A/N: So, so, so. Here is another prompt, titled "At the edge." I was at a little cove by a river when I wrote this, and wanted to find a prompt that could be inspired by the scenery. So this one is more appropriately titled "At the Edge of the Seashore." My sister was probably the biggest inspiration for this story – she was trying to photograph the spray off the rocks, which drew my attention to it, and created the beginnings of the thoughts you see here. She also may or may not be the inspiration for Gen and Sophos' activities. You can judge for yourself.
I do not own any of these characters, I only get to play with them while I wait to see the Mede elephants.
Irene relaxed on the cushions set out for her. The sand underneath had pleasantly warmed them, just as the sun warmed her face. She wasn't hot though, for the wind off the water played at her skirts, and at the loose strands of hair artfully left free of her pins.
Nearby, Eugenides and Sophos were searching for hidden treasure. More accurately, he and Sophos were sifting through the shells and rocks, attempting to outdo each other in knowledge and spectacular finds. Stretched out on cushions near Irene, Helen appeared to have fallen asleep, soothed by the lapping waves.
Irene returned her attention to the waves, creeping their way back up the beach where she sat, soon to cover the make shift campsite, forcing them to return to the civilization that lay beyond the ridge behind them.
Irene sighed. It had been a pleasant day. Arranged by Eugenides so the four monarchs could hammer out the last details of the upcoming wedding and corresponding swearing of allegiances in private. Irene quickly discovered that he had planned a holiday instead. Now, watching the sun start to drop towards the horizon, she couldn't find it in herself to be mad at him. Of course, when she had first discovered his deceit that morning, she had been impressively upset. She had ordered her guards to return her to her palace at once; Eugenides had cajoled her into staying, saying it would appear the negotiations had gone wrong. She had eventually consented, though she hoped her delay had caused him to sweat. How dare he attempt to manipulate her.
Perhaps, though, he could manipulate her because he knew her so well. Something almost no one else in her life managed to accomplish.
The rest had been needed, she admitted begrudgingly. It had been lovely to have few cares for the day, for she could never quite let her mind forget all its concerns or worries. Lunch had been accompanied by a brief report from Teleus that all was well, and ended with a sincerest wish that she relaxed and enjoyed the rest of her holiday. The last must have been scripted by her husband, for as he said it, Teleus turned a glare toward his sovereign that could only be described as venomous.
Irene sighed again, for today, at least, she need not worry about the feud between her king and her captain of the guard.
The wind picked up again, and Irene idly wondered if it heralded a storm for the evening. She needn't worry, for they would be returned to the megaron long before it could break. With her husband, whom she may or may not be talking too.
Irene watched the waves crash against an outcropping of rock, driven by the wind. She was reminded of her own annoyance that morning, another reminder that her husband was slowly driving her insane.
Just as suddenly as it had started, the breeze stilled, and the water gently lapped at the outcropping it had been beating against only moments ago.
Listening to the breezes pick up again, and the sea begin its relentless pounding, Irene realized it was a metaphor of her own marriage. Or any marriage she supposed. Of every single relationship every moment of every day.
For the water did not smash against the rocks of its own choice. It was driven by the wind, and pushed by the tides, which were affected by the cycles of the moon.
Yet the rock still stood, held in place by firm foundations, and creating a stronghold for the wildlife that thrived on the constant contact with the life-giving water.
She and Eugenides were like this – the water and the rock. Each shaped by forces the other could not control, yet somehow complimenting each other perfectly. Each had a role, a part to play in that universe, and even when she felt like the rock, perpetually hounded by wind and waves, she knew she was providing protection to those around her, and the waves gave life-giving waters to those in her care. It was a partnership of equals.
Later, as they collected their belongings and began the trek home, she stepped in beside Eugenides and slipped her hand into his. She had an equal partner, too.