235
Talking it out with Atalanta
Nathan offered a faint smile in return, though his thoughts were elsewhere. The hall buzzed with laughter and song, but he couldn't shake the sensation of being watched.
A particular gaze burned into him.
He resisted the urge to turn his head, knowing all too well whose eyes followed him.
Kassandra of Troy.
The princess sat at the far end of the room, her posture regal yet detached from the revelry around her.
From the mont he returned, her eyes were on him. The intensity of her gaze was unsettling, but Nathan couldn't decipher her intent. He had never spoken to her before, not once since his arrival at Troy. Her sudden interest puzzled him, especially because it seed tied to his recent victory.
It was Ajax—Ajax the Great, a titan among warriors, now slain by Nathan's hand. Yet her expression wasn't one of admiration or disdain; it was sothing far more complex. Shock, perhaps? As if she couldn't reconcile the image of him with the act of killing such a legendary figure.
Ultimately, Nathan decided to push the matter aside. There were more pressing concerns than the silent scrutiny of a stranger.
The grand hall of Troy was alive with the warmth of camaraderie. Golden torchlight flickered against the polished stone walls, casting shadows that danced with the movents of the assembled warriors. Nathan sat at a long wooden table among esteed company: Hector, Aeneas, and Sarpedon, whose hearty laughter filled the air like a lody of goodwill.
"I'll say it again," Sarpedon declared, his grin wide as he raised his bronze cup. "I'm glad you're on our side, Heiron."
Nathan smiled faintly lifting his own cup in acknowledgnt.
"To Heiron!" Aeneas called, his voice brimming with mirth. He raised his cup higher, and the others joined in the toast. Even Hector, reserved as ever, allowed a small smile to grace his face as he clinked his cup with the rest.
The atmosphere was infectious. Nathan couldn't help but feel a quiet satisfaction. From the mont he had stepped into Troy, they had treated him with respect, despite his status as a rcenary. Now, with his victories in battle, they regarded him as one of their own. For once, he felt valued. He contrasted this with his bitter mories of the Empire of Light, where he had been branded a threat without trial, hunted and nearly killed. Here in Troy, there was no such scorn. Instead, there was gratitude, admiration, and camaraderie.
For the first ti in what felt like an eternity, Nathan allowed himself to think: Perhaps this journey to Troy was not a waste. Putting aside the matter of life and death for why he had co to Troy, he would have regretted not having co here for certain.
For now, he would protect the city. He would fight for its people, and he would wait for Apollo's promised return. Until then, his path seed clearer than it had been in years.
"I offer my congratulations," a soft voice interrupted his thoughts. Nathan turned to see her: Astyno, the priestess of Apollo. She stood with a grace that seed otherworldly, her flowing robes of white and gold catching the flickering light. Her hair frad a face marked by quiet beauty. But it was her eyes that caught his attention most—warm and full of genuine pride.
"Your victory against Ajax the Great and Jason of the Argonauts is nothing short of extraordinary," she said, her voice carrying both reverence and joy.
Nathan offered a modest smile. "Thank you, Priestess."
Astyno's expression softened, her smile lingering as if she wanted to say more. Though their exchanges had been brief in the past, sothing in her deanor tonight felt different. And indeed, over the coming weeks, their relationship deepened in ways neither had anticipated.
Under the cover of night, their connection grew into sothing more intimate. Astyno began to visit Nathan's quarters in secret, slipping past watchful eyes to steal monts of passion. By moonlight, their barriers fell away, revealing truths neither had dared voice in the daylight.
They chose to keep secret for now their relation. However, their attempts at discretion weren't entirely successful. The walls of Troy were old, and whispers carried easily through the stone corridors. On certain nights, muffled sounds f which were clearly moans of pleasure from Nathan's chambers reached curious ears. Fortunately, the Trojans had already co to associate such noises with Charybdis, Heiron's companion.
They had no doubts about Charybdis being Heiron's woman anyway.
"Where is Charys?" Astyno asked, her gaze sweeping across the room as if expecting Charybdis to materialize from the shadows.
Astyno had grown surprisingly close to Charybdis. Sharing Nathan's affections had forged an unusual bond between the two won—one built on intimacy and mutual understanding. In truth, Charybdis might have been Astyno's first true friend, a rarity for soone with the priestess's station. Their connection had deepened over shared monts, so of which were private escapades that Nathan knew all too well.
"She's resting," Nathan replied, his voice even but carrying a tinge of exhaustion.
Astyno's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Then you should rest as well," she said, her tone laced with gentle insistence.
Tonight had been intended for another passionate rendezvous, one that would leave the walls of Nathan's chamber trembling with their fervor. But Astyno, ever perceptive, didn't wish to burden him. Nathan had fought a grueling battle, and she wanted him to have the rest he deserved.
Nathan nodded, a small sigh escaping him. As much as he loved Astyno's presence in his bed and the solace her warmth provided, he also needed solitude—monts to clear his mind and process the weight of his actions.
Astyno returned the nod, her understanding evident. She left his side gracefully, weaving through the warriors gathered in the hall. As the priestess of Apollo, the god who shielded Troy, her presence carried an aura of divine reassurance. She moved among the soldiers with purpose, offering words of encouragent that lifted their spirits like a fla dispelling the shadows of despair. The Trojans revered her, not just for her beauty but for her unwavering dedication. Her rounds throughout the city, speaking with citizens and soldiers alike, bolstered morale and instilled hope, even in the darkest of tis.
Nathan watched her go, his gaze lingering montarily before turning away.
"How are you, Heiron?" Hector's familiar voice broke through his thoughts, accompanied by a firm pat on his shoulder.
Nathan glanced at Troy's greatest warrior, his expression betraying his fatigue. "Tired," he admitted, his honesty unvarnished.
Hector gave a slow, understanding nod. The battle against Ajax had left its mark on Nathan, draining him both physically and ntally. Hector, ever perceptive, could see it clearly.
"For the next week, you should take it easy," Hector said firmly. "I'll handle things. Stay behind
rather than fighting on the front lines. You've done enough for now."
Nathan nodded. "I'll appreciate that."
He knew Hector was right. Though he hated to take a step back, Nathan was all too aware of his limits. The fight with Ajax had pushed his body to its edge, and he couldn't afford to strain himself further—not when he had to endure until Apollo's return.
Hector clapped him on the back once more, his gesture full of camaraderie. Though their paths had crossed under unusual circumstances, the two n had co to respect each other. Hector saw in Nathan a dependable ally, and Nathan appreciated the Trojan prince's integrity and pragmatism.
As the lively conversation among the warriors continued, Nathan's attention drifted. His gaze settled on Atalanta, standing alone in a quiet corner of the hall. Her posture was stiff, her expression distant, and her arms were crossed in a manner that suggested she was lost in thought.
Nathan understood what likely troubled her. She had pieced together the truth about his identity—of that, he was certain. The realization didn't surprise him.
Before, he might have brushed off such matters without a second thought. But things had changed. Nathan had co to appreciate Atalanta's character. She was nothing like those who had betrayed or scorned him in the past or just rotten won like Nancy. Atalanta was genuine, brave, and steadfast, qualities that had earned his respect. He didn't want this newfound camaraderie to sour due to misunderstanding or mistrust.
Resolving to address the matter, Nathan rose from his seat and crossed the room. His movents drew a few curious glances, but he paid them no mind.
"Atalanta," he called as he approached.
Her head turned, and her erald eyes t his. "Oh... Heiron," she replied, her voice tinged with awkwardness. Her lips ford a faint smile, but it was clear she was uneasy.
Nathan wasted no ti. "I think you know who I am by now," he said evenly, his tone neither accusatory nor defensive.
Atalanta hesitated, her silence confirming his suspicion. She looked away briefly, as if weighing her next words, but chose to say nothing.
"I have my reasons for taking part in this war," Nathan continued, his voice steady yet firm. "And for siding with Troy. But I ask that my identity remain a secret. I'd rather Tenebria not be involved in this conflict."
His words were more than a simple request. Revealing his position as Lord Commander of Tenebria could complicate matters dangerously. It would draw the ire of even more Greek gods and possibly unify the Greeks against Tenebria who was already in a dangerous spot because of the Demon King.
Atalanta regarded him with a thoughtful expression. She could see the burden Nathan carried, balancing his responsibilities as a leader with the personal connections he had ford here. Yet, she had no intention of betraying his trust.
"I won't say anything," she assured him, her voice steady and sincere.
Nathan nodded, relieved. "Thanks." He turned as if to leave but paused. Sothing weighed on his chest, sothing that needed to be said.
"I've never manipulated you," he said. "What I shared with you was mostly the truth—everything except my role as a rcenary. There were no lies in our exchanges, and I wasn't pretending. You don't need to feel awkward around ."
Atalanta's eyes widened slightly, and for a mont, she seed surprised. But then her expression softened, and a genuine smile graced her lips. It was as though a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders, the tension in her stance lting away.
"I believe you," she said warmly. "And it's the sa for . I've always been honest with you...Heiron. I'm happy to be one of your companions."
"Likewise," Nathan replied with a rare, heartfelt smile.
With that simple exchange, the misunderstandings and unspoken doubts were swept away, leaving only the mutual respect and trust they had cultivated.
Reviews
All reviews (0)