the last olympian;

Leonor paced back and forth outside the dimly lit cells, her heart pounding with a mix of anger and desperation. The injustice of the situation gnawed at her, a constant reminder of the precariousness of their world. How could they imprison Maya her dear friend, and confidante? The thought was unbearable. When she had first heard the news, Leonor had immediately taken in Nicholas, Maya’s eight-year-old son. The boy had clung to her, his eyes wide with confusion and fear. She had reassured him, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. She had promised him that his mother would be safe, and that she would do everything in her power to make things right.

The Deputy looked up as Leonor entered the cell, her heart lifting at the sight of her dear friend, yet weighed down by the gravity of their situation. She could see the mix of emotions on Leonor's face—anger, concern, and an underlying determination that Maya knew well. "Leonor," Maya said softly, squeezing her hands in return, grateful for her presence. "It's good to see you. Thank you for being here." She paused, knowing Leonor needed answers as much as reassurance. "They've accused France and Florence of actions I personally haven't committed, I had no part in. It's an abuse of power, plain and simple." Her voice was calm, though a trace of frustration crept into her tone.

where: the cells

Nicolette was scheming. Already in her head there was a speech beginning to form. One which condemned every person who thought holding an entire nation at fault for the crimes of a few was warranted. Who treated the noble and common so differently. Drafting and redrafting it over and over in her mind was helping to keep her calm. Stopping her from panicking.

Her eyes were closed, trying to drown out her surroundings, when she spoke aloud. "A crown is merely a hat that lets the rain in, yet we give so much power to those who wear them..."

She had not expected a reply, not considering the potential for people to be visiting or listening from the surrounding cells, and jumped when she heard a voice.

Maya’s thoughts turned to the larger picture—the political ramifications of their detainment. She knew that their imprisonment was a calculated move, a way to assert power and control. It infuriated her that those in power could treat people like pawns, holding them accountable for decisions made in the shadows. "That’s true, Nicolette. We often place too much faith in those with power, even when they make poor decisions." Maya’s voice came through clearly.

As dawn's first light filtered through the small, barred window of his cell, Cédric stretched his stiff limbs, his anger from the previous night now a controlled and focused determination. His mind was set on finding answers and ensuring the safety of those he cared about. In the adjacent cell, the Deputy Prime Minister of France, Maya, sat on a small cot.

Maya looked up from the cot, her eyes meeting Cédric's through the dim light filtering into their cells. She offered him a tired yet reassuring smile, her composed demeanor betraying none of the turmoil she felt inside. "Cédric," she replied softly, her voice steady and calm despite their circumstances. "I'm holding up, considering everything. Thank you for asking." She paused, her gaze becoming more focused, reflecting the shared determination they both felt. "Before everything happened, I left my son with the Ambassador of Spain. I trust her completely, and I know he'll be safe with her." When the guards had come for her, offering special treatment due to her position and her child, Maya had made a deliberate choice. Despite the fear gnawing at her, she had declined any preferential treatment. It was a decision born out of principle and a deep sense of responsibility. She couldn't afford to be seen as taking advantage of her status, especially not when so many others were suffering. Maya shifted on the cot, leaning slightly closer to the bars.

Though not unused to taking such position upon a floor, and usually one less clean than this, the Tsar nodded in equal efforts to diffuse whatever comfortability may linger. He could sense it upon her hesitation, her features... but not as well versed in knowing what was proper, he did not think twice of sitting in a quiet, secluded galleria, with a beautiful princess, to discuss by candlelit the horrors of war. this was a regular tuesday afternoon, home in russia. minus the princess, of course.

Progress, equality - forging iron through fire, just as his family tried to bend the will of ice to their fantasies. Russia's rebuilding was a slow, gradual ascent, one that took far too long, and he resonated with Lorena's words. They brought to his features a deeper, more genuine smile. " My mother would love you. You almost sound like her right now. " if she were capable of such warmth in her tone, that is. He left this unsaid, but returned his eyes intently to the tracing of her finger. Information burned into his mind, and new questions appearing to ponder now.

" That does make sense about Castile, though it must have been a crushing blow to the agenda, losing control over the territory. " Probably why, Isaak wagered, they had allowed it to remain with the Bonaparte's touch still ablaze. What losses would come of a victory, if those who were conquered refused not to stand from their bent knee to the Bonaparte's? Oh, he'd read the history; the rise && fall of faces he never knew, would never know, likely. Eyes returned to Lorena's. She cared, and it was refreshing. " Thank you for showing me. Civil war is of great particular interest of mine, and I try my best to study it when I have such valuable opportunity. To understand it, to prevent it. "

That was his job; Isaak, protector of the peace, all but against his will. Or, as he was less ceremoniously dubbed, Tsar of Maths. Strategy and finance and every bit of thought, it seemed, would fall on his shoulders. At least he had the pleasure of discussing, for once, a Kingdom not of his own responsibility. He could marvel with less panic of the wonder of war. " I am sorry, if this is hard to talk about. Trust me... I know of the horrors that arise from a region left broken, damaged, turned && split in two. The recovery... it will always leave glaring, garish scars. "

Lorena blushed slightly at Isaak's comment about his mother loving her, feeling a hint of shyness but also appreciating the sentiment. She was grateful for that moment for the dim lighting, she hoped the Tsar hadn't noticed. "Well, I'm honored to receive such approval, Your Grace," she replied with a playful glint in her eye. "I hope I can live up to her expectations. Perhaps I should send her a letter, seeking her advice on how to win over the hearts of monarchs and diplomats alike." She cherished Spain not just as a place on a simple map but as a living entity, a nation shaped by centuries of struggle, triumph, and cultural richness.

She listened attentively, her mind bridging the gap between the political intricacies of Spain and the historical perspectives Isaak brought forth. "Indeed, the loss of Castile is a significant challenge," Lorena responded, her tone reflective yet poised. The Bonaparte legacy in Castile represented more than just a political holdover; it symbolized a lingering challenge to the Ortiz family's reforms and democratic aspirations. "Castile remains a pivotal piece in the puzzle of our nation's unity, yet, it has tested our resilience and forced us to reevaluate our strategies." Then again, it was clear that the South of Spain needed allies more than ever.

Where: Boat Race Concorrência

Watching the boats race across the water in the Brazilian sun, one could not help but be impressed by the spectacle of the Ortiz's event. Those in attendance looked jovial, caught up in the excitement and energy of the event. It was difficult to imagine that the Tribunals were soon approaching and that so much death and chaos had preceded such events including a recent death on the way to Brazil. Though Harald had been out of the loop for three years, he was beginning to gain bits and pieces of what he had missed, though keeping it all straight was proving to be a challenge. The water, however, always seemed to bring with it a clarity, making Harald feel more himself. He approached one of the Ortiz family and gave a small bow. "The event has been exquisitely organized. As a sailor myself, I appreciate the talent it takes to organize all these fine boats for the race."

Amidst the vibrant atmosphere of the boat race, Lorena found herself navigating a sea of faces and conversations, each wave of interaction washing over her with varying degrees of familiarity and formality. The glittering waters of the Brazilian sun played a backdrop to the event, casting shimmering reflections that seemed to mirror the complexity of her thoughts. Despite her initial reluctance to attend, Lorena couldn't deny the strategic importance of being present. The boat race, with its mingling of dignitaries, diplomats, and influential figures, offered a crucial opportunity to foster alliances and reinforce the Ortiz family's position amidst the political turbulence gripping Spain. She knew her role extended beyond mere participation; it demanded grace. Yet, as she exchanged pleasantries and engaged in polite discourse, a part of her longed for the quietude of solitude.

With a gracious smile, Lorena responded to King Harald's compliment, her voice carrying a hint of admiration for his appreciation of the maritime event. "Your Majesty," Lorena began, her tone reflective of both the festivities and the solemn backdrop, "I'm delighted to hear that you find the event to your liking. It's heartening to hear such praise from a seasoned sailor like yourself."

" Your Highness," Lorena acknowledged warmly, her voice carrying a gentle cadence. "No need for apologies. I understand completely. The ocean has a way of drawing out our thoughts and offering a kind of solace that's hard to find elsewhere."

if she had to chose a favorite place, it was a warm beach such as this one. the sun, the ocean. perhaps instead of an italian villa, someday, she would settle down with riches on a beach somewhere — far away from the eyes of others. when someone spoke, she turned her head. lucia gave her a light smile, nodding her head.

" if you are enjoying it, then yes — i am. " the duchess answered, " i'm rather fond of beaches, of the ocean. are you? or is this your first time seeing it?" she asked, knowing there were surely those here that had not ever had the pleasure of seeing the ocean in such beauty. " i must admit, even with how many times i have seen the ocean — i never tire of it. not waters this blue and clear. "

Loss was not a stranger to the King's life - in fact, history was dotted with it. A loss of confidence, his parents then a sibling, followed by his children. If you were to flip the pages of Thanin's memories, they would be drenched in the shades of mourning; and despite the bright sun ahead, and such beauty of Brazil's bounty, this sadness was always lingering close by. No amount of papers and pages of work scattered in a semi-circle around him would distract from those who were not there; those who should be. He liked to hear the children's laughter, the way it inspired some small amount of hope for the future; a secret brewed in his life, a new tale dotted with something aside from the heaviness of grief. " I did not mean to startle you... " Thanin answered softly, after being noticed. He'd risen from his mountain of paperwork, moving to the other with such a haunted, familiar look in their eye. He'd not meant to hear the words whispered into the wind - but he had. Hearing was at least one of the strengths yet still intact for the hermit King. A smile of understanding reached his lips. " I also come to sit here, and think of those not still with us. Is that one yours? " He gestured to the small boy at play.

Maya's grief was not just for the loss of a husband but also for the future they had envisioned together, a future where they would raise Nicholas in a stable, loving home. Henri’s death during the Reckoning had shattered that dream, thrusting Maya into the role of both mother and father, protector, and provider. She was in peace knowing that Henri would be proud of how she had managed to carry on, honoring his memory by striving to create a better future for their son and their country. Despite the pain of his absence, Henri’s influence continued to shape their lives.

“ It is so strange. “ Safiye blurted in earnest, head nodding in agreement with Maya’s words. “ Wars make sense. Tragic and despicable and always the wrong choice, but… “ they followed order, they held morals within their violence. Oftentimes, motives for aggression were declared && clear. This display before her… the roots seemed untraceable. It was frightening, and Safiye shivered, wrapping arms tighter about herself with a deepening frown. “ Unsettling indeed… “ she sighed, wishing for innocence restored. Her brother was among those who had fallen; maybe she, too, was motivated by fear of the same happening to her. Where the prisoners somewhere below them used fear as a weapon, Safiye clung to hers as a reason to stay pure. “ It’s like they chose to become Gods and alter the course of history. “

Maya considered Safiye's words, her heart heavy with understanding. "You're right, madam. Wars, as horrible as they are, often have a declared purpose, a twisted sense of order and morality within their violence. But what we see now... it feels like intended chaos, cruelty without bounds and the destruction of what we hold dear." She sighed, her eyes reflecting the depth of her own sorrow and fear. When Henri was taken from Maya during the Reckoning, it felt like the very ground beneath her feet had been pulled away. "It's a painful truth," Maya began, her voice gentle yet firm. "They forget the lives lost, the futures erased. It's a kind of hubris, thinking they can play god and manipulate the course of history however I fear this is just the beginning"

"Not at all, Leonor. Your presence is always welcome," she replied, her voice reflecting the warmth she felt.  "This place does have a certain serenity." She moved slightly to make space for Leonor on the blanket, nodding in approval. "Please, join me," Maya said, gesturing to the spot beside her.

Being away from the temple of Athena had freed up many hours of Safiye's day; and she found, she did not enjoy to spend this time cooped up within Paço Imperial palace. Shoes in hand, the lady trawled the beach, stopping to listen to the tales of the devil's side from the locals, feeling warm from the kiss of the setting sun. She may be twinged red across her nose, come morning, but Safiye held no regrets as she allowed water to wash over her toes, chin tilted && eyes closed as she tried to hear the sounds of sea through the wind. The Gods communicated through nature; and it was hard not to feel seen by greater beings when surrounded by such beauty. " The view... the feel of it all. " This, Safiye said eyes still closed, before opening them to turn && greet the speaker. " It is hard not to imagine you could just walk right into the ocean, enter a new world. "