I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Briseis sat alone, her delicate frame bathed in the golden embrace of the afternoon sun. The warm breeze caressed her skin, carrying with it the soothing rustle of leaves dancing in the air. In the distance, chiropractor birds flitted about, their wings slicing through the wind as they moved in rhythmic harmony. She watched them with an unreadable expression, her thoughts drifting like the leaves carried by the gentle gusts.

It had been several months since she had left behind everything she once knew and moved to Tenebria. A decision she had made entirely on her own.

She had needed this change—needed an escape, both from the suffocating remnants of her past and from the ghosts that lurked within the familiar walls of Troy. Remaining in the Trojan lands had felt like drowning in a sea of painful memories, each wave pulling her deeper into the abyss of her past suffering.

The fall of Lyrnessus still haunted her, an inescapable wound that festered in the corners of her mind. And then, there was the nightmare that followed—the moment she had fallen into Agamemnon’s clutches.

Though he had never laid a hand on her in the way he did with so many others, what he had done to her was something even worse—a relentless assault on her psyche, a slow, torturous unraveling of her will. He had forced her to drink vile concoctions, to swallow strange substances that made her body react in unnatural ways. She had been nothing more than an unwilling spectator, forced to watch as he ravaged countless women, his cruel voice whispering to her that this was merely preparation for her turn.

The mere memory of it sent a shudder down her spine. He was a monster, a man bereft of any shred of humanity.

She would never forget the day Nathan arrived, cutting through the shadows that had imprisoned her. He had saved her before the inevitable could happen, before Agamemnon could finally claim her as he had promised. And yet, despite her freedom, the scars remained—deep, invisible wounds carved into her soul. The months she had spent in Agamemnon’s grasp had left an imprint upon her that could not be erased.

When she returned to Troy, she had expected to heal. But instead, she had been met with yet another battle—this time against her own body. Without the substances Agamemnon had forced upon her, she suffered the cruel effects of withdrawal. Her body had grown dependent on them, shackled to the poisons he had fed her. Every moment had been a war against herself, and she had fought it alone, shutting herself away within the royal palace, lost in her suffering.

Even when Nathan avenged her, when she learned that he had slain Agamemnon with his own hands, she had felt only fleeting relief. The joy of his death was hollow in the face of the damage he had left behind.

And so, she had withered, isolating herself from the world, retreating into the dark recesses of her own mind. She cried until she could cry no more, locked in her chamber as the echoes of her past tormented her.

Until Astynome came.

Unlike the others, Astynome did not pity her. She did not demand that Briseis move on or attempt to drag her from her solitude. Instead, she was patient. She was kind. She listened.

And when Briseis had no more tears left to shed, Astynome had offered her something precious—a chance to escape, to leave behind the land that had been tainted with so much suffering.

A chance to begin anew.

In Tenebria.

Briseis had accepted.

She had known, deep down, that leaving the Trojan lands was the right choice. Staying would have meant being haunted by the memories of war, of loss, and of the countless scars—both seen and unseen—that the conflict had left on her and so many others. The devastation of the Trojan War had carved itself into the very soil, and she could no longer bear to walk upon it.

Her recovery had been slow, painstaking. Some days felt lighter, almost normal, but others dragged her back into the abyss, reminding her that wounds of the soul did not heal as easily as those of the flesh.

“Briseis.”

A familiar voice pulled her from her thoughts. She turned to see Astynome approaching, her graceful steps barely disturbing the grass beneath her feet.

Briseis offered her a small, warm smile. “I thought you would be busy.”

It was a fair assumption—Astynome was a priestess of the gods, and her duties kept her occupied most days.

Since arriving in Tenebria, with the aid of Nathan’s influence, Astynome had built a grand temple dedicated not just to Apollo, but to all the gods. It was her way of ensuring that Tenebria would have divine favor, expanding the pantheon’s presence and securing blessings from multiple deities. Because of this, she was almost always preoccupied, managing rituals, prayers, and the growing number of followers who sought her guidance.

“I decided to take a rest today,” Astynome said as she gracefully lowered herself onto the seat beside Briseis. “How are you feeling?”

Briseis exhaled slowly, a hint of bitterness creeping into her voice. “Unlike you, Helen, or Clytemnestra, I have nothing to do. My life feels empty and useless.”

It was the truth she had been struggling with for months. While she, too, was a priestess, acting as a conduit between the gods and Tenebria, it didn’t feel like enough. Helen and Clytemnestra had taken on significant roles in aiding the queen with Tenebria’s economy and governance—natural responsibilities for women who had once been queens themselves, raised with the knowledge and education befitting their former stations.

But Briseis? She had no such role. No purpose. And that weighed on her more than she cared to admit.

Astynome shook her head gently. “You know that’s not true, Briseis. We would gladly accept your help—but first, you need to heal.”

Briseis clenched her fists. “I have recovered!”

“No, you haven’t,” Astynome countered, her voice firm but kind. “Do you remember what happened a month ago?”

Briseis’s face flushed crimson, and she quickly averted her gaze, her heart pounding with the memory she wished she could forget.

“I… I wasn’t in the right state of mind… I didn’t mean to—”

“Are you sure?” Astynome’s lips curled into a teasing smirk as she looked at Briseis. “You barged into Nathan’s room and attacked him. If you ask me, it seemed like you wanted him to take you.” She let out a soft laugh, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

Everyone within Nathan’s inner circle had heard about that peculiar incident. In fact, Astynome was particularly aware of it—after all, she had been in Nathan’s bed that night.

It had been her night to accompany him, sharing in the pleasure of his warmth, when Briseis had stormed into the room, completely out of her mind. The memory was still fresh, and Astynome found it difficult not to tease her friend about it.

Briseis flushed crimson, biting her lower lip. “I… I wasn’t myself…”

“Indeed, you weren’t,” Astynome agreed, her expression softening. “And you still aren’t.”

Briseis’ strange urges had been growing worse, worrying everyone around her. The changes in her behavior, the sudden waves of uncontrollable desire, and the erratic moments where she seemed almost possessed—none of it was normal. Before she could take on any important role, Astynome needed to ensure she could control these impulses. Otherwise, it would only bring more problems.

Briseis fell silent, unable to find a response.

Instead, her mind drifted back to that night, replaying the scene over and over again.

Hesitantly, she spoke. “Do you think he sees me as a beast now?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, fear laced in every syllable. The thought of having given Nathan such a terrible impression made her stomach twist in knots.

Astynome burst into laughter. “So that’s why you’ve been avoiding him all this time? You’re scared he thinks you’re some lust-crazed monster?”

“Astynome!” Briseis protested, her face burning even hotter.

But Astynome only laughed harder before shaking her head. “You have nothing to worry about when it comes to Nathan. He doesn’t see you as a monster. If anything, he’s worried about you. You should talk to him.”

“I… I can’t…” Briseis lowered her gaze. “Compared to his other women, I’m the worst. I’m nothing. Even you are more amazing than me… And he has Helen, the Queen, and his three knights. I don’t stand a chance.”

That gnawing inferiority had never left her. Ever since Agamemnon had defiled her in mind and body, she had felt unworthy. And when she looked at the powerful, beautiful, and accomplished women surrounding Nathan, she felt even smaller, even more tainted.

“Oh, for the gods’ sake!” Astynome huffed. “Stop sulking and come with me!”

Before Briseis could react, Astynome grabbed her hand and, with surprising strength, began dragging her along.

“W-Wait! Astynome, what are you doing?!”

“I’m making you face him!” Astynome declared. “You need to speak to him, and I won’t take no for an answer!”