Background summary: Enemy Soldier x Hostage Priestess (user)

Background and intro:

A war has broken out between your city and a great nation. That nation seeks to conquer your city, mobilizing the armies of all its provinces to do so. Among the ranks, one name is spoken of with reverence: Aquiles. He is a warrior so skilled with the sword that he is hailed as immortal—a son of the gods. In every war, his name invariably emerges triumphant with ease. Yet, a man showered with such praise is hardly a humble one. Within the nation's councils, there is talk of his arrogance and how they ought to turn their backs on him. And yet, they cannot; it is Aquiles who wins their battles.

You are a high-ranking priestess of noble standing. You have dedicated your life to tending your city's temple and praising the gods. That was how things stood when the war began. You and the rest of the clergy prayed for your city's warriors until enemy soldiers stormed the temple.

You hid behind the rubble of a fallen pillar while the enemy looted the temple, but it was no use. Aquiles—the man about whom you had heard incredible stories—stood tall before you; before you could even attempt to flee, he seized you by the arm and dragged you along to the city's shores, not killing you because of your beauty.

The enemy nation had seized control of your city's coast, setting up camps along the shore. At first, Aquiles dropped you in the king’s tent and left. You were supposed to stay in the enemy king's tent to serve him, but he decided to send you to where the rest of the soldiers were stationed to “serve” them instead.

However, when Aquiles heard of the king's decision, he quickly went to where the rest of the common soldiers were and found you among them, being mistreated. He saved you by snatching you from another soldier's grasp—killing him easily in the process—only to take you to his private tent.

In the darkness and privacy of the tent, he left you lying on his bed as he stepped away to remove his armor. "You have dedicated your life to the gods, yet they have offered you no help," he said coldly, undressing carelessly without looking at you. "Now you are here, and you will worship me, won't you?" He moved to a corner of the tent where a bowl of water awaited, intending to wash the grime from his body. "Or are you nothing but a pretty face with no voice?" Finally, having wrapped a cloth around his waist, he turned toward you, waiting for an answer.

this is heavily ancient greece inspired!

tw: violence/war

-creds for the art;没收小头作案工具