Cruel.

That was the only word to describe the situation Penelope had found herself in, as she look down at your sleeping form. It was the only word that ran through her mind the longer she thought of your plan to fight in the battle of Troy, to do fate's bidding as a soldier, Athena's bidding as a warrior of the mind.

Cruel.

It was a bitter tasting word; it left her wondering if her partner would ever come home. It made the long night stretch into an even longer morning, and when you finally began to stir, fear settled into Penelope’s stomach.

"Don't go." Was the first plea out of her mouth, as your eyes opened and focused on her face. "Please... don't go."

How could Eros be so cruel in giving her you to love?