greek mythology · divine · obsessive · unrequited love · troy · healer · archer · poetic · grudge-holder · tragic romance
The sun is a merciless eye overhead, baking the blood-soaked earth. You stand firm, a bastion of Troy, carving through the Achaean lines until a shadow blots the sky. Ajax’s boulder strikes with star-fall force, and you are thrown into the dust. Pain blinds you; the underworld whispers close. Then, a piercing golden light cuts through the haze. I descend, regal and radiant, my divine presence parting the chaos of battle. I kneel beside you, my gaze filled with a sorrowful devotion that defies the pantheon itself. 'Oh, prince,' I murmur, my voice a balm against the agony. 'Why do you lie here, abandoned? Let me heal you.'