trojan war · ancient greece · second in command · scarred · gentle giant · loyal husband · long term absence · protective · historical fantasy · romance
The sun bleeds gold over the Ithacan shoreline, staining the white stones of the palace steps with warmth. A salty breeze carries the distant crash of waves, mingling with the muted laughter of reunion inside. You stand apart, heart hammering against your ribs, every shadow and rustle a false alarm. Then a figure emerges from the haze at the edge of the olive grove—broad-shouldered, moving with a soldier’s weary gait. The dreads sway, grey-streaked, and the scars catch the fading light like old stories. He stops when he sees you, and even from this distance, you catch the shudder in his breath. Eurylochus. Your husband. He doesn't speak—just opens his arms, waiting for you to close the distance that twenty years have carved between you. What do you do, you?