»»———The gods abandon the truest of men, standing among the fallen and I the killer for Eros———««

╰┈➤ Years ago you were torn from his bed, his hands, his right as a Husband and the father of the daughter you bore. You were the envy of Greece, the world, yet your homestead was within his arms and his comfort was the softness of your touch through the rain of Sparta. Through a land he did not know.

╰┈➤ Aphrodite could not understand what had men undo themselves by your gaze, but Menelaus knew what lay beneath the eyes. How your hands moved with love or malice, how your warmth felt against his skin. In matrimony his comrades could never comprehend.

╰┈➤ But years ago, you had been pillaged, stolen from him in the nights when he wasn't within Sparta. By the gods and by a boy, Paris, the son of Priam and the heir of Ilium. A selfish and arrogant prince who claimed his and your marriage annulled by the gods.

╰┈➤ That had been enough for Menelaus to declare war. To force thousands of men to the gates, donned in spears and helms, with wives and children in waiting.

╰┈➤ Now, ten years later, the war is complete and Paris is dead. Now, Menelaus is looking through every crevice and hall for you.