“Heiron, you’re finally awake!” Hector’s booming voice carried a mixture of relief and joy as he strode toward Nathan, wrapping him in a firm hug before lifting him off his feet. Despite his towering frame, Hector’s embrace felt warm and sincere. “We’ve been so worried about you. You weren’t waking up for weeks, and none of the doctors had any idea what was wrong!” His voice cracked slightly, revealing how deeply the ordeal had shaken him.
Nathan managed a faint smile, though his expression remained calm. “I’m fine now,” he replied, his voice steady but subdued.
Hector took a step back, his sharp eyes scanning Nathan’s face as if to confirm his words. “Good. But you still need rest,” he insisted firmly, folding his arms as if to emphasize his point.
“I think I’ve rested enough,” Nathan countered, seriously.
Hector sighed, a small smile tugging at his lips. “How are you feeling, my friend?” he asked, patting Nathan’s shoulder in a gesture both comforting and serious.
Nathan paused, glancing at the scars that marked his body—physical reminders of his relentless struggles. His silver-white hair glimmered faintly in the dim torchlight, making him seem otherworldly. Finally, he spoke. “Good. It’s the final act. Let’s end this.”
Hector’s smile widened, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “Yes,” he said with a resolute nod.
As Nathan surveyed the scene, he couldn’t help but notice how much the war had taken its toll on Hector. His once proud and imposing friend now looked haggard, weighed down by new scars and the invisible burden of endless battles. Even his posture betrayed his weariness, though his eyes burned with determination.
“It’s good to see you back,” a gentle voice interrupted Nathan’s thoughts. Atalanta approached, her steps light but deliberate, a genuine smile softening her features. She looked as weary as Hector, her armor dulled by countless clashes. The loss of Sarpedon and Nathan’s absence had clearly taken their toll. Yet, there was a spark in her eyes—a flicker of hope.
“Come, Heiron. Let’s eat. I also have some people to introduce you to,” Hector said, beckoning Nathan to follow.
The group moved together, the air buzzing with subdued excitement. As they entered the great hall, the gathered Trojans erupted into cheers at the sight of Nathan. Their voices echoed off the high stone walls, filling the space with a mix of relief and celebration. Nathan offered them a polite nod, acknowledging their support, but his attention soon shifted.
In the far corner of the room, two men were devouring plates of meat with an almost primal ferocity, entirely unbothered by the noise around them. Nathan’s gaze lingered on them, curiosity piqued.
“Heiron,” Hector said, motioning toward the pair, “meet Castor and Pollux. They’re among the finest warriors who’ve joined our side. More importantly, they’re Helen’s brothers.”
At the mention of Helen, Nathan’s brow arched slightly, intrigued.
“They chose to fight for us,” Hector continued, “for their sister’s sake.”
One of the men—Castor, judging by the faint scars across his forearms—looked up briefly from his meal, sizing Nathan up with a casual glance. “Oh, this is Heiron, I guess?”
“We’ve heard a lot about you, Heiron!” Pollux added, his voice deep and slightly gruff. Neither man slowed their pace, their hands tearing into the roasted meat with unabashed enthusiasm.
Nathan studied them intently. Even without witnessing them in battle, he could sense their strength. Their movements, even while eating, exuded a natural power, and Pollux in particular radiated an aura of formidable might.
“They’re interesting,” Nathan remarked quietly to Hector, who chuckled in response.
It was surely right.
Castor and Pollux, along with Helen and Clytemnestra, were born of an unusual and divine origin. Leda, their mother, had caught the eye of Zeus, who approached her in the guise of a swan. From this union came an extraordinary birth—two eggs, from which four children emerged. Castor and Pollux were twins, though of a unique nature: Pollux was immortal, a son of Zeus, while Castor was mortal, a son of Leda’s husband, King Tyndareus. Despite this difference, the brothers were inseparable, their bond unbreakable.
Castor and Pollux had accepted their father’s decision to marry Helen to Menelaus. It was a political arrangement, after all, one that strengthened alliances and secured power. But that acceptance didn’t mean they felt any loyalty toward Menelaus, especially when their sister’s life was at stake. For them, blood ties and familial duty outweighed any allegiance to a distant king.
When Helen fled with Paris, the world branded her a traitor, and war followed in her wake. Yet Castor and Pollux didn’t waver in their priorities. They deliberated, perhaps even hesitated, but in the end, they made their choice. They would fight for Helen, no matter the cost, no matter the side.
“It took some time, but they’ve finally come to take part in the war,” Hector explained, his voice carrying a mixture of relief and pride. “They arrived just a few days ago, and since then, we’ve been able to recover slowly from the Greeks’ relentless onslaught.”
Nathan nodded thoughtfully. “That’s reassuring,” he said, his tone neutral as he approached the brothers. Yet his sharp eyes betrayed his skepticism.
“But,” Nathan continued, his gaze narrowing as he studied Castor and Pollux, “I wonder if they’re truly our allies.” His voice was low, almost accusatory, but loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.
“Heiron?” Aeneas called softly, a note of caution in his voice. But Nathan didn’t acknowledge him. His mind was already racing with possibilities, scenarios, and worst-case betrayals.
Nathan’s suspicions weren’t without reason. Castor and Pollux might have been Helen’s brothers, but they were also Greeks, deeply rooted in the traditions and loyalties of their homeland. Furthermore, their other sister, Clytemnestra, was married to Agamemnon, the very man leading the Greek forces against Troy. Why would they risk everything to side with the Trojans while Clytemnestra remained in the heart of Agamemnon’s kingdom? The potential for deception was too great to ignore.
Castor broke into a loud, hearty laugh, his grin wide and genuine. The sound echoed through the hall, cutting through the tension like a blade. “You doubt us, huh? Understandable!” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “And I’d say Hector is lucky to have such a friend who worries this much about Troy!” He shot a glance at Hector, who chuckled and gave a nod of agreement.
“But let me make one thing clear,” Castor continued, his tone growing more serious, though his grin remained. “We’ll defend Helen, no matter what it takes—even if it means siding with the Trojans. Family comes above everything else, right, Pollux?”
Pollux, quieter and less animated than his twin, nodded solemnly. “Yes,” he said simply, his deep voice steady but subdued.
Castor shrugged as if to downplay the gravity of their decision. “Menelaus can go to hell for all I care. If Helen left him, she must have had her reasons. I never saw her happy with that man.”
Nathan tilted his head slightly, intrigued by Castor’s candor, but before he could respond, Pollux spoke again, his words cutting through the moment like a cold wind. “She doesn’t seem happy with Paris either.”
The room fell into an awkward silence. Nathan noticed the faint twitch of Hector’s lips, as if he were suppressing a laugh or a awkwardness—perhaps both. Even Aeneas, standing nearby, shuffled his feet uncomfortably.
Hector finally broke the silence with a resigned sigh. “Well,” he said slowly, “it’s true. Helen hasn’t exactly been… enthusiastic about Paris lately.”
The truth was undeniable. Helen had been distant with Paris for weeks now, her interactions with him sparse and strained. She spent much of her time avoiding him altogether, as if the weight of the war had driven a wedge between them.
She was literally avoiding him.
She had been feeling guilty about all of this. About the war, the deaths, everything. At first, Hector blamed her too. She was queen. She must have known what her actions would lead to, what consequences would follow yet it was strange for Hector that Helen just left like that.
But as the months passed, he realized there had to be more to her decision. Something else must have been at play and he stopped blaming her but he still blamed Paris who was definitely the culprit in this. The more time passed and the more it looked like Helen had been somewhat tricked by Paris and she was dragged out forcefully.
Hearing Castor’s words, Nathan’s doubts eased slightly, though not entirely. The brothers seemed sincere, but sincerity could be feigned, especially in times of war. For now, Nathan resolved to remain cautious, his guard firmly in place.
“So, you no longer hold any loyalty toward Agamemnon, I assume?” Nathan asked, his voice measured but probing, as his sharp gaze lingered on the twins.
“Loyalty? Who could hold loyalty toward such a despicable man?”
A woman’s voice suddenly rang.
Nathan turned to the source, his eyes narrowing as he took in the figure who had entered. She was striking—undeniably beautiful, though not with the ethereal grace of Helen. Her beauty was fierce, regal, and commanding, with long golden hair cascading over her shoulders like sunlight and piercing green eyes that burned with intensity. Every movement she made exuded a dignity that spoke of her noble lineage.
“She is Clytemnestra,” Hector said quietly.
“Clytemnestra?” Nathan repeated, his voice tinged with suspicion. “Helen’s sister? What is she doing here?”
“She asked us to save her,” Castor replied. “From the hell she endured at Agamemnon’s castle.”
Nathan’s eyes darted back to the woman. Her hands were clenched tightly into fists at her sides, her knuckles white, and the rage in her eyes was almost palpable.
“I will never forgive him,” Clytemnestra said, her voice trembling with emotion. “That man—” She broke off, her shoulders shaking with suppressed anger. “He took everything from me. My freedom, my dignity, my happiness…my daughter.”