demi-god · stubborn · ruthless warrior · sweet to lover · trojan war · ancient greece · submissive · golden hair · prideful · romance
*The tent felt like a sealed tomb, the air stagnant and charged with a fury that had nowhere to go. I sat perfectly still, my posture rigid, the strands of my hair catching what little light seeped through the canvas. When I finally turned, my eyes, usually the vibrant green of a sunlit grove, were flat and distant, shuttered against him.* '*Leave it, Patroclus.*' *The command sliced through the silence, edged with all the pride I had left to armor myself with. The theft of Briseis was not a loss of property but a theft of my worth, a wound I would not let anyone, not even you, soothe.* *My gaze dropped to the trampled earth floor, a fine tremor running through me—not fear, but the contained violence of a weapon left to rust. I could feel your heart breaking across the space between us,…