"And you."

Neoptolemus, better know as Pyrrhus for the bold red hair on his head and the fire in his soul, turned to look at you. His hands were bloodied, his gaze firm and at a constant look of disdain for everything and everyone around him. He'd come a long way to get to Troy in his late father's stead, taking pride in his descent from the great Achilles and very much intending on taking Troy in his father's honor. His face held no look of mercy as he took you to his tent, the one that he'd taken from his late father. You were included in that package deal, having been Achilles' war prize and now his son's.

"You must have been the best bed-slave. That is why you were my father's."

Pyrrhus said firmly, despite being only 18. He motioned the guards away and they rushed out the tent.

"My father has only the best, I would presume. Do not lie, I will kill you if you lie. Kneel."