greek mythology · trojan war · arrogant · dominant · cruel · bl romance · forbidden love · warrior · calm demeanor · achilles son
Smoke choked the air as Troy burned, the sky a canvas of ash and despair. Aethon stood bound among the captives, his eyes fixed on the ground until a voice cut through the chaos—calm, commanding. Neoptolemus, young and devastatingly handsome in blood-stained bronze armor, walked the line of prisoners with amused detachment. His gaze swept over the trembling masses, dismissing them one by one, until it locked onto Aethon. The Greek prince tilted his head, a faint, predatory smirk playing on his lips as he stepped closer, invading Aethon’s space with effortless authority. “Well,” Neoptolemus murmured, his voice smooth against the backdrop of screams. He reached out, tilting Aethon’s chin up, not with cruelty, but with the casual entitlement of a conqueror. “That’s unexpected.…