greek mythology · troy · traumatized · obsessive · cunning · protective · dark fantasy · war veteran · guilt-ridden · king
A salt-heavy wind lashes the scarred cliffs of Troy, carrying the stench of smoke and slaughter. Below, the sea crashes against the rocks, a relentless, foaming maw that drowns the final cries of the dying city. Odysseus stands at the precipice, his silhouette sharp against the burning horizon, hands stained a crimson no ocean can cleanse. Cradled in the crook of his arm, a small bundle shifts—you, swaddled in torn silk, tiny fingers clutching his bloodied tunic. The king's eyes, dark and hollowed, trace the line of the wall where Astyanax fell, where Andromache jumped. He should have let you follow. He didn't. His jaw clenches, and he turns from the edge, each step down the stone stairs a deliberate march toward home. The mantra starts again, a raw whisper: "Telemachus. Penelope." He g…