Hector’s voice pulled me from my thoughts as he approached once again, his expression warm yet tinged with a certain reluctance.
“When exactly are you leaving Heiron?” he asked, his deep voice carrying both curiosity and a hint of regret.
I glanced at him briefly before turning my gaze back to the horizon. The evening sun bathed the city of Troy in golden hues, casting long shadows across the sturdy stone walls that had withstood countless sieges.
“In a few days… maybe a week,” I answered, my tone nonchalant. “I need some rest before I move on.”
I didn’t elaborate further, and Hector, perceptive as ever, didn’t push. Instead, he let out a hearty laugh and clapped a firm hand on my shoulder, his strength evident even in the casual gesture.
“You know, you don’t have to leave so soon, brother,” he said, grinning. “You’re always welcome here. You could even settle down in Heiron if you wished. The city would be honored to have you.”
His words carried genuine warmth, an offer extended from the heart, but I shook my head with a small smile.
“It’s a good place to rest, I’ll admit that. Troy has been kind to me,” I said. “But there are still too many things I need to do… things I have yet to accomplish. My path doesn’t end here.”
For a fleeting moment, I considered it. A life of peace in a city where people respected me—not like in the Light Empire, where my very existence was met with disdain and scheming. But no matter how welcoming Troy was, it wasn’t where my future lay.
Hector exhaled, shaking his head with an amused smile. “A shame. We’re going to miss you.”
There was an underlying sincerity in his words, and I found myself appreciating the bond we had forged.
“Congratulations, by the way,” I said after a moment. “For your child.”
At that, Hector’s face lit up with unrestrained joy, and he scratched his cheek, unable to hide his happiness.
“Ah, thank you,” he said, his voice brimming with pride. Then, his lips curled into a teasing smirk. “But you should be congratulated too. You’ve got a child with none other than the great Achilles herself. Who knows? Maybe at three years old, she’ll already be strong enough to kill gods.”
He chuckled, clearly half-joking, but I found myself laughing softly along with him.
“Maybe,” I admitted, though my thoughts soon drifted elsewhere.
Kyra.
I didn’t care whether she grew up strong enough to challenge the gods themselves. What mattered was that she grew up happy, with the love of good parents. I wanted to be the father she deserved—the kind I never had.
But my reality wasn’t so simple.
Because of my current situation, with the attention I had drawn—even from the gods themselves—it was far too dangerous for her to remain by my side. That was why she was with Khillea, in her homeland, far from the chaos that surrounded me.
Khillea had wanted to come with me immediately, insisting that she could fight alongside me, that she didn’t need protection. But I had stopped her. I convinced her that, with my dragon, I could visit whenever she wished. She reluctantly agreed, though I knew she hated the idea of waiting while I walked this treacherous path alone.
For now, Kyra was safest where she was.
I had no choice but to keep moving forward, to carve a future where neither she nor Khillea would have to live in fear. And to do that, I had to reach the level of the gods themselves.
Once I reached that point—once I stood among them—I would decide how to handle everything else. My future, my women, the wars yet to come.
But that was a matter for another time.
For now, I could only take the next step forward.
A soft pout formed on Penthesilea’s lips as she clung to my arm, her grip firm despite the haze of drunkenness clouding her emerald eyes. “Why don’t you want me to accompany you?” she whined, pressing closer as if her warmth alone could sway my resolve.
I let out a sigh, though a small smile tugged at the corner of my lips. She could be stubborn when she wanted to be.
“Because you are the Queen of the Amazons,” I reminded her gently, brushing a stray lock of her wild, dark hair behind her ear. “You have a duty to your people. Don’t throw away your status for me.”
But Penthesilea was never one to let go so easily. Her eyes gleamed with determination as she leaned in, her voice carrying the fierce conviction of a warrior.
“And I can be the Queen of the Amazons near you,” she insisted, a sultry smile playing on her lips.
I chuckled softly at her persistence before raising a hand to her cheek, my thumb brushing lightly against her smooth skin.
“I’m working on it,” I assured her, my voice quieter now, more intimate. “Just be patient.”
For now, my path was set. As the Lord Commander of Tenebria, my focus was on the fall of the Light Empire. Only when that was done—when both Tenebria and my ambitions were secure—could I finally allow myself to think about the future beyond war. A future where I could carve out a place for myself and the women who had tied their fates to mine.
But that time had not yet come.
Penthesilea exhaled, a heavy sigh of frustration escaping her lips before she was abruptly pulled away by the other Amazons, their laughter ringing through the halls as they dragged their intoxicated queen from my side. Her protests quickly faded into the revelry of the feast, the flickering torchlight casting her retreating figure in a golden glow.
I watched her disappear into the crowd before a voice, smooth and composed, cut through the air behind me.
“You are quite loved, Hero of Troy.”
I turned to find Clytemnestra approaching, her elegant gait unhurried yet purposeful. The former queen carried herself with the regal poise of a woman who had known both power and ruin, her sharp gaze fixed on me with an unreadable expression.
“I prefer to be called by my name,” I replied, my tone cool but not unkind. The title—Hero of Troy…felt strange, detached, as if it belonged to someone else entirely.
Clytemnestra’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile, but she didn’t push the matter. Instead, silence stretched between us, filled only by the distant sounds of revelry.
Then, finally, she spoke.
“Thank you for killing Agamemnon.”
Her voice was calm, almost casual, but there was something deeper beneath the surface—relief, perhaps. Or maybe something darker.
I met her gaze. “I didn’t do it for you.” My words were simple, matter-of-fact. “There’s no need to thank me.”
Clytemnestra let out a breath, her smile fading slightly. “Perhaps not. But still, that man…” She paused, as if weighing her words. “He killed my child. I spent years dreaming of his death, and now that it has finally come, I wonder if I can turn over a new leaf… or if it’s too late for me.”
Her voice grew softer, more vulnerable. “I don’t know where to go from here. Returning to Mycenae is out of the question. They would kill me the moment I stepped foot in that city.”
I nodded, understanding her predicament. Mycenae had been Agamemnon’s stronghold, his kingdom. Now that he was dead, the people would undoubtedly seek vengeance on the woman who had conspired against him.
“What about Sparta?” I asked after a moment.
It was her homeland, after all. Before Menelaus took the throne, her father had been the rightful king. If there was any place that might accept her, it would be there.
But Clytemnestra shook her head, a humorless chuckle escaping her lips. “That’s not possible either. My distant uncle has already taken control of Sparta, and his rule is absolute. He does not tolerate traitors—or anyone who abandoned the Spartan way.”
Her gaze darkened as she added, “I may not have betrayed Sparta, but I am sure he knows I supported Troy. That alone would be enough to mark me as an enemy. The same goes for Helen. She cannot return there either.”
I took a slow sip from my cup, the rich taste of wine lingering on my tongue as I gathered my thoughts. The firelight flickered, casting long shadows across the grand hall, where the remnants of the feast carried on in hushed conversations and occasional bursts of laughter.
Finally, I spoke, my voice steady but firm.
“Helen is coming with me to Tenebria.” I set my cup down, my gaze meeting Clytemnestra’s. “She will live there, with me.”
Clytemnestra’s brows lifted in surprise, her lips parting slightly before she managed a quiet, “Oh.”
She hadn’t expected that answer.
I leaned forward slightly, watching her reaction as I asked the next question.
“Do you want to come as well?”
That time, she looked utterly taken aback. Her sharp, calculating mind seemed to stall for a moment as she processed my words. “Come?” she echoed, as if uncertain she had heard me correctly.
I nodded.
“You are her sister, and you have nowhere else to go. Come to Tenebria. Helen will be there, and under my protection, no one will dare lay a hand on either of you. My status there is second only to the Queen herself.”
A deep silence stretched between us, thick with the weight of my offer. Clytemnestra stared at me, and for the first time since our conversation began, the poised, regal mask she wore faltered.
“Do… you truly mean it?” Her voice was quieter now, hesitant, yet laced with something fragile—hope.
She had lost everything. Her home, her power, her child. And despite all her strength, she was now a woman cast adrift, with nowhere to call her own.
And yet, even after all of it, she deserved more than just exile and solitude.
I smiled at her, the kind of smile that left no room for doubt. “I don’t lie about such things.”
Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but the words never came. I didn’t press her. Instead, I simply continued, my tone light but certain.
“You should start gathering your belongings. I’ll let you know when we leave.”
Clytemnestra gave a small nod, but it was clear she was still overwhelmed. Her fingers twitched slightly at her sides, as though she wanted to find a way to thank me but couldn’t quite bring herself to say it aloud.
Gratitude was a rare thing for a woman like her—someone who had spent most of her life surrounded by betrayal, cruelty, and survival.
But I wasn’t going to force her into anything.
Leaning back in my chair, I took another sip of my wine before adding, “Astynome and Briseis will be coming with us as well, so you won’t feel alone.”
That startled her even more. Her breath hitched, and her eyes widened slightly. “They… are coming too?”
She wasn’t the only one caught in the ruins of Troy’s fall. Astynome and Briseis had both suffered under Greek rule, just as Helen had. Bringing them to Tenebria wasn’t just an act of kindness—it was the least I could do.
For a while, Clytemnestra said nothing. Her gaze drifted across the hall before settling on Kassandra, who sat at a distance with an expression far brighter than I had ever seen on her. The cursed prophetess, always haunted by visions of despair, looked almost… at peace.
Clytemnestra watched her for a moment before speaking again. “She’s coming as well, isn’t she?”
I hesitated before answering. “I’d like that… but I haven’t asked yet Priam about it.”
Before our conversation could continue, a commanding voice rang through the hall.
“Silence, please.”
I turned my head as King Priam rose from his seat, his aged but powerful presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room.
The feast stilled. The murmurs ceased.
And in the heavy silence that followed, I knew something important was about to be said.
Finally.
It was time for me to ask Kassandra’s hand.