𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐑 ᵉᵖⁱᶜ ᵐᵘˢⁱᶜᵃˡ

˚＊✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ・⚔️・✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ＊˚

Chapter 32. VEILS OF DECEPTION

❝We are so accustomed to disguise ourselves to others, that in the end, we become disguised to ourselves.❞

˚＊✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ・⚔️・✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ＊˚

The road to Troy’s gates was worn smooth by years of war. But for the first time in a decade, you moved not as a warrior—but as prey.

You and Neoptolemus walked in measured steps.

Ahead of you Nestor hobbled, his once-proud frame curved in an stoop while ragged layers of his beggar’s disguise billowed slightly with each step. Dirt was smeared across his cheeks, his grayed beard unkempt and tangled as he carried himself with the weariness of a man who had lost everything.

His transformation was perfect.

Yours was nearly the same.

Dressed in simple yet modest clothing, your figure was hidden beneath the soft layers of your cloak. Your hair was braided and decorated with delicate flowers, your face lightly dusted with cosmetics to soften your features and emphasize the illusion of innocence.

A thin veil shielded your face, leaving only your lower lips and chin visible—just enough to imply beauty without fully revealing it.

Neoptolemus however...Neoptolemus was struggling.

The young warrior shifted uncomfortably as his outfit mirrored your disguise; his posture rigid beneath the flowing fabric. His broad shoulders, trained through years of combat, were tense. And every few steps he muttered a fresh curse under his breath.

Upon reaching the gates, Troy’s guards watched the three of you with narrowed eyes, their hands already gripping their weapons.

Nestor released a pitiful sigh as he launched into his tale—one he had rehearsed with perfect precision.

"I am but a broken man," he croaked, bowing his head slightly, his entire frame trembling. "I was once a Lord of Lyrnessus, but the Greeks have stolen all from me. My home, my lands, my sons...I barely managed to save my daughters before they could be taken as slaves."

He gestured toward you and Neoptolemus.

"I bring them here, hoping they might find mercy in the House of Troy." His fingers clutched at his tattered cloak, his body racked with a hollow shaking breath. "I ask for nothing for myself—only that my daughters find shelter within these great walls before my body wastes away in the dirt."

The guards exchanged skeptical glances, their grips on their weapons not yet loosening.

Beside you Neoptolemus shifted, his muscles tensing beneath his dress. You shot him a warning look. “For the love of the God, stop fidgeting.” you hissed under your breath.

He let out an exasperated sigh beneath his veil. “But it’s chafing.”

“Deal with it.”

“This is humiliating.”

You smirk. “Your father survived nearly five years doing this. Surely you can manage for a single night.”  you whispered back, your voice mockingly sweet.

Neoptolemus stiffened. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head, searching for a counterargument only to come up empty. He grumbled something unintelligible before falling silent.

You turned your focus back just in time to see Nestor finishing his plea before the Trojan guards.

“I ask only for their passage—let them serve the royal household. Let them live.”

One of the guards stared in scrutiny. The other, however, had already shifted his attention to you.

Nestor subtly nudged you forward.

That was your cue.

Lifting your veil with delicate slowness, you allowed the moonlight to touch your features, keeping your expression soft and eyes slightly lowered. A fleeting, hesitant glance at the guards before you looked back down—as if embarrassed by their attention.

It worked.

You saw the shift in their stances—the slight faltering, the widening of their eyes. One guard in particular inhaled sharply. His stance stiffened, his hand momentarily falling from where it rested on the hilt of his sword.

“Hello...p-pleasure to meet you.” You greet him in a gentle trembling voice, keeping your tone breathy as if speaking too boldly might startle yourself.

The guard was clearly taken aback. His jaw tensed, eyes lingering far longer than necessary before he quickly looked away as if ashamed of his own reaction. His composure cracked just enough.

Exactly what you needed.

Behind you Neoptolemus remained motionless; likely thanking every God on Olympus that the guards was so enraptured they didn’t even think to check him properly.

With a clearing of his throat the Trojan soldier signaled to the gatemen above. “Open the gate!.” The heavy groan of shifting wood filled the air as the massive doors began to part.

But as you stepped forward the guard shouts. “Wait!”

You stopped, pulse steady, expression unreadable. The guard licked his lips before finally speaking again—a touch softer, almost shy.

“When you are settled,” he said, “perhaps I could show you the city. Help you find your way?”

You tilted your head slightly, letting your gaze flicker back to him with just enough curiosity to keep him hopeful. A delicate smile touched your lips.

“Your name?”

He swallowed before answering. “Dardanian...my name is Dardanian.”

“Dardanian.” You repeated it back to him, voice sweet, almost musical, before reaching up and plucking a single flower from your hair.

With the lightest touch, you tucked it behind his ear, your palm cupping against his jaw for the briefest of moments. His face flushed, his breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a stutter.

"You'll just have to see~"

He was too distracted to realize exactly what flower it was:

A Crocus. A flower that symbolized destruction and downfall.

Dardanian nearly forgot himself. He barely managed a farewell, watching in a daze as the gates closed behind you, Nestor waving his farewells dramatically as he called out, “May the Gods smile upon your journey my children!”

Then you were inside.

Troy was more grand than you expected.

Stone buildings stood strong, illuminated by torchlight and the glow of braziers. The streets, though not as bustling as they would during the day, still carried life—merchants selling goods, women gathering water from the fountains, children running barefoot between stalls.

You and Neoptolemus kept your veils down as you weaved through the city, making your way to a secluded spot near the main square where a narrow valley stood in the shadows.

From beneath your cloak you retrieved a hand-drawn map, its edges worn from handling. The inked lines detailed the layout of Troy; the carefully marked path leading to the Palladium—a sacred statue of Athena that kept Troy standing.

The map had come from Helenus, the Son of Priam, a Trojan Prince and Prophet who willingly allowed himself to be captured by Agamemnon during the morning's fight upon the massacre of his entire group. A traitor but a valuable one nonetheless.

Neoptolemus exhaled with impatience. "Can we move faster? This dress is unbearable."

You smirked. "Why? Afraid someone might think you make a pretty girl?"

He shot you a glare but said nothing.

Unfortunately your brief reprieve didn’t last long.

“You there!”

Both of you paused.

Two Trojan soldiers, clad in leather and bronze, emerged from a side street and made a direct path toward you, their armor glinting under the firelight.

“Never seen you two before. New to the city?”

Neoptolemus stiffened. You tensed slightly as well but forced yourself to remain calm. "Just trying to find our way," you answered, offering a demure smile.

"Well...lovely creatures like yourselves shouldn’t be wandering alone," he muses, his lips curling into a smirk.

"Especially not in a city full of men," the second adds, eyes raking over the both of you.

You let out a nervous laugh, feigning shyness as you dipped your head. Neoptolemus, to his credit, mirrored your movement, his hands clasped in a way that almost sold the timid act.

A smile is forced “No thank you. We—”

But before you could finish, the first soldier reaches out. "Come," fingers graze your chin as he tilted your face up. "Let us show you somewhere more...private."

Your stomach turned.

You stayed perfectly still. Helpless. Submissive. Exactly what he expected.

But Neoptolemus—

Just as the second guard reached to grip Neoptolemus’ arm...

A blade slashed through the first soldier’s throat before he could even react, blood spraying across the stone wall beside him. The second barely had time to register the attack before Neoptolemus drove a dagger into his ribs, twisting until the man collapsed in a gurgling heap.

Blood pooled at your feet. For a moment neither of you spoke.

You exhaled slowly.

Neoptolemus, however, was not as composed.

His breath came harsh pants, hands trembling as he realized what he had just done. “…Shit,” he looked around in panic when realizing how close the soldiers’ barracks are—how anyone could just stumble upon and see this.

"This—this was stupid," he hissed, wiping his blade against a sleeve under the dead man’s armor. "They’ll find them, we’ll—"

"Neoptolemus."

He turned toward you, still wild-eyed with adrenaline.

“It’s fine. Mistakes happen.” Deliberately opening your cloak—a messenger bag was revealed to be resting at your hip.

Neoptolemus stared at it, then back at you.

Your lips curved into a knowing smirk.

"Now let me show you how I clean up a mess."

*･:*:★☽✧⚔️✧☾★:*:･*

The streets of Troy were alive with the late-night hum of voices, the city still thrumming with energy despite the hour. You and Neoptolemus stepped out from the narrow alleyway to blend seamlessly into the flow of movement.

Neoptolemus adjusted the borrowed Trojan armor he now wore, the plates slightly snug over his frame. You, still in your maiden’s disguise, moved with practiced ease—veil no longer draped over your face, mystical messenger bag secured against your hip.

Speaking of which, Neoptolemus had not stopped staring at.

His brows were knit in open disbelief, expression shifting somewhere between amazement and mild unease. Finally, unable to contain his thoughts any longer, he gesture toward it.

“...How,” he start slowly, “is that thing carrying two full-grown men?”

You give the bag a light pat as if soothing an old friend. “It’s a mythical bag,” you answer simply as if that explained everything.

It didn’t.

Neoptolemus squints at you unimpressed. “No really. How?”

You sighed, already exhausted by the sheer mundanity of his question. “It just does.”

He was quiet for a moment, eyeing the bag like it might sprout arms and wave at him. “How’d you even figure out it could hold humans?”

You give a cryptic shrug. “Trial and error.”

He blinks. “...I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

You smirked but said nothing.

Neoptolemus exhaled through his nose, shaking his head before a new thought made his brows furrow. “Wait. Can it carry living humans?”

At that your smirk faltered.

Your lips pressed together in a thin awkward line. “...No.”

Neoptolemus narrowed his eyes. “That was the worst no I’ve ever heard.”

You sighed. “It can’t.”

A beat.

“....And if they go in alive?”

You didn’t answer.

Instead you looked away, suddenly finding great interest in the uneven cobblestone beneath your feet.

Neoptolemus stared at you waiting.

You still didn’t answer.

Neoptolemus stared harder.

You cleared your throat. "It only works on dead things. Or inanimate objects. So...if they’re alive when they go in well....they won’t be coming out that way."

His expression turned from curiosity to outright horror.

"But hey!" you grinned, ever the optimist. "Everything is frozen in time once place inside! So at least they won’t bleed out in my bag!"

“…By the Gods,” he drags a hand down his face. “What kind of cursed logic i—”

“Asius!”

A name rang through the streets. It was a sharp and authoritative call, the kind that bounced off the stone walls of the city.

Neoptolemus barely reacted, still walking beside you unconcerned since it wasn’t his name being called.

But you?

You froze.

"Asius!" The name was called again, the speaker sounding more irritated.

Your stomach turned to stone.

Because you had recognized something in that voice—and you knew that tone. It was the way a superior called for one of his men.

And there was only one Trojan soldier standing out in the open right now.

Neoptolemus.

Panic seized your throat as your gaze flicked up and you saw him: A man, armored in Trojan red markings, striding toward you.

You looked over to Neoptolemus’ armor.

The green markings...

The guard was looking for a rookie soldier and Neoptolemus was the only new face wearing that particular gear.

Your pulse spiked when you realized if he gets close enough, he’ll recognize Neoptolemus as a complete stranger.

Meanwhile Neoptolemus was oblivious to it all; his head was tilted toward the sky, about to point out something utterly useless—maybe a constellation, who knows.

"Hey look! Is that Ve—"

You moved on instinct.

With one swift yank, you pulled Neoptolemus toward you and slammed your back against the nearest wall, dragging him with you. He let out a startled grunt, his hands instinctively bracing against your hips to keep balance as your arms wrapped around his neck.

“What the hell—” he started to say, eyes wide with alarm.

But you cut him off with a loud giggle. “Oh Asius!” You lift your voice playfully as you purred the name the soldier had been calling—as if it were his.

You could see his pulse leap beneath his jawline, could practically feel the sheer panic radiating off him as he stiffened beneath your hands.

“First lesson~” You whisper through your teeth, a playful smile donning your face.

Neoptolemus swallowed. Hard.

“Always be vigilant,” you continued like honey, “no matter whose name is being called.”

The approaching soldier hesitated mid-step.

His face reddened beneath his beard, eyes darting away the moment he registered the position you and Neoptolemus were in. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Apologies Asius,” he muttered quickly.

Neoptolemus was still too stunned to speak.

The man, mercifully, seemed too embarrassed to look closely. He shifted awkwardly, glancing back toward the city barracks before addressing who he assumed was just another Trojan recruit.

“I—I just wanted to let you know that drills start earlier tomorrow.”

A beat passed.

The soldier finally braved a glance at you, and you offered a slow teasing smile. Then you winked.

Visibly faltered, his ears burned red as he spun on his heel and practically fled. The moment he was out of sight you released Neoptolemus and stepped back, giving him a pointed look.

He was very determinedly avoiding your gaze.

With forced nonchalance, he goes in a random direction, "The Palladium is that way. We should hurry before morning."

You crossed your arms. "Neoptolemus."

He pause before finally glancing at you.

You wordlessly point the opposite way.

His clears his throat. "I knew that," he muttered, whirling around and speed-walking in the correct direction.

You snorted, shaking your head as you followed after him.