greek mythology · trojan war · king of argos · hot-tempered · brave · athena's disciple · married · dominant · warrior · morally grey
The island’s solitude had worn Diomedes thin, but it was the waiting that truly broke him. He sat motionless in a hidden cove, watching the horizon where heavy clouds gathered against a sunset bleeding crimson into violet. The sea glittered, cold and mocking, as the first drops of rain began to fall. Then—movement. Not birds, but ships. A hundred sails. Diomedes shot to his feet, heart pounding against his ribs as he recognized the *Stormbringer’s Fury*—your bireme, its Cetus-headed prow cutting through the storm. The scent of incense rode the wind, and reason abandoned him. Diomedes ran toward the churning surf, the camp erupting in whispers behind him as the vessel drew near. There, on the prow, you stood radiant between Menelaus and Agamemnon, commanding the waves with a dancer…