Lysistrate Ⅰ
The 10th and final year of the Trojan War.
The once impregnable city of Troy was burning.
The men were dying, the women were wailing, but both could not drown out the screams of the young.
The city was in chaos, save for a lone girl that prayed upon the altar of the Artemis. Lysistrate had been a priestess serving the hunter goddess's twin brother, but despite all efforts, the temple had been lost.
She presses her forehead at the foot of statue of the goddess, murmuring her last prayers for what she believes to be in a long while.
She shoots a fleeting look at the altar, rushing out of the temple before the storm hits.
But it was too late. Much too late. Because the first thing that she sees before her head hits the floor is a Grecian shield.
The cold sneer that echoes through her ears sound awfully familiar, not unlike one of the men who had once barked commands at his men upon the battlefield.
This was one of the commanders from Greece, but Lysistrate does not know who he is, for she never dared participated in the dirty politics of the war.
"Hit your pretty little head, little lady? Need some help getting up?" Behind those friendly words, there is a dark shadow looming, and Lysistrate does not need to know much to not accept his offer.
She gets herself up on her feet again, and she makes to leave. It is not the intention for the man to let her go, as he slams her body into his own, wrapping his muscular arms around her.
"Let's desecrate this temple, shall we?"
"Never! The gods curse you!"
"Ah, but I am no god, am I?" He chuckles, "I'm a mere mortal, who has never overstepped the lines before."
"And so was Medusa, until she got turned into a monster."
"Wouldn't you want to see me turn into a monster? But alas," his voice lifts up dramatically, "It's always going to be the poor girl who gets raped who turns into the fucking monster, is it not?"
His fingers scrabble at her tunic.
Lysistrate does not want to become a second Medusa. The legendary monster was caught by a god, while she is trapped by this man. It seems that their story were going to parallel.
But a line of words flash across her mind.
I'm a mere mortal, he had said. I'm no god.
No, he is not.
Lysistrate slams her knee in between the man's legs as hard as she can, and she pushes him off, once again, running out into the burning streets.
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