I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

"Finally, you've arrived, Heiron! I was beginning to think you'd escape our company again!" Aeneas's voice rang out, loud and jovial, as he spotted Nathan entering the grand hall. His laughter echoed off the high stone walls, carrying a warmth that softened the hardened edges of the warrior's features.

Nathan offered a faint smile and nodded as Hector, standing nearby, joined in the welcome with a gentle nod and a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. "Oh, Heiron, you made it after all."

The Trojans gathered around were still engrossed in their feasting, laughter and chatter weaving through the air like a vibrant tapestry. Many of the soldiers paused briefly, nodding respectfully at Nathan, acknowledging his presence. The esteem in their eyes was unmistakable. He had become someone worthy of respect, a hero among them—especially after the story of how he had slain Teucer, brother to Ajax, had spread like wildfire through the ranks. They had either witnessed the momentous duel themselves or heard of it from those who had.

As Nathan took a seat among them, his gaze swept over the feasting Trojans. Amidst the plates of roasted meats, pitchers of wine, and golden torches casting flickering light across the stone walls, he couldn't help but question the indulgence. "Is it really wise to hold feast after feast, considering we're still surrounded by the Greeks?"

Hector's laughter burst forth, hearty and untroubled. "Ah, perhaps not! But Troy is a prosperous city, blessed with wealth and resources. We've prepared well for this siege. Besides," he added, his tone softening as he looked around at his men, "feasts like these are needed to keep the spirits of our soldiers high. A long war can grind down even the stoutest of hearts."

"Then let's not let it drag on," Nathan replied, his voice steady, a flash of coldness glinting in his eyes. "Let's end this war before the next year dawns."

Both Hector and Aeneas exchanged a startled glance. There was a firmness, almost an audacious confidence, in Nathan's words. Yet, somehow, that confidence felt contagious, stirring something hopeful in those listening.

"That would be a wish come true for all of us," Aeneas said, chuckling, though a shadow passed over his face. "But… I doubt it will happen."

Nathan's brow furrowed. The certainty in Aeneas's words piqued his curiosity. "Why so certain?" he asked, studying Aeneas's expression closely.

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Aeneas cast a glance toward Hector, seeking silent permission to speak. Hector's thoughtful gaze lingered on Nathan for a moment, before he gave a slight nod. "You may tell him. Heiron has more than earned our trust."

Nathan inclined his head, appreciating the confidence they placed in him. Aeneas exhaled deeply, his voice dropping to a somber tone. "It's about Kassandra."

"Kassandra… Hector's sister?" Nathan's attention sharpened. He had heard stories of her.

"Yes." Aeneas nodded gravely. "A year ago, Kassandra received a vision. She saw our future—or perhaps, the future of Troy itself. She saw a war that would rage for a decade, a conflict that would culminate in the ruin of our city."

Nathan fell silent settling over his thoughts. Kassandra. The girl blessed and cursed by Apollo. Her gift of prophecy was infallible, yet her curse rendered her visions as words no one would believe. She had once defied the god himself, spurning Apollo's advances, and, in return, she bore a burden that had made her life a lonely, tortured existence. Her prophecies were always accurate… and always ignored.

As he absorbed this, his gaze drifted across the hall, where he caught sight of Kassandra. She was seated apart from the others, cloaked in a sense of solitude despite the revelry around her. Dressed in a rich, deep-red gown befitting a princess, she looked almost otherworldly, her bright red hair cascading over her shoulders, her expression distant, lost in thoughts others could not fathom.

Kassandra sat alone at the far end of the hall, her gaze distant and her posture solitary, an island of quiet amidst the lively revelry. She remained apart not just by choice, but by the distance others kept from her. Her visions—each foretelling some grim fate—were an unwelcome reminder of the dangers looming over Troy, and no one wished to hear her speak of those dark glimpses into the future. She knew too well how her prophecies unsettled them, how even her own family found reasons to disbelieve her. The weight of knowledge she could not share seemed to settle upon her shoulders, lending her an aura of weary resignation.

"She's always saying things that bring us down, so it's best we keep this information to ourselves," Hector muttered quietly, eyes shifting uncomfortably toward his sister. "Who cares about visions, really? It's us, our swords, and our strength that will decide the outcome, not some vision of doom."

But Nathan didn't answer. His silence spoke of thoughts he didn't wish to share—not here, not among those whose pride and valor depended on believing in Troy's invincibility. He, of all people, knew the power of Kassandra's visions. In the tales he remembered, the fall of Troy was a tragic certainty. Despite the courage and strength of its defenders, the city was doomed to fall. How could he ignore that?

Hector, sensing the tension, laughed it off. "Don't worry, Heiron. It's not going to happen. I mean, ten years? Can you imagine? No siege could last that long." He forced a smile, brushing aside any lingering doubts. But there was a flicker in Hector's eyes—a glimmer of uncertainty, one Nathan could almost reach out and touch. And in Aeneas, Nathan saw something different altogether. Aeneas's face, while calm, betrayed a faint shadow of doubt, as though he harbored some quiet belief in Kassandra's vision. Was it because of his divine lineage, his mother being Aphrodite, the goddess who could see beyond the mortal realm? Nathan had to wonder if that divine influence left Aeneas with a keener instinct for what lay ahead.

"Ten years…" Nathan muttered to himself, the sheer length of it weighing on his mind. Could he possibly endure a decade of endless bloodshed, of sieges and clashes? No. He wouldn't allow himself to remain chained to this war for so long. He would end it, one way or another, and far sooner than they expected. In his mind, a single path blazed ahead: they would have to target the Greek leaders. It was the only way to bring a swift end to the conflict. Though the task was formidable, a plan already began forming within him.

As much as he had grown to respect the people of Troy, his heart wasn't bound to this city. Life here was surprisingly kind; the people treated him with warmth and respect, a stark contrast to how he had been received in the Empire of Light. He had found camaraderie, even friendship, among warriors like Hector and Aeneas. Yet, for all its newfound warmth, Troy was not his home. He had his own goals, ambitions that stretched beyond the walls of this embattled city.

"I should speak with Astynome," Nathan thought, glancing once more at Kassandra. Astynome, the daughter of Apollo, shared the god's gifts of foresight and divination. Perhaps she could offer some insight into Kassandra's prophecies, help him understand whether destiny could be bent or broken. The thought of a future carved in stone unsettled him. If the fall of Troy was inevitable, then he would find a way to rewrite it.

"Well, look who decided to show up after all," a familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. Nathan turned to see Atalanta approaching, her features bright with a rare smile.

"Yeah," he replied, a half-smile playing on his lips. Over the past two months, he had come to know Atalanta far better than he ever would have expected. Their initial encounter—when he had made off with the Golden Fleece right under her nose—had not exactly paved the way for friendship. Yet, somehow, through shared battles and fleeting moments of understanding, their relationship had taken a surprising turn. She was quick-witted and fierce, a skilled hunter with a sharp eye for both enemies and allies. In her, he saw a kindred spirit.

He wondered, though, what her reaction would be if she ever learned the truth about him—if she realized he was not the Heiron she believed him to be, but the Lord Commander of Tenebria, the man who had stolen the Golden Fleece they had been looking for months.

Nathan watched the lively hall, feeling a mix of camaraderie and caution among the Trojans. While he was far from his own homeland, the trust and bonds he had built here over the past months grounded him. These were people he respected—especially Hector, Aeneas, and even Atalanta. Though initially wary of her, he had come to see that Atalanta was a strong-hearted woman, driven by a sense of duty and perhaps a bit of pride in earning Artemis's favor. That dedication, however fierce, was something he could understand.

"He's just shy," Aeneas teased, shifting the subject smoothly. They were all aware that rumors of Kassandra's bleak vision could cause an uproar if spread among the people. Nathan realized the wisdom in keeping such news quiet; it would only stoke fear and uncertainty among the Trojans, whose morale was already stretched by the ongoing siege. Nathan was still surprised, though, that they had confided this in him. It was a proof to the depth of their trust, a rare and fragile bond he hadn't expected to form in enemy territory.

He supposed it made sense, given what they'd been through together. Countless battles, ambushes, nights of blood and sweat—they had come to rely on one another in a way that words couldn't quite capture. He trusted them, too, at least as far as one could in wartime. Even Atalanta, with her fierce loyalty and quiet reservations, had proved herself time and again to be a steadfast ally.

As his thoughts wandered, Nathan's gaze landed on Charybdis across the room. She was surrounded by several Trojan men, their laughter and attempts at flirtation filling the air around her. Charybdis, however, seemed uncomfortable, her posture stiff and her smile strained. Nathan could sense her unease—she looked as though she would rather be anywhere else but here, enduring their advances only out of a sense of duty, perhaps because she didn't want to let him down by leaving.

With a quiet sigh, Nathan excused himself from Aeneas and Hector, weaving his way through the crowd toward her. When he reached her side, he didn't bother with formalities, recognizing her discomfort instantly. "Let's talk."