Like a shadow, Meena lingered in the background as the events of court unfolded before her. When Irakles informed her that the Egyptian general would be visiting, Meena couldn’t ignore the excitement that she felt. She was well aware of the hard feelings that floated around amongst both sides, but she was never one to let such distant, political hostility get to her. Afterall, her vendettas were usually personal. Besides, it wasn’t as if nothing had ever happened in Taengea it was just, well... Nothing ever happened. So, she pounced at the chance to organize, much less attend, the reception ceremony for the Egyptian embassy whenever Irakles had so graciously requested her presence and helping hand in the matter. She’d spent a good portion of the evening greeting guests and ensuring that all was in place for the Egpytians’ arrival, only to slink away to steal a few desired moments alone.
An elegant, deep navy peplos, reminiscent of the night sky, hung from her frame. Small flecks of silver fanned out across the celestial fabric, creating almost a soft overlay of sheen. A slit in the gown enhanced her smooth movements, exposing the shape and curve of her leg. The silky fabric clung sweetly to her bodice, merely embellishing the provocative dip of her waist, before falling into a straight line to the floor at the peak of her hips. Lining the bottom of the gown were an array of silver, gold, and glass beads all glistening and chiming with each step. Ornate silver fibulae, fashioned after a sprig of three laurel leaves, were pinned at her shoulders and her neckline dipped teasingly low, though not quite pure decolletage. A silver necklace rested just above the dip to her bosoms and at its center - a stunning, luminescent opal with a silvery-blue sheen. Like stars, silver earrings dangled from her lobes and never ceased to catch the light with each turn of her head whilst silver bands were fastened around both upper arms. Her jewelry, less ostentatious than usual, only served as adornment on an already exquisitely beautiful woman. It was a line of elegance and seduction that she’d long ago learned to walk, not entirely scandalous, but enough to turn heads.
Her olive complexion set nicely against the regal deep blue and silvery colors that she wore. Her smooth face was confidently fresh of any makeup, save for an outline atop her eyes which only enhanced her dark lashes and amber-toned orbs. Deep umber, loose curls were swept over to one side with silver, pearl pins. A coy smile ever-toying at her lips and her eyes lit with something secret and wild, Meena glowed with an unbridled spirit, a feat most of the noble women in that court would never have. Once a girl sold to a whorehouse as the guarantor of her father’s debts, Meena had become something of a force to be reckoned with throughout her years, if only out of spite to the other women.
That is why her heart sang and a gleam peeked through her eyes whenever the eldest Leventi girl came out into view with the ensemble that she wore. Meena’s golden goblet paused at her lips as she gleefully took in the spectacle that played out before her. If she were not otherwise preoccupied with drinking on the sidelines, she very well would have fallen into a fit of laughter. She couldn’t stifle the snort that she gave whenever the young noble procured a string of stares, coupled with both horror and awe from the crowd.
Selene, much like few of the other women, was beautiful in her own right. But, Meena couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen the noblewoman dressed so provocatively, if ever. It was both beautiful and terrifying and Meena’s brow raised when the question of what the woman could be planning arose. For no woman, no matter how beautiful, would flaunt herself like that without an ulterior motive. Whether it be simple self-satisfaction of knowing that you can steal a man’s eye or something more sinister... Meena knew better than anyone the power gained by means of seduction - otherwise seen as self-deprivation in the eyes of others. But, Meena had always thought of it as a wild, passionate confidence that was unbiased with who it drew in. Perhaps, that is why she could so openly be who she was. Either way, she was the last person to fault Selene and silently cheered the vixen on from the sidelines, coming to the conclusion that she was either loose from the wine or the entire scenario was truly that hilarious.
Her attention waivered to Irakles as he brought Myrto forefront to the Egyption general. Seventeen years, and she still couldn’t rid herself of the irritation that she felt every time she looked at the woman. It wasn’t that she saw her as a threat, but more of an obsolete piece in Irakles’ puzzle of plans. Yet, she didn’t envy the woman’s position. She could never suffer being married, let alone married to a man like Irakles. She rather enjoyed the freedom she had in life. She was free to act out in her wild ways without the restraints of society. For nothing was ever shocking if a whore did such things.
Lost in her thoughts she almost missed Urjarak. Her head dipped in as the man beckoned her forward. It was time. She took a final sip from the goblet before placing it on a silver tray. Meena’s stride was slow and deliberate towards her lover. Her head was held high, as always, and her eyes flickered with untamed fire as she passed through the parting of people. Making her approach she allowed her keen gaze to set upon the Leventi’s giving her own greeting with a kind smile before sweeping over Irakles and resting on the Sirdar.
He was much taller than she’d anticipated and had this been under different circumstances she might have even gushed at him, bombarding him with questions about his culture and people. But pride and gaining of class kept her lips sealed as they curved into a coy smile and her eyes flickered upwards at Irakles’ introduction. “Welcome, Sirdar.” She greeted warmly, her words effortlessly falling from her lips before honoring him with respectful bow. Afterwards, her head tilted slightly as she took in the sight of his dress, very aware of their differentiating cultures before casting him an intriguing smile. “How do you fare here?” She was sure that the man must miss home, as anyone rightfully would. “Is Taengea even comparable to the majesty that Egypt is said to be?”
She had tried, the entire journey back to the crowd, to get him to tell her his plan. Selene had needed to know what his intentions were so that she could plan her own place in the fray. Would he need her to create further distractions? Or perhaps she would need to prepare the horses for their escape? If he was going to do this, she needed to be in on it, at least until they were safe. She hadn’t lied when she told him this was her burden to bare, that protecting her siblings was the most important thing to her. But he refused to say more, instead focusing on whatever his plan was. She should have been grateful; nerves would not allow for it.
Coming back into the room, she was once again the picture of serenity. There was no indication what they may have spoke about, no ill looks for foreboding or upset. Her eyes, having not cried outright, were not puffy or red. She was glad that her hair had been down, as his comforting actions could have caused it to shift and would have brought questions. But she looked put together and perfect as she came back into the room. Eyes searching for a familiar face, she was surprised to watch Vangelis make a direct path for Theo, of all people. She almost followed, almost needed to know what he and her sister had to speak about, so closely after his assurance. Wishing to frown but refraining, Selene started to follow until she heard the shrieks of Nana. Anyone close to her would have heard a soft groan coming from the eldest.
She turned towards the noise and suddenly, her heart went out to the poor girl. Covered in wine, it was easy to see that Nana had every reason to be upset. But, in the current company they were in, it would have been better for her to handle it with a bit more… decorum. Selene immediately redirected her focus for the current crisis, making it to her sister’s side only moments after her mother had. Even though she was told to keep her sister out of trouble, she was sure she would be forgiven once her mother knew what she had been doing. Greeting Giana with a bow, she caught the tail end of her mother’s suggestion and nodded. ”I have a dress or two you can fit into back in my rooms, Nana. Ones from Pia’s personal collection, too. I am sure we can find something that works. And we can leave this dress with the palati slaves, who I am sure can remove the stains from it.”
She wasn’t sure how her sister would react to the suggestion— it seemed everything she did only made Nana more upset.
Once again, Theodora felt herself struck with the surge of emotion that always snuck up on her and controlled her very being. This time though, it was far easier to control. There was quite the difference between pleading for the man to help save the life of her sister, and being annoyed at his idiocy.
Having perfected the art of poised grace, whatever annoyance surged through her body did not show on her face as the two stepped back into the room.
Though she wanted nothing more to shrug his hand off and go see either her sisters or her mother, Theodora remained. She could feel her muscles coil under his touch, and though she tried telling herself it was merely the annoyance speaking, she couldn't help herself.
Perhaps she was a tad overemotional after all.
Just a tad, though.
A little happy about the distraction that was offered, Theodora glanced in the direction of the commotion. The shriek ― all too familiar to the brunette's ears. Immediately, Theodora bit down on her bottom lip. No, Nana was never one to take things easily, and especially not in public.
As Theodora prepared herself to go to her sister's aid, she found Achilleas' cup shoved into her hands instead, leaving her presence with as much bravado as he always did. Slumping her shoulders a little, the brunette bit down on a sigh. Perhaps it was for the better, anyway. Perhaps her presence by her sister's side would only make things worse.
Putting the glass down on the plate of a passing server, Theodora pushed herself out into the crowd. She eventually found herself a good vantage point among the peers of the court and let her eyes wander.
It was only when Theodora heard the familiar voice of Vang that her eyes stopped moving. For just second, she could feel her body tense, only to relax again just as quickly. Despite the surprise, the brunette attempted to keep her expression as neutral as she possibly could.
Turning her head to peer up at him ― even having to dip her head back a little to properly look at him, Theodora pursed her lips. "Thank you." She murmured in the same low tone he himself had used. No, she didn't want to know the details. It was likely better that they spoke no more of the subject. "Truly."
It was a good thing then, as Theodora noticed Achilleas' return from the corner of her eye. Immediately, she tilted her head at the Crown Prince and smiled a pleasant smile, "Does that mean you're enjoying the festivities then, your highness?" She asked, lifting a hand to gesture out at the room. "I sincerely hope Tangea has not yet disappointed."
It was then that Achilleas seemed to reach their side, and Theodora turned her head to look at him. Though Theodora had only recently gotten to know Achilleas again, even she could see the... stiffness of which he seemed to regard the Crown Prince. She wondered why, though figured it was really none of her business, and if it was war related, she didn't really care to hear of it, if she was being honest. "Achilleas." She greeted him.
Oso filed away the note that he had picked up in the voice of the translator, that his niece was as yet not formally bound to anyone. Perhaps he ought to voice his intentions and desires, as his culture was not one trapped to one wife he could seek out a Greek connection and still have his own Egyptian born sons. But his attention now turned to the youngest woman in their immediate circle.
”A fine answer, my lady. She should be proud of her child.”
Imeeya’s correction brought a quirk of a smile to his lips. He did not know her family, nor had he heard of her mother, but that she was bold enough to do so was oddly endearing, as was her pointed gaze. She was not quite as beautiful as some of the other women he had met, but her face was one that held danger for another reason. If her mind was as sharp as her tongue, and fierce as her cousin, she could be a deadly enemy and a powerful ally. Filing her name in the back of his mind, he gave a bow of his head in acknowledgement before the other Colchian man with her spoke.
”I am in fact still somewhat confused as to why I am here, sir. I was called by a king who seems to have trouble showing his face. He has a queen, does he not? Why does she not then join us if her husband is indisposed? Or is the entire royal family ill with this mysterious malady?”
Osorsen sipped on his wine, he had an interest in seeing the rest of what Greece had to offer, but the more people around him dodged the question of where the king was and why he was being shunted off on a minor prince, the more wary he grew. Men did not send such letters to their old enemies and ask them to visit only to disappear. Unless there was some ulterior plan here at work.
Another woman perhaps closer to his age had been brought forth and introduced as hostess and once again his hackles were raised. His spies had informed him of the basic relationships within the royal family, and he knew full well what this “Lady” Meena’s relationship was to the family. Putting names and faces together made him even more uneasy, and with the next passing of a tray he set aside his wine. Not even the princesses or dowager queen had been a part of this, it had been done by an old man’s whore. Some respect to show to guests.
The mother of Lady Selene and the new young, yet another blonde woman, was just as stunning as her daughters, and he was about to make such a comment in spite of his suspicion when a shriek broke the bubble of monotone conversation. Turning about with a hand at the hilt of his ornamental dagger, he was almost disappointed to see it was simply another woman who had been a victim of a wine soaking. With a sigh as he relaxed his stance, Osorsen turned back to face the young girl as she was left by her mother to attend to the others.
Lady Selene’s youngest sister had a similar look and charm about her, though her youth and innocence was very much on display in this moment. There was something endearing in speaking to someone now who was not either hoping he would die or leave, and as she babbled on clearly had little in ways of courtly manners. If he could have been left with Imeeya’s wit and this girl’s sweetness, it would have been fine company indeed.
”I have, thank you Lady Imma. And I understand your feeling, this is my first time in this palace too.” He offered her a wink and a smile before turning to her father. ”Perhaps, since we will get no talk of politics done this evening, I might be permitted to escort the lady in a dance? We can save discussions of fierce mothers and absent kings for a crowd of fewer eyes and ears.”
Xene of MikaelidasBasilides of AcarisSelene of LeventiEvelli of LeventiNana of LeventiIrakles of Mikaelidas With Xene’s familiar greeting in her ear, Gianna became aware of how tense she had been as she drifted through the bodies of nobles to her sister’s side. There was safety and comfort to be found in Xene’s presence and Gianna found herself seeking refuge more often than not as events continued to unfold in Taengea. With their present company, they would need one another before the night was through, she was sure of it.
When her uncle finally arrived ahead of the Egyptian envoy, he was quick to stir up a flurry of movement in preparation for their official arrival. Gianna bristled. Was it not enough that the man had locked Stephanos and Olympia out of sight? Was he so thirsty for power that he would commandeer the evening from Xene, too? The girl was so focused on Irakles that the arrival of the Sirdar seemed...anticlimactic, to say the least.
It was the voice of Heron, first Zacharias and now Xene’s guard, that finally reached Gianna. She offered the man a smile in return for his greeting. He had always been something of a mystery for the youngest Mikaelidas, but she knew he had been fiercely loyal to the late Crown Prince and was proving himself just as faithful to Xene. And where Xene placed her trust, Gianna too would follow. Perhaps her greatest blindspot, but she so desperately needed something and someone to trust.
A tug on her arm pulled her from her thoughts. Looking to her side, Gianna could see her sister leading them towards Nana of Leventi and a man she had not encountered in previous court sessions. A stolen glance at Xene’s face revealed a devious glint she had not seen in the elder’s eyes for some time. Before she could offer her opinion—Gianna was much more inclined to keep the mischief to a minimum for once—she was being presented to one Basilides of Acaris, guest of Nana she presumed.
“I must say, sir, you have excellent taste and quite the eye for color,” Gianna complimented as Nana sported the purple silk gown for the newcomers—a gift from Basilides, of course. She watched with the first hint of real amusement she had displayed in weeks while the young woman swayed from side to side with fistfuls of fabric, causing the skirts to sweep and spin about her ankles. It was right as she was beginning to relax into her sister’s company that Xene quietly excused herself from their conversation.
Gianna did not want to release her sister’s hand as they parted ways. She wanted to reach out, to beg Xene not to leave her side. She had found her strength once more by the elder’s side only to have courtly duties come between them all too soon. Gianna watched her sister gingerly navigate the floor until she was swallowed up from view, a hollowness left in her wake, and the youngest was truly alone. Returning her attention to her companions, Gianna endeavored to hide the fresh sorrow undoubtedly present in her doe eyes.
Nana’s own attempt to do Xene’s bidding, while commendable, was met with the spillover of a quarrel the elder princess had not quite prevented. Gianna was forced to bear witness as the gift Basilides has bestowed upon Nana was soaked in wine the color of Gianna’s chiton—a deep crimson and certainly not complementary of Nana’s violet gown. Gianna was spared much of Nana’s fate, the front of her skirts taking the bulk of the liquid. It was Nana’s piercing shriek, though, that drew the crowd’s attention.
“I will have your chambers prepared for you and Lady Nana, your Highness.” Gianna had been so consumed with Nana’s berating of the men who had caused her humiliation that she failed to notice Elpis. With a glance to see her sister dealing with the disorderly noblemen, Gianna nodded her approval to the girl who withdrew as quickly and quietly as she had appeared. For once she was grateful to be entirely surrounded. While she was usually one to handle things independently, the blonde would have been utterly lost as to where to even begin.
Taking Nana’s hand in her own to offer the girl a comforting squeeze, Gianna nodded in agreement to Evelli’s suggestion, “Yes, of course, Lady Evelli,”—then to Nana—“There will be a hot bath waiting, should you wish to indulge.” As Lady Evelli shuffled the young women out, they were intercepted by Selene who had her own contributions for the cause. “Lady Selene, if you would send a slave to fetch them to my chambers? My handmaid is preparing for our arrival and I believe Lady Nana may prefer a variety of options.” Still grasping Nana’s hand, Gianna led the small parade of Leventis to her rooms.
Dorothea found herself wishing rather fervently that she hadn’t wandered away from her father and into this situation. At least with Gavriil, she knew that she would be able to get away without making small talk that was utterly boring to her. At least she knew exactly what his ulterior motive was when it came to her. He wanted to find her a husband, but wouldn’t protest too greatly when she failed to bring in anyone promising.
Though this man, Basilides, as he introduced himself, was probably exactly the type she should be pursuing. There was no chance of marriage between them, but so she could consider herself safe as it were. Yet, it seemed that he was a charmer, though any observation from across the room could be made regarding that. The way Nana hung on him indicated as much. Though she was always one to hang, Dorothea could tell that this man had wormed his way in somehow. As men were wont to do. Dorothea didn’t judge whatever their relationship was, but instead was simply very happy that she could remove herself from any equation.
Although he did a very good job of hiding it, Dorothea could tell that he was slightly irked when she did not take his arm. No, she would not do him the pleasure of having two women hang off him. She was perfectly capable of walking on her own.
Basilides’ answer to her query was enough to pique her interest slightly. At least he was a man with some substance and his penchant for this showmanship clearly had an origin. She was much more interested in his travel experience. Although Dorothea was perfectly content to live in the wilds of their land, there had been a budding desire to travel as of late. She hadn’t learned so many languages for no reason at all. Some days she wished to use her skills.
“Start with Hebrew,” she advised. “It comes easier than Coptic. Though less relevant in our current situation.”
The conversation moved to wine and quickly to an audience with Xene. Dorothea was unsure why she had been dragged along and remained silently in the background, aside from the required greetings. She should have left when Basilides and Nana moved away, but somehow had been tethered to them. Rather than pay much attention to the pleasantries being exchanged, Doro scanned the room, watching the delegation making small talk with the Greeks. She wished she was close enough to pick up some of what was being said, though doubtless it was nothing of much importance. She would have to keep her ears ready for sounds of their native language to catch any true conversations amongst them.
It was perhaps her engagement in the world around them that kept her averted from the disaster that soon befell Nana. Dorothea noted the argument and moved wisely out of the way just in time for wine to be spilled on Nana’s dress. Dorothea could see the tantrum coming from a mile away and melted further into the background. She had no desire to be part of this and was, at that moment, fervently glad that her own sister was not one to behave in such a manner. It was only a gown, after all. If it couldn’t be cleaned, then it could be replaced. And she had a rather good group of people around her so far that were quick to protect her modesty.
Before she could melt away entirely, several Leventi women swooped in and whisked Nana away. Of course, not before leaving Dorothea in the company of Basilides. The Lady Evelli had asked him to escort her. As if she needed escorting. However, she bit her tongue as they moved off to make the wardrobe change, leaving her alone with the man.
“How is it you came to know the Leventis so well?” she asked, partly curious, partly looking to pass the time until he could be distracted by another woman and leave her to her own devices.
Apparently, the woman that bumped into him didn’t quite appreciate his help, even less his flirting… it happened, sometimes, and he knew he could get in trouble for it. Though he didn’t care. Nothing that two blades of sharp bronze couldn’t solve…
But then he caught the whisper of one of the nobles, Lord Fotios, who gave him pretty clear order… play something lively. Hesiodos was not dumb enough to realize tensions were rising, so he quickly thought of a song that would help with the mood…
Something came to mind. He smiled.
He gave an order to the other musicians to follow his lead in certain tone and notes, and thus he began to play a lively song he wrote some time ago, which would certainly cause a sensation.
"Anything may start a quarrel
Love, misunderstanding or an insult
No matter if the reason seems immoral
One has to solve disputes as adults
I had two swords, him a long one
Bronze clashed like lighting in the night
Blessed by Ares, we know who would have won
But my swords still fiercely bite
Clash of metal, teeth bared white
We meet our blades, deadly as a viper’s hiss
On that moment, I knew what to do, alright
So I surprised him with a lovely kiss
Out of balance, the warrior seemed to be
But anger flashed in his eyes, I could see
With a headbutt, the world went black around me
But his desire, his desire was set free"
He continued playing the same tone of the song, lost in the music, with a silly smile on his face. He wrote that song in honor of the man he dueled and kissed: Achilleas, that one guard blessed by Ares himself. The fight was one of the most blood pumping ones he ever had in his life, and while he lost, he was sure he made the man ponder a couple of things on the dark of his room…
This evening had not gone anything like he had planned, for now he stood without his companion, lacking his chlamys and feeling quite overexposed in the company of someone who look none too pleased to have him as her escort. Instinct had urged him to use his covering to help Lady Nana with her embarrassment, but he did not think he would then linger long enough to feel so plain in the company of nobility. Now, the stormy grey-blue of his chiton seemed rather dull and dimensionless without the soft sage accent color of his covering, and he could not help but feel self-conscious about it.
Almost as an attempt to salvage his appearance, a semi-frustrated hand ran through his curls before moving to at least attach his fibulae to the remains of his outfit. In doing so, he let his eyes glance down at the offending spill just as several servants came to clean it away with roughspun cloth.
He watched quietly as the Leventi sisters and mother made their exit along with Princess Gianna, until they disappeared along a corridor. His brows seemed to flatten a bit as he released a sigh, his eyes cutting over to Lady Dorothea as she asked her question.
In an attempt to soften his expression yet failing to approach the levels of his earlier charm, he replied, "They have long been patrons of the arts. For many years, I worked with them to organize various performances for the Festival of Dionysus and other smaller festivals in Taengea."
There it was again. That slight pang in his chest, rattling around between his ribs as he was once again reminded of the troupe's demise - likely by some incompetence on his part, his subconscious added, cuttingly. That flicker of self-loathing seemed to swell in his throat, forcing him to swallow to mentally push it back down.
"My father and brothers are merchants by trade as well, and we have had the pleasure of frequently importing luxuries for the Leventi family from Lands Afar."
For a moment, he let his eyes linger on the young noblewoman for a moment - her stern expression seeming rather stark for her lovely features. It was quite clear, even from the distance they stood from one another that she would rather be anywhere but at his side. Still, Lady Evelli charged him to escort her in the meanwhile, and until he was formally dismissed, he would not disappoint...or so he hoped.
"In fact, I know at least one of our entertainers tonight rather well," he began, gesturing with a now-bare arm toward Hesiodos and his players and serving as a guide for them to step away from the soiled area of the grand gallery. It was an invitation for her to lead the way towards the musicians, something Bas hoped she would accept and prefer over a crooked escort's elbow.
As they moved in the direction of the musicians, he added, "If travel interests you, I assure you he has more stories than can be told in a single night about Egypt, Judea, and beyond. He is a well-traveled scoundrel, which makes him an excellent bard."
All of this flattery took place a few long strides out of earshot of the bard, who was midway through a song. Approaching, Basilides could not help the smirk and raised brow as he heard the curious lyrics - as story that he had yet to be told since their last meeting during the Arts Festival in Argothia. A flurry of small emotions washed over him, catching his breath as he felt a rush of remembering the thrills of that night, the guilt that followed, once again leading his mind to ponder across his errant lover, Zephyrus...wherever he may be.
The note he left and most of Zeph's belongings were still at the tavern where they stayed before their argument, but some of his items and all of the coins he left were gone. Perhaps, he chose not to read it, take his things, and sail for Athenia. It was what he wanted, right? Basilides made a mental note to make his way by the docks to check the records of vessels that sailed for Athenia in the past few weeks, but that thought was cut short as the song came to an end, leading to a small smattering of applause and the start of a simple instrumental number.
Sidling over to the musician, who kept playing through as the two approached, Basilides flashed a cat-like grin at the man, "My friend. Allow me to introduce to you- Hesiodos of Phossis, may I present Lady Dorothea of Dimitrou. Lady Dorothea has an interest in travel, I believe, and I am certain your tales will either encourage that interest or dissuade her completely."
Taking a step back slightly so the Lady of Dimitrou could be introduced, Bas could not help himself - silently catching Hesiodos' attention then glancing towards the Egyptian General with a slight tilt of his head, as if to say "Did you take a look at that?"