𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐑 ᵉᵖⁱᶜ ᵐᵘˢⁱᶜᵃˡ

˚＊✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ・⚔️・✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ＊˚

Chapter 35. THE DECEIVER'S GAMBIT

❝All warfare is based on deception❞

˚＊✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ・⚔️・✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ＊˚

The sea breeze was sharp with salt as it carried the usual chorus of clanging armor, murmuring soldiers, and the distant shouts of men sparring.

The Greek camp was alive—buzzing with preparation.

And in the midst of it all?

You walked along the beach, scowling as your ragtag group of nuisances followed.

Briseis hovered like a mother hen, gripping the wooden cane in her hands like she was prepared to beat you with it. “Use. The. Cane.” Her voice was sharp as she thrust it toward you, her dark eyes narrowing with disapproval. “You shouldn’t even be walking without it! Gods you’re as stubborn as—”

“I’m fine,” you grumbled with a dismissive wave, your steps quickening just enough to put distance between you and the cursed object.

“Lady Briseis is right!” Ajax the Less chimed in eagerly. His young face was flushed with determination as if agreeing with Briseis might earn him her favor. “You need to proper rest or you’ll never hea—”

A single sharp glare from you had Ajax snapping his mouth shut so fast you swore you heard his teeth clack.

You internally scoff. 'What am I, a Gods-damned babysitter?'

Further behind, completely detached from your gritted-teeth suffering, were Neoptolemus and Oenone. The nymph was draped effortlessly in the Prince’s arms, his long strides making it easy for him to keep pace with you even while half-distracted by Oenone’s words.

They were utterly engrossed in each other, murmuring to each other in soft amused voices. You didn’t need to hear every word to know exactly what they were talking about.

Still, snippets of their honeyed words seeped into your ears.

“—you remind me so much of the sun. The way you make everything feel so much warmer,” Oenone whispered.

Neoptolemus sighed dreamily, “Then it’s only fitting that you remind me of the sea.”

Oenone giggled. “Really?”

"Always shifting...always pulling me toward you."

Your lip curled in visible disgust as you stopped walking entirely. Turning on your heel, you give them both the dirtiest look imaginable.

Briseis, who had been pretending not to listen, glance at them over her shoulder with a grimace. "Still can’t get over how much the two of you look alike.” She looks between you and Oenone before shuddering. “It’s...unnerving.”

“Don’t remind me.” You groaned, immediately starting to walk again before they could get any closer with their sickening display of affection.

The last thing you needed was that particular nightmare fueling your thoughts.

But Briseis wasn’t finished. Her gaze lingered on them, her expression shifting into something softer, more thoughtful. Then, barely above a whisper, she murmured

"....They almost look like another version of you and Achilles."

Your footsteps faltered as you glanced back at them causing a strange pang to shot through your chest.

Gods be damned—she was right.

Neoptolemus, golden-haired and wild, green eyes glittered as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss against Oenone as she leaned into him with familiar ease. His arms tightened around her waist as he whispered something too quiet to catch causing her to laugh.

And for a moment—just a single moment—your mind began to wander to the future that could have been.

To the life he and Patroclus never got to live....

The thought was like a knife sliding between your ribs.

You shook your head sharply, shoving it down before it could root itself any deeper. You were not going to do this. Not now, not ever.

“Let’s go,” you muttered, choosing to set your sights on the council tent instead.

Briseis hesitated, catching the emotion in your face. But instead of pressing, she simply sighed, falling into step beside you.

It wasn’t until you neared the tent's entrance that you realized the guards (stationed there to prevent you from joining) were gone. A small smirk tugged at your lips. Quickening your pace, the muffled sounds of voices reached your ears.

You didn’t waste a second and burst inside.

The conversation inside screeched to a halt as every head turned, eyes locking onto you and your group of youths.

Penelope—who had been seated at the head of the war table—sighed loudly through her nose. You could feel her exasperation before she even spoke. "You should be resting."

“And I refuse.”

You met her gaze unblinking, refusing to budge an inch.

“I retrieved the Palladium,” you remind. “I deserve a say in what happens next.”

The standoff stretched with neither of you looking away. Around the tent no one dared to interrupt—not even Agamemnon, who for once, had the sense to keep his mouth shut.

Penelope finally caved, rubbing her temple before motioning toward the empty seats. "Fine. Sit.....we’ll catch you up."

You grinned victoriously and strode forward. As soon as you sat, Neoptolemus immediately claimed the seat to your right, pulling Oenone into his lap where she happily settled against him. They resumed their cooing.

Briseis, unbothered, managed to squeeze herself into your chair, settling against you like she belonged there. You barely reacted. At this point you were used to it.

Ajax the Less hesitated before perching on the seat to your left, sitting straight-backed as if trying to make himself look taller. He glance at you every so often, almost as if debating whether or not to scold you again to make Briseis happy.

You could already tell this meeting was going to be insufferable.

Seeing you settled in, Penelope gaze wandered over assembled Greeks. “Well to start the obvious plan made: A full-frontal assault on the gates until we break through.”

“That won't work,” Diomedes cuts in with a shake of his head. "Those gates are reinforced. It would take days to break through. And in that time we'd be slaughtered by the archers on the walls."

“Then what do you suggest?” Idomeneus, King of Crete, leaned forward with a skeptical expression. “Do we simply wait until the Trojans invite us inside?”

Ascalaphus, Prince of Orchomenos (and Son of Ares) scoffed. “If we keep pressing them they'll surrender eventually. It’s only a matter of time before they—”

“But we don’t have time,” Ialmenus, his twin brother, interjects. "We’ve been at this war for nearly a decade. Do you really plan to spend another ten years standing outside the walls waiting for their surrender?"

“An open attack would lead to too many casualties,” Menelaus spoke calm but firmly. "Even if we force our way in, we’ll be exhausted before we even reach the palace. Troy will swallow us whole."

As the debate went on the tent quickly descended into chaos. Some argued in favor of a direct siege while others countered with concerns over supplies and numbers.

Even those who agreed on strategy bickered over execution.

“We should—”

“No that won’t—”

“Then what do you propose?!”

Meanwhile Agamemnon, in true Agamemnon fashion, shut down every plan without offering one himself.

“This is all useless,” The Commander of the Greeks muttered. “We need something decisive.”

"And what exactly do you propose we do so when you've rejected every plan brought forth?" Diomedes snapped, his patience wearing thin. "Perhaps you’d care to grace us with your solution? Would throwing yourself at them to see if the walls topple over suffice?"

Having enough of the bickering your focus began drift away toward the people closest to you.

Briseis was fully invested; her head turning with keen interest at every point made, absorbing information, following the discussion just as fiercely as any commander at this table.

Neoptolemus and Oenone? Completely lost in each other.

The Son of Achilles had yet to let go of her; his hands ghosting along her form as if reassuring himself that she was real as she remained pressed to him, speaking in hushed tones only he could hear.

But it was Ajax the Less who caught your interest. You turned just in time to see Nestor lean toward the boy, his weathered smile full of mischief.

"Left your toy outside the other day," he teased as he held up a handmade wooden horse between his fingers. “Mainly when you were acting all big and bad in front of Briseis.”

Ajax's tensed as his face ignited with a squawk of horror. His eyes darted to Briseis to see if she had noticed. She hadn’t.

With a frantic look, Ajax snatched the horse back, clutching it against his chest like a lifeline. “It’s not a toy!” he whispered harshly. “It’s a sculpture.”

Nestor’s grin widened. “Ah yes. A sculpture. One that looks oddly like a toy.”

Ajax’s grip tightened. “Antilochus made it for me...” he muttered, voice quieter.

At that Nestor’s expression softened. "I know," he hums, a note of fond remembrance in his tone. “I taught him how to make them.”

You turned away to give the two their moment.

“We’ve been fighting the Trojans on their terms for years with no change.” Hearing the sound of Brises voice, you focus back to the main discussion to see the teen speaking.

She had moved from beside you in favor of standing at the head of the table. “If we cannot overpower them with force, we must use deception.”

Taking a glace around the tent you quickly realize everyone was listening. The generals...commanders...even Agamemnon himself were actually paying attention.

You raised a brow as a small hum leave your lips.

A few years ago women wouldn’t even be permitted to step inside these war councils. And now, here Briseis was, standing at the head of the table, speaking with command—and being heard.

It was a reminder of the changes you and Penelope had made.

Ajax the Less, ever smitten, carefully placed his wooden horse onto the table before leaning in to listen. He gazed at Briseis like she had single-handedly crafted the stars. “She’s so cool...” he sighed under his breath.

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop a smirk from forming.

“The Trojans have adjusted their defenses after every failed attempt to breach the city.” Her hands moved over the map, pointing out key locations. “But if we can get inside without them knowing, we won’t need to fight our way through the gates at all.”

Several heads nodded thoughtfully, a few commanders even murmuring in agreement.

"Infiltration?" Diomedes brows furrowed in thought. "Risky. They’ll recognize us before we get close."

“Not if they believe you're one of them,” Oenone finally adds into the conversation, gazing into Neoptolemus eyes as her fingers absently run through his hair.

Agamemnon snorts loudly. "Yes because that worked so well the last time." He sends you and Neoptolemus a pointed look at that.

Neoptolemus, however, wasn’t paying attention. Neither was Oenone.

In fact through the entire discussion, the two had barely spoken, too drawn to each other to do so.

At some point your gaze drifted to where the wooden horse was located. It had been placed on the map that covered the war table, the carving sitting right outside the drawn gates of Troy almost too coincidentally.

Your stare lingered. The longer you did, the more the world around you muffled, voices fading into the background.

You slowly straightened in your seat, ignoring the faint pull of soreness from your previous injury as a thought began to form.

A wild, ridiculous, absolutely insane thought.

And yet—

“How about a horse?”

The tent fell silent.

Dozens of eyes turned to you.

Agamemnon paused mid-sip, his brow arching. “A horse?” His voice was flat with disbelief. “You think a horse will help us win the war against Troy?”

You shrugged faintly, reaching out to pick up the wooden horse and let it roll lightly between your fingers. “Maybe...maybe not.”

You could feel their skepticism, could practically hear the unspoken she's lost it forming in their minds. You couldn't help the slight curl of your lips.

"After all," you mused, lifting the wooden horse up high, watching as the shadows of candlelight flicker across the smooth wood.

"...the emptiest things hold the biggest surprises."

*･:*:★☽✧⚔️ BONUS  ⚔️✧☾★:*:･*

Silence settled over the war council as the plans have been finalized.

"With the ploy, the Greeks will leave—take the ships and sail away to Tenedos. That way it will appear as if we had abandoned the war."

Penelope tapped a finger against the table. "Alright." she said. "With the structure in mind, we can get Epeius to start gathering materials and work on measurements."

For a moment you felt proud of yourself. 

But then—

"However."

You stiffened.

You knew that tone. It was the tone Penelope used when she was about to say something unbelievably irritating.

"However?" you repeat suspiciously.

Penelope met your gaze evenly. "You will be on the ploy ships when they leave."

"I—what?!" You shot to your feet, baffled and outraged, words tumbling out wildly. "Absolutely not! That’s—that’s ridiculous! I’m one of the best fighters we have! I should be inside the horse too!"

Penelope barely blinked at your protests. “And you’ve also been injured. Again.”

You groaned. "Once!" you shot back, throwing up your arms. "I was injured once—"

“Twice.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Twice isn’t exactly several.”

“I’d rather risk myself than risk you," she said flatly as if the conversation was already decided.

"Would you ju—"

"No."

"Penelope please just—"

"Do you want another arrow in your side?"

To make matters worse, Diomedes—who had previously stayed silent—spoke up. “I agree.”

You turn to him only to see he was already staring at you with narrowed eyes. "The fact that an arrow nearly hit you in the exact same spot as your last wound at River Scamander isn’t exactly a sign of good fortune."

You gaped at him in betrayal. "Oh—come on! That was just bad luck!"

Neither looked convinced.

Desperate, you turned to Polites. He was known as the reliable, ever-practical voice of reason. If anyone would speak up for you it would be him.

A pleading look adorned your face but—

The bespectacled man refused to meet your gaze. He kept his head down and adjusted his glasses, knowing full well that if he looked at you he’d fold immediately.

Your shoulders sagged, and with a sharp exhale, you threw up your hands in surrender. “Fine.” You scowled, spatting the words out as if they were rotten olives. "But just know I don’t like it."

Penelope: 1
____: 0

A quiet lull followed your reluctant agreement. For a brief fleeting moment, it seemed the conversation had reached its end when—

"For Gods’ sake will you two break apart?!"

The exasperated complaint made everyone turn toward the source of the outburst to see Agamemnon slouched in his chair. His upper lip curled in disgust as he jeered toward the pair beside you.

Neoptolemus and Oenone.

Of course.

They were still at it, nestled in their own little bubble, eyes locked in a conversation so intimate it could have been its own war strategy.

To everyone’s surprise it was Neoptolemus who broke the spell first.

The teen exhaled through his nose, jaw clenching as he tore his soft eyes away from Oenone to heatedly glare down at Agamemnon as if he was something stuck to the bottom of his sandal.

Neoptolemus opened his mouth with an insult clearly brewing on his tongue only to pause, green eyes sweeping the Mycenae King up and down in a slow deliberate pace, taking in the older man one last time before simply turning back to Oenone—deciding it wasn’t even worth the effort.

Agamemnon's brows shot up at that.

"Oh, I know you’re not judging!" he scoffed at the younger warrior. "Look at you two! Acting just like your damn father and this one—”

His jabs a finger toward you in accusation causing your eyes to widen.

"I—!" You choked, sputtering so hard you nearly inhaled your own tongue. "I never—"

"Oh please." Agamemnon leans back and raise his cup to his lips. "You two were even worse. All that brooding...the fighting...the dramatic speeches about Fate." He made a dramatic gesture of vomiting. “Better be careful boy. Next thing you know she’ll be sneaking into your tent—then bam!" He clapped his hands together. "Another war started because of a woman!"

Your eye twitched.

"I hate it here."

With a deep inhale, you reached for the nearest goblet of wine, downed the entire thing in one go, and then turned on your heel to walk straight out of the tent.

Without missing a beat, Neoptolemus immediately followed with Oenone in his arms as Briseis trailed along right after with Ajax the Less in tow.

Diomedes sighed. "Great."

Agamemnon huffed with a satisfied grunt. "Good. Maybe now they’ll keep their damned romance out of my war council."

"See this is why no one likes you." Menelaus muttered.