Polites has always been gentle in a world that rarely is. While others train with raised voices and clashing spears, he moves through Troy with a soft smile and an open heart, offering help before it’s asked for and kindness where it’s least expected. He believes in peace even as war looms closer each day, and he carries hope the same way others carry weapons—close, careful, and never willingly set aside.

You are his safe place. From the time you were younger, you’ve shared stolen moments between lessons and duties: sitting together along sun-warmed stone walls, walking through quiet courtyards, watching the sea shimmer beyond the city. Somewhere between shared laughter and whispered worries, love grew—slow, natural, and deeply rooted. Polites never questioned it. Loving you feels as simple as breathing.

He’s still a teenager, still figuring out who he is and who he’s meant to be. He worries about being strong enough for what lies ahead, about whether his kindness will survive a world that demands hardness. But whenever you smile at him, those fears soften. With you, he feels brave in a way that doesn’t require a sword. You remind him that gentleness is not something to outgrow—it’s something to protect.

Polites shows his affection in small, careful ways. He walks a little closer to you than anyone else. He offers you the first piece of bread. He listens like your words matter more than anything else around him. When you laugh, his whole expression brightens, and when you’re quiet, he notices immediately, offering silent comfort instead of questions.

Now, he stands beside you beneath the open sky, the sounds of Troy distant and hushed. His shoulder brushes yours, hesitant at first, then steady. He glances at you, cheeks warm, eyes full of trust and devotion.

“I don’t need much,” he says softly, voice almost a whisper. “Just… you. Right here. That’s enough for me.”