𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐑 ᵉᵖⁱᶜ ᵐᵘˢⁱᶜᵃˡ

˚＊✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ・⚔️・✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ＊˚

Chapter 5. NOBODY'S GOODBYE

❝The forest has no rules; only those who adapt may claim its spoils.❞

˚＊✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ・⚔️・✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ＊˚

That night, the campfire crackled as the men gathered around, their voices carrying over the soft hum of the forest. The dancing flames casted flickering shadows on their faces as they spoke of glory and ambition.

"When I win Athena's favor," one man declared, his chest puffed with bravado, "I'll become the greatest warrior in Athens. The Gods themselves will know my name."

"Athena's warriors live lives of honor," another added reverently. "To serve her is to serve wisdom and strength. There's no greater purpose."

"I mean imagine it! Athena herself, choosing you to join her warriors in Athens. Training under her guidance...becoming a legend in the making."

Odysseus leaned back with a sharp grin. "Some of us don't need to imagine. I've already got one foot in her good graces."

The group erupted into a mix of laughter and groans, but your thoughts were elsewhere. The mention of Athena's warriors had struck a chord.

You'd assumed the reward was wealth or a title—something tangible you could use to free Penelope from her father's grip.

But this?

Leaving for Athens, becoming a servant of the Goddess...It complicated everything. The very idea of exchanging one form of servitude for another left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Odysseus suddenly turns his focus to you, his expression thoughtful. "What about you Nobody? What would you do if you won?"

You hesitated, the question catching you off guard. Deciding on a simple shrug you force a smile. "I haven't thought that far ahead."

His eyes narrowed slightly as if sensing your unease, but he didn't press the issue.

Instead, he turned his attention back to the fire, his usual grin returning. "Well whatever happens, it'll be one hell of a story."

*･:*:★☽✧⚔️✧☾★:*:･*

It didn't take long for the camp to settle down. At this point the fire burned low, embers glowing like tiny stars against the dark of the pit.

Odysseus was sprawled near you, his breathing slow and steady in sleep as the surrounding men's snores filled the air, mingling with the distant sounds of the forest.

Unable to sleep you lay on your back and star up at the canopy of stars. Restlessness and doubt gnawed at you, so much you grabbed your hunting spear and slipped into the forest.

The moon hung high as you wandered through the foliage. The stillness of the night was a sharp contrast to the chaos in your mind.

Each step was deliberate, the soft crunch of leaves beneath your sandals grounding you as you retraced your steps to the traps you had set earlier.

You hoped the routine would calm your racing thoughts.

Promise of freedom from Sparta's chains now seemed like a double-edged sword; its consequences cutting deeper the more you considered them.

The idea itself and possibility started to unravel the certainty you had when you first boarded the shi—

A sharp squeal pierced the night air.

Your heart leapt as you sprinted toward the sound, low branches snagging at your clothes as you pass. Breaking through the underbrush you stumbled into a clearing—and there it was.

The Erymanthian boar.

It stood in the clearing; a hulking mass of muscle and ferocity, its dark bristling fur glinting in the moonlight. It was enormous—easily three times the size of a normal boar—with tusks that curved like ivory scythes.

With red eyes that burned with a wild almost divine rage, it thrashed and squealed against the bindings of your trap. The ropes you had carefully woven held fast, now digging into the creature's thick neck and powerful legs.

Every movement sent tremors through the earth, the stakes creaking as they fought to remain anchored in the ground. The sheer presence was overwhelming—an undeniable reminder that it wasn't a mere animal but a creation of Athena herself.

Your breath hitched as you stood there spear in hand. The boar's squeals cut through the night air, a mix of rage and pain that made your pulse quicken.

This was it.

You took a tentative step closer, your legs trembling despite your resolve. Time seemed to slow, the edges of the clearing fading into darkness as your focus sharpened on the beast before you.

This was your chance.

Your fingers tightened around the spear, your knuckles whitening. You could almost see it: the world opening up to you.

The riches...the glory...the chance to leave Sparta—to leave behind the life that held you in its suffocating grip. A life beyond these chains, beyond the nightmares of your past.

With this kill it could all be yours. You could be free.

But as you raised the spear a cold thought washed over you.

If you killed the boar what would it mean for Penelope? Would Athena's favor extend to her as well or would she be left behind still trapped under her father's rule?

Could you abandon her?

Yes, killing the boar might secure your future—but at what cost? Could you truly leave Penelope behind, force her into a life she'd never chosen?

Just the thought alone made your stomach churn.

Your chest tightened, your vision blurring slightly as a lump formed in your throat. The spear in your hands felt heavier now, almost too heavy to lift.

The boar thrashed again, and the trap groaned under the strain, the ropes digging into its flesh as it tried to break free.

Your dream of freedom had always included Penelope—her laughter, her quiet strength, her presence beside you as you left this life behind together.

But now, standing here with your chance so close, you realized something terrible: If you took this kill you couldn't take her with you.

Suddenly—as if sensing your inner turmoil—the boar stilled, it's crimson gaze locked onto yours.

Your grip loosened.

You stepped back.

"Go," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Get out of here."

With one final thunderous lurch the boar broke free. Its massive form barreled through the clearing, disappearing into the dense forest with a cacophony of snapping branches and heavy footfalls.

You could only stand there frozen, the spear in your hand now useless. The clearing was eerily silent—save for the distant rustling of the boar retreating into the night.

Your chest heaved as the reality of your decision sank in. The chance was gone, slipping away like smoke through your fingers.

And yet, deep in your heart, you felt a strange bittersweet relief.

*･:*:★☽✧⚔️✧☾★:*:･*

When you returned to the campsite the fire had died down to ashes.

Odysseus lay sprawled near the edge, his curls messy and his mouth slightly open as he snored softly.

As you began packing your few belongings, he shifted slightly, mumbling something unintelligible before falling silent again.

You paused, your gaze lingering on his sleeping form. And to your surprise you felt a pang of sadness. For all his arrogance and mischief you had grown fond of the Ithacan prince.

Knowing this would be the last time your paths would cross made your heart heavy.

Your gaze dropped to your bracelet as the sudden feeling of leaving something of yourself behind appeared.

For a moment you hesitated, running your fingers over the familiar leather worn smooth from years of wear.

It was the first gift Penelope had given you, a symbol of the bond that had carried you through so much.

With a soft huff through your nose, you slip the bracelet off and place it gently beside his head, the leather glinting faintly in the moonlight.

Leaning closer, you allowed a faint smile to touch your lips. "My name's ____ by the way," you whispered softly.

Staying long enough to commit the sight of him to memory, you finally stand and turn toward the shoreline.

You cast one last glance at the camp; at the men who wouldn't miss you, at the boy who might, and then you disappear into the shadows.

The path back was quiet, the rugged terrain of Mount Erymanthos illuminated by the faint light of the waning moon.

As you approached the waiting ships—meant for those who quit and were ready to leave—you felt the weight of your decision settle over you.

You didn't look back.

═════════════════˚･:*:★☽✧⚔️✧☾★:*:･˚══════════════════

The journey back to Sparta was uneventful; the monotony of travel giving you too much time to think.

By the time the palace walls came into view, a dull ache had settled in your chest, a mixture of relief and apprehension.

The campaign had returned just ahead of you—a stroke of luck really, as it gave you the perfect cover for your sudden reappearance.

You stayed near the rear, letting the soldiers boisterous energy carry you forward, their laughter and camaraderie filling the air as they dispersed into the courtyard.

Every sound—the clank of armor, the murmur of servants rushing to and fro—felt sharper now after your time away.

As the crowd thinned from soldiers unloading supplies and goods, a flash of movement caught your eye.

"____!"

You barely had time to react before Penelope rushed toward you, her face lighting up with a smile so radiant it momentarily eased the knot in your chest.

Her long black hair flowed behind her, the sunlight seeming to dance across the delicate embroidery of her peach colored dress.

She stopped just short of throwing her arms around you, her noble demeanor reining in her excitement. But her eyes sparkled as she clasped your hands tightly. "You're back! How was the campaign? Are you hurt? Was it exciting?"

Her voice was a mix of relief and curiosity and you felt a pang of guilt at how easily you could lie to her.

"I'm fine Penelope," you said with a smile. "And the campaign? Well..." You paused, searching for the right words. "It was...eventful."

Penelope's gaze swept over you, her sharp eyes catching every detail

You could practically see her mind working, cataloging everything about your appearance. And then her brow furrowed.

"Wait." She tilted her head slightly, her tone shifting from excitement to confusion. "Where's your bracelet?"

Instinctively, you glanced down at your wrist, the absence of the leather braid feeling far more significant now than it had when you'd left it behind.

Penelope raised her own wrist, the matching bracelet glinting softly against her skin. "It's gone?" her tone was both concerned and dismayed. "What happened?"

You forced a chuckle, waving off her worry with what you hoped was convincing nonchalance. "Oh that? It broke."

Penelope's frown deepened. "Broke? How?"

You quickly cobbled together a plausible story with enough animation to mask your discomfort.

"There was this drunk soldier on the ship," you began, gesturing dramatically. "He tripped over his own feet and grabbed me to stop from falling overboard. Took the bracelet with him when he went down."

Penelope eyes widened. "Did he—did he survive?"

You nodded quickly. "Oh yes! Pulled him right back up. But the bracelet...well..." You shrugged. "It didn't make it."

Her shoulders relaxed and she let out a small sigh of relief. "Thank the Gods you weren't hurt. But—oh! ____...that bracelet was the first thing I ever made for you."

A pang of guilt twisted in your chest, but you masked it with a sheepish smile. "I know Penelope. I'm sorry. It just couldn't be helped."

Before she could press further, a nearby soldier, overhearing your conversation, chimed in with a confused expression.

"Wait a second," he said, scratching his head. "You were with the campaign?"

Your heart stopped.

The soldier furrowed his brow, his gaze darting between you and Penelope. "I don't remember se—"

"Anyway!" you interrupted loudly, grabbing Penelope's arm and steering her away from the soldier before he could say more. "You'll never guess who I met during the campaign!"

Penelope blinked, her confusion quickly replaced by curiosity. "Who?"

You grinned, leaning closer as if sharing a juicy secret. "Iphicles," you said, drawing out the name for effect.

Penelope gasped. "The brother of Hercules? Truly?" Her eyes lit up again at the new-found gossip.

You eagerly nod. "He was part of the group for a while. Didn't stay long though. Bowed out early, said it wasn't worth his time."

Penelope's laugh was light and musical. "That sounds about right. What was he like?"

"Oh you know," you said with a chuckle. "Tall, broad-shouldered, more muscles than common sense. He tried to trap a boar and ended up falling into his own pit. I'll tell you more later."

By the time you reached the quieter halls of the palace Penelope was fully engrossed in your story. She hung on every word, her earlier concerns about your bracelet forgotten.

Her laughter echoed off the stone walls as you recounted a particularly ridiculous anecdote involving Iphicles's failed attempt to climb a tree to escape a wild goat.

But as the tale wound down a familiar pang of guilt crept in.

The truth of your journey—the boar, the decision to leave it alive, the bracelet left behind with Odysseus—weighed heavily on your mind.

Penelope's matching bracelet flashed against her wrist as she brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, a bittersweet reminder of what you'd left behind.

"You've been so quiet," she said suddenly, concern lacing her voice. "Are you sure everything is alright?"

"I'm fine," you quickly force a smile. "Just tired from the trip. But enough about me—how have things been here?"

Penelope's face lit up as she launched into a detailed account of palace life in your absence. Grateful for the distraction you listened intently.

Though a part of you remained distant—lost in the memory of the bracelet resting beside Odysseus as you walked away from Mount Erymanthos. 

And so as Penelope spoke, you resolved to keep your secret buried. Athena's test, the boar, and the quiet promise left unspoken—they would remain your own.

Your time on the island was a chapter you would carry alone; a memory to be tucked away and revisited in the quiet moments of reflection.

For now your place was here beside her, in the familiar halls of Sparta, where duty and loyalty called you home.