Wind danced across the lands as Polis and its people slept wrapped in warmth, in comfort and quiet. Stars that normally shone in the night sky did little to pierce the nothingness that settled in her mind. Even the flicker of flames, burning fire trapped in fireplaces and the crackle of a hearty furnace at work late at night existed not in whatever time or place she had come to find herself.

Athena stood on her balcony, her gaze unfocused as she looked out over Polis. She leant against the weathered stone railing and she wondered, she pondered, thought and hoped that things might one day become more clear than they seemed to be.

She turned her gaze up to the heavens above, perhaps in search of the moon, perhaps in search of an answer written in the stars. But neither of those things came to her, not when she peered into the deepest of depths, not when she peered into the furthest of fars.

And it was strange. So strange.

She had been Commander far longer than any other. She had lead her people through one last great war, she had pieced together the broken remnants of a people full of hate, full of resentment and frustrations. She had kept the Coalition together when others had wished for its collapse. And peace had settled, it had come to last. She had done more than most before her had ever accomplished.

And yet she felt alone. She felt unguided, uncertain of how to proceed. How could she know how to proceed? There had always been someone to guide her in strategy, in battle plans. There had always been someone to guide her through the politics of clans, negotiations that could be made with a moment's silence, or be shattered by a single wrong gesture. Almost all who guided her could be turned to in times when her life was in danger, where a foe stood in front of her with a sword, a knife, a spear or any other kind weapon held in their grasp.

And Athena would listen. She would listen and she would learn and she would adapt.

And yet she felt alone now more than ever.

If only because no Commander before her had ever lived in times of peace, where their thoughts weren't almost solely focused on how to make it to the next rising of the sun without being slain in their sleep.

She didn't like the quiet. She didn't like the solitude. She didn't like that it gave her time to relive old memories, old hates, old loves and old wants.

And yet she felt alone—

A man stood beside her, his presence unknown and unfelt until that very thought. Athena didn't react though. At first it had been strange, uncomfortable, but she had grown used to it, in fact part of her enjoyed their presence. Perhaps it made her feel a little less alone in the world.

"You are uncertain, Athena," he said quietly, his voice gentle and warm.

"I am," and she looked up at the man to find a wisdom existing openly in his gaze. "I—" she paused, she took the time to take in his appearance, from the scar that cut down his cheek, into his neck and that disappeared down into the collar of the leathers he wore. She shrugged. She didn't know what else to do in that moment. "I am."

Athena looked away then, she tried not to let her worries live so openly across her face and she took a moment to ponder something else, whatever it be, if only to give herself a little time to consider something different.

"What would you do?" she asked.

The man laughed quietly, his voice full of warmth and kindness.

"It is funny," he said after his laughter died down. "I never fought against bandits. Never brought sword to them in conflict. We had greater things to worry about."

"Yes," Athena said, she didn't know what else she could really say. "And I never fought against the Mountain," and she shrugged, the gesture perhaps so slight it was more thought than felt. "It does not feel fair," she finished, the words lame upon her tongue.

"Fair?" he said quietly.

"How is it fair that I am the one to be given the gift of life without a foe so many others fought against," though her words were question, she thought them more observation, more uncertain thought of some intangible concept she knew not how to grasp. "I hardly remember what a Mountain Man looks like," she said more quietly. "I hardly remember what a reaper looks like," a bittersweet laugh fell from her lips. "Yet I am the one to guide our people in this new world."

Her companion remained quiet for so long that she thought him gone. He was so silent, so gentle beside her that perhaps for a moment she thought the conversation an imagined old haunt of memories long since faded to time.

But then he spoke.

"You feel as though you do not deserve what you rule over."

"How could I deserve something for which I never fought?" Athena didn't know if she made sense. But perhaps the meaning behind her words were understood better than she could ever hope to articulate.

"Perhaps, Athena," he said after a too long pause. "Perhaps you are the only one who can keep the peace," and he turned to face her. "All I knew was violence," he said. "All every Heda has known was violence," and he smiled. "Some were forged in war, in violence, in suffering," he said. "Those only ever knew how to respond to their problems with violence for all they had to guide them were others who had lived the same. But some were forged in destruction, in loss, hopelessness. It let them dream of a better world, of a world no others could have ever imagined," he quietened for a moment in thought before he continued, his voice a little more measured. "Perhaps that desire gave her the strength to fight for a new world, for a chance at peace," he paused for a moment, and Athena didn't need him to tell her who he spoke of, no others ever dared challenge their people's way more than her predecessor. "Her actions ushered in the peace you found yourself thrust into without training, without preparation, without the knowledge that you had slain your brothers and sisters in a conclave where only the strongest survived. Your rule was never ushered in with the death of family, of those you had lived with for years," he said quietly. "Perhaps Athena, who our people needed to lead them in this time of peace was a Heda conceived through its conception."

Athena remained quiet for so long that she thought she had imagined the conversation. But his words filled her mind, his knowledge seemed to guide her thoughts and give strength to her decisions. And she knew she would listen, if only because he had always been the one to chase away the shadows of doubt that always seem to linger somewhere deep in the darkest parts of her uncertain mind.

"Thank you," Athena whispered as she turned to face the man, but as her gaze settled upon his face, she found his image slowly fading from her mind as consciousness slowly began to bring her back.

And so Agamemnon smiled at her as he always did.

"You are very welcome, Athena."