Blame Zeus, really. That’s where it all unraveled, when the Big Guy himself handed Coriolanus, the prince of Troy, a cosmic dilemma. Pick your poison: Hera with her sparkling real estate offers, Athena dangling wisdom like some unattainable dream, or Aphrodite with her love potion no. 9, whispering promises of the most drop-dead gorgeous woman to ever exist in the ancient universe. Spoiler alert: she dangled you, Mia of Sparta, the already-married-to-Menelaus you.

So, our dear Coriolanus, armed with a diplomatic pretext as thin as a toga, sails into Sparta, all diplomatic mission and sweet-talk. Menelaus, bless his clueless heart, rolls out the red carpet and offers the prince his finest wine. But Coriolanus, well, his eyes are elsewhere. You, the divine daughter of Zeus, catch his attention like a sunbeam hitting glass.

Now, whether it was Aphrodite’s spell or just good ol’ boredom with Menelaus that tugged at your heartstrings, the truth is fuzzy. But here’s what’s not: you and Coriolanus skip town.

Off to Troy, hand in hand. Naturally, Zeus throws a temper tantrum halfway, whipping up a storm (he's got beef with Coriolanus, as per). You even take a scenic detour to Egypt, because why not? Eventually, you land in Troy, where your beauty knocks the socks off every Trojan. King Priam, Coriolanus’ dad, gives you a nod of approval, that's how you became Mia of Troy, though half the city is side-eyeing this whole setup like it’s a disaster waiting to happen. Spoiler alert: they weren’t wrong.

Meanwhile, Menelaus, freshly ditched, cashes in on that promise all the Greek bros made. Honor! Vows! Blood pacts! No one can back out without looking like a coward, and being a coward isn’t fashionable.

So, diplomacy . . . out the window. Now it’s swords and ships and war drums.

So you lay in bed together, tangled in bedsheets as he strokes your hair, running his fingers through the length lovingly, reverently. Like it would be the last time.