It was clear that her worry had consumed her in my absence. When I first saw her again, there had been a wildness in her eyes, a madness born of too many sleepless nights and unanswered prayers. Now, as she lay beside me, that feral intensity had softened, replaced by something far more seductive. Her lips curved into a sly, alluring smile as she leaned closer, her fingers tracing idle patterns across my chest.

    "Nathan..." she began, her tone light and teasing at first. Then, as if gathering courage, she took a deep breath and spoke again. "Nathan, I''m pregnant."

    "Pregnant?" I asked, my voice steady but laced with a hint of disbelief. I needed to hear her confirm it, as though the word itself was too momentous to grasp without her affirmation.

    "Yes," Aisha nodded, her expression soft yet glowing.

    She placed a hand gently over her stomach, her movements tender, as if cradling the very life that now grew within her. "I wasn''t sure at first, but now I can feel it," she said, her lips curving into a smile so radiant it could rival the dawn. The joy in her eyes was unmistakable, and it struck me in a way I hadn''t anticipated.

    I ran a hand through my hair, letting out a slow breath. "You should have told me before we started... you know," I said, shaking my head in mild exasperation.

    I gave her a look, but she just laughed, a light, carefree sound that belied the seriousness of the moment. "I mean it, Aisha. Having sex while pregnant could be dangerous," I continued, my tone firm but not unkind.

    Her laughter softened, and her expression turned apologetic. "I know," she admitted, her fingers brushing over her belly again. "But when I saw you... I just couldn''t hold back."

    I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "And now? You''re keeping the baby?"

    She looked up at me with unwavering certainty. "Yes. I will." Her words were resolute, her smile unwavering, and for a moment, all the noise of the world seemed to fade away.

    But then reality crept back in, heavy and insistent. "What about the war?" I asked, my voice grave. "If you''re keeping the baby, I don''t want you fighting anymore."

    Her smile faltered slightly, and a shadow passed over her face. "Then... I wouldn''t be able to see you?"

    Her question hit me harder than I expected. The thought of her staying behind, away from the chaos of the battlefield but also away from me, was a bitter pill to swallow. She had just reunited with me after so long, and I knew how much these fleeting moments we spent together meant to her. But I couldn''t let her risk everything—not when there was a life growing inside her.

    "I know," I said softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. "But that''s the price to pay. Do you really want to endanger the baby?"

    Her gaze lowered, her hand returning to her stomach. She was silent for a moment, her thoughts unreadable, but then she nodded, her fingers tightening slightly against her abdomen. "Okay," she whispered, her voice steady. "I won''t take part in the war anymore."

    Relief washed over me, and I let out a breath I hadn''t realized I was holding. "Thank you," I said, my voice sincere.

    If she had resisted, I would have had to force her hand, and I didn''t like the thought of doing so. But Aisha was not someone consumed by the lust for battle. She had always fought with purpose, not for the thrill of it, and for that, I was grateful.

    Still, the reality of her words began to sink in. She was really pregnant. Another life, fragile and full of possibility, had been entrusted to me. Somehow, amidst the chaos and bloodshed that defined my world, the thought filled me with a quiet, unexpected happiness.

    This would be my second child. After Sara—the daughter I had with Amelia—this child would become another light in my life, another reason to keep fighting, another soul I needed to protect.

    Then there was Odysseus.

    Unlike Agamemnon, whose arrogance and greed drove him, Odysseus fought out of a misplaced sense of loyalty. He didn''t care for glory or spoils. No, his allegiance was to Agamemnon, twisted as it was, and that made him dangerous. If Agamemnon were to die, Odysseus would have no reason to fight.

    But the problem didn''t end there.

    Odysseus was more than just a soldier. He was a strategist, a manipulator, and above all, the man standing between us and Agamemnon. If we ever hoped to reach the coward hiding at the rear of the battlefield, Odysseus had to be dealt with first. His cunning would otherwise plague us at every turn, and he''d ensure Agamemnon remained untouchable.

    Both of them had to die in the end.

    And if Achilles had still been in the picture, he too would have been a threat requiring elimination. But, much to my relief, Achilles had withdrawn. Agamemnon''s insufferable arrogance had proven too much, even for the mighty warrior, and he had abandoned the fight altogether. A rare stroke of fortune in this gods-forsaken war.

    I rose to my feet, and put on my clothes and my stolen Spartan armor thinking this.

    "I have to leave before I gather unwanted attention," I told Aisha, my voice low.

    She stood as well, her movements slow, her smile tinged with sadness. The weight of our circumstances hung heavy in the air between us. We both knew the truth—our moments together would be fleeting, rare like stolen breaths of peace in a world suffocating with chaos.

    I reached for her, pulling her close, and pressed my lips to hers. The kiss deepened, lingering, as if we could pour everything we felt but couldn''t say into that single connection. When I finally pulled away, a faint trail of saliva connected us.

    "I promise it will be better after this," I said.

    Her eyes locked onto mine, filled with a mixture of hope and doubt. "I know," she whispered, but then her expression grew serious, her tone heavier. "But promise me one thing."

    "What is it?" I asked, tilting my head slightly.

    "Don''t die," she said firmly, her gaze unwavering. "Not in this war. Not ever. Promise me."

    The intensity of her words struck a chord deep within me. She must have noticed something in my expression, some flicker of hesitation or shadow of doubt, but I couldn''t let her see the full truth. I couldn''t let her know how precarious my survival truly was.

    "I won''t be killed that easily," I said simply, a small smile tugging at my lips to mask the storm inside.

    It wasn''t a promise I could make, not honestly. But it was what she needed to hear.

    She studied my face for a moment longer, her fingers brushing against my hand as if reluctant to let go. Then, with a quiet sigh, she nodded.

    I nodded and stepped out of the tent.