out to be such a disaster, after all.
Danii was still frowning deeply as she worked. She hated sewing and doing it gave her a headache because she moved much slower at the task. At this point she would rather play her flute and hear the sweet notes fill the cavernous space. Instead she found herself listening to the chit chat that went on around her.
Silently she applauded her Stravos friends for holding their heads high in public in the face of what happened. Danii was still withholding what she thought of the situation that led to their fall from grace. On one hand she personally liked the idea of a woman on the throne simply because she was doing something that most of the menfolk said that they were too weak to do. Like Hades we are too weak. Sometimes we women have more common sense then the whole lot of menfolk put together! She thought with a shake of her head.
Her dark head popped up upon hearing a familiar voice that she had not heard in a long while. She looked around and found her cousin Chara, who had taken a seat near Agathe. With a quick smile in their direction, Danii noticed that, like her, her eldest sister likely wished that she could be elsewhere. Pavlos insisted on the women of the house being there, backed up by their mother, so they went, willingly or no.
Danii’s mood these days was very much like a storm, calm one moment and then it was thunderous. A lot had happened to her to cause this, but the loss of her prized horse and her accolades, sent her over the edge. Even Rafi’s mood was unpredictable due to the event, but unlike her, he could aim that anger at any target he wished and get away with it. Danii had to find other ways to deal with it and most of the time it was internalized or taken out o the garden seeing she did not have horses to groom and her sparring partners all seemed to have vanished.
She glanced at her aunt Circenia as she entered and gave her a quick smile and nod in greeting before she chose to go back to her work. There would likely be questions as to why Danii was not with her family, but she’d deal with it if and when that time came.