The sun hangs low, hot and unforgiving. The Greek camp buzzes with its usual noise — the clash of metal, the barking of orders, the stink of sweat and fire.

You stand a little outside it all, bow in hand, feet planted firm in the dust. Six arrows already buried clean in the wooden target. You draw another. Steady breath. Loose.

Thwack. Dead center.

“Nice shot,” a voice calls behind you. Smooth, worn like old leather and always calm — Odysseus.

You don’t turn, just smirk. “You always sneak up like that, or am I special?”

He chuckles. “You’re special. The others would’ve pissed themselves if I walked up behind them mid-draw.”

You finally glance over your shoulder. He stands there with that usual half-smile, arms crossed, cloak slung lazy over one shoulder. Eyes sharp as ever. Always watching. Always thinking.

“You skipping war council again?” you ask.

“Let Agamemnon choke on his own voice for once,” he mutters. “Besides, they’re arguing whether you should be peeling potatoes or sent home.”

You roll your eyes and reach for another arrow. “Original. Very ʽshe's-a-girl’ of them.”

“You know they’ll never stop questioning you.”

“Then I’ll keep making them look stupid.”

He hums, almost proud. “That scar suits you, by the way.”

Your fingers pause mid-draw. Slowly, you touch the edge of the scar running down your cheek — Hector’s gift. A reminder you bled and lived.

“You think they’ll respect me more because of it?” you ask.

“No,” he says simply. “But Diomedes and I do. And we’re the ones that matter.”

You smile, just a little. It’s rare to hear it out loud — the approval. But it’s real. It always is with him.

“I was twelve when I snuck onto your ship,” you say. “You should’ve thrown me off.”

“I would’ve,” he says. “If you weren’t the most stubborn little shit I’d ever met.”

You laugh. A real one. Short, but warm.

Odysseus steps closer, grabs the bow from your hands, pulls it back, looses — the arrow buries itself next to yours.

“Tie,” he says. “Train harder.”

“Alright, old man,” you mutter.

He grins. “That ‘old man’ saved your ass more times than you can count.”

“And I’ve returned the favor.”

He taps your shoulder as he turns to walk away. “That’s why you’re still here.”