A Long Time Coming

by ForestGremlin (maxverstappenhasbettertitsthanme)

Summary:

At Ilium High, the rules are different. Legacy matters more than truth, secrets buy power, and silence is the price of survival. An elite school for the wealthy and well-connected, it promises success to those who keep their heads down — and ruin for those who ask questions.

Helen just wants to disappear after what happened at her last school, but her beauty makes her a target all over again.
Diomedes, quiet and fiercely loyal, would rather box than speak, but he's drawn to the girl who won’t let anyone in.
Odysseus is brilliant, insomniac, and unraveling — haunted by a night he barely remembers.
Penelope is determined to be perfect, even as the pressure makes her fall apart.
Clytemnestra is angry — at the school, at her sister, at herself — and not sure who she wants to protect.
Hector is trying to hold everyone together — his siblings, his team, his future — even as everything burns down around him.
Paris wants to be seen.
Cassandra wants to be believed.

Notes:

Hi guys!! This is my first ever fanfic, which is really exciting but also super scary. I love Iliad High School AUs and have wanted to write my own for a while now. I wanted to write about Helen and Diomedes after reading you know how to ball, i know aristotle by SeaJem, but this story will also follow multiple other characters. I hope you guys enjoy! :)

Chapter 1: Gilded Cage

Ilium High: a prestigious school primarily for the wealthy elite, with a few spots reserved for students who received scholarships. It was situated in an area characterised by large estates, sleek, upmarket shops, and a harbour full of expensive yachts. Wealthy businessmen or company owners would flock there and buy lavish houses only to spend most of their time working. This meant Ilium High was populated by neglected rich kids who had either never been told “no” or were buckling under immense academic pressure.

Helen was relatively fortunate in this instance: her parents were estate agents who worked hard but were still very much present in her and her sister’s lives. They discovered early on that neither Helen nor Clytemnestra possessed any remarkable talents and weren’t particularly gifted in school. In terms of intelligence, they were fairly average, especially when compared to their cousin Penelope, who was already winning academic competitions by the age of six.

This was not the blow it could have been, because it turned out there was something people valued more than intelligence in this world: looks. Ever since she was a child, Helen had been known for her beauty. It was usually the first thing people commented on when they met her, and it proved to be a useful advantage. Like when she had been able to convince everyone Clytemnestra was the one who broke the vase with a few fluttered eyelashes and a slight quiver in her lips. She did later admit to it anyway; the guilt was eating away at her. However, her beauty was also a curse, one that made Helen vulnerable to certain people. Her mother had been frank with her: “They will want you even if you don’t want them.” Helen hadn’t truly felt the consequences of this until last year with Theseus, which is why she ended up here at Ilium High.

It was now the beginning of the summer term, marking the final chapter of a pretty uneventful first year. They hadn’t arrived with much excitement; everything was still fresh in their minds from their previous home in Sparta. However, her parents had made an effort, talking about how nice it would be to be able to see Penelope more often and how this would feel like a fresh start. In reality, they had actually barely seen cousin Penelope apart from the occasional family dinner or brief hellos in school.

Helen remembered how she’d greeted them when they first arrived: she was their own age but seemed much more mature, dressed in a deep burgundy blazer and dark skirt. Her hair was pulled back into a perfect ponytail, and her glasses emphasised her keen and somewhat harsh gaze. Helen could tell that even Clytemnestra was intimidated. The last time they saw Penelope was when they were kids, and here she was looking perfectly controlled and coordinated in a way they simply couldn’t achieve.

Clytemnestra had pulled Helen aside then and told her that latching themselves onto Penelope was the wrong move. Helen, always desperate to please, had agreed. After all, her sister had been distant since her parents announced the move and was finally talking to Helen again; she wasn’t going to screw it up. She trusted her sister even if it meant potentially hurting someone else. Helen couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for distancing herself from Penelope, who had expressed that she was perfectly happy to show them around and help with the transition.

On that first day of school, Clytemnestra had been as assertive as ever, striding confidently through the gates and immediately assessing the social hierarchy. It didn’t take her long to drag Helen over to a group of guys in varsity jackets who were talking loudly and shoving each other playfully; the scent of expensive cologne filled the air. That was where she met Menelaus.

Menelaus, who was currently walking into the auditorium with his arm slung around her shoulder. He was ignoring her for the most part, which wasn’t unusual. She just stood there silently, trying to resist the urge to run out of the building and escape. Hearing laughter, she looked up to see Clytemnestra ahead, gripping onto her boyfriend Agamemnon’s arm. That had caused some confusion with her parents at first: “You’re both dating brothers?”. Helen could admit it was a little strange. She just told everyone they had the same type.

Clytemnestra seemed to be fitting in well whilst still holding onto her usual style. She was wearing a black miniskirt and had her signature red lip and dark eyeliner. As they walked in for the assembly, she laughed loudly at something Agamemnon said and put a hand on his broad chest.

Shoes squeaked across the auditorium floor, sharper each time as more students poured in. Helen wiped her sweaty palms on the skirt of her yellow sundress, the cotton already damp and clinging to her thighs. Laughter shrieked over the low buzz of phones, all of it crashing together in her ears. The fluorescent lights above burned white, spots pricking at the corners of her vision.

Menelaus’ arm felt suffocating and heavy as he leaned on her shoulder whilst talking to his friends from the football team. She stiffened but stayed in place, not daring to shrug him off. He hadn’t even noticed her flinch. Her heart beat raced and she fought the urge to gasp as someone brushed past her shoulder forcefully. She staggered slightly, and Menelaus pulled away to continue his conversation with Ajax. Helen could no longer find the will to keep moving; she stood in the middle of the crowd, heart hammering in her ears and stomach knotting uncomfortably. Bodies pressed from all sides, faces blurring into a wall of movement. Another person jolted her, and the floor seemed to tilt. Her chest tightened; she couldn’t breathe. That room. A year ago. Theseus.

Everything felt wrong. Too loud, too bright, too busy. She needed air. She needed to get out. Helen turned around and pushed through to the exit before she could think twice.

As soon as the door swung shut behind her, the noise of the auditorium was muffled, and she was left in a sudden silence apart from the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. Each tick felt unnervingly loud. The air here felt cooler and fresher, a welcome contrast to her flushed skin. Taking a deep breath, she leaned her back against the cool wall and steadied herself. The thudding of her heartbeat was slowly easing. She unclenched her fists when she noticed her fingernails had been digging into her palms. She hated how familiar this all felt.

“You good?” She looked up, startled, to see a guy sitting cross-legged on the floor opposite her, back pressed against the lockers. He was tall with dark skin and deep brown eyes that looked up at her in concern. He was wearing a brown leather jacket over a faded band tee and had a pair of headphones slung around his neck. He set down the sketchbook in his hand and turned back to face her once again.

Helen tensed and attempted to smooth down her dress with shaking hands, the soft fabric sticking to her. “I’m fine.”

He just looked at her, his eyes didn’t seem hungry or cruel, simply curious. He nodded, “Cool. Loud in there.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she just stood there. He gestured to the spot on the floor beside him. Helen briefly hesitated before relenting and carefully taking a seat, making sure to leave a good distance between them. Far enough so she could get up and leave if she needed to.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, and Helen felt her breathing even. It was a relief not to feel the need to fill the silence. She kept telling herself to avoid looking at him, but her eyes kept slipping back despite herself. She recognised him from her psychology class, but they’d never interacted before. To be honest, Helen hadn’t interacted with most people in the school. There was no need to when she spent all day with Menelaus and his friends.

She snuck another glance and noticed his t-shirt. She hesitated for a moment, deciding whether to ask. “You like The Clash?” she said quietly.

He turned towards her with an easy grin, “Yeah, 80s music is the best.”

Helen offered a small smile in agreement and found that she actually meant it.

“So, you skipping assembly, too?”

She nodded and looked down at her lap, reminded of the noise from earlier.

“Yeah, it’s a fucking circus in there,” he muttered.

She found herself amused at his bluntness and looked up to meet his warm gaze. His mouth curved into a subtle smile, and she felt her cheeks heat slightly.

“I usually skip; crowds aren’t really my thing,” he said.

Helen felt a flicker of recognition. “Yeah, me too. I guess I never thought about just leaving before.” Part of her wanted to keep going, tell him about the panic, the feeling of not being able to breathe, to see if he got it. She stopped herself before she ended up ranting to a complete stranger. The warmth of his voice had caught her off guard, but that didn’t mean she should tell him everything.

The faint sound of applause could be heard from behind the doors. Helen suddenly felt very guilty; she was probably missing important announcements, and Menelaus might have noticed her absence. She debated getting up and walking in. The assembly had really only just started; she could probably slip in without getting in trouble. But then again, everyone’s eyes would be on her, and she’d have to walk past them all to find a seat. The thought of going back in made her feel a little nauseous, it was far quieter out here.

“You don’t have to go back in.” His voice gently interrupted her thoughts. Her shoulders slightly relaxed, and she let out a deep breath.

“I’m Diomedes, by the way.” She looked down at his scuffed Converse and fiddled with her sundress, bunching it up in her hands, before meeting his eyes again.

Her voice was quiet, “Helen.”

He didn’t say anything, just faintly smiled, and went back to his sketchbook. She glanced at the auditorium doors once more, but suppressed the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach and went back to watching him.

They remained in comfortable silence for a while until he put down his sketchbook, stood up, and glanced at the watch on his wrist.

“Bell’s gonna ring in five minutes. If you wanna avoid the crowds, you should probably leave now.”

She nodded and quickly stood up, pausing to fix her hair.

“It looks good.” She paused, turning around and looking up at him in confusion. “It looks good like that, when it’s a little messy.”

“Oh-” She felt heat rising in her cheeks.

“Well, I’ll see you around, yeah?” He said as he slung his bag over his shoulder, put his headphones on, and set off down the corridor.

Helen stood there for a moment, staring after him, her hands still hovering near her hair. His smile lingered in her mind, leaving her chest lighter for the first time that morning.

~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~

Ilium was funded by wealthy sponsors from some of the more important families in the area. Parents who gave generous donations were rewarded with influence over the school. This gave certain students power over others, not that this was ever talked about. Donations were only ever mentioned during assemblies where the school would unveil new facilities, and everyone would politely clap.

The school cafeteria had been funded by a donation from the Atreides family, who were Menelaus and Agamemnon’s parents. It looked more like a university dining hall than a school canteen with its high vaulted ceiling and large windows that looked out onto the courtyards. However, it still very much had the same atmosphere as a high school cafeteria. As expected, different cliques all sat together at specific tables. Helen had been at the football table since her first day. It was where the team and cheerleaders sat along with their partners. As usual, she was sitting next to Menelaus, who had a hand resting on her thigh, holding her in place, trapping her.

He had been confused about where she was earlier, but she had lied and said she simply didn’t feel well. “Makes sense, you look a bit of a mess today.” Didn’t he realise how long it took her to look perfect every morning? She’d had to use her break between lessons to quickly fix her hair and reapply her makeup.

Helen had always hated lunchtime. The canteen was packed, and she couldn’t even hear herself think. Menelaus was engaged in a loud conversation with Idomeneus, who sat opposite, whilst Clytemnestra and Agamemnon were close together at the head of the table. Clytemnestra looked casually at ease as she showed Agamemnon something on her phone and giggled. Helen felt the urge to reach out for her sister’s hand, but she was too far away. Ajax was laughing obnoxiously loud, most of the table joining in, apart from Hector and Andromache, who sat at the other end, their heads pressed together, deep in conversation. Their chatter mixed with the sound of cutlery clattering, causing her head to ache.

Deidamia, Aegialeia, and some of the other cheerleaders were sitting opposite Helen and kept snickering and shooting quick glares at her. She wasn’t sure what their problem was; ever since her first day, they’d plagued her with snide comments and mocking looks. She shuffled in her seat uncomfortably and tried to direct her focus elsewhere.

He was sitting at a table near one of the windows, Diomedes. He was listening as the guy in front of him seemed to be very passionately ranting about something. Odysseus, she realised. He was often running assemblies or being called up to the front to receive different awards. Diomedes suddenly looked up; Helen quickly turned away, not wanting to be caught staring.

“You coming then?” Menelaus’ voice interrupted her thoughts, and she jumped slightly, startled. Deidamia sniggered.

“Huh?”

He rolled his eyes at her. “To the party at mine on Saturday,” Helen flushed at the irritation in his tone.

Helen most definitely did not want to go to the party. She’d end up glued to Menelaus’ side all night as he downed beers and talked to his friends loudly over the bad music.

“Oh- right, yeah sure, I’ll be there.” It wasn’t like she had much of a choice anyway. She’d be expected to perform like always.

She looked back over to where Diomedes was sitting. Helen couldn’t help staring as he slid off his jacket, running a hand through his dark hair before turning back to Odysseus, who was flapping his hands excitedly as he talked.

Menelaus nudged her. “Babe, tell them what I said this morning—wasn’t I right?”

Fuck. She had no idea what he was talking about. Probably best to just agree.

She nodded quickly, but Ajax barked out a laugh. “Maybe Helen’s too busy staring across the room,” he sneered.

Heat rose in Menelaus’ face as he glared at him. Helen caught the sound of Deidamia and Aegialeia snickering again. She dropped her gaze to her lap, wishing she could disappear. Menelaus’ grip on her thigh tightened; he leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear.

“You gonna talk, or just sit there making me look stupid?” His voice was low, sharp enough to make her flinch.

Her chest tightened, breath catching. Too familiar. Theseus. His hand clamped around her wrist as she tried to leave. Pulling her in close.

They will want you even if you don’t want them.

She fought back a whimper, eyes darting desperately for some kind of help. Clytemnestra quickly glanced at her, then back down at her phone, expression unreadable. Relief rushed through Helen’s body as the bell rang out across the canteen. She hurriedly gathered her things, ready to push through the crowd, when Menelaus caught her upper arm and yanked her towards him. She froze. He dropped her arm, smoothing over it with a grip on her hand instead.

“I’ll walk you to class,” he said firmly.

Helen couldn’t find the strength to answer. She just nodded and let herself be pulled along. She risked one last glance back at Diomedes, leaning into Odysseus with his arm slung casually across his shoulder, relaxed, laughing. Helen ached to run toward that easy warmth, but she couldn’t. Not yet. She was still on stage, still trapped in her role.

~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~

 

“What was that?” Helen snapped as Clytemnestra strode into the house.

“Huh?” She looked up, confused.

“Earlier. At lunch. You didn’t—he—” Helen suddenly couldn’t find the words despite having rehearsed her argument the whole drive home with Menelaus. Now that Clytemnestra was standing in front of her, her mind was blank, her throat closing up.

Clytemnestra sighed as she put her bag down, like she’d been waiting for this. “Helen, listen, I couldn’t do anything. I know he was being an ass, but sometimes you’ve just gotta suck it up, okay? I worked hard to get us where we are, and it wasn’t easy.” Her tone sharpened. “You should be grateful, not having a go at me.”
“I never asked you to do that!” Helen cried. The prickling of tears rose fast, blurring her vision. All that came out of her mouth felt childish, but it was true.

Clytemnestra glowered at her, then her expression softened for just a moment before she smoothed it away. “I know it can be hard, okay?” Her voice was steady but icy, like she’d practiced this a hundred times. “Sometimes Agamemnon can also be… difficult. But this is important. I promise I’m trying to help you. This is how we protect ourselves.”

Helen stared at her sister, throat tight, trying to form another protest. Nothing came. She wrapped her arms around herself instead, feeling very small in the big, polished hallway.

Chapter 2: What's Done Cannot Be Undone

Summary:

We get to meet more characters!
tw: predatory teacher/student relationship, non-consensual kissing

Notes:

Thank you so much to everyone who read the last chapter! I was honestly not expecting anyone to be interested. Thanks to everyone who left kudos and subscribed, and especially those of you who left comments. The comments are what motivated me to get this next chapter out so quickly lol. I hope you guys enjoy! :)

The sharp sound of the bell rang throughout the classroom, immediately followed by the scraping of chairs against the polished wooden floor. Someone slammed down a piano lid as students began to file out of the music classroom, eager to enjoy the last rays of the evening sun. Cassandra carefully stacked her sheet music and placed it in her bag. She was often the last to pack up, wanting to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind. Now that everyone else had gone, the air felt still, yet the echo of their footsteps lingered.

“Cassandra?” Mr. Apollo’s voice rang out clearly. “Can you stay for a moment?”

She looked up eagerly; this had happened a few times this year. He would ask her to stay behind, and they would review different compositions and discuss them in depth. Sometimes, he would recommend music for her or even play something he had been working on himself.

She set her bag back down as he sauntered over to her, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up casually. The sunlight from the large window caught his hair, bathing him in a warm, golden light. He pulled out a chair and sat next to her.

“Your project was exceptional. The nuance, the instinct, you always know exactly what I’m looking for.” His voice was like music, rising and falling in rhythm. “You’re not just talented. You understand music. Not many do.”

Cassandra flushed, thrilled to receive such a compliment. Compliments never felt real, except when they came from him. He had always noticed her, not just her work, but her. He said her silences weren’t empty. That was how he’d put it once.

 “Oh- thank you,” she stammered. “I didn’t want it to be too polished. I thought if it sounded a bit raw, it would feel truer. I don’t know if that makes sense, I just-” Her voice faltered as he leaned in closer, dark green eyes fixed on her.

Their knees brushed, and she tried to shuffle away a bit. It’s fine. He’s just encouraging you, like always. Don’t overthink.

“No one ever truly knows what I’m looking for apart from you, Cassandra.” His voice was soft, almost tender, but the way he lingered on her name sent a chill down her spine.

Before she could reply, he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She froze, confused. Her stomach dropped, the golden light suddenly too bright, pressing against her skin.

He smiled down at her and leaned in to gently kiss her.

The room was too cold; she could no longer breathe. Her heart hammered in her chest. 

No. No. No.

Why would he do that? Did I lead him on? Was I too friendly?

She pulled away, stumbling and knocking over her bag. Her vision blurred as she tried to right herself. He stood up as well, reaching out for her again, but she backed towards the door.

“Cassandra- hey, it’s okay. I thought…” His voice was soft, coaxing. “I just… I feel like we connect.”

She didn’t wait to hear the rest. She bolted.

 

                                                                ~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~

 

She stumbled into the parking lot, quickly checking over her shoulder to see if he was there. Nothing. 

 

The sunlight was harsh and blinding, making her squint in discomfort. Breathing heavily, she placed her hands on her knees. Her legs shook uncontrollably, and she was afraid she might collapse at any moment. She ran a hand through her wild curls, nearly pulling them out.

 

It’s fine. You’re fine. Just… breathe.

 

She had to pull herself together; the parking lot was still full of people laughing loudly as they started their engines and said goodbye to their friends. This was one of the few times she was glad she was invisible. No one gave her a second glance. Good.

 

Her first instinct now was to run to Hector. He didn’t have football training today, so he’d probably just be walking home with Andromache. She could catch him up if she was fast. She knew he’d protect her; he always did.

 

No, she knew what his reaction would be. He’d run straight there and punch the shit out of Apollo, and then he’d be in trouble. They might even suspend him. Mum and Dad would be furious. Gods, she couldn’t tell her parents. She could practically already hear her mother’s voice.

 

Cassandra, you must’ve misunderstood. Cassandra, you must’ve given him the wrong idea. Cassandra, how could you mess things up for all of us?

 

No, she was going to have to sort this out on her own. Steeling herself, she attempted to stand up straighter and began walking home.

 

                                                               ~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~

 

She fumbled with her bag, trying to steady her shaking hands so she could find her keys. The house loomed larger and more intimidating than usual, its high walls and the line of cars parked out front intensifying her nerves.

 

Once inside, she paused for a moment to gather herself. No one could know. 

 

The house felt strangely quiet; most of her younger siblings were still at school. She could only hear Hector fussing around in the kitchen, probably deciding what to cook later.

 

“Hey, Cass,” Hector called from the kitchen. “How was school?” 

 

She swallowed nervously before answering. “Yeah, it was fine.” She tried to sound casual and indifferent, but she knew Hector could hear the strain in her voice.

 

He walked towards her, a look of concern on his face. He was wearing a grey hoodie. It looked soft, worn at the sleeves, and she wanted nothing more than to bury her face in it and let him hold her. 

 

“Are you okay? Did someone say something?”

 

She shook her head, looking down at her shoes. They were her favourites, the dark green Doc Martens. “I’m fine.”

 

“Okay, well, I have to go pick up Trolius now, but let me know if you wanna talk later. Or you could try journaling. Remember what the therapist said about-”

 

“Hector, I said I’m fine.” She snapped.

 

He nodded before grabbing his keys and leaving. Cassandra winced as the door slammed shut; the noise echoed loudly in the silent house. She hadn’t meant to bite.

 

                                                               ~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~

 

She ran upstairs, slamming her bedroom door and flinging herself face-first onto her bed. The crying started immediately: muffled, gasping sobs racked her body.

He saw her, noticed her, told her she was different.

Music had been her favourite lesson, a chance for her to be worth something. A chance to feel special.

But no. He’d just been using her. He’d seen a stupid, naïve girl who didn’t know any better. It was pathetic how much of an easy target she was.

She clenched her fists and started punching her pillow, the one that had taken her a whole month to make. Her chest burned, her throat raw.

Her gaze flicked to the journal next to her bed. The one the therapist had given her, back when her parents were still convinced there was a way to “fix” her. She’d hated every session. The therapist had suggested they all come in together, but her parents refused. “We’re already paying for it, why do we have to come?” Hector had come instead, skipping football training just to be there. Not that it mattered. Her parents had soon given up. That had been the last time they bothered to show any interest in her life.

She sat up, curls sticking to her wet face.

“I’m not crazy. I’m not making this up.” She whispered it once, then again, more fiercely. “I’m not crazy.”

Maybe she couldn’t tell her parents or Hector, but she also couldn’t just sit here in silence. She’d had enough of people using her.

Her phone pinged with a notification: Odysseus.

Greetings Cassandra :)
Just wondering if you’re still coming to work on our article tomorrow.

Odysseus was in charge of the school newspaper. Cassandra used to just be the photographer, but she’d recently discovered she also quite enjoyed writing. Odysseus had been more than happy to let her help out more.

She looked over at her laptop on her desk, then back down at the message on her phone. For a moment, she hesitated.

“Fine,” she muttered, jaw tightening. “I’ll tell them anyway. In my own way.”

The tears still streamed down, but her expression had hardened. He would not get away with this. He would not get to play her anymore.

 

                                                                ~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~

 

It was Thursday morning, and Helen was standing outside her locker with Menelaus. He was leaning against the wall, scrolling on his phone as she gathered up all her books. The clang of lockers slamming and the echoes of laughter filled the air.

She looked down the corridor to the area where she’d sat with Diomedes yesterday. When he’d smiled at her with those warm eyes. 

“Hey, my parents want you to come to dinner Friday night. Formal thing. Just wear something nice, yeah?” Menelaus said casually.

She paused. Dinner with the Atredies was the last thing she wanted. She wanted to see him again, to sit in that easy silence.

“I have a lot of homework-”

“They’re really excited to see you again. They’re, like, obsessed with how classy you are. You’ll be perfect, right?”

“I don't know if I can-”

“Can what?” He asked sharply.

Helen didn’t answer. She looked down at the floor, her breathing getting shallow.

“Look, this is really important to me, okay? My parents already think I don’t take anything seriously. You’re the only thing I’ve done right.”

Helen didn’t know why she’d even bothered trying; no one could say no to the Atreides. She nodded, eyes remaining downcast. Her books suddenly felt heavy in her hands. She stared into the polished wooden floor, her reflection distorted. And she hated herself for it.

                                                                ~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~

 

Cassandra marched into the newspaper room with a folder tucked under her arm. The main lights were off, leaving the room dim and shadowy. Odysseus sat at his usual desk, with his feet propped up on the table, spinning around in his chair. The workspaces were cluttered with dirty mugs and snack wrappers.

“Hey,” he smiled when he saw her enter. “So, get this, I just found a new scoop for our article on sustainability within the school. I arrived here at like six am and interrogated Ms Demeter, who was like totally caught off guard, but also like not surprised-”

“I’m not doing the article.” 

Odysseus blinked at her in surprise. “What?” 

 

“I’m not doing it,” she said firmly.

 

“Oh, do you wanna write about something else? We could do one on the new sports facilities.”

 

“I have another idea.” She took a deep breath; no going back now. “I received an anonymous tip-off from a student.”

 

“Oh?” Odysseus sat up, intrigued.

 

“It’s about a teacher. A teacher who did something he shouldn’t have.”

 

“Which one?”

 

“Mr Apollo.” Her voice shook slightly as she said his name. “I have the student’s full statement here.” 

 

She handed him the folder and stood there awkwardly as he began to read. She buried her hands in her oversized jumper, doing anything to avoid looking at Odysseus.

 

“This is-” He ran a hand through his scruffy hair. “Cass… this isn’t just some recycling scandal. This is accusing a teacher. Do you know what kind of blowback we’d get? What kind of blowback you’d get?”

 

Her face fell. Of course. She’d been an idiot to think this would actually work. 

 

“Please.” She said quietly, meeting his eyes. Desperation leaked into her voice.

 

“This is a really serious accusation. I mean, this could hurt innocent people. Mr Apollo, he’s- I mean, he’s well-liked. You know, he’s respected. We can’t just- What would all the teachers say? We don’t even have enough evidence. Is there any proof besides this?” He waved the folder around. “If this isn’t true-”

 

“It is true,” she cut him off, her voice shaking but fierce. “And if we don’t print it, it’ll keep happening. You’re always going on about exposing the truth- well, this is the truth.”

 

He stared at her for a long moment, pushing up his glasses and rubbing his forehead. 

 

“Look, I just need your approval to print it. You don’t even have to help me write it or anything. It’ll just be my name at the end.” She said.

 

“Cass, I can’t let you put yourself in that position- ”

 

She cut him off again, “Well, this is my choice. I want to do it.”

 

Odysseus groaned and slammed his head on his desk before immediately wincing and swearing under his breath.

 

“Fine. You’re right. This is important.”

 

For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. He agreed; he actually agreed.

 

“Wait, really?”

 

He sighed deeply. “Yep, but we need to be smart about this. Are you free to stay here until lunch? We’re gonna have to be quick if we want it to go out in tomorrow’s edition.” He was immediately in full-on planning mode, hurrying around the room, scribbling things on post-it notes, and muttering to himself.

 

Cassandra felt her heart race; they were really doing this.

 

“Hey, Odysseus,”

 

He looked up from a stack of papers he was rifling through. “Yeah?”

 

“Thanks.”

 

His eyes softened, “Yeah, of course. Like you said, what we do here is expose the truth.”

 

Cassandra gave him a small smile.

“We must be prepared for the consequences, though,” he said, and then in a deep, ominous voice: “What’s done cannot be undone.”

Cassandra raised an eyebrow at him.

He held up his hands defensively. “What? It’s Shakespeare. Macbeth. ”

She sighed, rolling her eyes despite herself. “Yes, I know. Let’s just get to work.”

Notes:

Thanks for reading! Pls consider leaving a comment, they mean a lot :)

Chapter 3: Truth on Trial

Summary:

OdyPen time!!
Things aren't looking too good for Cassandra

Notes:

Hey guys, this chapter took me so long to write cause I was really struggling with the debate scene. I did some research, but I fear it's pretty obvious that I've never done a proper debate. Pls ignore any inaccuracies guys, it's just supposed to be an informal practice anyway. 😭

Penelope tied her long, dark hair into a neat ponytail, checked her collar, and smoothed the edge of her skirt. Everything in its place, as it should be. She glanced at her watch: three minutes to spare. Exactly on schedule.

She pushed open the door and entered the debate room. Someone had already arranged the chairs in a circle. Penelope quickly positioned a couple that looked slightly out of place.

Odysseus was standing on his tiptoes, stretching just to reach the top of the board. He was attempting to write the title of today's topic.

“I can do it,” she said smoothly, reaching over to take the pen. 

Odysseus shot her a glare. “I got it, thanks.”

She huffed, “Suit yourself.” 

Penelope continued to watch him struggle. She bit back a laugh; it would’ve taken her half a second to do it. But of course, Odysseus would rather wobble than admit he needed help. He looked even more frazzled than usual, if that was possible. His glasses were lopsided, and he was wearing a crumpled flannel shirt over his top. It wouldn’t hurt to put a little effort in, Penelope thought. Yes, it was just an informal debate practice, but still. 

“Okay, guys,” Odysseus announced to the room. “Today our statement is leaders are born, not made.”

Penelope tried not to scoff, an ironic choice from Odysseus. He knew how she felt about leadership. At the beginning of the year, Penelope had been sure she was going to be chosen as captain for the debate team. It made perfect sense; she’d been in the club since her first year in school, and it was rare for her to lose an argument. None of that seemed to matter, though, as they had gone with Odysseus.

Odysseus Laertes, who had taken the title of top student every single year. The worst part was that while Penelope spent her evenings in the library just to scrape second place, Odysseus coasted on pure natural intelligence. It was infuriating.

“So, Antinous and I against Penelope and Chryseis,” Odysseus said. 

Penelope made her way over to Chryseis, and they took their seats opposite Antinous and Odysseus. Antinous was leaning back in his chair casually, a smirk on his lips. Penelope fought the urge to roll her eyes at him.

Odysseus turned to face her. “You wanna choose which side you’re arguing?”

“Chryseis and I will argue that leaders are made.” Her voice was calm, but inside she burned to prove him wrong.

Odysseus smiled in a way that made her uncomfortable, a smile that seemed to look deep into her mind.

“Perfect,” Odysseus said. “Onto opening statements.”

Penelope rested her hands in her lap; it would do no good to start nervously fidgeting. She made sure her expression was calm and serious. They practiced every week, but she had never felt such intense determination to beat Odysseus.

Odysseus began speaking first, smooth and confident, never stuttering. She knew he tended to go off on long ramblings, but when it came to debate, everything was clear and straight to the point.

“True leadership isn’t something you can study for, like a test. It’s instinct, the ability to command a room, to inspire others without needing to rehearse every word. You either have that presence, or you don’t.”

Penelope immediately bristled before reminding herself it was just a debate. A debate that she was going to win. And in order to do that, she needed to remain calm. This was probably a tactic from Odysseus to catch her off guard: choose a personal topic that was already something they disagreed on.

She cleared her throat before answering. “Charisma turns heads, sure, but it doesn’t hold a community together. Real leadership is forged through discipline, preparation, and responsibility. It’s about showing up every day and doing the work, not just giving speeches.”

Penelope leaned forward in her chair, towering just slightly over him as she spoke. It wasn’t much, but the way Odysseus had to tilt his chin up to meet her eyes gave her a flicker of satisfaction.

“And yet, we’ve all seen people who prepare endlessly, only to collapse under pressure. You can’t train natural composure. Some people are born with it.” 

Penelope wanted to smack that confident smile off his face. 

“Or maybe some people lean on that so-called ‘natural composure’ because they’ve never had to earn anything. Work ethic builds resilience, the kind you don’t get from coasting.”

She thought she briefly saw hurt flicker in his eyes, but he blinked it away.

“Look around, think of people who inspire effortlessly. They don’t rehearse; they just are . Can you really teach that?”

“Perhaps some are naturally poised, yes, but leadership is tested in chaos. Instinct only takes you so far when your team is counting on you . Preparation saves more than charm ever could.”

“Exactly,” Chryseis added, “We’ve seen it in practice sessions. The teams that plan, strategize, and communicate consistently outperform those who rely on charisma alone.”

Odysseus raised an eyebrow, but remained silent. Antinous lounged in his chair, eyes fixed on Penelope with a sharp intensity.

“Penelope, you always seem so… polished. Do you ever just… wing it?” He spoke casually, but Penelope could tell he was serious.

She blinked rapidly, momentarily taken aback by his comment. Odysseus' eyes were fixed on hers, and she felt her face heat up. He was doing it again, looking at her as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. 

She smoothed her skirt and drew in a slow breath. “Wing it? No. Leadership isn’t about improvisation; it’s about knowing what needs to be done, even when things go wrong.”

“Alright, let’s move on to cross-examination,” Odysseus said, running a hand through his hair.

A few of the students watching started mummering, and the sound of a chair scraping on the floor echoed through the quiet classroom. Penelope was never usually bothered by the eyes of the others, yet today it was distracting her, making her shift uncomfortably.

Antinous lounged back in his chair, spinning his pen lazily between his fingers. His smirk widened as his eyes locked on Penelope.

“Penelope, you always seem so… polished. Every grade perfect, every word rehearsed.” He tilted his head. “Tell me, what happens when things don’t go according to plan? When you fail?”

The words hit sharper than she expected. Her mouth opened, but nothing came. Heat crept up her neck.

“I- ” Her voice cracked, thinner than she meant.

Her chest tightened. The circle of chairs suddenly felt smaller, closing in. Dozens of eyes pressed against her skin. She forced a breath, but it came too fast, too shallow.

Antinous leaned forward, smile like smoke curling in the air. “Because you will fail, eventually. The real world doesn’t care about perfect grades or tidy speeches. Can you even handle that?”

Her fingers dug into the wooden arms of her chair. Her pulse pounded in her ears, breath short, ragged. For a moment, she felt exposed, like the room had stripped her bare.

“That’s enough.”

Odysseus’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. He was on his feet now, gaze locked on Antinous. “This is a debate, not an interrogation. If you can’t argue the motion without tearing down your opponent, you’ve already lost.”

A murmur rippled through the circle. Antinous leaned back, hands raised as if in mock surrender, but that smug look stayed plastered on his face.

Penelope swallowed, forcing air deep into her lungs. She straightened, spine rigid, hands unclenching from the chair. Her voice, when it came, was steady.

“Leaders are made through effort, sacrifice, and growth. Leadership comes from the choices we make, not the talents we’re born with.”

The bell rang, scattering the room into movement. Chairs scraped, voices rose, and just like that, the debate was over. Antinous tossed her one last smirk as he slouched out the door.

Penelope stayed rooted in her seat, her heart still thudding too fast. Her fingers ached where they had clutched the chair.

“Hey.”

She startled at the voice. Odysseus was standing over her, hands shoved awkwardly in his pockets, concern in his eyes.

 “You okay?” he asked quietly.

“I’m fine.” Her reply was too sharp, her hands already busy shoving books into her bag, as if speed could disguise the tremor in them.

He hesitated, then stepped a little closer. “Are you sure? Antinous was way out of line, and I just wanted- ”

“I said I’m fine.” The words came out clipped, brittle.

He held up a hand, as if to calm her. “Alright, but… as captain, I feel responsible- ”

That word snapped something in her. She shot to her feet, heat flashing in her cheeks.
“Yes, Odysseus, I am well aware that you’re captain and not me!”

The silence that followed made the air feel heavy. Odysseus blinked, taken aback, his mouth half-open as though to explain.

“I wasn’t trying to- ”

“Just leave me alone.”

She yanked her bag over her shoulder and stormed out, her footsteps sharp against the tile, refusing to look back.

                                                            ~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~

 

“Dio, I’m dying,” Odysseus complained as he walked out of school, rubbing his eyes as he was met with harsh sunlight.  “I actually might get expelled tomorrow. For real this time.”

Diomedes sighed, “What have you done now?”

“Cassandra and I are releasing an article, an article that is not going to be well received.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re being this dramatic over that recycling scandal you wanted to cover.”

“No!” Odysseus gripped Diomedes’ arm and shook him slightly. “This is big.”

Diomedes stared at him. “Have you been sleeping?”

“Huh?” Odysseus blinked.

“You look like you haven’t been sleeping again.”

“I-not really, but I-that isn’t the point!” Odysseus rubbed his temple quickly, then dropped his hand.“The point is- I might actually get kicked out tomorrow. And there are really evil people in this school, Dio. And I still have to plan that fucking debate trip- babysitting everyone while practice falls apart- and my head just really hurts!”

“Hey, hey,” Diomedes rested a firm hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. Are you having another migraine?”

“No,” Odysseus said bitterly. “But it’ll probably hit me in a couple days.” He could already feel the pressure building up behind his eyes, the sharp, stabbing pain increasing with every hour.

“What’s your article on?” Diomedes asked softly.

He hesitated, then blurted out, voice quieter: “Mr Apollo kissed a student without consent.”

“What?” Diomedes’ voice was sharp. “Who?”

“I don’t know. Cassandra got an anonymous tip-off and wanted to publish it. I agreed.” He paused, his voice quiet. “Do you think I did the right thing?”

Diomedes spoke slowly, “Yes, I would’ve done the same.”

Odysseus breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been second-guessing himself all day, but every time he remembered the desperation in Cassandra’s face, he felt more sure of his decision. Now that Diomedes had reaffirmed it, he felt even more confident. He knew he could trust Dio; he always had. 

“They won’t expel you anyway. You’re their top student, and your family's kinda important.”

“So you’re saying I’m a nepo.”

There was a pause before Diomedes laughed. “We’re all nepos here.”

They made their way over to Diomedes’ car. Odysseus loved his car, scuffed seats and all. He didn’t have his own yet, so he forced Dio to give him a lift most days. 

“Are your parents back yet, anyway?” Diomedes asked as they opened the car doors.

“Nah, not for a couple days. They have another conference tomorrow.”

Odysseus’ parents were diplomats who were often attending foreign peace talks and global conferences. He didn’t see them often, but they’d call when they had time, his mum often fussing over whether he’d done the laundry. He found he didn’t even mind their distance that much. He and his sister Ctimene were trusted to look after themselves, and part of Odysseus enjoyed the freedom and responsibility.

“Well, you can always call if you need anything.”

“I know,” Odysseus said simply. He knew Diomedes would always be there, just in case.

Diomedes started up the car and pulled out of the parking lot. 

“So, you wanna talk about this debate trip?”

Odysseus groaned, burying his head in his hands. “As captain, I’m supposed to be helping with the planning, but I haven’t really gotten around to it yet, so all these teachers have been on my ass all week.”

“And why was practice such a disaster?” 

Screw Diomedes and his great memory. Odysseus did not want to think about what had happened. It was bad enough putting up with Antinous, but now he had to deal with fucking Penelope Icarius stomping around school like she owned the place. He was just trying to help; there was no need to bite his head off.

“Eh, nothing.”

Diomedes raised an eyebrow.

“Just arguments and stuff. Everyone acting like they’re four years old. It’s just hard…especially when certain people would rather tear me apart than listen. ”

“Right.” It was clear Diomedes knew there was something more going on, but he didn’t press. “Sounds like you’ve had enough school drama for one week. You going to Agamemnon’s party on Saturday?”

“Oh, yeah, I guess.” Odysseus had never really been a fan of parties. He didn’t drink, didn’t like the feeling of losing control, of dimming his sharp mind. Plus, alcohol tended to trigger his migraines. Still, he knew he couldn’t stay away. Too much happened at these parties, and he couldn’t afford to be left out of the loop.

“Cool, I can drive you.”

“Well, I’ll probably be the one driving, seeing as last time you got extremely drunk.”

“One time, man, one time.”

Odysseus shrugged. “Also, I seem to remember that you’re a clingy drunk. Like I left you to go talk to Eurylochus and you had a full-on breakdown and- “

“Do you want me to chuck you out onto the road?”

Odysseus grinned. “Oh Dio, you love me really.”

Diomedes sighed and shook his head. “Yeah, I do.”

They pulled up outside Odysseus’ house; he picked up his bag and unbuckled his seatbelt. 

“Right, well, see you tomorrow.” Odysseus tried to hide the anxiety in his voice, but it was obvious that Diomedes heard it.

“I can’t tell you that everything will be fine with the article cause I don’t know that.” Diomedes hesitated, something Odysseus hadn’t seen him do often. “But what I can say is that I’ll stand by you. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re being really brave.”

Odysseus smiled softly. “Thanks, Dio.”

He waved goodbye before shutting the car door and watching Diomedes drive away. It all came down to tomorrow. He had to do this. For Cassandra. For the truth

 

                                                                 ~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~

 

Cassandra didn’t sleep that night. All she could think about was the article. She’d spent most of yesterday writing it up with Odysseus until he’d had to leave for debate practice, and now it was time. Time to expose Apollo as the twisted narcissist he was.

She pulled on a knitted cardigan over her dungarees, enjoying the added warmth despite the summer heat, and made her way downstairs. Hector was in the kitchen, fussing about, making sure all her younger siblings had breakfast.

“Hey, Cass,” Hector smiled when he saw her. He was holding a box of cereal in one hand and Laodice’s homework in the other. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“I’m not hungry,” she said, already making her way to the front door. Every sound was slightly too sharp this morning, giving her a small headache.

Hector frowned, “Cass, you have to eat.”

She sighed sharply and turned around. “Fine.” She grabbed a piece of toast from a plate in the middle of the table and left. As much as she sometimes despised Hector’s constant supervision, she could admit that she’d probably fall apart without him.

Her heart was racing as she walked to school. It felt like every person she passed was watching her, as if they already knew. She thought she heard someone call her name, but it was just a group of kids talking excitedly among themselves. What if she’d made a mistake? What if no one believed her?

The thought made her stomach twist, but she forced her chin up. No time for regret now. She was going to destroy his life.

As Cassandra stepped into school, the shift was immediate. The corridor buzzed with a strange energy, whispers sliding between groups of students. She caught fragments.

“Did you see-”

“No way it’s true-”

“She’s gonna regret this.”

Phones lit up in their hands. Others clutched the folded school paper like it was burning. Cassandra tried to steady her breathing, even as her hands shook. She wasn’t used to attention, not like this.

“Cassandra.” A sharp voice cut through the hall. One of the teachers stood by the stairwell, eyes narrowed. “You’re wanted at the principal’s office. Now.”

Cassandra froze, then nodded quickly, her throat dry. Her palms were sweating as she hurried up the stairs, breath coming too fast.

At the top, she turned the corner and nearly stopped in her tracks. Odysseus was already there, leaning against the wall outside the office, arms crossed, lips pressed into a hard line.

“Hey,” she said, her voice breathless. “Do you know what everyone’s saying- ”

He glanced at her, eyes dark. “Doesn’t matter.”

“So… they don’t believe or- ”

He shook his head once, jaw tightening. “It’s bad, Cass.”

Her chest constricted. “Oh.”

There was a silence, heavy and unbearable. Then, softer, he muttered: “I’m sorry.”

The door opened, and Principal Minos stepped out, sharp features fixed in a cold, controlled mask.

He sighed deeply. “You two can come in now.”

Cassandra wordlessly followed Odysseus inside the office. She’d never been in here before. Everything was sleek and sterile, minimalistic. Minos had no family pictures or anything that might add a touch of personality. Everything in there seemed to revolve around his work. 

Cassandra took a seat next to Odysseus, both of them opposite Minos.

“Do you understand the gravity of publishing accusations without evidence?” Minos’ tone was measured.

“We have evidence-” Cassandra began. She would not simply sit there in silence and be forced to agree to his lies.

“Miss Priamides, please be quiet until I have finished.” He said, unflinching. “Mr. Apollo has dedicated decades to this school. To have his name dragged through the mud in this way is unacceptable.”

Cassandra scowled. The only thing that was unacceptable was the institution protecting a predator.

“From now on, all articles will be vetted by a member of staff before publication. This is non-negotiable.”

Odysseus cleared his throat. “If I may, Principal-”

“No, Mr Laertes. Non-negotiable. If you refuse, I will simply have to revoke your position as chief editor.”

Odysseus slumped back in his chair, running a hand across his face.

“You may wish to consider a public correction or even a written apology to Mr. Apollo, for your own reputations, if nothing else.”

Cassandra froze. Apologise? Apologise to the man who had assaulted her? She clenched her fists and dug her nails into her palms.

“No.” Her voice was like venom.

“Look,” Odysseus began. “We’ll consider it.”

Cassandra turned to him, white hot fury burning through her body. Why was he siding with Minos? She opened her mouth to object, but Odysseus shot her a warning glare. Cassandra turned back to Minos, trying to ignore the sting of Odysseus’ betrayal.

“The apology is not mandatory. Given your families’… positions, I’m choosing not to escalate this further.”

Cassandra scoffed and folded her arms. 

“You must understand that this is a warning. There has been a very serious breach of standards here.”

Minos gave them a final stare; his face seemed absent of expression. Cassandra looked into his eyes, desperately searching for anything: guilt, regret. Nothing,

“You may leave.”

Cassandra stormed out, not slowing down until she was back in the corridor. Everyone else was in class by now. Odysseus caught up to her, breathing hard and rubbing his forehead.

“Cass-”

“What did you mean by ‘we’ll consider it’?”She snapped, tears starting to well up in her eyes.

“I was just trying to keep you out of too much trouble. I didn’t mean it.” He insisted.

“I can’t believe they- why-” The tears were falling fast now. Spilling down her cheeks.

“Oh, Cass…” Odysseus pulled her into a hug, something he had never done before. She buried her face into his shoulder. “You tried your best.”

“But it’s not enough. I- I don’t know what to do-”

“There’s nothing we can do now. We’re lucky it wasn’t any worse than this. He’ll probably call our parents, though.”

Cassandra’s heart sank; everything was only getting worse.

“Surely there’s a way to make them believe.” 

Odysseus shook his head sadly. “We gave it a go, Cass. It may not have worked, but we did something. We tried to help that student.”

Cassandra just stood there. She didn’t have anything else to say. She left Odysseus and walked back down the corridor towards the doors; she wasn’t going to stay here. She was already in trouble anyway; what did it matter if she skipped for the day? Her eyes were unfocused, and everything felt numb. She’d been so stupid to think the truth would ever matter.

Notes:

Hope you guys enjoyed! Writing that debate scene killed me, but I motivated myself by listening to Paris the musical. This fic is actually named after my fav song from the musical. Also, I love using characters' style to reflect their mental state and personality, but I had to refrain from describing all their outfits in loads of detail in every single scene. The editing for this chapter was rough 😞
Pls leave a comment! Byeee ❤️

Chapter 4: Shattered Reflections

Summary:

Helen has dinner with the Atreides
partyyyy time

Notes:

bit of a longer one for you guys today (idk if that's a good thing) cause I know you guys wanted the party scene

also thank you so much for 300 hits! I know it probably doesn't seem like a lot to most people, but it means a lot to me

“You good to walk there on your own?” Menelaus asked Helen as he drove her home after school. 

 

She shifted uncomfortably in the leather seat and twisted her hands in her lap. Everything was too quiet, and the heat was stifling. Menelaus didn’t like to open the windows.

 

“Yeah,” she said, her voice quiet. “Is Clytemnestra coming too?”

 

Menelaus shrugged casually. “Doubt it. She doesn’t really… fit.” He chuckled. “Dad thinks she’s too mouthy sometimes.” 

Helen was dreading this dinner more with each passing hour. She and Clytemnestra hadn’t really spoken since the argument a couple of days ago, but she knew it would have been easier with her there.

Menelaus stopped at the end of her street.

He smiled. “Alright, well, I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Helen nodded and immediately left the car, not wanting to be in there for a second longer than she had to.

 

                                                                                                                    ~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~

 

Helen paired the pale pink slip dress with nude heels and had now moved on to straightening her hair after sending a quick text to Menelaus to approve the outfit. Helen had never really enjoyed straightening her hair; she liked it when it fell in loose, golden waves. She finished off her look with some subtle makeup, trying to ignore the slight tremor in her hands.

“Hey,” She turned to see Clytemnestra standing somewhat sheepishly at her bedroom door. “You look…different.”

“Do you not like it?” Helen asked, alarmed.

“No, no, you look really pretty, Helen.”

They stood there awkwardly for a moment. “I’m sorry Agamemnon didn’t invite you-”

Clytemnestra snorted. “Oh, please, like I have any interest in sitting through a dinner with his parents. They’re pricks.” Her expression turned serious. “But listen, don’t piss them off. I know you’re good at this, Helen, but be careful. They’re powerful.”

Great, it wasn’t like she wasn’t already under enough pressure. She’d only met the Atreides a few times, and it was usually very brief. She had never had to perform for a whole evening before.

Helen nodded, but Clytemnestra had already gone. The silence of the room pressed in, heavier than the dress on her shoulders. Tonight, she would be on her own. In the mirror, her perfect reflection stared back, poised, polished, untouchable. But beneath it, her chest tightened with dread.

 

                                                                                                          ~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~

Helen slowly made her way up the cold, marble steps to Menelaus’ front door. It was still light outside, and the evening sun reflected off the rows of expensive cars lining the driveway. Perfectly manicured hedges trapped her in the large doorway. Helen shivered despite the heat. Everything was cold and sterile.

 

She hesitated before ringing the doorbell. Helen tensed as she stood there, waiting. The door opened to reveal Menelaus’ face. He looked strained, but fixed his face into a wide grin when he saw her.

 

“You look perfect.” He said, eyes examining her outfit.

 

“Thanks.”

 

He gestured for her to come inside and shut the door behind her. The sound echoed ominously in the large foyer. Helen had been here a few times, usually for parties or to sit and watch Menelaus play video games.

 

A crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling, and large family portraits lined the walls. The stern faces of generations of the Atreides family glared down at her.

 

Helen turned at the sound of heels clacking on the cold floor to see Mrs Atreides walking towards her along with her husband and Agamemnon. Mrs Atreides pulled her in for a quick kiss on each cheek.

 

“You look gorgeous, dear.”

 

“Thank you very much, Mrs Atreides. So do you.”

“Menelaus is lucky; beauty and quiet manners? Rare these days.”

Helen gave her a forced smile.

“Right, shall we move into the dining room?”

They sat down at a long dining table covered in gleaming silverware. Helen glanced up at the antlers displayed at the end of the table. Menelaus had told her his father enjoyed hunting; she thought it was vile. 

She found herself reaching for Menelaus’ hand under the table. She needed someone to hold her, to assure her everything would be fine. His fingers held hers for a moment before quickly letting go, and the warmth vanished before it could reassure her.

“So,” Mr Atreides began, “Menelaus tells us you’re interested in studying psychology?”

Helen nodded, her throat felt tight, and she didn’t trust herself to speak without sounding impossibly small. 

“Of course, those kinds of courses are… competitive. A lot of pressure, isn’t it?” Mrs Atreides added. 

Agamemnon grinned condescendingly from across the table. “She’s smarter than she looks.”

The fork in Helen’s hand trembled. 

“An academic career probably isn’t something you’ll need to worry about, though.” Mr Atreides said, amusement leaking into his voice. “Not with looks like that.”

Helen’s eyes widened. Her heart rate spiked. Every nerve in her body tensed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Agamemnon tilt his head, watching her, lips curling into a slow, deliberate smile. His stare made her skin crawl.

She had expected to be thoroughly examined, but not to be subjected to blatant misogyny. 

Don’t piss them off. Be careful. They’re powerful.

Clytemnestra’s warnings rang in her head. She smoothed down her dress and forced herself to let out a soft laugh. “I suppose not, Mr. Atreides.”

The conversation was interrupted by a loud clatter as Menelaus dropped his fork. He picked it up, avoiding eye contact with his parents, and attempting to hide the red flush of embarrassment on his face.

“Menelaus,” his mother chided. “Please be more careful. I thought you’d grown out of your clumsiness.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, staring at his plate.

Mrs Atreides snapped, “What did I tell you about mumbling, Menelaus?”

Helen saw him clench his fists beneath the table.

“Sorry, mother.”

His parents gave satisfied nods and continued with their meal.

Mr Atreides cleared his throat. “I hear Agamemnon’s really pushing the team this season. You keeping up, Menelaus?” 

Menelaus nodded sullenly, while Agamemnon leaned back in his chair, that smug grin never leaving his face. Helen could feel Menelaus stiffen beside her.

The conversation kept flowing, but Helen could no longer pay attention. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for her glass, the cool rim doing nothing to calm the heat in her chest. Agamemnon’s smirk across the table made her stomach twist; she could feel his eyes tracking her every move. 

Her breath came quicker, shallow and uneven. The clinking of silverware sounded unbearably loud, punctuating her thoughts. Her fingers tightened around her fork until her knuckles whitened.

A sudden, sharp flutter in her stomach made her flinch. The room seemed to shrink around her, the chandelier too bright, the portraits too stern, the air too thick. She needed to get out.

Taking a deep breath, she fixed Menelaus’ parents with a dazzling smile. “May I please be excused to go to the bathroom?”

“Of course, dear.”

She forced herself not to run out of the room and made sure to hold her head high, maintaining a calm expression on her face. However, once she was safely alone, she stumbled into the bathroom, drawing in ragged breaths.

She gripped the sink and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t look like herself. The sight made her suddenly nauseous. Memories of Theseus flooded her mind. His harsh grip holding her in place. His hungry grin as he looked down at her. Her hands trembled, and she pressed her forehead to the cool tile, wishing she could make it all stop.

There wasn’t time to panic. Helen had a role to perform. She practiced her smile in the mirror, trying not to let the tears escape. Reluctantly, she pushed open the door, forcing her shoulders to stay straight, and made her way back to the dining room.

 

                                                                                                                      ~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~

“You did good,” Menelaus said as he walked her to the door. Helen could see how the dinner had affected him; his fists were still clenched, and his shoulders were tense. 

 

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

 

He laughed, but it sounded forced. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. They’re going on some trip tomorrow anyway.”

 

He opened the door to reveal the driveway covered in darkness. The temperature had significantly dropped from when Helen had arrived. The air clung to her bare skin, heavy and cold. She suddenly felt very exposed in her silky dress.

 

“So, I’ll see you here for the party tomorrow, yeah?”

 

“Uh, Menelaus,” her voice was hesitant. “Would it be okay if you dropped me back home? It’s really dark, and I just…” She trailed off as he remained silent.

 

Menelaus sighed. “Look, Helen, usually I would, but it’s late and it’s actually not even very far to walk. It’s been a pretty rough evening, so I kinda just wanna go to bed.”

 

Her heart sank. 

 

“It’s just a few streets, Helen, you’ll be fine.”

 

“Yeah, no, of course. I get it.”

 

Menelaus pulled her in for a kiss before turning around and shutting the door. Helen stood there for a moment, alone in the dark. She hugged herself tighter, the silk of her dress doing nothing to stop the chill creeping up her arms. Her fingers fumbled with her phone, thumb shaking as she dialed her dad’s number.

                                                                                                         ~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~

Odysseus shut the door of Diomedes’ car as they made their way up the lawn and towards the large, intimidating house. Agamemnon’s parents were crazy rich, even by Ilium standards. People were already scattered around the driveway, either smoking or talking loudly with friends. He and Diomedes carefully stepped past Automedon, who was throwing up in a bush. 

Odysseus fidgeted with his flannel shirt as he followed Diomedes up the lawn toward the intimidating house. Music thumped from inside, the floor vibrating under his feet, and glittery outfits sparkled under neon lights. The mingling scents of perfume, smoke, and alcohol pressed against him, making his head throb.

Diomedes led him through the masses of people and towards a sliding door that led into the garden. Fairy lights twinkled over the pool, and laughter and shrieks carried over the thumping bass. Someone squealed as they toppled into the water, sending a rubber ring flying across the patio. Odysseus stayed close to Diomedes, leaning slightly away from the chaos.

“Who are you looking for?” he asked, glancing up at him.

“Hmm?”

“You’re looking for someone.”

“No, I’m not,” Diomedes said quickly, avoiding his gaze.

Odysseus grinned. “Who is she?”

Diomedes groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ody-”

“Or is it a he?”

“There’s no one, okay?” Diomedes muttered, exasperated.

Odysseus shrugged and smirked. “I can be your wingman.”

A splash nearby made him jump, sending a quick shiver through his shoulders. He adjusted his shirt, trying to calm the tightening in his chest, while Diomedes shot him a look that was half amused, half frustrated.

“What? It’ll be fun!”

“I do not need a wingman because there is no…” Diomedes trailed off, and Odysseus followed his gaze. 

Then he saw her. Helen Tyndareus. Odysseus had never spoken to her, but he knew who she was. Everyone did. She was standing next to Menelaus, an arm draped around her waist as he laughed with his friends. Her pale pink bikini caught the neon lights, and her golden hair fell in loose waves.

“Helen?! You can’t be serious!” Odysseus’ voice pitched with surprise. 

Diomedes didn’t answer. His jaw tightened, his eyes cold, narrowing just slightly as he studied Helen and Menelaus.

“I mean, you’re definitely a catch, Dio, don’t get me wrong, but Helen… she’s…” Odysseus trailed off, unsure how to finish.

Diomedes ran a hand through his hair, his shoulders stiff. “I need a drink.”

Odysseus stood there, stunned, as Diomedes disappeared toward the bar. Fine then, he’d just have to mingle on his own. He pushed his way through the crowds, carefully avoiding Achilles, who appeared to be very drunk. He’d barely stepped back inside before his heart lurched. Cold dread washed through him.

Circe.

She was leaning against the wall, drink in hand, fingers glittering with chunky rings, bangles sliding down her wrist. Her sheer lace top revealed the spider tattoo curling along her side. With her other hand, she toyed with the hair of the guy in front of her, a teasing grin on her lips.

Odysseus’ stomach knotted. Circe had been his first girlfriend. His only girlfriend. She’d ended things quickly, said he was boring, predictable. Not her type.

She turned and spotted him. “Hey, Ody!” He wished she wouldn’t call him that anymore.

“Hey,” he smiled weakly. 

“I didn’t think you’d show. Not really your scene.” Her grin was feline, sharp, the same one that used to undo him. It didn’t anymore. At least, he told himself it didn’t.

Her tattoos caught his eye: the dragonfly at the back of her neck, ivy curling up her arm, the scorpion at her ankle. He remembered tracing them, once.

“Oh, sorry. Sarpedon, this is Ody. Ody, my boyfriend, Sarpedon.”

Odysseus raised a hand. Sarpedon gave a quick nod. Dark hair, shirt unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled to his forearms. Confident. Effortless. Odysseus tugged at his own flannel, suddenly hating how he looked.

“You wanna grab a drink?” Circe asked.

“No- thanks, but I don’t- ” He stumbled over his words.

Circe laughed, that same tinkling laugh he used to chase. “Same old Ody.”

She turned back to Sarpedon, and Odysseus gratefully slipped away. It seemed she’d already tired of him again. The sound of her voice echoed in his ears as he left.

 

                                                                                                           ~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~

 

The bright lights strung up in the evening air reflected off the cool blue tiles of the pool, making it appear as if flames were dancing across the water's surface. The smell of chlorine hung heavily in the air, blending with the scent of alcohol on people's breath as they shouted in excitement. Helen could feel the vibrations from the music as she sat at the edge of the pool; the thumping bass resonated in her ears. 

 

Helen fiddled with the small gold bracelet on her wrist, twisting it so tightly that it dug into her skin. Her pink floral bikini clung to her body, feeling suffocating with the strings tied firmly around her neck. Sighing to herself, she continued to dip her feet into the water, enjoying the way they created ripples on the surface as she swung them back and forth.

 

By now, the pool was mostly empty as the night grew cooler and people headed inside in search of alcohol or empty rooms. Helen had stayed by Menelaus' side for a couple of hours, laughing at his jokes and greeting his friends, but he had eventually left her to grab a drink and never returned. Not that she minded; it was nice to sit with her thoughts without the pressure of acting like the perfect girlfriend. Plus, the music was at least a little quieter outside, and Menelaus had told her to leave her earplugs at home. He said they made her look rude. She had put them in her bag anyway, but was too nervous to use them. 

 

“Helen!” She was startled by a raucous voice calling out for her. She whipped her head around to see Menelaus sauntering over to her along with his brother Agamemnon, Ajax L, and some of the others from the football team. They all carried beers, and a few were staggering slightly. The sight sent shivers down Helen’s spine, and an uncomfortable weight settled in her chest. She tried to ignore it and stood up to greet her boyfriend, offering a soft smile. 

 

“How come you’re hiding out here?” Menelaus asked after briefly pulling her in for a kiss. The alcohol on his breath made Helen want to gag.

 

“It just got a little noisy in there,” she replied, ignoring the way her hands slightly shook. 

 

“You are so damn sensitive!" Menelaus laughed. “It’s a party, of course it’s gonna be noisy!”

 

“She needs to loosen up.” Agamemnon sneered. “How about a dip in the pool?”

 

Helen quickly shook her head, panic clawing at her chest.

 

“Relax. They’re just messing around.” Menelaus turned to his brother and friends with a grin on his face, his eyes slightly unfocused. “Don’t act like a child, Helen. You’re always overreacting.”

 

“Maybe another time,” she offered.

 

“Nah, I think you should get in now. Water’s nice and cold.” Agamemnon now stepped forward, leering down at Helen. She felt cramped and confined as they all closed in on her like a pack of hungry wolves. Stepping backwards, Helen realised she had reached the edge of the pool and was effectively trapped. 

 

A sinister smirk crept onto Agamemnon’s face. “We can help you get in if you’re too scared.” 

 

Helen shook her head rapidly, her golden curls falling into her face. Tears began to prick at the back of her eyes, and her nose started to sting slightly. Clenching her fists, she willed herself not to cry.

 

“Menelaus, tell them no.” Her voice cracked.

Suddenly, Agamemnon’s rough hands shoved her shoulders, sending her stumbling backwards. Panic surged as she clawed at Menelaus’s hoodie, but he peeled her off with a cold flick of his wrist. For a split second, Helen saw only the pool lights reflected in his glazed eyes, then she toppled. Her scream tore through the night before the water slammed into her.

She was enveloped in murky darkness, the numbing cold of the water making her limbs heavy and powerless. A burning ache spread through her chest as she thrashed to reach the surface; her lungs felt as though they were on fire.

Gasping, she broke the surface, water stinging her eyes, blinding her. The ringing in her ears made it impossible to think. People splashed around her, laughing and shouting, but the noise only made the panic spike. She clawed at the water, desperate for the edge. It was too deep. She couldn’t stand. She couldn’t breathe.

A rough hand clamped around her ankle, dragging her back down. Her stomach lurched. She twisted and kicked, scratching at the grip, but it was like a vice. Another hand shoved her head beneath the water. Chlorine burned her lungs. Her vision flickered toward black.

“Let me go!” she gurgled, but the water swallowed her voice.

She thrashed wildly, legs flailing, hair tangling across her face like seaweed. Agamemnon’s fingers dug into her ankle with a cruel steadiness; she could feel the smirk even if she couldn’t see it. Ajax shoved her head down again, deliberate, controlled, as if testing how far he could push her before she screamed.

Panic consumed her. She was drowning. She was going to die. Her mind spun in a frantic spiral. 

Make it stop. Breathe. Get out. Please-

Every kick, every claw at a hand, seemed to accomplish nothing. The water pressed down on her chest, her lungs screamed for air, and the edges of her vision darkened further.

Someone grasped Helen firmly under her armpits and lifted her out of the water. The hold was strong, but not aggressive. She let herself be carried above the surface and dragged to the edge of the pool. Kneeling on the ground, she coughed violently, retching up water. Her skin felt raw, and chlorine stung her eyes. Panic made it even harder to fill her lungs. 

 

“Helen- hey, hey, I’ve got you. You’re okay, you’re okay. Breathe,” a soothing voice said. Diomedes.

 

Her whole body was shaking. Laughter continued in the background. Her hands clutched Diomedes’ jacket, and tears welled up in her eyes.

 

“Ignore them. Just focus on me, alright? In through your nose… slow… yeah, like that.” She buried her tear-stained face in his chest as he rubbed her back.

 

“Okay, I’m gonna leave you with Odysseus, alright? He’ll look after you while I deal with those guys.”

 

She nodded as he helped her up, holding her elbow with a steady grip.

 

“Easy, easy. Lean on me.”

 

They slowly made their way over to Odysseus, his lips drawn together in a firm line. He wrapped a fluffy towel around her shoulders.

Diomedes marched over to Menelaus, Agamemnon, and the others in the pool, laughing. His soft, comforting smile was gone, replaced by a furious scowl.

“What the fuck did you think you were doing?” Diomedes shouted. “You tried to drown her!”

“It was just a bit of fun.” Agamemnon shrugged.

“Fun?! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Hey man, just let it go. It was a joke, okay?” Ajax L chimed in.

“You guys are sick if that's your idea of a joke!”

Agamemnon emerged from the water, walking toward Diomedes. Although Diomedes was tall, Agamemnon still managed to look down at him. His jaw tightened, fingers curling into fists.

“This doesn’t concern you, so why don’t you mind your own business?” Agamemnon spat.

Helen stayed on the sidelines next to Odysseus, shivering. She watched Diomedes, then Agamemnon, and the knot of tension in her chest tightened. She silently urged Diomedes to leave while he still could; picking a fight with Agamemnon was practically suicidal. Odysseus fidgeted beside her, eyes flicking between the two men. She could see him hesitate, torn between stepping in and staying safe, and it made her heart race even faster.

The air was thick with tension, and everyone seemed to be waiting for someone to throw the first punch. Suddenly, Hector dashed out of the house and positioned himself between Agamemnon and Diomedes.

“What's going on?” Hector asked, slightly out of breath.

“They tried to drown Helen!” Diomedes yelled.

Hector blinked, then met Helen’s gaze. Alone, wrapped in a towel, hair dripping, she looked helpless. “What?” he snapped.

“It was a joke-” Agamemnon began, but Hector held up his hand to silence him.

“I don’t want to hear it. Diomedes, Odysseus, I suggest you leave. I’ll deal with the rest of them once I’ve helped Helen.”

“This is my house! You can’t just order me around-”

“If I were you, I’d keep quiet before you make things worse for yourself.”

Agamemnon glowered but stayed silent.

“Helen, would you like to come with me? I can give you a ride home if you want,” Hector said kindly. She nodded; her throat felt too sore to speak.

Hector guided her inside the house, his hands resting on her shoulders to help her navigate through the crowd of people dancing and talking loudly. She tried to ignore the stares from onlookers as they made their way down the hallway. Her vision was still hazy, and her head throbbed with pain. She clutched the towel wrapped around her body, willing her legs to keep moving despite the uncontrollable shaking.

“Paris!” Hector called. “Come here.”

Helen had never spoken to Paris, but she recognized him as Hector’s brother. She rarely saw them interact at school; Paris never sat with the football team. He approached slowly, wearing a bored expression on his pretty face. His large brown eyes and thick eyelashes made him seem almost too delicate, and his brown curls were perfectly styled. He was slimmer and shorter than Hector, with lighter hair. He wore a Ralph Lauren polo shirt with a navy sweater draped over his shoulders.

“What’s up?” he drawled, taking a sip of his beer. 

 

“Can you help Helen get her bag and find a place to change? I need to speak with Agamemnon and the others.”

“Uh… what happened?” he asked, finally noticing Helen.

“There was an incident in the pool,” Hector said. “I’ll explain later. Just help Helen, okay?” Without waiting for a response, Hector made his way back through the crowd.

Paris turned to Helen, his previously listless expression now alert. His eyes widened, and his soft lips parted slightly.

“Where’s your bag?” he asked, still staring at her.

“In the kitchen,” Helen replied, cringing at how hoarse her voice sounded.

Paris’s gaze lingered on her, and Helen felt the pulse of panic flare again, subtle but insistent. She pressed her hand against her chest, feeling the rapid beat beneath her palm

“Okay. Let’s grab it and find somewhere for you to change,” he said, keeping his tone gentle.

Helen nodded, focusing on steadying her trembling hands as she followed him through the throng of partygoers, the music and laughter pressing in from all sides. 

“In here?” Paris asked as he guided Helen into an empty room. Helen recognised it as one of the guest bedrooms. They exchanged a brief glance, with Helen clutching her bag nervously and Paris leaning against the doorframe.

 

“Oh, right. Sorry, I’ll leave you to it,” he stammered, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks as he exited the room.

 

Helen suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to break down in tears. She was exhausted, and everything hurt. All she wanted was to get home and hide under her warm duvet. Slowly, she put on her dress and dried her damp hair. Even though she had changed out of her bikini and was now in the warmth of the house, a numb coldness still seeped into her bones.

She opened the door cautiously to find Paris waiting outside. He smiled brightly. “Right, let's go find Hector.”

By this time, it was dark outside, and the air was chillier than before. Paris led the way over to Hector’s car.

“Hey, Helen!” She turned around, startled, but relaxed when she saw it was just Diomedes.

He jogged over to them as Paris huffed in annoyance.

“I’m taking care of it.”

Diomedes raised an eyebrow and turned to Helen. “I just wanted to see if you’re okay.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

Diomedes stared at her for a moment. “Oh- uh, here.” He handed her his leather jacket. “You look cold.”

Helen let him drape it over her shoulders, the leather warm against her skin. She hugged herself slightly, feeling a shiver run through her at the thought of being grabbed again.

“Okay, we’re leaving now.” Paris snapped, pulling Helen gently but firmly away from Diomedes. She flinched slightly at the sudden movement, gripping the jacket tighter.

Helen looked back, and her eyes met Diomedes’. He offered her a small wave, and for a fraction of a second, she felt a little safer. Then he turned and walked back to the party.

Hector unlocked his car and opened the door to the backseat for Helen. Paris walked around the car and began to open the door on the other side.

“What are you doing?” Hector asked.

“Um, getting in the car, obviously,” Paris replied, rolling his eyes.

“You're sitting in the front,” Hector said firmly.

“What? Why?"

Hector sighed. “Just do it, please.”

They continued bickering as Helen slid into the backseat, hugging herself slightly again. Her chest felt tight, and her gaze fixed on the dark sky outside the window. Each shadow seemed to press in on her, reminding her of the chaos at the pool.

Eventually, Paris relented and sat next to Hector in the front, but not without lots of grumbling and complaining.

“She probably needs space right now,” Hector hissed to Paris as he buckled his seatbelt. “And you’re not exactly known for your skills in comforting people.”

Helen forced herself not to look at them, keeping her eyes on the passing darkness. Her hands twisted the edges of the leather jacket, trying to hold onto the small sense of safety it provided.

They remained in silence until they reached Helen’s house. The night air was cool against her damp skin, and the familiar sight of her front porch gave her a small sense of relief.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Hector said. He turned to Paris, “You, stay here.”

“But-”

“Just stay in the bloody car.”

Paris shot Hector a glare as he and Helen exited the car and walked up to her house. Helen’s hands trembled slightly as she fumbled through her bag to find her keys.

“Hey, I talked to the guys. They say it was a joke, but I don’t believe that,” Hector said softly. “If you want to tell your parents, you should. I won’t say a word unless you ask. If you need anything, just let me know, okay?”

Helen nodded, her throat tight. “Thanks,” she whispered, her fingers tightening around her keys.

Hector smiled and then turned back toward the car, leaving her on the porch with the quiet comfort of safety for the first time all night.

 

                                                                                                       ~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~

 

Helen immediately burrowed under the warmth of her duvet, clutching her stuffed bunny tight against her chest. It was childish, but it comforted her. She hadn’t been able to stop crying since Hector had dropped her off.

It was a good thing her parents weren’t home; she didn’t have the energy to explain what had happened. She wasn’t even entirely sure herself. Menelaus was her boyfriend. She sat with those guys from the football team every day. Why did they hate her enough to want to hurt her?

“Helen!”

Clytemnestra was standing at her bedroom door, heels dangling from her hand, makeup smudged, faint glitter still clinging to her skin. “Are you okay?”

Helen stared at her, mouth slightly open.

“Antilochus told me what happened,” Clytemnestra said breathlessly, stepping closer. “Everything will be fine. We can fix this.”

Helen sat up, edging nearer to her sister. She longed for her to wrap her arms around her and hold her until she fell asleep.

“I’m sure we can get Menelaus to forgive you and-”

Helen stilled. “Menelaus to forgive me?”

“Helen, listen. Agamemnon is very angry. When I confronted him about what happened, he started shouting at me and…” Her voice faltered; she dropped her heels to the floor with a dull thud. “He said you provoked him. That you were trying to embarrass Menelaus and the others. In order to fix this, we need to-”

“He nearly drowned me!”

“Helen, this is important! I’m trying to protect you!” Clytemnestra’s dark hair whipped across her face, wild and messy.

Tears spilled down Helen’s cheeks again. Her chest hitched. “Cly, I’m scared.”

Clytemnestra’s eyes softened, and she reached out, taking Helen’s trembling hands. For a moment, Helen clung to the warmth of her sister’s hands, desperate for it to last.

“It’s gonna be okay. As long as you talk to Menelaus-”

Helen yanked her hands back, voice cracking. “No! He hurt me!”

Clytemnestra’s jaw tightened, her knuckles whitening around the edge of the duvet. “If you break up with him, I can’t protect you. You’ll have no one.”

Helen’s breathing quickened. Her stuffed bunny slipped from her lap onto the floor. “Why are you siding with Agamemnon?!” she cried, almost hysterical. “You’re my sister!”

“Helen, stop being so fucking naive and open your eyes!” Clytemnestra’s voice dropped low, almost a growl. “We need them. You’re being very selfish right now. This affects both of us.”

“I never even wanted this in the first place! You pushed me towards him!”

“Because that’s the only way to keep you safe! They have power, and you need to be on their side.”

“I don’t want power!”

“Well then, how are you gonna defend yourself when another Theseus comes along?!”

The words hit like a slap, and the air between them turned heavy. Clytemnestra’s face shifted as soon as she realised what she’d said. “Helen- I didn’t-”

“Get out.” Helen’s voice shook, but the fury in it was undeniable.

“If you break up with Menelaus… I won’t be able to protect you.”

“Get out.”

Clytemnestra hesitated before leaving, shutting the door behind her. Helen collapsed back onto her bed, the silence of the house overwhelming her. She looked down at the stuffed bunny on the floor, lonely and disregarded.

Notes:

Hope you guys enjoyed all the drama!

Now that I'm going back to school, I'm gonna be aiming to update once a week. We'll see how it goes.

Chapter 5: Cracks in the Mask

Summary:

more pain for Cassandra

Clytemnestra's pov

more OdyPen - things are happeninggg

Notes:

Was severely lacking in motivation over the last two days, but I managed to write this pretty quickly. Hopefully you guys like it.

Cassandra had been in bed for two days. She had no energy to move. Everything felt numb. She’d failed.

 

Hector was concerned, and it was getting increasingly difficult to hide everything from him. Of course, he knew about the article now; everyone did. He wanted to talk about it, but she’d refused. She couldn’t bring herself to go through everything again. The fear of not being believed kept her up at night. He’d even tried to drag her to a party last night, insisting it would be fun to get out, but Cassandra couldn’t think of anything worse.

 

The door banged open. Hector stumbled in, breathless, eyes wild, hair sticking up as if he’d run the whole way.

 

“Cass, mum and dad, they-”

 

Cassandra sat up, alarm shooting through her. “What?!”

 

“They just called me. They’ll be home in an hour.”

 

“Fuck!”

 

Her body jolted into motion before her mind caught up. She scrambled out of bed, pulling open drawers, scanning her room as if she could erase the last two days in an instant. She needed to shower, deal with her hair, and find something, anything, that didn’t scream despair.

 

She whirled back to find Hector still standing in the doorway, chest heaving. “Hector, you need to get ready!”

 

“Cass…” His voice cracked. “Principal Minos called them. They know about the article.”

 

She froze. Her pulse roared in her ears, stomach twisting like she might be sick.

 

She stared at Hector, lost for words. “I-”

 

“It’s gonna be okay.”

 

Cassandra shook her head, tears threatening to spill. She turned away from him, rubbing at her arms as if she could shield herself. “I need to get ready.”

 

He hesitated, jaw tight, before nodding and stepping back, leaving her alone.

 

Her chest rose and fell in shallow, frantic breaths. How was she supposed to explain herself to her parents? Why were they even coming now? It was just like them to only take an interest in her life when she’d done something they thought was wrong.

 

Apart from that, they were barely around. There was always a cleaner, sometimes someone hired to cook meals, but it was Hector who kept the house running. Cassandra had long since stopped expecting her parents to be involved. Most of her siblings had too, though some clung harder than others to the hope that things might change. Whenever one of them dared to bring up their absence, the response was always the same: “The company needs us. The only reason you have all this nice stuff is because we work hard. Everything we do is for you.”

 

Once she’d showered, Cassandra dug through her closet for something that would least offend them. Normally, she wouldn’t care, sometimes even enjoyed the sharp disapproval in her mother’s eyes, but this time was different. Serious.

 

She pulled out a dress her mother had given her for her birthday, a dress she’d never once bothered to try on. Not her style, not her choice.

 

Her reflection in the mirror made her wince. The dark circles under her eyes were stark against her pale skin. She forced her curls into a neat braid, tugging it tighter than necessary.

 

“Cass!” Hector’s voice rang from downstairs. “They’re here!”

 

Her stomach lurched. Judgment time.

 

She pressed her hands against her dress, gave herself one last grim glance in the mirror, and started down the stairs.

 

They stood in the hallway, still in their work attire despite it being Sunday morning. Crisp suits and shiny shoes. Hector was greeting them, a smile forcibly plastered on his face. The rest of her siblings surrounded them too, the younger ones shouting excitedly. Cassandra remained on the staircase next to Paris, who was sulking, arms folded, glaring at the scene in front of them.

 

“Cassandra.” Her father’s voice cut through the chatter. “We need to speak to you in the dining room.”

 

She nodded and followed them, her siblings staring. Hector gave her a pat on the shoulder as she walked past him. 

 

“You’ll be fine,” he whispered. 

Her parents shut the door to the dining room behind her and gestured for her to take a seat at the long dining table. She noticed that they remained standing.

 

“We got a call on Friday from your principal,” her mother began. “He said you released an article claiming that a teacher assaulted a student.”

 

Cassandra scoffed. “Because he did!”

 

“And how would you know?”

 

“I had an anonymous tip off!”

 

Her father frowned. “That’s hardly enough evidence, Cassandra. How can you be sure?”

 

“Because I- I-” She couldn’t tell them it was her; it would only make things worse.

 

“Exactly, you have no way of knowing for sure. You’ve always been rather gullible-”

 

“What?!”

 

“Cassandra, don’t shout.” Her mother snapped, folding her arms. “Do you even understand the damage you could cause with lies like this?”

 

“They’re not lies!” Cassandra shot back, voice cracking. “I know what he did-”

 

“You don’t know, ” her father interrupted coolly. “You think. And you’ve published something reckless that could ruin a man’s career. 

 

Cassandra’s hands curled into fists on her lap. “I had to! No one else was going to say anything-”

 

Her mother’s lips thinned. “This is exactly the problem. You always think you know better.”

 

“That’s not true!”

 

Her father sighed, shaking his head as though disappointed. “It’s exhausting, Cassandra. We can’t keep cleaning up after your messes. If you want to play at being a journalist, fine. But don’t drag this family’s name through the mud.”

 

Something inside her cracked. Her throat ached from holding back a scream. “You don’t get it,” she whispered. “You never get it.”

 

Neither of them moved.

 

Finally, her mother said, flat and final: “We expect better from you.”

 

Cassandra shoved back her chair, the legs screeching against the floor, and stormed out. Fury burned in her chest, but underneath it was that familiar feeling of desperation. She hated them. She hated herself more for still wanting them to believe her.

 

“Oh, and Cassandra,” her mother called after her. “You’re going to school tomorrow. We know you skipped on Friday.”

 

Cassandra ignored her, racing up the stairs to her room. She almost collided with Paris, who was on his way downstairs.

 

“Didn’t go well then?” He asked, a slight smirk on his face.

 

“Shut up.” She snapped. 

 

“So, did you really make it all up-”

 

“You know they won’t care, right?” She looked down at the fencing trophy in his hand. “They don’t give a fuck about all your stupid trophies. No point in showing them.”

 

Paris’ face twisted in fury. “You don’t know that.”

 

Cassandra shrugged. “They’re only interested in Hector. Always have been. I thought you’d have realised that by now.”

 

Hurt flickered in his eyes. “Maybe you’re just bitter because the only time they notice you is when you’ve fucked up again,” he shot back.

 

Cassandra laughed, sharp and joyless. “Better that than begging for scraps of attention with shiny toys. Good luck with that trophy, Paris.”

 

She watched him storm off downstairs, expecting to feel satisfaction, but instead left with a cold emptiness.

 

“You okay?” She glanced up to see Hector at the top of the stairs.

 

“Fine.”

 

He sighed. “Cass, I know you’re not fine.”

 

“Whatever, just leave it.” She pushed past him, towards her room.

 

“I still think we should talk about that article. It’s a big deal-”

 

Cassandra didn’t let him finish his sentence before she slammed her bedroom door shut, the echo vibrating down the hall. Fury burned in her chest, but underneath it was that same gnawing hollowness. The article hadn’t freed her, it had only proved what she’d always known: no one would ever believe her.

          

                                                                                                                                   ~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~

Clytemnestra strode through the hallway, head held high. She wore a fitted red top and a tight skirt, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Large gold hoops swung from her ears.

 

Helen hadn’t spoken to her since Saturday. It hurt, and she missed her a little, but it didn’t matter. As long as she listened and stuck with Menelaus, it would be fine. She’d done the right thing.

 

“Hey, Cly!” a voice called. She spun around to see Iphis hurrying toward her, panic etched across her face.

 

“What?”

 

“You need to see this.” Iphis held out her phone with a hesitant hand.

 

It was Agamemnon. His lips pressed to Briseis’.

 

Her whole body went cold. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. That dickhead.

 

“This was at the party?” Her voice was sharp, controlled.

 

“After you left. I’m sorry-”

 

“How many people know?”

 

“The football team, the cheerleaders…I don’t know who else. Probably everyone by the end of lunch.”

 

He really thought he could get away with humiliating her? He was going to regret this. She gritted her teeth and marched down the hallway.

 

“Wait, Cly, where are you going?!”

 

She ignored Iphis, fury burning through her veins. She didn’t falter once on her way to the cafeteria, brushing past the whispers and stares.

 

At the double doors, she didn’t pause. She marched straight to the football table, the one she’d clawed her way into, the one she’d endured fucking Agamemnon for nearly a year to secure, only to have it ripped away in a single photo. All she had left now was her dignity. Her reputation.

 

“Agamemnon!” Her shout cut through the cafeteria. Heads whipped around. The chatter died instantly. She saw phones rise, recording, hungry for the show. Nosy motherfuckers.

 

She slammed her palms onto the table, glaring down at him. “Were you planning to tell me, or was I supposed to find out from a blurry photo?”

 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he snarled, eyes flicking nervously between her and the watching crowd.

 

“You know what you did. And if you can’t admit it, you’re a coward.”

 

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Okay, fine. She kissed me. It meant nothing.”

 

Oh, so that’s how he was gonna play it. Fine.

 

“You cheated.” Her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.

 

He leaned back, a smirk curling. “You’re overreacting. It’s not that deep, Cly.”

 

A few of the football guys snorted with laughter. Deidamia wore a smug little smile on her stupidly perfect face. Hector frowned, Andromache’s wide eyes darted between them, and Menelaus sat stiff in silence, gaze fixed on the table. Helen wasn’t there.

 

“You think this is funny? That I’m some joke to you?”

 

Agamemnon shrugged, lounging back in his chair like he owned the room. “Relax. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

 

Cly looked around, phones pointed at her like laser sights, laughter bubbling through the cafeteria. Heat roared in her chest.

 

She leaned in close, venom dripping from her voice. “You are pathetic, Agamemnon. We’re done.”

 

She didn’t wait for a response. She spun on her heel and marched away, spine straight, fury blazing.

 

“Oh, and by the way-” she called out, voice carrying across the silent cafeteria, not bothering to turn around. “The sex was awful.”

 

The room erupted. 

 

Clytemnestra waited until she found an empty corridor before letting the mask slip. Her face crumpled, just for a second, jaw trembling, eyes stinging, before she wiped it away. She couldn’t afford to fall apart. Not here. Not now.

 

Her protection, her status, everything she had built, had been ripped out from under her. With a sinking dread, she realised she had no one. She’d never bothered with anyone outside that table. Fucking fake friends. All of them.

 

Now she had nothing. No power. No control. And worse, no way of keeping Helen safe.

 

                                                                                                                                    ~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~

Odysseus hurried down the corridor in search of his PE kit. He was not in the mood to deal with Coach Ares having a go at him if he didn’t have it by the end of lunchtime.

 

He ignored the shouts from the cafeteria and made his way down to the changing rooms, stumbling slightly when his vision went dark. His temples pulsed in a dull ache, the kind of pressure that made the overhead lights sting a little too much.

 

He pushed through the door leading to the lockers, pausing when he saw someone sitting on one of the polished wooden benches. Penelope Icarius. She seemed to be absorbed in the pages of notes scattered around her, a look of deep concentration on her face.

 

“What are you doing here?” Odysseus asked, confused.

 

Her eyes shot up in alarm, her face forming a scowl when she realised it was him.

 

“Working. What do you want?”

 

“You know there’s a library, right?”

 

“Just leave me alone, Laertes.”

 

He smirked. “Sure. Or maybe you just like hiding in here so you don’t have to deal with anyone. Is this all for debate? You’re acting like this upcoming tournament is life or death.”

 

She slammed her pen down. The sharp clatter made him flinch, the sound ricocheting against the pounding in his skull. “At least I’m actually trying. Some of us care if we win.”

 

That stung. He crossed his arms. “And some of us care if we don’t collapse before we even make it there. Not everything has to be in your perfect little plan, Icarius.”

 

Her eyes flashed. “Perfect plan? You think I want to spend every second holding everything together while you joke around and act like none of it matters?”

 

He took a step closer, jaw tight, the ache in his head worsening with every word. “You think I don’t care? You think I haven’t been trying? I’m trying to keep us from falling apart before the tournament. If that makes me the bad guy, fine.”

 

“Oh, please, don’t act like you actually care about the team.” She scoffed.

 

“I’m the captain! Of course I fucking care!”

 

“You know that position should’ve been mine.”

 

“Why?! Why do you think you’re so entitled to everything?! Sorry if me being captain triggers your insecurities-”

“Shut up!”

 

“You’re taking all of this way too seriously!”

 

“You don’t get it! This is important for some people!”

 

“That doesn’t mean you’re permitted to have a go at everyone who doesn’t do things your way!”

 

Someone cleared their throat from behind them. They both whipped their heads around to see Antinous leaning against the doorway, a smirk on his lips.

 

“Sorry to interrupt…whatever’s going on here. I was tasked with fixing the door of the sauna. I could use some help.”

 

Odysseus had forgotten that their school had a bloody sauna. That had been a donation from the Priamides. 

 

“Really?” He sighed; his headache was only getting worse, and he really needed to find a quiet, dark room. 

 

“It’ll only take a second.”

 

“Fine.”

 

He followed Antinous over to the sauna, and Penelope set her notes aside and joined them. Odysseus moved over slightly, wanting to put as much distance between himself and Penelope as possible. 

 

“Okay, if you guys just go inside, you can hold this in place,” Antinous said, pointing to the door frame. “Like that… perfect.”

 

Odysseus rolled his eyes but complied. He was aware of Penelope’s eyes on his back as they shuffled inside. The waves of heat were already making his skin prickle uncomfortably. Antinous started fiddling with the latch, muttering under his breath about the hinges or whatever. Odysseus ignored him.

 

“Just… a little more pressure,” Antinous said. “That’s it.”

 

The door clicked shut behind them. Odysseus glanced up through the small frosted window. A blurred figure grinned at him.

 

“What the-?”

 

A heavy thud made him jump. He looked down to see Antinous dragging a bench across the floor, wedging it firmly in front of the door.

 

“Yeah, that should hold. Enjoy your little… steam session.” With a final smirk, he left, the echo of his footsteps lingering in the hallway.

 

“Hey!” Odysseus banged his fists against the door. He was about to call out again when a stabbing pain flashed across his head. He stumbled backwards, sitting down.

 

Penelope was already at the door, rattling the handle desperately. “Let us out, you asshole!”

 

“He’s gone,” Odysseus mumbled, rubbing his head, but Penelope ignored him.

 

The air felt thick and heavy, every inhale scalding his throat. Sweat was already running down his body, and the wooden walls seemed to pulse and warp each time he blinked. The cedar scent of the sauna was sharp and nauseating, making his stomach turn over. 

 

“This is all your fault!” Penelope spun to face him, hair flying loose from her braid.

 

Odysseus blinked up at her blearily. Was she talking to him?

 

“What?” he managed weakly.

 

“Of course, this would happen. You just had to argue with me again, didn’t you? Now look at us, stuck.”

 

“I didn’t exactly lock the door,” he muttered, clutching his head.

 

She shot back something sharp, but he couldn’t hear it anymore. His ears were ringing, high and shrill, drowning everything out. Her voice warped and faded, as though she was speaking from underwater. The room tilted, brightness burning his eyes, nausea churning in his stomach.

 

He thought he heard his name. Once. Then again.

 

“Odysseus?”

 

He managed to focus long enough to see Penelope crouched in front of him, her scowl gone, eyebrows pulled together.

 

“Odysseus, you don’t look good. Is something wrong?”

 

He fought to stay upright. “Just…migraine.”

 

Her lips parted in surprise. “Oh.”

 

Another stab of pain ripped through him, and he winced.

 

“Okay. Just breathe. Do you want to lie down?” She tugged her navy jumper over her head and held it out. “You can use this as a pillow if you want.”

He nodded, something which he immediately regretted as his head screamed once more, and allowed her to help him lie down. 

 

“Sorry, I don’t have any water. Or my phone. We’ll have to wait this out.”

 

Odysseus looked up at her as she began pacing in the little space they had. Her shirt was crumpled, the top few buttons undone, and strands of her hair that had fallen out of her braid framed her face. Something about seeing her like this made his face flush. Maybe it was just the heat from the sauna. 

 

She kept pacing, muttering under her breath, until his low groan stopped her.

 

“Could you…not do that? You’re making me dizzier.”

 

Penelope froze, guilt flickering across her face. She sank back down beside him, glancing over in concern.

 

“Sorry,” she said, quieter than before. “I didn’t realise.”

 

Silence stretched. The heat pressed down on them, making the air between them thick, inescapable. Finally, she sighed.

 

“…Look. About earlier. I shouldn’t have said half the things I did.”

 

Odysseus opened one eye to glance at her. “That’s new. Penelope Icarius admitting she’s wrong.”

 

She rolled her eyes, but there wasn’t much force behind it. “Don’t push it.” After a pause: “I just…Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one holding everything together. And when you act like it doesn’t matter, it makes me want to scream.”

 

He shifted, wincing. “…I don’t act like it doesn’t matter. I just…try to keep people from breaking under the pressure.”

 

Her gaze softened, and they returned to silence.

 

“You look awful, Laertes.”

 

“Thanks. You really know how to make a guy feel special.”

 

“Can I…” She gestured to the space next to him.

 

“Go ahead.”

 

Odysseus’ heartbeat picked up as her shoulders brushed his. They both stared at the ceiling.

 

“I shouldn’t have said that you don’t care. You clearly do. You’ve actually been a pretty decent captain, most of the time.”

“You know, being captain’s not all it's cracked up to be. It’s more like babysitting. And I have to deal with teachers nagging me all the time.”

 

“Seriously though, thanks for dealing with Antinous last week when he…”

 

“Don’t worry about it. You didn’t need to attack me after, though.”He’d meant it as a joke, but when he glanced over, she was fiddling with her shirt, lips pressed into a firm line.

 

“I just… my parents expect me to win everything. Debate, grades, whatever. If I don’t, then it’s like I’ve wasted their time. Their money. Their name. So yeah, maybe I act like it’s life or death… because for me, sometimes it feels like it is.”

 

It made a lot of sense. How relentless she was. Always the last person in the library. Always the first to hand in her homework. Always trying.

 

“See, I’m the opposite. I’m terrified of being the guy who takes everything too seriously. Or worse… the guy everyone forgets.” He hesitated. “So I joke around, push things off, because at least that way people think I’m fun. Not boring.”

 

His words hung in the air, and although he felt vulnerable, he didn’t regret saying them. It was almost freeing. 

 

“You’re not boring. You’re actually the most interesting person I know. That’s why I have so much fun debating you…even if you pick topics just to mess with me.”

 

He smirked faintly. “Yeah, I thought the leadership thing would be fun. My bad.”

 

Penelope let out a laugh, and Odysseus turned to her in surprise.

 

“What?” she asked.

 

“I’ve never heard you laugh before.”

 

“So? It’s not as if we spend a lot of time together. I do laugh!”

 

“You have a nice laugh, you should do it more often.”

 

She shoved his shoulder gently. “Oh my god, shut up!”

 

“Don’t worry, I’m a very funny person, so as long as you’re with me, it shouldn’t be too hard.”

 

She laughed again, and he grinned.

 

“See? You’re proving my point.” 

 

He waited until her laughter had died down before turning back to the ceiling.

 

“So how come you were working down here?”

He was met with silence apart from the faint noise of her shuffling next to him.

 

“This is gonna sound really pathetic…I just- I don’t really have anyone to…”

 

Odysseus frowned, lifting his head a little. “Oh. Hey…that’s not pathetic.”

 

“Yeah, I guess there isn’t much time for making friends when your parents are forcing you to study every day. Or I was just too intense for people…I don’t know.”

 

The door burst open to reveal Achilles standing there in his swimming trunks, a towel slung over his shoulder. 

 

“Whoa, sorry! I didn’t know you guys were…” His eyes went wide. “Am I- Am I interrupting something?”

 

Penelope shot up like she’d been electrocuted, fumbling to button her shirt. “No! No, it’s not- Antinous trapped us in here!”

 

Achilles raised an eyebrow, gaze darting between the two of them. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

 

Penelope’s face went red. “For gods’ sake, nothing happened! He’s dizzy, I was helping him lie down-”

 

“I mean, yeah, there was a bench in front of the door. I guess Antinous put it there. I just thought you guys were…yeah, whatever. You okay?”

 

“Yeah, fine. We’ll get out of your way now.”

 

Achilles was still staring at them as if he wanted to say more, but he shrugged and let them go. Penelope tugged Odysseus out of the sauna and into the cooler air. The wave of cold relaxed his muscles and loosened his chest. She pushed him gently down onto a bench.

 

“Drink.” She handed him her water bottle.

 

He raised his eyebrows but complied.

 

“Do you need anything else? I can take you to the nurse.”

 

He waved her off. “It’s fine. My pills are in my bag. I should be good.”

 

She looked unconvinced. “I’m gonna kill Antinous.”

 

“You know, it’s probably best we don’t tell anyone about this.”

 

Her head snapped toward him. “You’re kidding, right? He literally locked us in a sauna!”

 

“Yeah, I know. But I’m already on thin ice with most of the teachers, and if Antinous manages to twist this like he usually does…It’s just not worth it.”

“Oh, right, your article. Did you get in a lot of trouble?”

 

“Not really, but if I push it…”

 

Penelope sighed, tension in her shoulders. “…Fine. I don’t like it, but fine.”

 

“It’s okay. We’ll get him back in debate.”

 

That earned him the faintest smile. “Yeah, I guess. We are pretty good at it.”

 

Odysseus stood and slung his bag over his shoulder, ready to walk out. He paused before the door.

 

“You know, if you want, you can always sit with me at lunch.”

 

She stared at him, lips parted in surprise.

 

“I mean, only if you want to! It was just a suggestion, and I’d have to check with Dio, and it would probably be kinda boring cause it’s mostly just us arguing about dumb stuff-”

 

“I’d like that.”

 

“Oh, you would? Okay, great! Cool. I’ll uhm…I’ll see you around, Icarius.”

 

Her mouth curved. “Try not to die without me, Laertes.”

 

His grin widened at the nickname. Shaking his head, he left the changing rooms with a spring in his step he couldn’t quite hide.

Notes:

Hope you guys enjoyed! I'd really appreciate it if you left a comment :)

Chapter 6: Strings and Silence

Summary:

Helen and Diomedes talk

Cassandra is still suffering

Now Hector is suffering too

Notes:

Helloooo :)

I know I said it was going to be weekly updates but here you go:

Helen walked into the cafeteria, nerves prickling at the back of her neck. She scanned the room quickly, searching for an escape. No Clytemnestra. Not even Penelope.

Her stomach tightened. The football table was there, loud as ever. Just looking at it made her chest feel heavy, the memory of hands pushing her under, water burning her lungs, the sound of their laughter muffled through chlorine.

“Helen!”

She froze. Menelaus was jogging toward her, his expression careful.

“Can we talk?” His voice was low, almost pleading.

Helen gave a stiff nod, and he steered her out into the corridor, away from the crowded room.

“You didn’t answer my texts,” he said.

“I was busy.” She kept her eyes on the floor.

“Look, Helen, I’m really sorry about Saturday. I was super drunk. You know I wouldn’t have-”

“I asked you to stop them.” Her voice cracked.

Menelaus ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “We all had too much to drink, okay? It was an accident.”

“That’s not what it felt like.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.

His gaze softened, his tone shifting smoother, warmer. “Come on, Helen. You know me. I’d never hurt you. I was wasted. They went too far, and I should’ve stepped in, I know. But let me make it up to you. I’ll take you out Friday, yeah?”

Her stomach twisted. He made it sound so easy, like forgiveness could be traded for a dinner. She wanted to tell him no, to ask why she should give him another chance. But her throat locked up.

“Have you seen my sister today?” she blurted instead.

“What?”

“Clytemnestra. I haven’t talked to her.”

“Oh, yeah. Agamemnon broke up with her like twenty minutes ago. Whole thing was super dramatic. I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.”

Helen’s chest tightened. No, no, no. Clytemnestra would be devastated. Agamemnon hadn’t just been her boyfriend; he was power, protection, status. Without him, everything they’d built around themselves felt shakier. If her sister had lost that, then Helen couldn’t risk losing Menelaus too. She couldn’t let them both unravel in the same week.

“Why?”

“She got all worked up about some misunderstanding. Anyway- so Friday, yeah?”

Her mouth moved before her brain caught up. “Yeah. Friday sounds good.” The words tasted sour.

“Great.” He smiled, as if nothing had happened. “You coming to eat lunch?”

Helen hesitated, but nodded. Letting Menelaus guide her back into the cafeteria, she felt each step sink heavier, like walking back into a role she wasn’t sure she wanted anymore.

                                                                                                                                                                  ~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~

 

Helen hurried along the corridor, ignoring the way everything slightly ached. She hadn’t slept much last night, replaying how easily she’d agreed to Friday with Menelaus.

She slipped into the library, somewhere she rarely went. Too quiet for Menelaus and the others. The cathedral-like arches and the faint smell of old paper made her feel even smaller.

At a long table near the centre, Odysseus sat surrounded by a fortress of books and scattered papers. Beside him, Penelope scribbled in a planner, completely absorbed.  Helen froze for a moment, awkwardness creeping up. She hadn’t expected to see Penelope here, and it reminded her of how distant she’d kept herself at the beginning of the year.

“Hi, Helen!” Penelope said brightly, looking up and setting her pen down.

“Hi,” Helen murmured, forcing a small, nervous smile. “Um… Odysseus, could I talk to you?”

“Me? Uh- yeah, sure.” His mouth opened slightly in surprise.

“I’ll give you guys some privacy,” Penelope said, gathering her notes. “Don’t be late for debate, Laertes. Tournament prep waits for no one.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Penelope shook her head, smiling faintly, and left.

Helen cleared her throat. “I wanted to… thank Diomedes. And give him his jacket from the party.”

Odysseus’s eyes narrowed, sharp and unreadable. “What do you want with him?”

Helen hesitated, feeling herself flush. “I just… wanted to say thanks.”

He leaned back slightly, still studying her. It wasn’t the possessive, hungry stare of someone wanting control; this was careful, measured. 

“Diomedes is a good guy,” Odysseus pressed, voice hard. “Too good. And he’s been used before, in ways you probably don’t care to imagine. If you’re here to play some game with him, because you’re bored, or because it’ll look good in front of your friends, I’ll know. And I won’t let it slide.”

Her throat felt like it was closing, but she managed, “I promise, I would never-”

“Promises are easy.” His gaze didn’t waver. “Keeping them is harder.”

Helen’s face burned. She swallowed and tried again, quieter. “I just wanted to thank him.”

Odysseus watched her a beat longer before finally relenting, turning back to his papers. “He’s in one of the music practice rooms.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, relief flooding her chest.

He didn’t respond. Helen took it as her cue to leave, hurrying out of the library with her heart still thudding. She let herself hope that seeing Diomedes, even just for a moment, would feel normal. Safe.

She wandered the music department, peeking into each practice room until she spotted him. He was sitting on the carpet, head bent over a guitar so she couldn’t see his face. Another jacket, cargo trousers, wrists covered in bracelets and wristbands.

Her pulse quickened at the thought of talking to him again. She pushed the door open. He looked up, offering a soft smile when he saw her.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

“You didn’t.”

He gestured toward the space next to him, reminding her of that day outside the assembly hall. This time, she didn’t hesitate.

“I uh- I wanted to say thank you for… for everything at the party.”

He shrugged, strumming the guitar. “Don’t worry about it. Anyone would have done the same.”

“But they didn’t. You did.”

He looked at her, steady and patient, and Helen felt her chest tighten.

“Oh, I have your jacket.”  She held it out, but he shook his head.

“Keep it. I have loads. Suits you anyway.”

“Thank you.”

They sat in silence, sunlight filtering through the small window. The gentle hum of the guitar string lingered in the air.

He held out the guitar. “Wanna try?”

Helen hesitated. “I-I don’t really know-”

“I’ll show you.”

He shifted closer, the guitar balanced across both their knees. Her fingers hovered above the strings until his hand gently closed around hers, guiding her wrist into place.

“Here,” he murmured, pressing her fingers down on the frets. “That’s a G chord.”

Her heart stuttered. She barely heard the strum over the rush in her ears, but she nodded.

He leaned in again, correcting another finger. Their shoulders brushed, and she caught the faint scent of pine, clean and earthy.

“See? Not so bad,” he murmured, letting his hand fall away. Helen almost wished he hadn’t.

“I spoke to Odysseus.”

Diomedes groaned, hand pressed to his face. “I am so sorry. What did he say?”

“He just gave me a warning… he cares about you a lot.”

“Yeah, he’s a great friend: an idiot, but a great friend. Sorry if he gave you a hard time. Sometimes he takes things too seriously.”

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s nice to see someone look out for their friend like that.”

The silence stretched, broken only by the fading vibration of the guitar string. Words rose uninvited, heavy in her chest. “Things with Menelaus… they’re not really like that.”

Diomedes shifted, setting the guitar aside, giving her his full attention. The warmth in his eyes made her chest ache.

“When I’m with him, it’s like I’m performing a role. Like, I’m not really me. I don’t want…”

His voice was quiet, steady. “You don’t have to be with him if you don’t want to.”

“I do want to break up with him! It’s just…” Her throat tightened. “My sister. She insisted it was the right thing. Last year at my old school, something happened. I had no one to defend me. She said being with Menelaus would keep us safe. That we needed someone powerful.”

Diomedes’ brow furrowed. “I don’t think Menelaus is protecting you. He didn’t help you at the party.”

Helen swallowed hard, eyes on the guitar instead of him, fidgeting with her fingers in her lap. “Maybe she’s right. Maybe without him, I’d just… end up alone again.”

“You’re not alone.” His voice was soft, certain. For a second, she almost believed him. “Power doesn’t always mean protection. Sometimes it’s the opposite. If you feel uncomfortable with Menelaus, you can leave.”

“I want to. I really do. But then there’s my sister-” She cut herself off, breath shaky. “She got dumped by Agamemnon yesterday. She’s probably devastated. And I’m the only one left holding it together.”

“This is about you, not her.” His gaze softened. “I know she cares, in her own way. After you left the party, she was furious, shouting at everyone, even shoving Agamemnon until he dragged her out. We could hear him yelling. It wasn’t… a good scene.”

Helen flinched at the memory of water closing over her, dragging her under again.

“Sorry,” Diomedes murmured quickly. “I didn’t mean to-”

Helen twisted her bracelet around her wrist. “Do you think I should forgive her?” Her voice was small, uncertain. “Talk to her?”

“Only if you’re ready.”

“She said some things… things she shouldn’t have.”

“Then wait.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

Diomedes blinked, surprised, then rubbed the back of his neck. He met her eyes again. “I don’t know. I just… like talking to you.” His voice was quiet, almost shy.

Helen’s breath hitched.

He shifted slightly, reaching into his backpack and pulling out a scrap of paper. “Here,” he said, scribbling quickly. “My number.” He tore it off and held it out to her. “Call or text if you ever want to talk… or just hang out. No pressure.”

Helen took the paper, fingers brushing his. She felt the faint warmth from his hand linger.

“Uh… you can even come by my place if you want,” he added, hesitating before writing his address beneath the number. “Just… show up. I mean, if you want. Totally casual.”

Her stomach twisted, a mixture of excitement and nerves. “Thanks, Diomedes.”

He nodded, a small, awkward smile tugging at his lips, then leaned back against the carpet. Helen stared at the paper in her hand, realising that for the first time in a long time, she might actually have a safe place she could go.

“You’ve got five minutes until class if you wanna avoid the crowds.”

Helen smiled gratefully, tucking the paper into her bag. “I’ll see you around then.”

“See you, Helen.”

She left the practice rooms, lighter than she had been in a long time. The memory of his hand touching hers lingered, and she couldn’t help but imagine the moments she might spend there, safe, just being herself.

 

                                                                                                                                                     ~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~

 

Cassandra couldn’t face him. She’d stood outside the music classroom, stomach twisting, and felt the urge to throw up. Instead, she came here, to the girls' bathroom, curling up on the cold marble floor, crying in silence.

How long had she been sitting here? Her legs ached, stiff from staying still, and her hands trembled as she rubbed her face. Even the school bathrooms were intimidatingly fancy: polished marble countertops, gold faucets, spotless mirrors that seemed to judge her. She grimaced at her reflection, cheeks flushed and streaked with tears. She wiped her glasses on her jumper, but the tear stains wouldn’t fully vanish.

It sucked being forced to go to school. Forced to breathe the same air, walk the same halls, and exist in the same building as him.

Her head snapped up at the sharp clack of heels on the tiled floor, each echo reverberating in her skull. Her chest tightened. Someone was coming.

A girl walked in wearing tight denim shorts and a black tank top. Her dark hair was piled carelessly on her head, strands falling loose in a way that looked intentional. She carried an armful of makeup in one hand, her phone in the other. She moved like she owned the place, but Cassandra caught the faint tremor in her fingers as the bathroom door clicked shut behind her.

Clytemnestra. Queen of the school. Or at least, she had been, until the cafeteria on Monday.

She set her things down on the counter and leaned close to the mirror, mascara wand steadying in her hand.

“Get it together,” she muttered to herself.

Cassandra’s chest tightened with guilt for listening. She stepped out of the cubicle, the door banging lightly against the wall.

Clytemnestra’s head whipped around, eyes flashing, mouth parted in shock.

“Fuck! How long have you been standing there?”

Cassandra only shrugged.

Clytemnestra’s gaze swept over her, sharp and assessing, like she was being weighed and measured. Cassandra’s skin prickled under it.

“Don’t you have class?”

“Don’t you?” Cassandra shot back.

“Whatever.”

Clytemnestra turned back to her reflection, brushing on mascara with practised precision. Cassandra moved to the sink, washing her hands, forcing herself not to stare at the long line of her legs, the way the overhead light caught the curve of her jaw.

She tried not to envy girls like Clytemnestra, but it was impossible. They carried themselves like the world bent to them, laughing loud, shining bright. Cassandra told herself she hated them. Told herself she didn’t care. But something in her chest ached anyway.

“You’re the one who wrote the article, aren’t you? Hector’s sister?”

“Yeah.” Cassandra’s voice was flat. She didn’t want to do this again.

“I always got the feeling Mr Apollo was a creep.”

Cassandra blinked. “You-you believe me?”

Clytemnestra shrugged, snapping lids back onto her makeup. “Men are pigs. Unfortunately, I’m not surprised he’d do something like that.”

She gave herself a final once-over in the mirror, spine straight, chin lifted. Then, without another word, she swept out, her heels clicking in sharp rhythm against the tile.

Cassandra turned back to the sink, splashing cool water on her face, hoping it would steady her. But her thoughts kept drifting, stubborn and unsettled.

                                                                                                                                                   ~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~

The changing room was almost empty now, the last of the guys drifting out. Hector sat slumped on the bench, hair dripping with sweat. His fingers shook as he fumbled with his gear, breath coming too fast.

“Fuck.” He muttered, tugging at his laces until the knots tightened instead of loosening.

Sunday replayed in his head: Cassandra slamming her bedroom door, his parents calling him down for yet another lecture. Football. Grades. Looking after his siblings. Whatever he gave, it was never enough.

He yanked at his shoes again, hands trembling too badly to manage. Slamming his palm against the bench, he choked back a sound as tears stung his eyes.

“Hector, do you wanna-”

Andromache walked into the changing room, her brown hair braided neatly, gold star earrings glinting under the fluorescent light. She froze at the sight of his face, then rushed to him without hesitation, catching his hands in hers.

“Hector, what happened? Are you okay?”

Hector looked at her eyes, filled with concern, and immediately broke. Sobs racked his body. He buried his face in Andromache’s jumper, and she held him, stroking his hair softly.

“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be okay.”

Hector shook his head, trying to force himself to breathe.

“Cassandra, she- she won’t talk to me. She hasn’t been okay since the article. I don’t- I can’t help her.”

“She’ll come to you when she’s ready.” Her voice was soothing.

“But I need to help her! And mum and dad, they came home on Sunday.”

Andromache’s gaze hardened, but not in surprise. She’d heard this before, too many times before. “What did they say?”

“They told me it wasn’t good enough. I’m not football captain. I’m not in the top five students of the year. It’s not enough. I’m just- I’m exhausted, Andy. I can’t keep doing this.”

“You shouldn’t have to keep proving yourself to them.” Her thumb brushed gently over his knuckles. “You’re already enough. You’ve always been enough for me.”

“But what about Cass?” His voice cracked. “She won’t eat, she barely sleeps, she won’t even look at me. Maybe if I were a better brother-”

“Stop.” Andromache’s voice was firm but gentle, pulling him out of his spiral. “This isn’t on you. What’s happening with Cass isn’t your fault.”

“But she’s my sister.”

“And she loves you,” Andromache said softly. “Even if she can’t show it right now. She needs time. You can’t force her to talk, Hector. But you can be there when she’s ready. That’s enough. You are enough.”

Hector’s chest rose and fell raggedly, the trembling in his hands slowly easing. He leaned into her touch, clinging to the steadiness in her voice. She kissed his hair softly.

“You wanna come round to mine?”

“I can’t. I need to pick up Creusa, make dinner for everyone, and-”

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t panic. How about I come over and help you out? I’ll make that lasagna everyone likes.”

Hector nodded, overwhelmed with gratitude. Andromache bent down to help with his shoes and packed his gear away. She held out a hand, helping him up and pulling him close.

“It’s going to work out,” she murmured. “Cass is lucky to have you, even if she can’t see it right now.”

Hector let out a slow breath, his shoulders sagging as if he’d been carrying the weight of the world. He looked at Andromache, a small, grateful smile tugging at his lips.

“Thanks… for everything,” he murmured.

“You don’t have to thank me,” she replied, squeezing his hand.

He nodded, feeling the tension in his chest ease for the first time that day. 

 

Notes:

Sorry for all the pain; it gets worse before it gets better

Pls leave a comment!

Notes:

Thank you to anyone who read the first chapter, it means a lot. I have no update schedule but all of my chapters are fully planned so they shouldn't take too long. I'd love it if you'd leave a comment :)