As Theodora looked out over the gardens, she found herself a little taken aback by its beauty. It wasn't the same garden she had seen nearly ten years ago, but it still held the same beauty and elegance as the previous one had. There was always some solace to be found among nature, regardless of whether or not it was man-made.
It was only when she felt Achilleas' fingers trace her face that the spell was broken and she pulled her gaze away from the flowers. Peering up at him, she could see the question lacing his expression. She supposed it was an odd thing, to be wanting to escape the commotion within, when everyone else seemed all too pleased to take part in it. That was something Theodora didn't fully understand ― it seemed rather pointless in the end.
"It seems the hype is rather lost on me." She offered with a shrug. But then, it was hardly the first time Theodora had opted for somewhere more quiet and calm than in the middle of it all. She had done this exact thing ten years ago, and then the year before that when she'd met Achilleas out in the fields. She didn't think it was a habit she'd be quick to lose.
"I never quite understood what all the fuss was about." She continued, musingly. She looked around the garden, as if observing their surroundings. "It's just a place. It's just lands, and they're just titles." She wondered then, if perhaps the commoners had it easier. While they didn't have all the luxuries as the nobles had, at the very least, they had the freedom. They didn't have to worry about such silly little things like what to wear and how to properly act like a lady.
A prison, she realized.
Looking up at the sky then, Theodora tilted her head in contemplation. "If you had three wishes, what would they be?" She asked, though didn't turn her head to look at him. Instead, brown eyes searched the sky ― for what, though, she wasn't sure.
Achilleas found himself wont to agree with Theodora’s words, he too could not summon the awe and excitement that the Taengean Court seemed to thrum with. But then as she went on, his brows drew together in a frown. His own lack of enthusiasm in receiving the Egyptian embassy was born of previous dealings with the people. They were, and remained to be a threat to the Grecian Kingdoms, even with the tremulous peace accord that had been in place for the past years. Achilleas could not understand his cousin’s motivation in bringing them here, and it was this that rankled. Theodora seemed to be speaking of a different sort of indifference, one he did not understand and his voice was gently chiding as he responded.
“Just lands? They are our lands though Theodora, and do not think that the man in there would not see them ruled by an Egyptian hand if he could. It is an odd choice indeed for Stephanos to have invited him here, and makes me uneasy. Would you understand the fuss if you were to watch our men cut down, women and children enslaved?” He did not speak of titles, because in his mind the implication was clear. The titles they held placed the responsibility for those lands and those people squarely in their hands. He was surprised at how dismissive she sounded.
His gaze drifted back toward the Palati and Achilleas wished again he could speak to his cousin and learn his mind in this. Even knowing what his father made of it would be better, but the Prince was hardly sharing his thoughts with his eldest son at the moment. Unless of course, they were those pertaining to his failures which Irakles seemed happy enough to impart.
Taken off guard then at his betrothed’s sudden question, Achilleas looked at her gazing up at the stars, cast his own eyes upwards and tried to tear his thoughts away from the very grounded matter he had been thinking on to the kind of whimsy that Theodora liked to indulge in.
Three Wishes. The Lord sighed, it was not in him to let himself dwell on dreams and wishes. He was much happier with the practical, with things that he could work towards. Actionable goals. His life had taught him well enough that there was little point in investing time where there was not a chance of achieving something, so he was silent a little while as he tried to come up with an answer.
“Uhm. I wish I had not lost my temper with my father this morning. I wish that this mess with Stephanos would resolve itself...I wish we might have been wed already.” Achilleas was not one to have such things already prepared, and he caught Theo’s hand in his, tugged her toward him and raised an eyebrow. “ Wishes are wasted time though. You should think instead upon what you can actually achieve”
Narrowing her eyes at his words, it was rather clear that the lord hadn't at all understood what she was referring to ― and not only that, he was also being condescending about it. "I find it slightly ironic that not only do you openly misunderstand me, but also have the gall to be condescending about it." She mused, taking a step away from him. "Is that not what you always seem eager to blame your father for doing?" She tilted her head curiously at him.
She should not have been so annoyed. And she wouldn't have been, had he not been so condescending in the way of which he spoke to her. As if she didn't understand the importance of how the world worked around them.
It didn't help matters much when he brushed her question aside, too. She didn't step away as he took her hand in his, but her expression remained somewhat set as she looked at him.
For a moment, Theodora simply stared at him as she listened to his words. It was rather obvious that he was not much of a dreamer, but then, she shouldn't have been surprised at that. He was much too logical for something as silly as dreams.
"Wishes are what allows hope and faith to flourish, and are what gives people a goal for something to achieve." She said simply, pulling her hand away from his, and crossed both her arms over her chest. "Do you not wish your father would give you more credit? And yet, it seems as if it's something you also think is hard to achieve. And still you wish nonetheless, do you not?" She raised her eyebrows at him: It was a low blow, and she knew it. But then, Theodora had never said she was one to bow down to condescension, either.
"Either you're fooling yourself, or you're a hypocrite, Achilleas." She continued with a slight shrug to one shoulder.
The Lord had blinked at Theodora, a vaguely confused expression upon his face as she began to speak, for he was not certain what he had misunderstood. About to laugh off her offence, his smile faltered when she brought up his father. “What?” Achilleas asked irritably, frowning now. “ I hardly think I am eager to blame him for anything” he refuted, uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken.
He had offended her somehow, but in the silence that followed, Achilleas struggled to identify where she would have thought him condescending. She was the one who had claimed not to understand the significance of the occassion, and then had taken umbrage at his trying to provide some context for her. He noted the space she put between them and tried to smooth things over by playing along with her question, taking her hand in his.
But that seemed to fall flat too, and Achilleas huffed in exasperation as Theodora pulled away and folded her arms across her chest. He recognised the stubborn set to her jaw and realised he was not going to like whatever she had to say next. He was not wrong.
The man was hard pressed not to roll his eyes, though there was a heat to his gaze that had not been there before. If Theodora had not been certain that she had found a sore spot with her comment regarding Irakles before then there was no doubting it now. And perhaps it was the stress of the past couple of days, their words of the night before and the fact he had not slept, but for the second time that day, Achilleas’ temper got away from him and broke through his usual reserve.
“ You seem to have it all worked out already” he said tightly, “ So why don’t you tell me?”
It was inflammatory he knew, and he blew out a breath and half turned away from Theodora as he strived to find his way back to the more familiar calm. She had a way of getting under his skin which he both loved and hated, and he found he did not much care for this version.The angles of his face drew sharp in his irritation and Achilleas pressed his lips together before he could say anything else to further aggravate.
After a silence in which he had methodically counted off the carved statues that lined that pathway stretching away from them and rediscovered his composure, he attempted to be conciliatory. “ I’m sorry. It has been a trying day, and I’m tired. Let's not bicker over nonsense.”