~Hades~

I lean back, sitting high upon my throne in the Underworld, watching the world above unfold before my eyes. From this vantage point, there are no boundaries. No limits. No rules. Only the endless ebb and flow of mortal ambition and divine will. This war, the war of Troy, is no different. A tale of bloodshed, glory, betrayal, and loss. And yet, it amuses me. Mortal men, gods, and heroes alike, all playing their parts in this grand spectacle—whether they know it or not.

It's been years since the first spear was thrown, years since the fates of the mortals were sealed when the gods chose their sides, or worse, when they stood idly by. And now, it is the turning point. The war rages, but it is no longer just about Troy and its gates. No, it is something greater. Something deeper. But still, I do nothing.

I am the King of the Underworld. The god of Death, Souls, and Judgment. My hands, for once, are clean. I have no need to fight in the mortal realm. They can do as they please, tearing each other apart, making their choices, but I... I remain unshaken, as I always do.

But I watch.

I watch Achilles lead the Greeks, the son of Peleus and the sea nymph Thetis, whose name will ring across time and space for his prowess on the battlefield. A warrior without equal, forged by fate itself. I find a certain amusement in watching him stride across the battlefield, his armor glinting under the sun, a god among men. His anger is his greatest weapon and his greatest flaw.

I've seen countless souls pass through the gates of the Underworld. Brave warriors who were once legends, reduced to shades in my realm. But Achilles... he will be different. His story is not over yet.

The gods are all too eager to meddle, to tip the scales in favor of one side or the other, but not me. I have given my word. I will not interfere. Yet, I can't help but find my gaze drawn to the golden-haired Achilles and his mighty rage as he leads his men against Troy's walls.

Then, there's Odysseus. A mortal whose mind is sharper than the swords of the finest warriors. I see him in the distance, walking among his men, his mind turning, plotting. There is something about him—something that catches my attention. I can already tell that his cleverness will be his greatest weapon. It's no surprise that he is the one to bring forth the most ingenious plan of the war, the one that will tip the balance. The Trojan Horse.

I see it in my mind's eye before it even takes shape. A giant wooden beast, hollowed out to house the warriors within. A cunning deception. Odysseus has outwitted them all, and I smile, impressed, as I watch him discuss the plan with his men.

The gods bicker above, their voices carried by the winds, but I remain silent. The Greeks believe they will win, and so they fight with that conviction in their hearts. The Trojans, too, think their walls are invincible. But neither side knows the truth—they know only what they have been told, what they have been led to believe. It is not about who is stronger, nor who is right. It is about who can outlast the other. It is about who can endure.

I watch as they begin to construct the great horse, their hands working feverishly. It is an impressive sight, one that even I must admit stirs something within me. Mortals are capable of such creativity, such cunning. It is a marvel to behold.

But then, my eyes narrow.

I feel a shift. Something is off.

Apolla.

She has always been an enigma, my daughter. Her beauty rivals that of the sun itself, and her power over light and fire is unmatched. But she has always carried a certain... passion. An impulsiveness that I cannot always control. It is her nature, and I should have known that it would manifest here, in this war.

I watch, heart sinking, as she assists an archer in the shadows. It is no surprise to me that the archer is none other than Paris, the prince of Troy, who has already brought so much destruction to the world with his foolish love for Helen. With the draw of a bowstring, the arrow is loosed, and it finds its mark in Achilles' heel.

I should have stopped her. I should have known she would do something so... reckless. But I had trusted her.

A terrible weight settles upon my chest as I watch Achilles fall, his body crumpling to the ground, blood staining the earth beneath him. The Greeks cry out in fury, while the Trojans celebrate. But I know the truth. This war is far from over.

Apolla, my own daughter, has just sealed the fate of Achilles. And I, in my silence, have allowed it.

I can feel my temper rise, the heat of rage burning in my chest. My realm, my kingdom, has always been one of order. Yet here, in this mortal world, chaos reigns. I cannot allow this.

With a wave of my hand, the shadows of the Underworld rise and encircle my daughter. She is pulled away from the mortal realm, the weight of her actions catching up to her. The moment I lay eyes on her, my anger flares.

"You have disobeyed me, Apolla," I growl, my voice low and cold. "You have meddled in a war that I commanded you not to touch."

Her eyes, wide with both guilt and defiance, meet mine. "Father, I did what I thought was right. Achilles—"

"You did not think," I interrupt sharply. "You acted impulsively, as you always do. And now, look what has happened."

She lowers her gaze, her anger slowly fading into something far more vulnerable. "I did not mean for this to happen."

"You never do," I say, my voice now dangerously calm. "That is why you will stay in your room in the Underworld. You will learn what it means to control your actions."

Without another word, I summon the shadows again, and she is swept away, her cries echoing faintly as she disappears into the abyss of the Underworld.

I am not proud of this, but it is necessary. Apolla must learn restraint, or she will continue to cause chaos that will reverberate far beyond this war. She may be a goddess, but she is still my daughter. And as such, she will face the consequences of her actions.

I turn my gaze back to the mortal realm, to the war that rages on. The Greeks will now take their place, but the Trojan Horse is the key. The fall of Troy is inevitable. And with it, the beginning of the Odyssey.

I watched from my throne as Odysseus and his men get on their ships and start to leave the destoyed Troy. You know... I think it is time for some fun, why not make Odysseus's journey alittle more... wild.

I smile, a rare, sinister grin curling on my lips as I sent a message to everyone, just you wait, oh King of Ithica.