Finding Her

ㅤㅤThe abandoned tavern had grown quiet as the three of them leaned over the map spread across the table, deep in discussion. A single candle flickered between them, casting shadows across the worn parchment.

ㅤㅤ"We should use the cover of night," Iason murmured, tracing a path with his finger. "Take the eastern approach—use the trees to conceal our advance." Dorian nodded, resting his chin on his knuckles. "Smart. The Greeks aren't fools, but their patrols will be thinner there." Iason moved to point at another route. "Then we should go through—"

Dorian clicked his tongue and shook his head, cutting him off. "Not through the tall grass." He tapped the area on the map, his finger lingering. "Greeks are wary of their flanks. They set traps—spike pits, rope snares. Step in the wrong place, and you'll be hanging upside down with a spear in your gut before you even blink."

ㅤㅤIason ponders deeply, thinking about alternatives but ultimately nodding. "Then we go around it." Dorian smirked, seemingly pleased that his companion for the infiltration isn't a hard headed fool. "Now you're thinking like a survivor."

ㅤㅤAriston, who had been watching quietly, tensed when Dorian turned to him. "You're staying here," He had said flatly.

ㅤㅤIn response, Ariston scowled with a biting sharpness to his tone. "I know." Dorian's gaze lingered on him for a moment, then flicked toward one of his men across the room. A subtle jerk of his chin—a silent order. The man nodded in understanding.

ㅤㅤIason, catching the exchange, looked to Dorian and then turned to Ariston. "They'll keep an eye on you," he said, voice measured but firm. "It's not because they don't trust you. It's because I need to know you'll be safe."

ㅤㅤAriston knew that. But his fingers curled against the table's edge still. "I can fight, Iason."

ㅤㅤ"I know. I trained you."

ㅤㅤ"Then let me come."

ㅤㅤIason met Ariston's gaze, relentless, stubborn. There was loyalty in it, fierce and unyielding. A part of him wanted to relent. But he couldn't. Not this time. "Ariston," he said quietly, "I need to be able to focus. If I have to worry, I won't be able to."

ㅤㅤAriston held his gaze for a long moment before sighing sharply, looking away, disappointed. He didn't argue, but the stiffness in his stance said enough. Meanwhile, Dorian watched the exchange, arms crossed, expression being neutral and hard to read. "Touching," he murmured, then shrugged. "Don't worry, boy. My men will keep you in one piece."

ㅤㅤAriston shot him a glare. "That's not the part I'm worried about." Iason for his part seems to get a wind of Ariston's new attitude that he's only seeing since they met Dorian. He's become bold when it concerns Dorian and everything about him.

ㅤㅤDorian only chuckled, clearly entertained. "Try not to get sentimental on me, Iason," he said as he rolled up the map. "We've got work to do."

ㅤㅤIason squeezed Ariston's shoulder briefly before letting go. "We'll be back before dawn."

ㅤㅤAfter setting out and away from the town, the horses moved swiftly beneath the dark canopy of trees, their hooves muffled by the damp earth. The cold night air carried the scent of pine and distant smoke, and each exhale from the riders misted in the moonlight. Iason and Dorian rode side by side, their focus sharp, their conversation sparse.

ㅤㅤDorian broke the silence first. "You're eager," he noted, his tone unreadable. Iason kept his gaze ahead. "I need this."

ㅤㅤIn response, Dorian gave a quiet hum, thoughts playing in his head as they rode. "A man with nothing to lose is dangerous." A pause. "A man who wants something bad enough? Even more so."

ㅤㅤIason cast him a glance, their ride uneventful but they were drawing near to the Greek camp. "And which are you?"

ㅤㅤThe man simply smirked, the dim light catching the edge of his sharp features. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

ㅤㅤThen just before them the Greek camp came into view, firelight flickering between rows of tents, the conversation died. The sprawling encampment lay ahead, a sleeping beast of men and steel.

ㅤㅤThey reached the outskirts and dismounted, tying their horses to a concealed thicket. Dorian crouched, scanning the camp's perimeter. "Guards on rotation. Just in time."

ㅤㅤIason agreed, nodding as he took the lead. "We stick to the shadows."

ㅤㅤMoving low and silent, they crept closer. The Greek camp stretched out before them, soldiers huddled around fires, unaware of the figures weaving like ghosts through the darkness. Each step forward brought them deeper into the lion's den.

ㅤㅤAs they got further into the encampment, Iason crouched beside Dorian behind a stack of supply crates, his breath steady despite the thick scent of roasting meat and sweat clinging to the night air. The Greek camp murmured with low voices, the occasional clang of metal echoing through the tents.

ㅤㅤ"Move when I move," Dorian whispered, his tone leaving no room for hesitation—to take no chance on making mistakes. Understanding the severity of the consequences of being caught, it made Iason give a curt nod. Especially since he didn't want to find out just how he would control himself if the scent of spilled blood triggered the parasite inside.

ㅤㅤThey wove through the camp, ducking behind tents and slipping past distracted guards. Every footstep was carefully placed, every breath measured. At one point, a Greek soldier shifted near a fire, turning slightly in their direction. Both men froze, bodies coiled like drawn bows.

ㅤㅤThe soldier for the part merely adjusted his cloak, muttered something under his breath, and walked off.

ㅤㅤIn the midst of being discovered, and both their hearts beating at a pace, Dorian shot Iason with a knowing smirk. "See? Easy."

ㅤㅤHaving enough with the charade and all the obstacles, Iason didn't bother to respond. And on cue, they pressed on.

ㅤㅤFinally, they reached a small command tent, its entrance barely rustling in the faint breeze. "This is it," Dorian whispered. His sharp eyes turned to Iason. "Keep watch."

ㅤㅤIason nodded, gripping his dagger. His muscles tensed as Dorian disappeared inside the tent. Moments later, there was a muffled sound—barely a whisper of steel cutting through flesh. When Dorian reappeared, his hands were steady, and a small leather satchel was in his grip.

ㅤㅤ"Got it," he sing-song cheerfully.

ㅤㅤThey turned to leave, slipping back into the night's embrace.

ㅤㅤThen—Iason stopped.

ㅤㅤA figure. Tied to a post. Bruised, bloodied. Barely moving.

ㅤㅤAt first, he thought it was just another unfortunate soul—until his gaze caught the familiar battered bronze of Trojan armor.

ㅤㅤHis breath hitched.

ㅤㅤDorian followed his line of sight and immediately understood. "No." His voice was sharp, quiet. Nothing like it has been since they met. "Iason, we got what we came for. Leave him."

ㅤㅤIason's jaw clenched. "He's Trojan."

ㅤㅤ"He's dead weight," Dorian shot back, glaring at Iason in hopes he sees it was suicide. "We don't have time for this." Dorian tries to move to convince Iason, instead, Iason goes against him. He reached the prisoner's side and knelt after successfully sneaking through a patrol. The soldier's head slumped forward, unconscious.

ㅤㅤ"Hey," Iason whispered, fingers pressing against the stranger's pulse. Faint. But there.

ㅤㅤNo response. He cursed under his breath and quickly cut the bindings. The Trojan sagged against him, too weak to stand. With little choice, Iason hauled the limp body over his back, adjusting the weight with a quiet grunt.

ㅤㅤFootsteps.

ㅤㅤA Greek soldier had spotted them. His eyes widened, mouth opening to shout—

ㅤㅤA shadow loomed behind him.

ㅤㅤDorian.

ㅤㅤA quick, clean strike. The Greek collapsed without a sound, his eyes losing their light as he fell dead. Dorian had a disapproving look on his face, shaking his head as he flicked blood from his blade. "You're going to get us killed."

ㅤㅤIason winced, his state of mind alarmed at the sight of blood. Yet, somehow—nothing. He felt as if it was to be expected, something that he had to prepare for, and he had. But now with blood on the ground, there was no reaction from it.

ㅤㅤShaking his stupified state, and rather than continue to stay and argue, Iason was already on the move as he adjusted his grip on the unconscious Trojan, determination settling deep in his bones. "Then let's move."

ㅤㅤThey moved fast, slipping through the shadows, avoiding patrols with the precision of seasoned hunters. Every step was deliberate, every breath controlled. The Greek camp remained oblivious to their presence, their laughter and drunken murmurs filling the air behind them.

ㅤㅤDorian led the way, his movements effortless, weaving through the darkness like it was second nature, Iason followed, the unconscious Trojan draped over his back, the extra weight slowing him but not enough to falter.

ㅤㅤThe horses were right where they left them, concealed in the thicket. Dorian gave Iason a quick glance before swiftly mounting his own steed. "Hells, I knew we'd pull it off. But not without alerting the guards. That was some fine work."

ㅤㅤIason didn't answer. Instead, he carefully maneuvered the Trojan against his saddle, adjusting the limp body with measured care. His arms tensed as he secured the figure, ensuring they wouldn't fall during the ride. Then, just as he swung up onto his horse, the moonlight cut through the canopy above and hit the prisoner's face.

ㅤㅤHe froze.

ㅤㅤIt wasn't a man.

ㅤㅤIt was a woman.

ㅤㅤHis breath caught. Beneath the grime and bruise, delicate features were unmistakable. Her hair, matted with blood, clung to her temple. She was barely breathing, chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven movements. A soldier's uniform wrapped around her battered form, too large in some places, well-worn in others.

ㅤㅤDorian, already astride his horse, raised an eyebrow at Iason's hesitation. He followed his gaze, then let out a low chuckle. "Didn't see that coming." Iason barely heard him. His grip tightened on the reins as a storm of thoughts crashed in his mind.

ㅤㅤDorian tilted his head, studying him. "Well, it doesn't change a thing. Hurry on, and get on your horse. I need some wine or any to quench my thirst." Iason nodded along, forcing his mind back to the present. With that, the both of them had their horse gallop throughout the short journey with a new mysterious person in tow.