I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

On the main road leading to Tenebria’s capital, a sturdy carriage rattled along the well-worn path, its wheels crunching over packed earth and occasional stones. The vehicle had seen considerable travel over recent weeks, dust and mud coating its exterior despite periodic cleaning attempts, evidence of the long journey from distant Sparta back to this demon kingdom.

“We’ve finally arrived,” Clytemnestra said, leaning forward to peek her head out through the carriage window. She exhaled deeply, her breath carrying relief and complex emotions as her eyes took in the looming Demonic capital rising before them in the distance.

The city’s distinctive dark architecture was visible even from this distance—imposing towers and dramatic structures that would seem foreboding to most human visitors but had become oddly familiar and even welcoming after three years of periodic residence. The capital had transformed considerably under Queen Azariah’s rule, growing more prosperous and vibrant with each passing season.

“Did you miss Tenebria more than our own hometown, sister?” Helen asked from where she sat beside Clytemnestra, a teasing smile playing across her beautiful features as she gently patted her noticeably swollen belly. Her hand moved in slow, unconscious circles over the rounded curve, a maternal gesture she’d developed over recent months.

Helen was clearly in the final stages of pregnancy, her body carrying that particular heaviness and discomfort that characterized the last weeks before birth. Her face showed the slight puffiness common to women nearing their due date, though it did nothing to diminish her legendary beauty—if anything, pregnancy had given her an additional glow that made her seem almost ethereal.

She had genuinely worried during their journey that labor might begin while they were still traveling, potentially forcing them to deliver the baby in some roadside inn or worse, in the carriage itself. But fortune had held, and now it seemed she might actually give birth in Nathan’s presence, a prospect that filled her with deep satisfaction and anticipation. Having him there for such a momentous occasion felt profoundly important.

“Not really,” Clytemnestra replied neutrally, though her tone lacked complete conviction. She pulled her head back inside the carriage and settled against the cushioned seat, her expression carefully neutral in that way she’d perfected over years of navigating difficult emotional terrain.

“Or perhaps you simply missed Nathan?” Helen suggested with a knowing grin, her eyes sparkling with sisterly mischief. “Maybe you wanted to see him again very soon? That would certainly explain your eagerness to return.

Clytemnestra scoffed dismissively and deliberately looked away toward the opposite window, avoiding her sister’s too-perceptive gaze.

In truth, she absolutely had missed Nathan—missed him more than was comfortable to admit even to herself. She was genuinely happy at the prospect of seeing him again soon, of being in his presence and experiencing that particular way he made her feel simultaneously safe and uncertain. But articulating those feelings, giving them voice and thereby making them undeniably real, remained extraordinarily difficult for someone who had learned to guard her heart so carefully.

Seeing her older sister’s transparent deflection, Helen sighed with a mixture of affection and mild frustration.

“It’s been nearly three years since we came to Tenebria, sister,” Helen said more seriously, her teasing tone giving way to genuine concern. “I’m honestly surprised you haven’t even slept with him yet, despite spending considerable time in his company. The attraction is obvious to anyone paying attention.”

Even someone completely blind could perceive that Clytemnestra harbored deep feelings for Nathan. The way her entire demeanor shifted when he entered a room, the subtle softening of her usually guarded expression, the careful attention she paid to his words even when pretending disinterest—all of it painted a clear picture to observant eyes.

“I think he has more than enough women already,” Clytemnestra replied, her voice carrying defensive notes as she offered the easiest available excuse. “He certainly doesn’t need another complication added to his already impossibly complex romantic situation.

“Is that truly what’s holding you back?” Helen asked gently, knowing with absolute certainty that her sister’s reluctance stemmed from something far deeper than concerns about Nathan’s crowded love life.

Clytemnestra’s carefully maintained neutral expression faltered slightly. Her gaze lowered, focusing on her hands clasped tightly in her lap rather than meeting Helen’s eyes.

“After losing Iphigenia…” Clytemnestra began, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper, each word clearly costing her considerable emotional effort. “I’m not certain I’m ready to build another family. To open myself to that kind of vulnerability again, to risk loving someone so completely only to potentially lose them.”

The pain in her voice was palpable, years of suppressed grief suddenly surfacing through the cracks in her careful emotional armor.

Hearing her her sister’s daughter name and so her niece Iphigenia, that bright, innocent girl sacrificed by Agamemnon to secure favorable winds for his fleet—Helen’s expression immediately transformed, joy draining away and being replaced by somber sorrow. Guilt appeared once again in her eyes, that familiar burden she’d carried for over a decade despite repeated reassurances.

“Sister, I’m so—” Helen began, her voice thick with emotion.

“It’s not your fault,” Clytemnestra interrupted firmly, though not unkindly. “I’ve told you this countless times already. You bear no responsibility for what Agamemnon chose to do.”

But Helen still felt crushing guilt regardless of logical absolution. The weight of being the catalyst—however unintentional—for so much suffering never fully lifted from her shoulders.

“If it wasn’t for me, if I hadn’t been taken to Troy or if I’d somehow prevented it, this entire terrible war would never have happened,” Helen said, her hand unconsciously tightening protectively over her pregnant belly. “Iphigenia would still be alive. You would still have your daughter. So many people wouldn’t have died.”

“Agamemnon started that war, Helen,” Clytemnestra stated with absolute conviction, her voice hardening as she spoke her former husband’s name. “He eagerly seized upon your situation as justification for military aggression he’d been planning anyway. And he alone made the monstrous choice to sacrifice my daughter—our daughter—for favorable winds and military advantage. That guilt belongs entirely to him, not to you.”

The bitterness in her voice when speaking of Agamemnon was corrosive, years of hatred and grief compressed into each syllable.

Helen wanted desperately to accept that absolution, but the guilt remained stubbornly lodged in her heart.

“Then all the more reason for you to finally move forward, sister,” Helen urged, redirecting the conversation back toward hope rather than dwelling on unchangeable past tragedies. “I know with absolute certainty that Nathan would accept you completely and without hesitation. He’s essentially just waiting for you to indicate you’re ready, that you want him. He won’t push because he respects your grief and your pace, but the moment you reach out, he’ll be there.”

Clytemnestra laughed at that assertion, though the sound carried sadness rather than genuine amusement.

“I’m far too old already for new romance and starting families,” she said, deploying self-deprecation as another defensive barrier. “That ship has sailed. I should accept my role as the spinster aunt helping raise other people’s children.”

“You must be joking,” Helen said, rolling her eyes dramatically at such obvious nonsense. “Sister, you’ve barely aged or changed at all in ten years. If anything, you’ve only become more beautiful.”

It was objectively true. Clytemnestra looked absolutely stunning, her beauty having matured rather than faded with the passage of years. There was an elegance and depth to her features now that surpassed her younger appearance, a gravitas that only enhanced her attractiveness. With her long golden hair and piercing green eyes, she had maintained her gorgeous curves and figure despite everything she’d endured, her body still strong and vital.

“It’s not too late,” Helen added with quiet intensity, reaching across the carriage to grasp her sister’s hand. “Please believe me when I say that.”

She desperately wanted her older sister to find happiness again. Even though Helen herself was currently experiencing perhaps the happiest period of her entire life—carrying a child she already loved fiercely, married to a man who genuinely cherished her, living in relative safety and comfort—she couldn’t achieve complete contentment while Clytemnestra remained trapped in grief and fear.

Her own joy felt somehow incomplete, even selfish, when her beloved sister continued suffering.

Clytemnestra sighed deeply, before turning her attention back toward her younger sister. She reached out with one hand, placing it gently on Helen’s prominently swollen stomach, her palm resting carefully over the rounded curve where new life grew.

“You should be worrying about your child and the birth that’s rapidly approaching rather than concerning yourself with my emotional state,” Clytemnestra said, her voice softening considerably as maternal instincts surfaced. “The baby could arrive any day now, possibly any hour. That deserves your full focus and attention.”

She paused, then added with quiet determination, “Thankfully, I will be right there beside you to watch over you during the labor and delivery. You won’t face it alone.”

Helen’s face lit up with a radiant smile as she grasped Clytemnestra’s hand where it rested on her belly, intertwining their fingers with gentle pressure.

“Thank you for being here with me,” Helen said with profound sincerity, her voice thick with emotion. “Truly, sister. Your presence means more than I can adequately express.”

Without Clytemnestra’s constant companionship these past three years, Helen’s existence in this castle and this demon kingdom would have been unbearably lonely. Yes, Nathan was there—but not always, not constantly. His responsibilities scattered him across multiple kingdoms, leaving extended periods when she went days or even weeks without seeing him.

During those inevitable absences, she would have felt profoundly isolated without her sister by her side. They were the only representatives from the Spartan Kingdom living here permanently, the only connection each had to their shared homeland and childhood. That bond had become increasingly precious as time separated them further from their origins.

“I’m the one who should be expressing gratitude,” Clytemnestra replied with her own gentle smile, squeezing Helen’s hand in return. “You’ve given me purpose and family when I had absolutely nothing remaining.”

The truth of that statement settled heavily in the carriage’s intimate space. Clytemnestra had been left utterly alone after Iphigenia’s death and Agamemnon’s betrayals—no family, no children, nothing to anchor her to life or give her reason to continue.

Her throne in Mycenae had almost certainly been seized by some corrupted noble taking advantage of her extended absence, but she genuinely couldn’t summon any concern about that lost political position anymore. The crown and power that had once seemed so important now felt utterly meaningless compared to what truly mattered—the people you loved and who loved you in return.

When she had been young and naive, Clytemnestra had been so deliriously happy to marry Agamemnon, believing herself blessed to secure such a powerful and prestigious match. Just thinking about that youthful optimism now made her feel extraordinarily stupid and embarrassed. How blind she’d been to his true nature, how willfully ignorant of the darkness lurking beneath his charming exterior.

She had also been shamefully, pointlessly jealous of Helen during their youth—envious of her younger sister’s surreal, legendary beauty and the way literally everyone who laid eyes on her immediately began courting for her hand. Clytemnestra had felt overlooked and ordinary by comparison, resentful that she couldn’t command the same universal adoration.

But thinking about that petty jealousy now filled her with deep shame. Helen had always cursed rather than celebrated her extraordinary beauty, understanding instinctively what Clytemnestra had been too immature to grasp—that such beauty brought danger and suffering as often as advantage. How many thousands had died because of Helen’s face? How much blood had been spilled, how many cities burned, how many families destroyed, all because men couldn’t control their obsession with possessing her ?

Clytemnestra felt profoundly ashamed that she had failed to be a proper supportive older sister during those difficult years. She had been too consumed by her own insecurities and ambitions to truly see Helen’s suffering or offer the protection and understanding a good sister should have provided.

That failure was precisely why she remained determinedly by Helen’s side now. She would be the sister she should have been from the beginning, offering unwavering support and genuine love without jealousy or judgment.

Approximately half an hour later, the carriage finally rolled through Tenebria’s capital gates and made its way up the winding road toward the royal castle. The guards recognized the vehicle immediately and waved them through without the usual interrogation and inspection procedures.

Despite being humans in a demon kingdom—normally a status that would draw suspicion and restrict access to sensitive locations—both Helen and Clytemnestra were among the rare exceptions permitted unrestricted entry to the royal castle. Their affiliation with Nathan granted them privileges and protections that transcended species-based prejudices.

Once inside the castle grounds, Helen proceeded directly toward her assigned chambers, walking somewhat awkwardly through the familiar corridors with one hand supporting her lower back. She needed to rest after the exhausting journey.

The trip back from Sparta had been quite draining, requiring them to take a boat across the sea to reach the Achaean continent where Sparta was located, then travel overland for days. For a heavily pregnant woman in her final weeks, such extensive travel had been physically taxing despite every effort to make the journey as comfortable as possible.

Helen reached her room and grasped the door handle, pushing it open with relief at finally being back in familiar, comfortable space.

But the moment she stepped across the threshold, a hand shot out from inside the darkened room, grasped her arm firmly, and dragged her inside with surprising speed. The door swung shut behind her with a soft click.

Before Helen could even process what was happening or cry out in alarm, her back was pressed against the wall and a familiar figure materialized directly in front of her.

Nathan stood there, his golden eyes gleaming with warmth and barely contained relief at seeing her safely returned.

Helen’s initial spike of fear dissolved instantly into profound relief and joy the moment she recognized him. A radiant smile spread across her face.

“You scared me for a moment,” she said breathlessly, one hand pressed to her rapidly beating heart. “I thought someone had been waiting to ambush me.”

“Really? I simply wanted to see you immediately after so many days apart,” Nathan replied, reaching up to cup her face tenderly with one hand. His thumb stroked gently across her cheek as he leaned in to kiss her.

Helen kissed him back eagerly, her smile never fading even as their lips met. The familiar taste and warmth of him felt like coming home after a long absence.

“No one will harm you here,” Nathan murmured when they separated slightly, his forehead resting against hers. “You’re completely safe within these walls. Don’t worry.”

“I know that,” Helen replied, her voice carrying absolute trust. “I’ve never doubted my safety when you’re near.”

“You didn’t encounter any troubles during the trip, did you?” Nathan asked, his expression growing more serious as he studied her face for signs of distress or injury. “No incidents, no attacks, no complications with the pregnancy ?”

“With Scylla accompanying us as bodyguard, no one dared attempt anything hostile,” Helen assured him with confidence. “And the few individuals who did try something… well, Scylla took care of those situations very efficiently.”

She deliberately didn’t elaborate on what “taking care of it” had entailed, but her tone made clear that those who threatened them had not survived the encounter.

“Good,” Nathan said, genuine relief flooding his features. “I’m glad she proved as effective as I anticipated.”

This world remained dangerous regardless of political alliances or personal power. When his women ventured outside protected territories—especially those who couldn’t defend themselves through combat prowess—Nathan had to ensure they traveled with adequate protection. The alternative was unthinkable.

Nathan’s hand moved downward from Helen’s face, coming to rest gently on her swollen stomach. He could feel movement beneath his palm—the baby shifting position, perhaps responding to voices or touch.

“It will be very soon now,” Helen said with a warm, anticipatory smile. “Perhaps within days, certainly within the week unless something unexpected happens. I hope desperately that you’ll be present when labor begins.”

Nathan’s smile faltered slightly, hesitation flickering across his features.

He was planning to depart for Kastoria imminently, possibly tomorrow. The diplomatic mission couldn’t be delayed much longer without jeopardizing carefully laid plans. But the timing was unfortunately terrible if Helen went into labor in the next day or two.

At precisely that moment, the door swung open abruptly without any preliminary knock.

Clytemnestra stood framed in the doorway, her arms crossed beneath her chest and one eyebrow raised in pointed disapproval as she took in the scene before her.

“Can’t you at least allow my sister to rest for a few hours before accosting her?” she asked with exasperated reproach. “She’s been traveling for weeks in her condition. She’s exhausted. Whatever reunion you two need can surely wait until she’s had proper sleep.”