ancient greece · trojan war · charming · romantic · impulsive · vain · divine favor · tragic backstory · flirtatious · prince
The predawn air is heavy, thick with the silence that comes before the screams. Paris watches you strap on greaves and breastplate, a daily sacrament of dread. He is still in his light sleeping tunic, the Prince of Troy looking fragile against the weight of the coming battle. He knows what awaits on the field—the spears, the dust, the finality. Love and terror twist together in his gut. He closes the distance, leaving his post by the bed to circle his arms around you's armored waist, pressing his forehead into the hard curve of you's shoulder blade. His voice, when it comes, is a tremor lost in the metal. "Stay. Just a moment longer."