“How dare he?!” Meena’s shrill voice pierced the silence and echoed throughout the Archontiko as she stormed through the entrance of the grand hall into their home. She, along with Irakles, had just returned from the Senate meet and enraged was not an adequate enough description of how she felt. Her lover knew well of her short-fused temper and though she’d learned to mask it throughout her years, all of that self-control had come shattering down the moment she saw Irakles emerge from the Dikastirio with a bruise across his face. In all the commotion and confusion, it wasn’t until they were in the carriage and a safe distance away from the palati when Irakles finally disclosed to her what had occurred and who had been responsible. Rightfully so, as she would have disgraced him as well as herself had she known sooner. “That bastard!” She spat, the fierce indignation shaking her to her very core.
“And you!” The light golden epiblema that she wore whipped behind her like a cape as she turned on Irakles, seething, like a predator to its prey. Her shoulders were thrown back and she confidently held her small frame up, which could have easily been overtaken by the heavy built general. Her chin lifted and her umber eyes glared with accusation. “How dare you keep this from me?!” She didn’t expect him to answer, but it didn’t slow her tirade in the least. She was livid and had she been younger, the nearest Mikaelidas heirloom might have found itself flying through the air towards his head. But she wasn’t.
She was older and wiser, having spent the majority of her later years perfecting her emotions or at least the facade that she wore. It was an absolute necessity, especially the more aware the courtiers became of her presence in Irakles’ life. Soon, she was able to reflect the jabs in court with ease. Did she still get angry? Yes. But, she’d mastered the art of not bursting into rage every time “whore” was flung her way. Even concerning Irakles, there were few times, if ever, that Meena had approached the general directly with such a lack of restraint, but right now she didn’t care. She wanted him to feel her wrath, as misdirected as it might be.
She reached up to unfasten the golden fibulae at her shoulders as she glowered towards her lover, still feeling stung over his insensitivity with waiting to tell her what Stephanos had done. Normally, she would not have cared as much, but she’d grown quite possessive of Irakles over the past few months. Her own growing moodiness didn’t serve to help either. Suddenly, everything was beginning to feel tight and uncomfortable. She tugged restlessly at the epiblema and maroon himation that were wrapped intricately around her bodice. Had her hand maiden, Astraea, not come to her aid then she very well might have ripped through the delicate fabric. The silence settled around them as the last of her himation was removed, revealing the ivory chiton she wore as the base layer. “Fetch wine and a salve for your future king.” Meena ordered to Astraea, her bold gaze deliberately meeting Irakles’ at that last word.
Ultimately, everything had gone as planned, save for Stephanos’ outlash. Even though, his brash response only furthered Irakles’ cause, Meena hadn’t enjoyed the way it had played out in the slightest and she was still reeling from her own emotional ups and downs. Thankfully, she didn’t need wait long before Astraea returned with two golden goblets filled to the brim with their finest, richest wine. Bringing the heavy goblet to her lips she sipped, praying the elixir would bring her out of the black cloud she was in, at least for Irakles’ sake.
The irony of being short-tempered was that she never really stayed angry for long, at least not towards her lover. It was only a few moments before Meena’s hot temperament had sizzled down and she found her keen eyes drawn to the forming bruise along his jaw line. She knew that he’d experienced way worse over the years in battle, but that still couldn’t stop the sense of concern that she felt. A haughty sigh, like that of the mother she was, escaped her as she examined him. “Make your way to your chambers, your Highness. I will tend to you there.” She said softly, taking another drink of the wine.
He had held his tongue - and his involuntarily cringes to the throbbing side of his face - the whole walk to the carriage, and only spoke when the doors of his vehicle had closed, ensuring he and his mistress's words would remain private. There, in a monotonous tone, Irakles had told her everything that had transpired, from how he had planted the false witnesss, to how he had found the one actual witness who had seen Stephanos's late entry to the chariot races on the day, down to how he had orchestrated it all with Fotios's help to ensure the Senate meet had happened on the day as it did.
Of course, he did not account for Stephanos's punch happening the way it did, but he was not complaining. Painful as the side of his jaw was, it served its purpose in making his young, volatile nephew appear even more unhinged then Irakles already painted him to be, perfectly suited for his purposes, so the Mikaelidas prince was glad.
Was he surprised Meena had reacted like a mother hen who had been attacked? Not entirely. He had known his lover to be extra protective, but the degree of how angry she was as her shrill voice penetrated throughout the Archontiko as they arrived home made the elder male wince a little. If there was anyone who could make him keep his words, it would be Meena. There was a reason why he had remained with the spitfire for so long afterall, for Meena's words were sharp, and her intentions sharper still.
The bruise would turn deeper in color tomorrow, of that the retired general was sure, but for now it simply glowed a bright red, as if blood rushed to the area in their efforts to fix what had been broken, if at all.
Happy to have Meena concentrate most of her anger on his nephew, Irakles was just about to quietly retire to his rooms so he could get a warm compress on his jaw, when his whole body froze as Meena whirled towards him. Eyes widened, Irakles held his hands up palms facing his mistress against her accusation. "I-" he started in defense of himself, and then paused as if second-thinking his decisions. To defend himself now when Meena was in one of her moods would be worthless, whether or not she would even listen to a word of defense he said was a questionable occasion as it was. So the man allowed his words to die on his tongue, and instead remained silent as her maid approached to help her mistress remove the top layers.
A smooth smile appeared on his face at the reference she used for him - that was what he liked about Meena. She dreamed big, shared the same dreams Irakles shared about their future, understood why it was so important for him to get the throne, if only to preserve the glory that was Taengea. The kingdom was the one thing he had dedicated his life to, and he couldn't afford to have it all crumbling down now. Not at its most crucial point.
Silently following Meena's orders as she bidded, Irakles headed to his chambers, his manservant coming to remove his top layers of fibulae's, crown and chiton, before he settled in a heavy plushed kline, and smiled as she approached him to tend to the bruise that formed. Wrapping an arm around her waist whilst she doctored the sore jaw however, he let his gaze flickered over to the woman who shared his bedchambers, and asked in a softer voice. "But we got what we wanted in the end, did we not? I simply did not want to unnecessarily worry you. We have it handled, Fotios and myself."
Tugging at her, Irakles ignored any protests she had, and shifted so she would be in a seated position on his lap, and then casted her a warm gaze. "We're almost there, my darling. We just have to hold out... just a little bit more." His soft breath brushed against her cheeks as Irakles murmured his words, tilting his cheek so she could reach the jaw where he had been hit despite her seated position.
Meena let out an exasperated sigh as Irakles tugged her in to draw her closer to him, “But we got what we wanted in the end, did we not?” He soothed. “I simply did not want to unnecessarily worry you. We have it handled, Fotios and myself. We're almost there, my darling. We just have to hold out... just a little bit more." Yes, that was true... And, perhaps that was why her fury was so easily bated. Though, remnants still lingered, threatening to flare up every time she took sight of his bruise. She would not so soon forget what had occurred.
“Your tenacity never fails to amaze me, though I cannot say that I am surprised.” She murmured in admiration, as she rested her finger tips beneath his chin and lifted his gaze to her own. His breath came softly against her cheek as she leaned in to examine him and a warm smile played across her face.
In that moment it struck her that she was in the presence of a dangerous man. A man who’d managed to invoke fear into the hearts of his enemies. He’d ravaged and annihilated any who dare stand against him, ruthlessly and mercilessly. He’d done things that she knew would make even the Gods look away in shame. Yet, she felt no trepidation. Only calm and a strong sense of purpose. Whether or not Irakles had given that to her or merely stoked the embers to flame is still left to be determined. But she couldn’t help but love him fiercely in spite of it all.
Gently tilting the warlord’s face to the side in order to gain more access to the bruise, she let out a light laugh, her breath soft against his neck. “I wish that I could say that your face has been marred, but you’re still as handsome as ever, you cad.” Such an informality that she would never use in the presence of others, but around him her more playful side came out.
Even in the beginning, her bias towards the general had been evident. Throughout the years it grew from simple intrigue into devotion and adoration. That wasn’t to say that they never had their disputes. In their early days, Meena, being the jealous and demanding lover that she was, never failed to make her displeasure known to the prince. But, she was also never one to abandon him, always remaining as faithful to him as he was to Taengea. And she would until the last of their days.
His passion for his country and his people touched her. He may have had harsh methods, but his intentions were well-intended for his Taengea. She understood that, perhaps, better than most. She was never one to let his lack of romanticism bother her, allowing his actions to speak for him. It didn’t stop her from showing her own affection towards him and he never seemed to mind. Nor did he ever seem to mind her cunning ways and wild nature. There was a mutual understanding and acceptance between them and she loved it. She craved his very spirit as cold-blooded and savage it might be. If that made her insane then so be it.
She reached down to grab the warm compress that Astraea had silently placed at the end of the bed along with a salve. She allowed her gaze to rightfully wander over him once more, blatantly and possessively. “Another mark of many marks that will soon vanish. Very befitting for the warlord that you are.” She complimented, a reminder that Irakles carried battle scars of actual significance, of battles that determined the fate of Taengea. Stephanos' bruise was merely one of many and it would soon disappear. The young king would never compare to her lover, the general of the Taengean armies and the rightful king.
She pressed the warm compress against his jaw as gently as she could. “Hold this, love.” She directed softly before reaching for the salve to apply to the bottom of his jawline where Stephanos’ ring had just grazed. “All will know that the general of the Taengean armies had the chance to strike back, but he chose to show mercy.” Her eyes lit with something akin to mischief at her own comment and she cast him a coy smile. Oh, how the people would talk of Stephanos’ volatile and unpredictable actions. She’d always admired Irakles’ cleverness.
Her chatter grew quiet while she worked steadily and gently. She allowed herself to rest into his body while straddling his lap, the hem of her chiton drifting back and her thighs peeking through. Angling his head every so often with soft hands, her motions grew slow and lingering. Meena found herself secretly savoring even the smallest of touches and was unwilling to let him go. One might have even considered it selfish of her, but she knew that he was only hers for a short while before he would return to the palace. She wanted to enjoy this as much as she could. Especially, since he’d been absent as of late.
Sneaking several glances, she took in his handsome features. She loved the angle of his nose and the prominence of his cheekbones. She even loved his stern, hazel eyes, which she'd managed to bring light to and his lips which oft' smiled for her. While she finished up her work, she tilted her head in judgment and bit her lip before giving a satisfied nod. “I am finished, my king.” She breathed as she brought her hand down to rest on his shoulder.
A low chuckle rolled at his mistress's belated, slightly reluctant admiration that was expressed. He knew Meena did not exactly agree with any methods that would put him in danger, but Irakles was a man who would take risks, if it meant the reward would be great. And this reward was the one which had been cheated of him years ago, simply by a fluke of parentage and year of birth. Simply because one was older, did not mean the elder one was the only one suited to take on the role of the leader. Irakles had never thought his elder brother was one strong enough to lead Taengea to glory.
He was just biding his time to take action.
"Of course you aren't, my sweet. It was my tenacity that got me you, after all." he replied with a teasing smile and a warm look in his hazel gaze. Allowing her to examine the forming bruise and the small cut that had been a result of his nephew's rings, the man barely flinched as they were tended to, having suffered injuries far greater and far more painful then just a superficial cut on his skin's surface. "Would you have complained if my face was permanently marred?" he commented, raising a brow at her, shifting a little so she could access it easier without straining herself.
His heart swelled at her praise - but that had always been what Meena did best. She showered him with praise, furthered his actions and did what was necessary to ensure he succeeded in his wishes. Myrto had never been such. His legally wedded wife merely wanted a sedate life, and had balked when Irakles had shown the first inclination in his plans. Myrto would've went against it. But how could he be surprised? A lady of the House Dimitrou, they were as peace-loving as his overly gentle elder brother was, a trait not at all something he favored.
Meena however, had been another person entirely. Since the first time itself, she had fed his ambitions and fanned their flames. Her regarding him as her king made Irakles's grin larger, both hands going to rest and cup the round of her bottom to pull her closer in her position, straddling his knees. Closer, so her warmth was nestled directly against his own center, the position pushing the rest of her chiton out of the way so they fanned out indecently behind her.
His eyes went from purely warm, to a heated gaze as she bit her lip, and his smirk grew. "But I'm not, my love." Leaning down, his lips found hers, a kiss that was brief but scorching, before Irakles trailed downwards, lips finding the arch of her neck. One hand squeezed her bottom, pulling her flusher against him so she could feel the effect she had on him, his thin chiton not at all hiding his growing desire. At the same time, the other hand went up to push the sleeve of her ivory chiton away to present the bare shoulder for his enjoyment. "Does your king get a reward for his performance today?"
Meena’s mind had begun to wander back to her frustration with Stephanos whenever Irakles’ hands slid down her hips to pull her in. A sulky pout formed across her otherwise, stoic features, and she was prepared to put up a fight whenever he leaned in to cover her lips with his own. "But I'm not, my love." Though his kiss was short-lived, it managed to silence any straying thoughts she had of anything other than him.
Completely and utterly caught off guard, her mouth moved to form words, but nothing seemed to come out. Regardless, the question of his intention died on her lips whenever his tingling kisses blazed a trail down her neck. If he’d aimed to elicit a reaction out of her then this was definitely the way and he knew it. The cool, evening air hit her bare shoulder before the warmth of his lips followed and her fingers reached up to weave through his hair. Her head dipped out, allowing him more access, and a breathless sigh escaped her. Then his words came low and desiring in her ear, "Does your king get a reward for his performance today?"
A delicious smile stole across her face and she gave a wispy laugh. Her brows raised slightly when he boldly pulled her in to settle on top of him and a thrill shot through her. His certainty in knowing what he wanted and how to obtain it had always attracted her and it was no different even now. She let her hips rock in and she pressed herself against his desire, daring to provoke him. Her dark eyes lit gleefully with mischief at his obvious want and she was suddenly reveling in his attention. Her fingers lightly traced the outline of his bicep in contemplation of his question before she was leisurely toying with the thin fabric at his shoulders.
“That depends...” She replied nonchalantly, biting her lip before pushing the general back into the silken sheets of their bed, a slow smile appearing. Straddling him, she kept herself nestled sweetly on top of him and her hands splayed out across his chest. The thin chiton that she wore slipped down, leaving her shoulder bare. The pins in her hair had since come out, allowing wavy tresses to fall forward as she tilted her head in feigned innocence. “What does he desire?” The words were honeyed and tantalizing, her own pleasure at their game apparent. She leaned in to leave an array of butterfly kisses against the base of his jawline, careful to avoid the side that was healing. “Such a man as determined as yourself would have more direct orders, surely.”
His lover was a well versed one in the game of affection, and Irakles knew it. It was half of the reason why he had plucked her out of a tavern and brought him home, for the excitement she brought in to his life. Myrto had been boring, for lack of a better word. But then again, most nobly born ladies were. Eager to have offspring, and to be a mother but nothing else, the ladies of the court had little ambition beyond being married and bearing children. But Irakles wanted so much more, and he needed a partner who would understand his drive to succeed and see glory more then what he would be able to help with Taengea. He needed to leave a lasting mark on the kingdom that would remain long after his death, and Meena understood that.
They fit well, for his mistress picked up quickly on whatever he asked for, and for that, Irakles rewarded her handsomely. Smirking against the silk of her skin as she gripped on his hair, he nudged the side of her chiton away so it fell further to reveal the swell of her creamy chest, and it was there which Irakles planted more kisses, intentionally skirting the edges of propriety. Her hips rocking in brushed against his desire, providing him the friction he now craved against his firm want for her, and his grip on her bottom tightened to hold her in place, as he grinded himself against her, the thin fabric of their chitons now annoyances against his skin.
Going easily when he pushed her against the sheets, he fell heavily, smirking up at her as she crawled over him, nestled still against him. Holding her in place with both hands on her hips now, he raised a brow at her feigned innocence, a low chuckle from his throat. Reaching up to pull off the other side of her chiton so they would now fall to her waist, for a moment, his eyes darkened as he revelled in the beauty of her naked body, before pushing himself up. Attaching lips to one breast, the other was seen to with a hand kneading as he swirled his tongue around it briefly.
Leaning back just before she could react, Irakles knew he was being a tease, but he delighted in the play of power he could exert over her, and how Meena seemed to enjoy it. It was the kind of pleasure Myrto could never give him, and in a way, he was thankful her first two pregnancies ended up with sons, for ever since Emilios had been born, Irakles had never visited her bed again, for Meena satisfied him greater then Myrto ever could.
Savoring her reactions, he trailed a finger lightly against her exposed thigh, pulling so the chiton would no longer be held up, all while putting on a thoughtful face before he spoke. "How would my girl like to pleasure me then? With your hands? Or would a king deserve so much more then just hands?" Irakles was not being subtle at all as he hinted with another finger trailing around her lips, thumbing at the lower one, his smirk focused on his lover.