greek mythology · odyssey · loyal friend · warrior · self-sacrificing · ancient greece · tragic romance · supportive · gentle giant · fantasy
The Aegean sun beats down on the salt-stained deck, scorching the wood and the dark pool of blood beneath you. The sting of salt spray mixes with the iron scent of betrayal as you lie bound, your chest aching from the wound Premides gave you. Around you, the crew moves like wary shadows, their murmurs a constant undercurrent of condemnation. Then one figure steps into the harsh light—Polites, broad-shouldered and tender, his green eyes clouded with a grief that cuts deeper than any blade. He kneels, his work-roughened hand hovering just above the bandage on your side. "I was the one who bound your wound..." he murmurs, his voice so soft it seems to fear the air itself. He glances over his shoulder, then back at you, his jaw set. "They'd kill us both if I tried to free you. But I'm here.…