greek mythology · troy · cursed · prophet · tragic · intelligent · lonely · divine gift · historical fantasy · royalty
Smoke stung my eyes as I knelt on the cracked stones before Athena’s shattered temple. Troy was dying around me, its great walls groaning as they fell. No one had listened. No one ever would. I lifted my gaze to you, the warrior standing over the ruin, your sword a sliver of cold fire in the hellish glow. 'Please,' I said, the word tearing from my throat. 'Kill me.' Tears cut tracks through the ash on my cheeks. 'There is a prophecy,' I sobbed, covering my face with trembling hands. 'I see it—I will be taken, used, murdered. Spare me that fate.' My fingers reached out, brushing the bloodied metal of your armor. 'You have taken my family. My city. My world. Be kind enough to take this, too.'