It had been a long week since the palace had been raided by insurgents, and in that week, Emilia had been thrown through much more then what she ever imagined she would. Her birthday came and past with the girl remaining in her room, as Elias of Stravos came with seemingly her best intentions at heart. With his words convincing the young girl's vulnerable and easily swayed mind, Emilia now spent most of her days with the palace ground, and had not stepped foot out of the Palati ever since that fateful day Persephone had left, and Emilia was, for the first time, truly left alone.
Yet that was a debatable topic, really. Was she actually alone, when had a slew of maids and guards around her? Her head bodyguard rarely left her side, but even his speech was now stunted, as if he had to watch his words, and the young seventeen year old grew more remorse as her thoughts were left to their own devices. Did Persephone leave her on purpose? Would she have been a burden to her sister escaping to safety?
Was she left to die?
That in itself was a morbid thought that the brunette was not entirely sure she wanted to entertain, but try as she might, the mind was a fickle thing. Every night as her maids prepared her for bed, she could not help but wondered if Persephone had purposefully not come look for her. Up till the last minute, as Nicholai and the other maids barred Emilia within her own room for her own safety, the young Xanthos had been fully convinced that Persephone would come soon, telling her all was safe and that she could come out now. She only followed the protocol which had been taught to her since birth.
But when the door opened, it wasn't her sister, but Elias of Stravos, the very person her sister had warned her against just weeks ago, before the Senate meet had taken place. He had been painted in her mind as domineering and trying to ruin her sister's life... but in front of her, Emilia found her previously painted picture of him changing. He had naught but nice and kind words, as he made a show of helping her, and caring for her safety. Was she wrong to trust him? For who else was she supposed to turn to in the time. For all her life, she had her sister and her father to rely on.
Now she had neither.
Well, perhaps not entirely no one. While Emilia did not converse often with Aimias, for he often dealt with her sister in matters regarding the state, he was now one of the few left within the palati that was a familiar face to her. Everyday, there were people coming in and out of her home at the behest of Elias, who Emilia last heard was acting as king in absentia of an actual ruler, and all the different people were making the princess antsy.
Taking the advantage of an afternoon lull while most people were recovering from their noonday meal, Emilia had wandered down the hallway from her room, seeking until she found the library where she hoped the Lord Aimias could be found. Her dress was simple - what reason did she have to dress up? It was uncharacteristic of Emilia, as someone who loved flaunting her dressage and outfit, but the simple teal chiton she wore was undecorated and simply held up by a small, round fibulae in gold on both shoulders. They fell to her knees, and left her shoulders bare, skin tickled by the brunette locks left to hang free, naturally curled, but otherwise unfettered by anything else within them.
Her bare feet made no noise along the marble floor as she pushed open the door to the library, and then asked in a meek, tiny voice. "Lord Aimias? Are you around here? Would I be disturbing?"
Little sleep had been found since the attack at the palati.
He refused to call it anything else.
Confusion. Chaos. It all happened so quickly. The King had died, and Persephone hadn’t even been formally crowned Queen when it happened. And with Persephone disappearing into the night for her own safety, there was no one left to take the throne but Elias, the very man he’d suggested was against the kingdom in the first place. It was impossible to rest easy when he was certain that the next person who would be forced from the kingdom would be himself. And he was sure that he would go out the same way as the King.
It was impossible to say who he was worried for more-- himself or his family.
He had tried to convince Iris to leave the day after it happened. If he had a target on his back from this usurper, there was a chance that he would use his wife or child to make him cooperate. If Elias was willing to bring ruin to others in the kingdom so that he could prosper, there was no telling what he would do to someone who had brought that all crumbling down. And yet, the ‘King’ hadn’t done anything yet. Perhaps he was waiting for Aimias to slip up. Or for him to get comfortable. But his wife insisted on being at his side.
And a part of him was grateful for that.
Still, it wasn’t enough for him to feel comfortable enough to keep Phillipa in the palati. The day after the attack, he sent his daughter to his wife’s lands, with instructions to head to the mountains as soon as they could. His family would keep them all safe, and the mountains and distance would at least by the time. For now, her home was enough. He had to do it, had to keep her away from Elias if it was the last thing he did.
He had kept his distance from the princess for the same reason. It felt like being around her was more dangerous than keeping her close. And he didn’t wish for Elias to see the connection and take his anger out on her either. His duty was to protect that Xanthos family, and he had already failed Persephone on that matter. He couldn’t let anything happen to her sister.
His office hadn’t felt safe, instead of taking up residence in the Library to work, to lose himself in the familiar text that had always provided him comfort. Tomes spread across a table in the back, blank sheets of parchment and ink in front of him as he worked through one thing or another. His focus was so intense that he almost missed the voice of the princess calling out to him. He froze a bit, blue eyes up with a bit of a wild look to them. He searched the room, glad to see that they seemed to be alone. His shoulders relaxed a bit. ”In the back, Princess.” He called out, standing as was appropriate. ”You are never a disturbance, sprite.” His voice softened, obviously pleased to see her, regardless of his concerns.
It had felt odd - the home that she had stayed in her whole life, the one place she had always felt comfortable with, and now suddenly everything felt foreign to her. Did anyone know she had yet to step foot in her sister's bedroom? It was the one place that had always brought her comfort. When Emilia had returned from Taengea after the Dionysus festival, fresh from the horrors of the Creed attack and suffering nightmares, Persephone's room had been her first refuge, and it was in there that her elder sister soothed away all her nightmares, till she finally returned to her rooms by herself again.
How ironic, that now her sister's room was a place she avoided.
In truth, Emilia was terrified of what she would find in there. What had made Persephone abandon her as she did? Was it something she found? Or something she did?
Dwelling on it only made her chest ache, and that was why she had sought out the closest figure she could find within the palati, the only place Emilia could roam for now. Her eyes had seen no one as she entered the library, and for a moment, disappointment had welled in Emilia's little chest. Had Aimias abandoned her too? First it had been her mother's death, and then her father's recent departure. With her sister gone, and too many of her bodyguards slayed by the insurgents, suddenly it felt as if all that was familiar to Emilia was gone.
His voice calling out made her swivel her gaze towards him, and for a brief moment, a part of her familiar smile broke out when, despite what she had thought in her distraught mind, the royal Advisor was still around, albeit surrounded by what seemed to be mountains of work. Her first instinct was to run to him, but within a step or two, Emilia stopped herself, suddenly very aware of her surroundings. Perhaps it was instinct, or maybe it was just the residual affect of her sister always telling her to move with decorum, but she stopped, and then merely walked to Aimias, her smile faltering as she heard the familiar nickname in his softened voice. Had it been that long ago since she last hard someone calling her by something other then Princess?
It certainly felt that way.
"I..." she started, and then stopped. So many times, Emilia did not know how she should comport herself, of what she was supposed to say. She had seen Elias a scarce few times ever since he had taken his place to help in Persephone's absence... but he was an unfamiliar figure to her. Was she supposed to act as herself? Or comport herself as the heir she was supposed to be to her sister? In truth, while the newly discussed law fresh from the Senate meet while Minas still lived dictated that Emilia was the heir in Persephone's absence... Emilia was clueless on how to run the state. It was why Elias had his chance to come in, and why Emilia had said absolutely nothing in the event.
She was not meant to run a Kingdom. She could barely run her own bath.
Confusion was clear on her face as she cleared her throat, her voice wobbly as she spoke again. "Am I not?" she murmured, her voice hollow. "If I'm not... why couldn't I go with sissy when she left?"
He watched her with a cautious eye, not at all sure what to make of her current state. She had always been the one to primp, to enjoy looking her best with the last way fashion. Her station had been important to her, and she showed it off in her attire and manner. And yet, here she was, looking so much younger than she really was. Small, almost as if she was only a few years older than his own sweet child.
Aimias could sense her hesitation, in the gentle was was swayed in the spot she had occupied. But he didn’t quite understand it at first. He had always been a family friend, more like an uncle or brother to the two Xanthos children than just an advisor to their father. He was most obviously closer to Persephone, as their ages were closer and he had spent most of this time seeing to her education personally. But there had always been a soft spot for the little nymph in front of him. Always one with a treat for her, always one to make sure she knew her worth, he had been like everyone else and spoiled her a bit more than he should have. One too many sweets, or an extra surprise from the market to bring a smile to her face. The last thing he had expected to see was doubt within her eyes.
”Emilia.” His voice took on a surprising firm tone, one he had used dozens of times when he was in the middle of instruction and lost her in a daydream. Standing, he moved to her, knowing that she was rooted in the spot in which her heart was laid open for him to see. Fear paralyzed her, and he was mad at himself for staying away for so long. With the distance between them closed, he grasped her hand firmly, leading her back to the table where he had been working. Settling into the seat, he tugged her into his arms, effortlessly picking her up and moving her into his lap.
And, like a father would a daughter, he wrapped his arms tightly around her and held her close. She had been through far more in the past month than any girl should have to endure. And without any chance to properly mourn, she was stuck dealing with the emotions on her own. ”Emilia, you must know that Persephone would have moved the heavens themselves to get to you if she could have. I would assume that she wasn’t given much of a choice in the matter. And since both her and Iason are gone, I think it is a good assumption to say that he didn’t leave her with many options.” He rested his head atop hers. ”But she will come back for you.” His next words were whispered low, ”I have sent messengers to all corners of Greece in hopes of locating her, and have sent word of the situation and your safety, Sprite.” He pulled back, his eyes searching hers for any sign that this was helping. ”You are not alone here. You have me. Always.”
It was rare, but then again, what about this situation would be a normal state. In truth, Emilia simply could not find it in her to primp and priss as she usually did. On a regular day, the princess was picky down to the last detail of her dress, and could tell shades of colors different from the other. Yet these days, as long as she found herself sitting down for a prolonged period of time, Emilia realize her mind would run, her heart would race, and her hands would shake. Night time was the worst, when the world around her was silent, and she was left to her own thoughts.
She hated it.
So she tried to busy herself with things to do - but what could she do? There was only so many dresses she could mend, so many designs she can think of, when she no longer had a sister or father to dress, nor a party to attend. She could read, but Emilia had never been a studious girl, and she hated sitting down for long periods of time.
How ironic it is now, that she had came to the library for solitude. But perhaps what was important now was not the place, but the person she had found within the library. Aimias had, once in a long time ago, been one of her many tutors, before her father had taken pity on him having such a difficult student, and Aimias had gained the position he had today within the royal Senate. But she recognized that tone, and unshed tears had flashed in surprise when she heard the firmness within his voice, a kind that she had not heard in years.
As if he had moved within a split second, or maybe it was just time flowing at a different pace for Emilia, but suddenly she realized he had taken her hand, and her feet had automatically followed him back to his work table. Moving as if she was in a daydream, the small seventeen year old did not protest when her old tutor had moved her small frame to his lap, arms wrapped tightly around her. Emilia was one prone to tears, easily triggered, especially in the days following her father's death and public funeral. But these days? It was like the insanity in the months leading up to today had numbed her, and she could only gulp as Aimias start speaking, trying and failing to get rid of the lump forming in her throat.
His words was logical - it should be. Persephone had been mother, father, sister, advisor and guardian to Emilia, and there was no one in the world Emilia trusted more.
But the mind was a dangerous matter, and its subtle insinuations even more so. In the day, in the presence of others, Emilia can convince herself of what Aimias reminded her, that her sister had had no choice, and likely Iason had not given her the choice. It was in the dark of the night, left to her own devices, that her mind screamed at her, doubt would surface, and she would grip her blankets over her head, eyes squeezed shut as she was pulled in two different directions by a mind she could not run away from.
For a chatterbox like Emilia, she had been unnaturally quiet the whole time Aimias spoke, her hazel eyes merely blinking with a glassy look devoid of her usual life and zest. Anyone who had called her a Meraki Princess would've taken back their words right now, if they had seen her upon the advisor's lap. He spoke the truth, she knew, but... the large amount of 'buts' and 'what ifs' were what held her back from fully believing him. And now, Emilia wondered if her father had done the right thing. All her life, she had assumed Minas always knew what to do - he was akin to Zeus in her eyes, a King of Gods. Yet how could his decision had caused so much strife and unrest in the lives of his daughters?
"Would her return not cause more danger for herself? And for others?" she murmured in a voice so soft, Aimias would likely have to strain to hear it. The brunette had averted her eyes, not even looking at him,as if she did not trust her own gaze. "And what if she isn't in any corner of Greece at all?" It was an implication she did not dare say out loud, but it was there in the unspoken words between them. Because with all the death that Emilia had faced in recent months, she would not be surprised with one more.
He longed to know exactly what to say in a situation like this.
It wasn’t that he didn’t think he would have a reassuring word to give her, but it was that she was fragile and confused that he didn’t know how she would take it. Anything that was said would be taken with more than just a grain of salt. There was very little for her to rely on, save for him and now Iris. Anything that he told her would become a lifeline for her, could potentially transform despair into hope. And it was a heavy burden to bear, in so many ways.
How could he lift her spirits without lying, but give her hope that all would eventually be well?
Aimias had known that there was danger in standing behind Persephone as fully as he had. He had known that accusing Elias himself was putting his own life at risk (he was still getting used to the idea that he had a wife he was also putting in danger). Logically, he knew it was going to be an uphill battle for the king to win. And that they were certainly going about it in a manner that seemed underhanded. But the facts had been there, and he was one of the most trusted men in Athenia. He was honest and often considered bipartisan. Even though he was loyal to the Xanthos house, his stance was that he would do what was right for kingdom, even if it meant going against Xanthos.
And for him, making Persephone the Queen was in the best interest of the kingdom. Regardless of who agreed with him. Regardless of how some of the houses had taken the information.
Now, it seemed that he was treading water with the Senate, who were looking to him to give a bit of guidance as to the location of the Queen. But he couldn’t share what he didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure he would have told most of them in the first place. It was going to take a bit of diplomacy for him to figure out the next step, to try and come up with a plan once he knew where the queen was. For now, finding her was priority.
After that, he would have to trust in his Queen to assist in a plan-- one that meant her keeping her throne.
For now, all that mattered was the princess in his lap, who was swimming in a sea of hopelessness without any solid ground under her. He needed to provide a lifeline, something for her to rely on until Persephone was back. Because as far as he was concerned, she was alive and well-- albeit missing in action.
He nodded, ”Her return would be dangerous, but we will do our best to make sure that she is protected and guarded as she should be. If she is in Taegnea, she will have reinforcements with her. There is no reason to think she would come back alone without any assistance from their King.” From what he had heard of Stephanos, a young ruler himself, he may not have been the most professional of men, but he was loyal. And he would honor any treaties in place. If Persephone had a chance to plead her case to him then perhaps he would send her back with an army to regain her throne.
And maybe Elias would wind up dead in the mix. But a man could dream.
He shook his head at her concern, ”If she was with your father, it would be well known. It would be something Elias would want spread from corner to corner. If he thought there was a chance of her being dead, he would have done whatever it took to make it public knowledge. We have no proof of that, and you shouldn’t think of it. She is alive. We just have to find her.” He pressed another kiss to her temple, pulling her into him tighter.
”You have to keep the faith in the Gods. She will return for you. And until then, you have me. You have always had me, Sprite. That will never change.” He just hoped his words and presence were enough for her.
She wasn't being herself. And she knew it. Emilia did not wish to cause trouble for others, nor did she want to be a burden. In fact, all her life she's strived to try and make sure she was not a burden, despite not being well versed in political nuances or conversations. She knew that. She hated her lessons, and have managed to chase about all her tutors away, stating that she was simply unable to grasp the necessary information needed to be a proper, royal person who would not shame her family in a political conversation.
But success as never been her strongest forte.
So she tried to make it up in other ways. In helping to ensure her sister was dressed in the most regal of manners, that no one would dare go against her because of the sheer grandeur she was cladded in. She ensured that the gifts they would give their allies and friends were of the best quality.
Yet, here she was, stuck in a palati where she knew not of where her sister was, nor of why was she left here when all else she knew and was familiar with was no longer close to her. If not for Aimias, for the first time, the home she had grown up with would be foreign to her, one that struck discomfort in her. In his lap, for the moment, Aimias as managed to make Emilia relax a little. But the advisor was not allowed to remain for an unidentified period of time in the palati, and once he left, Emilia would be left to fight her own demons again, holding her dog as if he was the only lifeline she had left in the foreign place she used to call home.
"Would the King help her?" The last she was in Taengea, the previous King had been decapitated, his head piked on the top of the Dikasitrio, and the people of Vasiliadon in terror. It has scarcely been three months since then. Was the kingdom even poised and ready to help her sister, when Emilia wasn't even sure if they were ready to help themselves? Her last visit from her friend stated that they were on the mend, but Emilia had no heard of news from Taengea for a while now, and she.... well, in all honesty, she wasn't sure what to think right now.
Aimias's words rang true, but they struck a different chord in her. For the death of her sister.... meant she would be Queen in turn, following the new change to the laws since the last Senate meet her father attended just before his death. And Emilia was in no way ready to rule. The very thought of it made her hands shake in terror.
Turning to the advisor's chest as he reminded her she had him, her muffled sniffs could be heard, and for the longest of moments, Emilia just allowed herself to be babied, one last time. She had just turned seventeen a scarce few weeks ago, and she remembered her father telling her how grown up she was now, and how her life was all ahead of her. So why did she feel like such a child now? Uncertain of her life and its directions, and of everything around her, she had never wanted her father more then she did now.
But sobs and cries could not last forever, and at some point, the muffled sounds died down, before she pulled back, and slipped off his lap, takinga deep shuddering breathe to calm herself down. "I... I should go, Aimias. It wouldn't do if they found me here, with you." As it was, Elias had insisted - for her own safety, he said, for if insurgents could break in, she was not safe in her own home - that she had four to five guards on her tail as long as she left her room. They would no doubt be looking for her now. The princess had let her black dog out earlier, and was planning to use Labros as a reason for why she had been out rounding about herself... but there was only so long she could be gone.