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The King is back

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The King is back.

Almost ten years after he left for the war, Troy is finally in the Greeks' hands. Agamemnon has conquered the city and bested Priam. The battle is won and we are the winners. Another conquest added to the ever-growing might of Mycenae. More gold to fill our treasure boxes. More slaves to populate our lands and work in our fields.

He rides into the city in a great procession. Every adult and child has come out to welcome their King back, to congratulate him on his victory. They raise their hands as the horses pass through the streets, one after the other after the other, carrying riches they'll never even get to see. But they are happy. Today is a holiday, today is a day for celebration. Even if they're poor, they'll offer a little bit of wine and honey to the Gods tonight when they dine. To thank them for our good fortune.

And then finally, on a carriage there's him. The first thing I notice is that he looks older than I remember him, but then, so do I. So much time has passed. Orestes isn't a small child anymore, he's already practising sword fighting in the palace gardens. Elektra, sixteen now and the same age her sister was when she died, darts a look in my direction before she continues to glare ahead.

The second thing I notice is that there's a woman standing on the carriage beside my husband. The third, that she doesn't look like she wants to be here. Her hair and shoulders are hidden beneath a wide scarf and she holds onto it as her eyes stray around nervously.

The carriage rounds the square in one slow circle while soldiers and guards cheer and pound their staffs against the ground. It comes to a halt in front of the palace gate and Agamemnon jumps down. His left knee buckles slightly as he lands and immediately I focus in on it. Not so agile anymore after all. His beard is shot through with silver now, as are his temples. He pulls the foreign woman down with a little more force than probably necessary and she stumbles and bumps against him but recoils immediately. When she straightens, her head lifts and she looks straight at me.

Her eyes are startingly green, her face thin and framed by dark ringlets that have escaped from underneath her shawl. She startles once more when her gaze collides with mine but holds it. I stare down at her but her eyes are wide, unfocused as if she isn't looking at me but through me, at something far in the distance. She trembles and her hand clenches around her scarf again as she casts her eyes down and hangs her shoulders. She looks... defeated.

I frown but then Agamemnon turns towards where I'm standing with our children and spreads his arms. There's a smile on the monster's face as Orestes crashes down the marble stairs and runs towards him, jumping into his waiting arms. His father embraces him as if he's truly missed him. He cups Orestes' cheek and there's moisture in his eyes. He hands him his sword and the boy receives it with a smile. He turns toward me and holds it up to show me.

The image before my eyes distorts and rearranges itself. Blood drips from the blade, pooling at Orestes' feet. His hands are stained scarlet, sullied with violence. His smile turns twisted, cruel as he looks down at his father's sword and then back up at me and there's a wicked glint in his eyes. I am stiff as I watch him, frozen to the spot as all the warmth seems to drain from my body. Is this what my son will become? A monster like all those who came before him? Is this a glimpse at the future?

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