"We put soldiers in the donkey's ass," Odysseus announced.

  Cassandra already had to pee.

  "Forty soldiers," he continued, stylus scratching another diagram. "I've calculated the space."

  "Have you calculated what happens when forty men piss together in an enclosed space?"

  "We'll use chamber pots. Obviously."

  "For how long? Days while they wait to drag it inside?"

  "We could cut holes…"

  "In the tribute ass?"

  Odysseus set down his stylus. "I’m doing my best here."

  Cassandra stood. Wine everywhere. "Why don't we just ask Helen?"

  The room turned to her.

  "Ask?"

  "With words. Like...diplomacy."

  "We're past discourse!" Menelaus's sword polishing intensified. "They Stole Her!"

  "Did you try asking first?"

  Silence.

  "I sent a curse," Menelaus admitted.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  "That's not diplomacy."

  "It had very detailed instructions."

  Two hours later their herald returned unperforated. "Priam wants to see the prophet. Specifically. Bring wine."

  Menelaus grabbed his sword.

  Anaktoria grabbed Cassandra.

  Damon grabbed Anaktoria.

  Democritus grabbed Athena.

  Athena grabbed the wine.

  Prison formation to Troy's gates.

  The gates opened before they knocked. A guard leaned out, profoundly bored. "Finally. Wash your feet."

  They entered Troy.

  The throne room: Priam slumped forward, fingers drumming desperate rhythms. Paris stood at his left, beautiful and guilty. Helen sat beside him, studying her fifth glass of wine.

  "Your Majesty," the escort bowed. "The Greek delegation."

  Priam's gaze tracked across them. Menelaus (murderous), Damon (professional), Anaktoria (dangerous), Democritus (mystical), donkey (wine), and...

  His bronze cup hit stone.

  "My little prophet?"

  Recognition!?

  Priam was off his throne, made it three steps, then his knees gave. He crawled the rest. Tears had already started.

  "Seven days." His hands found her face. "You've been gone seven days!"

  "Your Majesty…"

  "Your eyes! That expression like you're sealing my doom!" He sobbed openly. "And your... ears are... well. The gods work mysteriously."

  Paris had gone white. "Father, that's not Cass…"

  "DON'T." Priam's grief became fury. "Same face! Same age! Same way of standing like the world personally offends her!"

  He turned back to Cassandra. "What's your name?"

  She hesitated. "Cassandra."

  Pure joy. Not a hint of denial. "You remember!"

  The doors exploded open. The Queen entered at speed, saw Cassandra, screamed.

  "My baby!" She covered ground like physics was optional. "Your beautiful face! Exactly as I remember! Just with... additions!"

  "We found her at sea," Damon tried. "One week ago."

  "Seven days ago! When she vanished!" Priam pulled Cassandra against him. "The gods delivered her to you!"

  "About my wife," Menelaus started.

  "Your wife?" Priam's laugh had edges. "My daughter returns transformed by the gods, and you want to discuss property?"

  He wasn't listening anymore. "Tonight we feast! My daughter is home!" He clutched her hand. "Come! Your room awaits! Everything as you left it!"

  As they were swept from the room, Anaktoria caught Cassandra's eye and mouthed silently: We are so fucked.