I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

The morning light spilled gently through the windows of Nathan's room, bathing it in a golden glow. The sun's rays stretched lazily across the space, highlighting the intricate carvings on the wooden furniture and the faint wisps of steam rising from a distant brazier. The air was still, heavy with the silence of a camp in a rare moment of peace.

Nathan stirred, the soft light playing against his black hair. His body, weary from the trials of the past days, seemed reluctant to wake, seeking solace in the warmth of the bed. The previous days had been a whirlwind of action and emotion, culminating in events that even now felt larger than life.

His thunderous speech on the battlefield had resonated like the roll of distant thunder, shaking the resolve of both Greeks and Trojans. He had spoken with raw passion, unmasking his hatred for the Greeks, particularly Agamemnon and Menelaus. His words had spared no venom, calling out their hubris, their betrayal of family, and their sacrifice of innocents. Yet, his voice had also carried a note of unexpected compassion. He had extended his support to the Trojans, pledging allegiance to King Priam, and offered a rare acknowledgment of Greeks he deemed worthy—Helen of Sparta and Clytemnestra, the latter of whom had suffered the unthinkable at the hands of Agamemnon.

The battlefield had held its breath, and even the gods of Olympus had been silenced by his audacity. Among the Greek soldiers, some began to question their purpose in this war. Was their cause just? Was it worth the rivers of blood they had spilled? But those voices of doubt were drowned by the roar of men like Agamemnon, whose fury now burned hotter than ever. Heiron had climbed to the very top of Agamemnon's list of enemies. It was no secret—Agamemnon seethed with rage at the man who had stolen Briseis and possibly Astynome from him.

And then came the battle that poets and bards would one day immortalize—the clash between Nathan and Heracles. It was a duel of legends, a thunderous collision of wills and power. The battlefield had stood still, every eye fixed on the two titans. Nathan's victory was not merely a triumph of skill but a silencing of gods themselves. The murmurs of disbelief in Olympus were deafening.

Nathan had become a name etched in the annals of the Trojan War, a living legend feared and reviled by the Greeks. He had bested Jason, the son of Poseidon; Ajax the Great; and now Heracles himself. The Greeks' fear of Heiron grew with each passing day, casting a shadow over their ranks. Yet, Nathan cared little for their opinions. To him, they were ants scurrying about, inconsequential in the grand scheme of his plans.

With Heracles dead, a temporary truce had been agreed upon, granting both sides a rare reprieve from the ceaseless slaughter. For once, Nathan had allowed himself to rest, his body yielding to the exhaustion he had ignored for so long.

As his hand reached out instinctively to the other side of the bed, he found only emptiness. He opened his eyes, the haze of sleep lifting slowly, and was met with the sight of rumpled sheets where another had once lain. It seemed Atalanta had slipped away early in the morning. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he remembered the night before. He had enjoyed their time together immensely.

But her departure wasn't unusual. The women who shared his bed often left before dawn to avoid prying eyes and unwanted attention. Astynome, Penthesilea, and even Charybdis, who couldn't bear the confines of the castle, all followed the same pattern. The war demanded discretion, and so, more often than not, Nathan found himself waking alone.

He lay back against the pillows, letting out a soft sigh. The fleeting moments of intimacy were a welcome distraction, but the solitude that followed only served as a reminder of the weight he carried.

It was rare for Nathan to wake up alone in the morning, considering the many women who shared his company. Yet, this was his current reality. The bed was cold beside him, and the room was silent save for the faint rustle of curtains swaying in the morning breeze. Nathan sighed, his mind drifting to the growing list of burdens he carried.

One, in particular, weighed heavily—Apollo. It had been nearly five months since the god had given him the ultimatum to find a solution for his deteriorating body. Yet there had been no word, no sign of the deity's return. Each passing day brought him closer to the deadline, yet Apollo's absence was a silence that gnawed at him.

Shaking off the thought, Nathan rose from the bed and stepped into the shower. The cold water washed over him, invigorating his tired body and clearing the lingering fog of sleep. After dressing, he left his room and began his usual morning routine.

The halls of the Trojan castle were alive with activity, yet they seemed to still in Nathan's presence. Soldiers and nobles alike stopped to bow as he passed, their words a chorus of praise and admiration. They called him a hero, the savior of Troy, their unyielding shield against the Greeks. Nathan responded with nothing more than a curt nod, his stride unwavering. Such accolades were meaningless to him. Actions, not words, defined his worth.

Stepping outside the castle walls, he allowed the cool morning air to fill his lungs. The sun was still low, its golden rays casting long shadows across the grounds. As he walked, his sharp eyes caught sight of a familiar figure seated alone on a bench beneath a sprawling olive tree.

Kassandra.

She sat with her shoulders slightly hunched, her hands folded neatly in her lap. The sunlight caught her red hair, making it shimmer like strands of woven silk. Despite her serene posture, there was an air of melancholy about her. Nathan's feet carried him toward her almost instinctively.

Kassandra noticed his approach and inclined her head in acknowledgment. "Have you slept well, Lord Heiron?" she asked, her tone polite but reserved.

"You can drop the 'lord' part," Nathan replied, taking a seat beside her. He kept a respectful distance, sensing her preference for solitude.

"You're alone here again," Nathan observed. This wasn't the first time he'd found her like this.

"I feel at peace alone," Kassandra replied softly. "And no one likes having me around."

Her voice carried a quiet resignation, and Nathan understood why. Her prophetic gift, or curse as many saw it, unnerved those around her. Her predictions often spoke of doom, of unavoidable tragedies that sent chills down the spines of even the bravest warriors. Combined with the knowledge of Apollo's curse upon her, Kassandra had become a pariah. To approach her was, to many, like courting death itself.

Nathan studied her carefully. The weight of harsh words and judgment seemed to press down on her, visible in the slight slump of her shoulders and the tired look in her eyes. Memories of Paris's cruel outburst toward her surfaced in his mind—a moment of anger that had driven sharp words into her already wounded spirit. Nathan regretted not intervening then, but he intended to make amends now.
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"How do you explain my presence here, then?" Nathan asked, his tone neutral yet probing.

Kassandra's eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the question. She hesitated before offering an excuse. "You don't know me yet..."

Nathan's lips curled into a faint smile. "I think I know you quite well," he countered. "Since that night we first spoke, we've talked nearly every day about your predictions, haven't we? Do you think I was only pretending to care?"

"No, I didn't mean that..." Kassandra replied hastily, her voice trembling with urgency. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, betraying the flurry of emotions stirring within her.

In truth, she felt profoundly grateful to Nathan, who had treated her with a respect and trust she hadn't experienced in years. While others recoiled from her, fearing her prophecies of doom, Nathan had sought her out, listened intently to her words, and believed in her almost blindly. It wasn't just his faith in her visions; it was his willingness to see beyond the curse and treat her as a person.

For weeks now, their conversations had been her solace. She had spoken to him more than she had to any other man—or anyone, for that matter. And each exchange left her heart fluttering, a sensation that now returned as he sat beside her.

But Paris's cruel accusations still lingered in her mind, the echoes of his venomous words reverberating with every beat of her heart.

Was she truly the harbinger of Troy's destruction?

And if so... what about Nathan? Was she doomed to bring ruin to him as well?

"I'm just someone who brings misfortune to everyone," Kassandra murmured, her voice barely audible. She lowered her gaze, unable to meet Nathan's eyes. "If something happened to you, Lord Heiron... it would be my fault. I might be the one responsible."

Nathan studied her for a moment, his expression softening. He reached out, his hand gently cupping her cheek. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through Kassandra, and her eyes instinctively rose to meet his.

"Kassandra," he said softly, his voice a calming balm to her frayed nerves. Without another word, he leaned in, closing the distance between them. His lips met hers in a tender kiss, a gesture so unexpected and yet so deeply comforting that it left her breathless.

Kassandra's entire body warmed, a heat that spread from her cheeks to her very core. She hadn't anticipated this—not from him, not from anyone. Yet it felt so natural, so right. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she surrendered to the moment, letting herself be enveloped by the gentle passion of his kiss.

When Nathan finally pulled away, his gaze lingered on her flushed face, her lips still parted in surprise. She looked at him, wide-eyed and trembling, as though the world had shifted beneath her feet.

"After the war is over," Nathan began, his voice steady and resolute, "I will ask King Priam to give you to me as my reward for everything I've done in this war."

Kassandra's breath hitched, her lips quivering as the weight of his words sank in. "You... you would do that for me?" she whispered, tears welling in her eyes.

"I will give you the happiness and love you've been denied all this time," Nathan assured her, his tone unwavering. "You deserve to be cherished, not feared. Just wait patiently for the war to end, and I will take you with me."

Tears spilled freely down Kassandra's cheeks, but this time, they weren't tears of sorrow. A trembling smile broke across her face as she nodded, unable to form the words that swelled in her heart.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Kassandra felt a glimmer of hope.

And it was all because of him.