The Voyage (Epic)

The Horse and The Infant

The loud sounds of war pierced through the air. Blood flinging off swords, men crying out begging for mercy, and the heavy footsteps of 600 men seeking revenge. The tension cut through the air like a sword, almost as hard as those swinging their own. Amidst the chaos of battle, there seemed to be a man climbing a large limestone wall. The jagged rocks pierced his skin, yet he was unfazed. The man had a presence of authority, power even. This man was the one and only King of Ithica. The merciless king who was known as the smartest in all the lands.

His long red cape blew in the wind as he overlooked the battle, seemingly deep in thought. He shakes his head and finishes the trek up the wall. He crosses his arms looking over the massacre-filled land with a hardened look on his face. His thoughts were consumed by his wife who he dearly missed, Penelope, and his not-so-newborn son, Telemachus.

The man uttered a loud cry and fell to his knees as images of past and future shot through his mind quickly, too fast for even the smartest to comprehend. He clutched his head in pain despite no new external wounds. "Who was that?" The man demanded, though shock-ridden.

A booming, mysterious voice echoes through the air, though no one below seems to hear it or just chooses to ignore it.

"A vision
Of what is to come, cannot be outrun
Can only be dealt with right here and now"

The man, albeit in pain seems to accept the challenge  "Tell me how"

"I don't think you're ready"

"A mission
To kill someones daughter
A foe who won't run
Unlike anyone you have faced before"

The man now standing up declares "Say no more." seemingly finding a new inner strength, ready for a new mission. "I know that I'm ready," he says confidently.

"I don't think you're ready"

The man ignores the mysterious voice's protests and walks through the closest door, he figures that the wall is part of the balcony to said room.

Murals of vines and flowers adorn the walls of the darkened room seemingly neverending. Blood disrupted the calm atmosphere of the room, splattered from a previous attack. The prince of Hector lies dead on the floor next to his bed with an iron sword decorated with vines engraved into the handle and a phrase in a foreign language clutched in his hand and still in his nightwear. The man unfazed squats down next to him and checks his pulse.

"Dead," he announces to himself while scanning the man's face, he reaches down and prys the man's sword from his cold hand and tucks it into his sheath which is attached to his hip. He silently stands up and scans the room once more. He lowers his guard as he sees a small bassinet tucked safely in the corner of the large room. The only sign of life in the room is the soft cries of distress coming from the bassinet. The man hesitantly walks over to the noise, fearing the worst.

A baby looking to be no older than his son Telemachus, whom he left as a toddler, was swaddled in the corner, almost as to be shielded away from the massacre. The man picks up the child, clutching her to his chest as he slides down the wall. He takes off his helmet adorned with a red crest and lays it next to him, the metal clattering echos throughout the room. He gazes down at the child with a look of awe and fear.

It was the princess of Troy,  Maisie Troy

"It's just an infant," he scans the child's face for any look of malice, almost as if looking for any flaws to justify this kill.

"It's just a girl. What sort of imminent threat does she pose that I cannot avoid?" He stands up while holding the child close to his chest.

"This is the daughter of none other than Troy's very own prince Hector, know that she will grow from a girl to an avenger." The God warns

The King of Ithica walks over to the balcony to see the clouds darken as the voice booms. His grip on the child tightens as the voice continues.

" One fueled with rage, as you're consumed by age." He says.

"If you don't end her now, you'll have no one else to save." The gods warn.
"You can say goodbye to Penelope.' The gods say almost teasingly.

"I could raise her as my own!' The king yells beggingly.

"She will burn your house and throne."

'Or send her far away from home!" he begs again.

"She'll find you wherever you go." The gods warn once more.

"Make sure her past is never known!"

"The gods will make it known"

" I'd rather bleed for ya!" The man says, begging to not hurt the child, to spare her from misery.

"Down on my knees for ya, I'm begging, please!" He says as one last hope, bringing himself to his knees still with the infant cradled to his chest as if to shield her from the imposing will of the higher beings.

"This is the will of the Gods!" the diety says tired of the man's pleading and making it final.

"Please don't make me do this, don't make me do this!" He pleads once more.

" The blood on your hands is something you won't lose, all you can choose is who's"
The god says, and then leaves the hard truth lingering in the open air.

The king lets out a heavy sigh and once more slides down the wall of the balcony. Exhaustion heavy on the man and his brows furried in guilt and decision-making. How could he hurt the child, she's as old as Telemachus was when he left for war. The man rests the child on his legs and he gazes down at her lovingly while debating this choice, even though the Gods didn't seem to give him one.

He stands up holding the child by the top of her swaddle. He walks over towards the railing of the balcony and guilt pangs through his heart. The child looks at him with wide curious eyes. She holds out her hand seeking comfort from the man who was ordered to kill her. He hesitates before turning his head away from the child and dangles her from the tall ledge.

He starts to let his grip loosen and the broken cries from Andromeda below echo throughout the city. At the distress of her mother, the child joins in on her cries. The king seems to snap out of it and just before he lets the child drop he throws himself against the railing and brings both of his hands to the child. She falls through the air for mere milliseconds before the large, scarred hands of the man cradle around her.

She continues her cries as her tiny heart beats quickly in her chest. He connects their chests together in an embrace which seems to seize the child's cries.

"i'm fucked..." The king mumbles to himself as he comforts the child

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Authors note
Hey guys! Its me your author, if you have any questions, concerns or edits please comment. Dont be a ghost reader!