𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐑 ᵉᵖⁱᶜ ᵐᵘˢⁱᶜᵃˡ

˚＊✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ・⚔️・✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ＊˚

Chapter 16. ARROWS OF THE DIVINE

❝A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself❞
˚＊✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ・⚔️・✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ＊˚

War on Troy: Year 6

The heat of the midday sun bore down on the Greek camp with intensity. Barely a year had passed since the sacrifice made to Poseidon, a fleeting moment of divine favor amidst the Gods’ capricious whims.

Apollo’s wrath remained a lingering curse that plagued the Achaean forces.

Those not blessed by the Sea God suffered sickness, their bodies weakened, leaving only the strongest among them to continue to fight in raids and battles.

Achilles and Patroclus had departed days earlier on another raid with Briseis in tow as a ward in battle. It had been Achilles’ idea to expose her to the realities of war, to train her in leadership and combat.

The young girl—now fifteen years old—was no longer the frightened captive you had first encountered. She had grown confident under your influence and the fierce guardianship of her pseudo-parents.

Soldiers quickly learned to either respect her or face the consequences—whether it be from Achilles’ wrath, Patroclus’ quiet but firm disapproval, or your sharp blade.

From the updates Briseis managed to send back it seemed she had adapted quickly. She had even adopted some of your own mannerisms, particularly in her refusal to allow unnecessary harm to prisoners.

The girl’s growth was a source of pride for you even as the war’s cruelty weighed on her youthful shoulders.

Still, her rise (much like your own) only deepened the growing resentment festering among the Greek leaders. Agamemnon, in particular, seemed to bristle at the power Achilles held—both on the battlefield and in his unwavering support of women like you.

You were grateful for the distance that had formed between you and the High King. Since his illness and Achilles confrontation, his interactions with you were limited to formal meetings and shared battlefields.

Unfortunately that same distance meant fewer opportunities to see Chryseis. Briseis, however, ensured you were kept up to date, her letters filled with tidbits of the girl’s growing confidence.

She had even begun teaching Chryseis a few dagger tricks—skills that Briseis had learned from you long ago. The thought brought a faint smile to your lips.

The rumble of hooves and the clatter of armor pulled you from your musings.

You adjusted the straps of your chest plate, the familiar weight grounding as you joined Diomedes and his Argive troops at the edge of the camp.

Word had spread of Hector’s recent victories—his stalemate in the duel with Ajax cementing his reputation as Troy’s mightiest warrior.

With morale among the Greek forces wavering with each passing day ,you knew something had to be done to break the Trojans’ growing confidence. This was why you found yourself here, preparing for the renewed campaign along the Scamander River.

The thought of leaving Penelope behind weighed heavily on you, but you trusted her to manage the camp alongside Eurylochus and Polites.

Still, the unease lingered.

Diomedes gaze swept over his men before briefly pausing on you. “Stay close,” his tone was a mixture of authority and camaraderie. “The Trojans are cunning and Hector will not make this easy.”

You nod, falling into step beside him as the army moved forward. The journey to the battlefield was uneventful, the tension palpable as the troops marched in solemn silence.

When the river came into view, the faint shimmer of sunlight on water was overshadowed by the glint of Trojan spears on the opposite bank.

The battle had began with a deafening clash of metal and the roar of war cries.

Air thick with the smell of sweat and blood, the ground beneath your feet quickly turned to mud as bodies fell. You fought with precision, every movement calculated as you weaved through the bodies.

Diomedes was never far, the two of you moving in sync as if bound by an unspoken understanding.

“On your right!” he called through the din. Spinning, your blade slicing clean through a Trojan soldier's exposed side causing the man to crumple with a guttural cry.

There was no time to savor the victory.

Another soldier rushed at Diomedes  and you stepped in tandem—your blade blocking the strike before Diomedes' spear drove the enemy back.

The battle raged on, each second blending into the next in a blur of steel and shouts.

You and Diomedes remained a constant, your backs to one another as you faced wave after wave of Trojan forces.

At one point a spear came hurtling toward you from the left. Though you saw it too late to dodge Diomedes was quicker. His shield caught the weapon mid-flight, the impact reverberating through the air.

“Careful,” he said, his tone gruff but not unkind. “I’d hate to explain to Penelope why her Second-in-Command came back in pieces.”

You huffed out a laugh, the adrenaline coursing through your veins dulling the ache in your muscles. “She’d probably blame you anyway.”

Diomedes smirked, but the moment was fleeting as another wave of Trojans closed in.

The battlefield stretched out in every direction as your muscles burned with exertion, the familiar weight of your sword growing heavier with each swing. It was second nature by now—a brutal line where hesitation meant death.

Yet, amidst the chaos, something caught your eye: a glint of silver streaking through the air with precision too perfect to be random.

An arrow—its craftsmanship exquisite and unmistakable. The arrow wasn't ordinary. In fact it appeared deadly.

And it was soaring right towards Diomedes.

“Diomedes!”

The raw panic in your pulls his attention to you.

Time seemed to slow.

You lung toward him without thinking, your hand catching his arm in a firm grip. Twirling in a fluid motion that resembled a macabre dance, you pulled him aside, half-dipping him as you leaned into the support of your legs.

It was almost graceful—your body shielding his as the arrow found its mark.

Pain exploded through your chest. The projectile pierced clean through, the force of it knocking the breath from your lungs.

A vulture-like cry echoed from above as if the Gods themselves had borne witness to your sacrifice.

Diomedes, still caught in the momentum of your actions, looked up at you, his expression a mix of confusion and dawning horror. Blood trickled from the corner of your mouth, splattering onto his face as he stared in wide-eyed shock.

You managed a strained chuckle though it came out wet and broken. “You’re...heavier than you look,” you rasped.

The absurdity of the moment wasn’t lost on you—a towering man like Diomedes, nearly thrice your size cradled in your arms like a swooning maiden.

Another strangled laugh escaped you causing you to coughed again and splatter more blood on your armor.

“You—” Diomedes began, voice barely audible over the roar of the fight. His gaze dropped to the arrow embedded in your chest.

Realization hits him like a blow.

“Focus,” you hissed, pushing him away with surprising force for someone skewered by an arrow. Your legs wavered but you managed to steady yourself by gripping your sword tightly.

Believing to see an opening from your injury, a Trojan soldier rushes toward you. But before he could make another move you swing your sword in a clean arc and decapitate him.

Each movement sent fresh waves of pain through your body, but you refused to falter. The action snaps Diomedes out his stupor.

“....beautiful.”

The mutter word slips out unbiddenly, the King of Argos watching you in awe as your trembling body straightened with effort..

Your head turns to glance at him, a flicker of dry humor flashing through the pain. “Don’t make it weird.”

Mocking laughter interrupts before he could respond. “Well well,” a voice crooned.

Pandarus.

The Trojan archer stood atop the hill with his bow in hand. “Not my intended target but I suppose it works just as well. The Greeks are far easier prey than I thought. First Menelaus, now this? Not to mention the mess you’ve made! No matter—you won’t last long enough to see the sun set.”

The blood in your veins turned to ice as his words reached you. Your grip on your sword tightened as your vision blurred, the pain finally catching up to you.

Your knees buckled, and this time, you couldn’t catch yourself.

Diomedes was there in an instant, his arms encircling you as he lowered you gently to the ground. The gentle touch was at odds with the fury radiating from him. Jaw clenched, his eyes were hard as they locked onto Pandarus.

Without a word he cradled you against his chest to shielding your body from the mayhem around. His low voice shook with rage as it carried a prayer that seemed to reverberate through the very air.

“Hear me daughter of aegis-bearing Jove!” he bellows. “If ever you favored my father, stand with me now. Grant me the power to destroy the man who boasts of her fall. The strength to protect my own!”

As if in response the clouds above shifted.

A golden light pierced through the haze to illuminate the two of you. A hazy silhouette moved within the light—a massive owl with molten eyes, its wings spread wide as it appeared to descended toward you.

Athena’s presence washed over bringing a fleeting moment of clarity through the pain.

Diomedes; A cool and commanding voice echoed in your mind. I grant you the courage of Gods and the sight to pierce mortal veils. Fight as my chosen, but heed this—your hand shall not rise against any God save Aphrodite.

As the light receded Diomedes rose, his frame taut with strength and unshakable resolve. Eyes burning with newfound clarity he jumps into action without hesitation.

The nearest Trojan didn’t even have time to raise his weapon before Diomedes’ blade cut through him with lethal precision. Another soldier fell just as swiftly, and then another.

Each swing of his spear was guided by divine strength.

You saw him cut down another Trojan. He didn’t even glance back as he fought with absolute command.

Turning briefly, his sharp gaze locked onto a group of nearby soldiers. “Get her back to camp!” he ordered, his tone like the crack of a whip.

The soldiers snapped to attention as they rushed to obey. Two men lifted you while others formed a protective circle around them with raised shields and readied swords for any enemy who dared approach.

Even as your vision began to blur you caught glimpses of the fierce fighting around you—Greeks clashing with oncoming Trojans.

The last thing you saw before the world slipped into darkness was Diomedes himself as he strode deeper into the battlefield, his figure framed by the golden light of Athena’s blessing.

*･:*:★☽✧⚔️✧☾★:*:･*

You awoke to the muted hum of the infirmary camp. The pain in your chest was a dull throb now, a reminder of the arrow that had nearly ended you.

The tent was dimly lit, the faint flicker of a lantern casting long shadows on the canvas walls.

You seemed to be the only one in the tent, no other cots around nor injured soldiers.

The sound of footsteps drew your attention toward the entrance. It was Penelope.

She carefully approached your bedside as though afraid to disturb you, the tension in her shoulders betraying her worry.

When she sat down her hands trembled as she took yours into her own. you spoke.

“You...gave us all a fright,” she finally said after a moment of silence, her voice steady despite the thickness in her throat.

You managed a weak smile. “Didn’t mean to steal the spotlight.”

Though Penelope chuckled, the sound was strained. She squeezed your hand. “You’re lucky to be alive,” she said, her tone lighter than her expression. “Diomedes nearly tore the battlefield apart after sending you back.”

She recounted the events in careful detail of Diomedes’s rampage.

How he had slain Pandarus without mercy, his spear piercing the Trojan archer’s heart in a single strike. How he had wounded Aeneas forcing the intervention of Aphrodite herself. How in his fury, he had even driven his spear into the Goddess of Love's wrist—even Ares’ side, sending the God of War retreating to Olympus.

“And yet,” she adds as her thumb absentmindedly brushes over the back of your hand, “it was Athena and Hera who truly turned the tide. Their intervention reminded the Trojans that the Gods do not favor them entirely.”

You nodded faintly as the weight of her words sink in.

The war had escalated to heights you hadn’t anticipated. Even so through it all you found a strange sense of peace in Penelope’s presence.

“Try to be more careful next time?” Penelope's hand lingered on yours, her voice softening “You are more than just a warrior to us. To me. You know that...don’t you?”

You met her gaze. “I know,” you murmured.

She smiles.

“Rest now,” she says, her tone is warm as she stands. “You’ll need your strength. The war isn’t over yet.”

Light of the lantern flickers as she leaves casting dancing shadows along the tent walls. You stared at them, your mind drifting to the battlefield, to the Gods, to the faces of those you fought alongside

The war was far from over, but in that moment, you allowed yourself to breathe.