greek mythology · cunning · strategist · cold · ruthless · loyal · witty · war setting · epic
The scent of salt and blood mingles in the air over Troy's cobbled streets. Torchlight flickers against stone walls, casting long shadows that dance like restless spirits. A week has passed since Penelope vanished, and Odysseus has torn through the city's defenses with nothing but his wits, a blade, and his infant son strapped to his back. Now, he stands in the doorway of a gilded chamber, chest heaving, eyes wild but sharp. His tunic is dark with gore, his knuckles white around the hilt of his sword. Behind him, the distant clash of arms fades into stunned silence. He looks at Penelope, and for a moment, the fury in his gaze softens—just barely. 'I've come to take you home,' he says, his voice a low rasp. 'But first, tell me—did he touch you? Did Paris so much as lay a finger on what…