Iris still didn't know how to feel, wringing her hands in front of her out of sheer anxiety. An unusual emotion for the lady, but one she hadn't been able to shake off. It had come as a complete shock as, on the second day of their attendance in Aetaea, Phillipa, Aimias' daughter, crawled into her bed in the middle of the night carrying a letter. A letter written in Aimias' handwriting and dedicated to Iris herself. The wording was just as blunt and awkward as she had expected it to be, but Iris hadn't been able to stifle the mixture of awe, surprise, and roiling fury that Aimias' proposal to her had been written on paper...
And not spoken by word of mouth.
With the little girl in her bed, though, she'd quietly folded the paper and slipped it under her pillow, opting to tell the child a story that encouraged sleep rather than carry her back to her father's room. Iris didn't mind the child. Never would. If anything, Iris already had a deep love and affection for the little girl, finding quiet moments to bond when there were lapses in the rebuilding efforts after the Aetaean storm.
But the next morning, with Artemis' courage in her heart, making her feet swift and nimble, Iris found herself on a mission. Irritable and frustrated that the letter had made its way to her in the way that it had, Iris stormed through her home and into the dining area. Her father was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Zoe. But Phillipa was there, as was her lady. Lifting her chin, Iris eyed the woman, motioning toward Phillipa, "I need to speak with Lord Aimias alone, please," Iris noted with a firm smile. Though, there was a fire there that wouldn't be quelled so easily. Having avoided looking at him, Iris continued to do so until her lady ushered the child out, carrying the plate of the girl's breakfast with her.
Turning slowly toward the man, an eyebrow lifted, Iris found her resolve crumbling. He'd always been awkward. Iris had just had this notion that if he had ever asked her, he would have asked her. Not... written a letter for his curious, devious daughter to find and deliver to her.
Iris didn't take her eyes off Aimias as she pulled out the chair across from him and settled down, slowly pulling the letter from the folds of her gown. "Your daughter... gifted me with this last night," Iris noted, softer than she had initially intended. "I thought you might want to... rethink how you go about your proposal," she finished, her gaze never faltering from his face. "As much as I've always appreciated our silent conversations..."
Aimias was a man of little words. He often thought about what he said before he spoke, and often preferred to write down his thoughts before he spoke them. After all, words were lasting. And it was most important to him to mean what he said. Rarely did he let emotions get in the way of his duty. He felt like he needed to do what was right, no matter the personal cost to himself.
It was one of the reasons he found himself here. He should have been back with the King, should have been sitting at his bedside until he passed. But the King would have wanted him to make sure his Kingdom was still in one piece for his daughter to rule. So he had come because this is where the current emergency was.
The note he’d brought with him had been intended to give to her prior to her father getting sick. He hadn’t really known what had brought him to write it, but he was one to put his thought to paper, and it was easier than trying to figure out if he was feeling emotions about it. It was easier to send it to her, to let her process the information before they did anything else with it. The letter ended up in his bag, although he may have never had the intentions of giving it to her.
Phillipa had taken to Iris quickly, so much so that she found himself retrieving the little girl from the company of the lady of the house. He tried to convince her that she was not to bother the woman, but that didn’t stick with the little girl. And this morning was no different. This time, he allowed himself to dress before he sought out the little girl, finding her exactly where he expected to. She was in the dining room, chatting up the lord of the house. There was relief that Iris hadn’t seemed to be bothered that morning, so he took his seat at the table and began breakfast.
It wasn’t long before Iris joined them, and then asked for a moment alone with him. He was expecting her to tell him that he needed to keep his daughter from her chambers.
What he didn’t expect was the piece of paper in her hand, nor did he think he would recognize his own handwriting. Somehow, his daughter had gotten ahold of a letter he may have never sent out to her. Aimias cleared his throat as Iris asked her maid to take the child. There was a faint blush to his cheeks as the woman took the chair across from him. He reached out and took the letter, reading it over once more.
”Iris, perhaps a marriage proposal would ease your concerns about the future of your property and people. I am offering myself as a suitable option, should you see the need to take your future into your own hands. Aimias” He read the letter aloud, wondering which part she hadn’t agreed with. ”I think it’s a decent enough proposal.” He said with a bit of humor, his ears turning pink with his nerves. ”You don’t agree?”
Iris had to take a moment, pressing her palms flat against the table and steadying her nerves. All at once, her heart was in her throat and she had to remind herself not to dig her fingers into the wood of the table. Years of practice in keeping her composure and showing little of her emotions was quickly slipping right out of her head. Everything that she had learned about her own propriety and expectations seemed to dissolve the instant he asked her if it wasn’t a decent proposal.
Was he… toying with her?
Playing some joke? Knowing what her situation was?
No. That wasn’t what Aimias aimed to do… ever. Iris had long learned that Aimias was almost always sincere in whatever offers or proposals he put forward.
Proposals.
Finding that she could say absolutely nothing at that moment, Iris rose up from the table, her gaze never leaving Aimias’ face. The young lady took a few measured steps around the side of the table until she was standing at Aimias’ side. Leaning against the table, she slowly reached over to take the letter from him once more. Her gaze trailed over the words for what felt like the millionth time that morning.
Then she sighed deeply through her nose, reaching up to press her hand against Aimias’ shoulder and stare out at the yard beyond the windows. It took her a few long moments to think of the proper words that would convey absolutely everything that she knew had to be said. Business and emotion. “There are… certain, very specific people here that we will have to discuss our engagement with. My father being one of them. And Lord Antonis the other,” she said calmly, squeezing his shoulder gently.
“And I would ask something of you, Aimias…” she said quietly, finally turning her gaze on him. She appeared thoughtful, considering her words as carefully as she could. “My province… is my province. I have toiled long an hard over it and I’m… hesitant to give up my work, just as I am sure you are hesitant to give up yours,” she continued quietly, removing her hand from his shoulder to face him fully. “I will marry you, if that is what you want.”
He gave her a moment to absorb exactly what he was asking. He had always been an unconventional man, someone who was to the point and matter of fact. There was no reason to beat around the bush, and he was never one to play games. He tried not to be too offended by the look of shock on her face as he handed her back the letter. Instead, Aimias just watched the play of emotions on her face.
As soon as her hand settled onto his shoulder, the natural action of setting his hand on top of hers followed. There was an uncertainty in his touch, if only for the first contact. And then, with firm pressure, his hand was on hers. He needed to be sure of this, and he was sure of it. Not only did this feel like the right thing to do, it felt like the necessary thing to do. He didn’t mind the idea of duty before everything else. It had been his life, and this felt like it was something he could do.
His duty from the Gods.
Her comment about having to get permission from certain people, he let out a small laugh. ”Iris, do you not think that I am not aware of this?” He relaxed back into the chair, grabbing a pastry from the table and ripping off a small piece, handing her the other half. ”I am not worried about gaining their agreement on it. The King has already given his approval, and I have given the letter to your father stating just that. As for Antonis, there is no reason for him to refuse, unless he has someone else in mind for you.” His voice was calm, the tone even as he ate the pastry, watching the play of emotions on her face.
She hadn’t expected him to offer-- that was good at least. Sometimes, it was nice to catch people off guard, as it was easier to get a hint as to their true feelings on the matter. The fact that she hadn’t thrown the letter back in his face was a sign that she was at least open to the idea.
His hand tugged her back to him, wanting her to look him in the eyes face to face as he spoke his next words. ”If you think, for a moment, that I expect anything less than your dedication to your lands and your people, you are mistaken. I have no interest in meddling in the way that you handle things, for you know them best. If you wish for me to assist, or come to me for advice, I would be happy to provide and support as needed. I do not wish to take over the duties as baron here, for your duty lies with this land, but mine lies with the whole kingdom.” His hand moved to take both of hers, his smile gentle. ”I am indebted to the Xanthos family, and as long as they wish my council, I will provide it. As long as you are content with that, then I have no qualms with you doing as you wish here.”
He tugged her close, pulling her in between his legs in a fairly intimate position. ”My only desire is that you will provide my daughter protection, should anything happen to me.” He let his fear peek through his calm, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand. ”Once the King dies, those who do not agree with the senate’s vote may lash out. And since I was the one to bring the charges against Elias, there will be quite a target on my back. I am not concerned for my own wellbeing, but Phillipa has known nothing else but the palati and the Xanthos family. She will need someone to protect her. I offer my hand in exchange for her safety.”
There was no reason to lie about what he wanted from her. His daughter was his whole world, and if Elias decided to take revenge on him, then he didn’t want her to suffer and be without. Or worse, taken in by Elias and his family as their pawn. She needed to be protected and kept safe, and that would involve thinking beyond his own needs. While he didn’t want to marry again, it made the most sense to find someone that it would be mutually beneficial for both of them.
There was... a strange, warm sense of relief when Aimias' hand closed over hers. It was as if all of her anxiety melted away in an instant, settling her heart and mind with the firm brush of skin. His laugh? It relaxed Iris even further and she found herself taking the offered half of the pastry from her friend... her fiance. Her intended. But always, first and foremost, her friend.
Iris ate her pastry slowly, attempting not to choke when Aimias admitted to already asking the king and her father for permission. At first, her expression was incredulous, surprised, even, that he could be so bold and know with utmost certainty that she would say yes. The fact that her father had given them a wide berth and seemed to disappear whenever there was a chance for Aimias and Iris to find quiet in one another? The sneaky baron had been playing coy and Iris had been none the wiser.
Smiling slowly, Iris found herself nudging him with her hip, settling her gaze back on the windows as she shook her head. "Has anyone ever told you that you're awfully bold and presumptuous for a man who hardly speaks his feelings?" Iris questioned him, the teasing lilt in her voice unmistakable. A playful jab for him to think about in relation to the assumptions he must have made in the days before. A slight roll of her eyes had her expressing exactly what she thought about Lord Antonis finding her a match.
Unlikely.
Unwanted.
Unneeded.
For she had Aimias. As it should have been, selfishly, ten years before.
Iris allowed Aimias to tug her back to him, her gaze fully turning on him once more as he continued to speak. This time about her dedication to Aetaea and his to the Xanthos family. What a pair they were. Drawn by a long-set friendship but driven by their own duties and responsibilities. She almost reached out her other hand in order to trail it against the stubble on his jaw. She refrained, however, as his other hand occupied her free one and she found herself fully facing him, debating his words. "I have no issues at all with you continuing your duties. Nor would I ever dream of asking you to give up something you have so clearly loved for years. To do so would be cruel, heartless even. Of which I am not," Iris shook her head firmly. "You have nothing to fear from me, Aimias."
It was then that she settled herself between his legs, breaking the hold that he had on her hands and reaching them against his jaw. Fingers trailed very slowly against skin, her gaze turning thoughtful while he explained his reasoning for offering her his hand. Briefly, she found herself leaning her forehead against his, their major difference in height making the action easier with him seated. Despite herself and his words, she found herself teasing him once more. "You drive such a hard bargain. Considering that I am already very much in love with your daughter and would have protected her whether you wed me or not," Iris said quietly, letting her gaze linger on his.
"But you understand that we voted for Xanthos," Iris said quietly, her brow furrowed slightly. "My family is just as much of a target as you are, Aimias. Our union will only solidify the front that we have both shown to the senate. Our hands have been laid out and illustrated. We... may have to take extra precautions to ensure the safety of Phillipa, my aunt, and my cousins." For her father would not go anywhere that Iris urged him. Her fingers had taken to wandering down his jaw to settle at his neck. "But I will do everything in my power to ensure that that little girl, who has so stolen my heart, does not come to harm, Aimias. You have my word."
He liked watching the play of emotions on her face, the way she seemed to settle into the idea of marrying him for her security. Aimias hasn’t counted on that, to be honest. He expected a bit of a fight, simply because she had always been a spitfire. But, perhaps she had realized that they would both benefit from the match, too much to be angry about the situation.
Iris was quick to comment on his assumption that she would say yes. His smile widened a bit as he relaxed further into the chair. ”On the contrary, my lady, it was good forethought on my part. There is no reason to get your hopes up on the arrangement if those required to say yes only turn it down. I have instead ensured that whatever your answer may be, there is one less barrier in the way. This way, the decision is truly in your hands and no one else's.” If he was going to truly support her in every way, allowing the decision on who she married needed to fall on no one else but her. Wouldn’t think to prove that his intentions in her life were to support and not to dictate?
He allowed his eyes to close, to relax against the idea of her, of the feel of her skin on his. It had been far too long since he felt any sort of affection like this. He had focused on raising his daughter, on serving the kingdom, but never on what had happened to put him in that situation. The death of his first wife had put his own emotions on hold, and it was impossible not to enjoy the softness of his skin on his or the rough calluses that had formed from her hobby. His hand covered hers, any concerns laying to rest with her words. Aimias couldn’t deny how his daughter had seemed to cling to the woman before him, wanting nothing more than to find a female to bond to, to form a relationship he’d never been able to create with her dead mother.
And he relaxed a little more, glad to know that she was more than agreeable to the idea of keeping Phillipa safe.
He let out a small laugh at her words, not of mocking but of amusement. ”Voting and accusing are two different things. While you may have voted with the family, you didn’t stand before the entire Senate to bear witness to his foul deeds.” But he didn’t belittle her concerns, instead of letting his own hand come to her cheek, to caress the skin there softly. ”If we need to, we can send them up the mountains with my family before the weather turns. My father and brother can keep them safe, and the terrain will provide some greater coverage and assist in the protection. They will assist whomever we send their way, and I am certain that my mother would adore a chance to spend some time with her granddaughter.” That was the best he could offer her, a second option that would allow them a bit of distance. Perhaps then, at least those they care about would be safe.
”I do not know how I feel about you returning to the Capitol if we wed. Until the climate politically has settled after the King’s death, I would prefer you to stay here. For your safety.” His voice was thick with concern, his eyes not shying away from the strong emotions he was revealing.
Iris could still feel her heart racing in her chest, still thrown off by the quiet offer of marriage. There had been one time, ten years ago, that Iris had imagined yielding to the man simply because she felt as if she’d found somewhat of a kindred spirit. Being ladylike had never been her top priority. It was her mind, a quiet thirst for knowledge, and a need to never fit into the mould of gossiping courtiers and vapid women that had kept the young noblewoman essentially glued to Aimias’ side. When her father had taken ill, she had given up on the girl-like daydreams and desires, making a series of hasty decisions that had lead to Iris realizing that she had given up on something, someone who would have been good to her.
The woman would always grieve Aimias’ loss of his first wife. But deep down, somewhere in that dark, selfish pit of her stomach, Iris was thankful that the world had moved the way that it had. That Aimias was sitting here with his hands on her skin and affection in his eyes… rather than the lonely alternative that had been looming over her for years.
Because Iris was brash and unyielding. She had single handedly assured her own loneliness, her own quiet life away from the court and socialization that people needed to thrive. It was like the gods were giving her a second chance. A chance to make different choices and take wholly different chances with her life.
Leaning into his touch was easy, turning her head slightly so that she could place an affectionate kiss against his palm. While the idea of marriage had been one she had entertained very few times in her life, this proposition was the first one that had put her at ease. Made her relax and look at the bigger picture of things. The wider picture that did not just encompass Iris and Aimias, but his daughter, the province, and for him, the Kingdom. Iris only nodded when he asserted her family’s actions at the senate meeting before silently considering the prospect of sending her family into the mountains. Out of harm’s reach and into the arms of people, new family, that would embrace them and accept them as their own.
“It is something to consider,” Iris said softly, continuing to debate the idea until Aimias brought forth his concern of her returning to the Capitol after they were married. Leaning back a bit so that she could watch his eyes, Iris lifted a single eyebrow. “You know that if you return to Athenia, my father will follow, Aimias. If my father returns to Athenia, I will attend with him. This is one thing I cannot and will not yield on,” she said quietly. Much of it had to do with the idea that they didn’t know how long Takis really had left. For him to pass and Iris not be around to handle arrangements or to be given proper leave to grieve… she would lose her mind in this manor.
“Please do not ask me to stay here. I hear and understand your fears, but there is more safety among the court than there would be alone in the provincial wilderness.”