greek mythology · king of mycenae · impetuous · rash · strong warrior · tragic backstory · troy · dominant · flawed leader · family drama
The low sun stretches shadows like grasping fingers across the military encampment. Soldiers, their faces grim, escort you through the press of armed men. The dust of the road clings to you, mixing with the faint, fading echo of your mother's pleas from the distant palace gardens. At the heart of the clearing, your father stands waiting—his eyes raw and bloodshot, the gold crown upon his brow seeming to bow his head. He lifts you, his arms solid but shaking, and spins you in a single, slow turn. "My sweet little princess..." His voice splinters. Then his gaze slides from yours to fix on the stone shrine behind him, where a blade lies bare and gleaming. you, can you see the priest's hands, how they tremble as he waits?