Infiltrating the Queen's Bedchamber
Atalante raised doubts about my plan right away.
"I get the intent. But things won't go as smoothly as you think, will they?"
"Fair point."
Expecting the situation to flip just because of one big reveal would be naive as hell. Especially since the citizens had no reason to buy what I was selling. Sure, there'd be initial chaos. But a crafty regent like Thyestes would spin it somehow. Talk from some random foreigner? They'd lap it up for a thrill, then forget it. This was their home turf, after all.
"Got a countermeasure? Like borrowing some authority figure's clout?"
"Something like that. I'm planning to make her spill it herself."
Atalante furrowed her delicate brow at the idea.
"Make her confess? You think Thyestes is crazy enough to air his affair to the masses?"
"Not Thyestes. Queen Aerope herself will confess her sins to everyone."
If I kicked off the show, and then Atreus's wife—the mother of Prince Agamemnon—stepped up to admit her crimes, it'd be irreversible catastrophe.
"That might do it, but why would the queen betray her lover and hurl herself into the abyss?"
"Atalante, your problem is you think too straight-laced. Like some innocent mountain girl."
"What?"
"This world's full of shit way crazier than you'd believe."
Assuming the impossible just because it's outside common sense? Bad move. Give people the right push, and anything's possible.
"We'll make it happen. Force the queen to confess her affair."
Two days later, under the cover of a pitch-black night, Atalante and I slipped into the palace.
The stone palace loomed with towering columns, exuding a cold austerity. Braziers dotted the halls for light, surrounded by off-duty guards chatting in clusters.
"Hard to believe these are Mycenae's disciplined soldiers," Atalante muttered, shaking her head as we hid behind garden trees.
Mycenaean troops were legendary for their iron discipline under King Atreus. But the moment he fell? This sloppiness. I clicked my tongue softly.
"Guess the resentment's been building."
Like reservists going extra rogue after discharge.
Not everyone, though. I pointed to a tall round tower nearby, alerting Atalante.
"Watch those guys."
Sentries circled the tower, scanning the palace grounds. With all the braziers, any shady movement might stand out.
Atalante scoffed.
"Dodging their eyes? Child's play."
"Lead on, then. I'll follow."
This huntress shone in stealth. Smashing my way in would've been easier for me—sneaking wasn't my forte.
She ghosted ahead, and we reached the queen's quarters without a hitch.
"Damn, you're good."
"Wipe that 'finally found something useful' look off your face."
"Can't help it—your personality's so straightforward. Haha."
"...They say you grow fonder the more you know someone. You're the absolute opposite."
Whatever. We weren't exactly buddy-buddy material.
"Straight to the queen."
"The maids?"
"Knock 'em out."
Atalante obliged with ruthless efficiency, dropping every maid we encountered with a single strike.
"Uh..."
"Just sleeping."
"...Look pretty permanently out to me."
Her skills outclassed mine, so I trusted her. Still, the maids sprawled in the hallway tugged at me. I grabbed a nearby cloth scrap and draped it over one—like those sheets in dramas when docs say "he's gone."
"Quit dawdling. They're not dead—move it."
Hurrying after her prodding, we delved deeper, neutralizing everyone en route until we breached the queen's chamber.
"Who are you! This is Her Majesty's—"
Thwack! A startled maid bolted up, only to crumple under Atalante's knife-hand strike.
...You hit hard, lady.
"Late-night visitors. Who might you be?"
A graceful voice drifted from the bedroom depths, accompanied by rustling clothes. Queen Aerope, roused by the noise.
"I'll take it from here." I signaled Atalante to stand guard and stepped forward.
Negotiation was my job.
"Your Majesty, forgive my rudeness in sneaking in like a thief at this hour."
Royalty demanded courtesy—even if I wasn't here for sweet talk.
"At least you know rudeness when you see it. Who are you?"
"Prince Peleus, from a distant land. Under Mycenae's hospitality."
"Peleus?"
The silhouette beyond the bed's canopy tilted its head. Dim light silhouetted an elegant, refined woman. Her voice was soft, noble—hard to picture her as a serial adulteress.
"Ah, yes. The guest from last year. Heard you saved the king but vanished. So why tonight, in the queen of Mycenae's bedchamber?"
"I understand your confusion, Majesty. But hear me out first."
"Or do I end up like my maid?"
"Perish the thought."
The queen settled primly on the bed's edge and nodded faintly.
"Very well. Dawn's far off—entertain me. But no midnight nonsense, or no mercy."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Queenly poise even in peril. But tonight, I'd shatter it. To save Agamemnon, she had to bend.
"I've come boldly tonight to beg Your Majesty's aid in saving Prince Agamemnon."
"Foreign prince, I know you were his friend. Admirable courage, but I can't help."
"Why not?"
"He plotted rebellion, eyeing the throne. Prince or not, his crime's grave."
Harsh. He was her son, after all. But the Secret Book had spilled her tale—I got the context. Still, hating your own blood like this? Wrong.
"Just the rebellion, then?"
"...What do you mean?"
"Or because he was unwanted?"
"Insolent—!"
Aerope shot up, trembling before sinking back.
"What do you know to spout such cruelty?"
Everything. The Secret Book held gods' secrets—this was chump change. Felt like tabloid gossip reading it.
"Forgive my loose tongue in advance, Majesty. It's about to get rude."
"Ugh..."
She clutched her robes, sensing doom. My next words dropped her to the bed like a stone.
"Do you know Pleisthenes?"
"How do you—!"
Pleisthenes—tricky name, but King Atreus's brother. Family tree: Eldest Atreus (current king). Second Pleisthenes. Youngest Thyestes (regent).
Pleisthenes held the past's key.
"Of course. He was your fiancé, Majesty."
"Ah... That's buried in time."
"But tonight, someone who knows surfaced. You and Pleisthenes were in love. Atreus coveted you, stole you by force."
She bowed her head, reliving sorrow. Dirty tale: Hero-king Atreus schemed for his brother's girl. Lured her to the palace, raped her. Enter Agamemnon.
Pleisthenes and Aerope parted for safety—Atreus's power demanded it.
I recited it flatly, like old news. She listened silently.
"Seemed over, but you couldn't quit each other. Secret trysts resumed; a child came—Prince Menelaus, Agamemnon's close brother."
Menelaus, affair's fruit—a gift, true love's son. Atreus never suspected. But trysts ended bloody: Pleisthenes snuck in at night, met blades. Slaughtered on-site.
"Hic..."
She buried her face, sobbing softly at the memory.
"Your true love was Pleisthenes alone, Majesty. Thyestes? Revenge on your husband, filling the void."
Her and brother-in-law Thyestes: political. Both hated Atreus.
"So what? Blackmail me with this, foreign prince?"
Voice wet but sharp. No pushover.
"Blackmail? Merely concern."
"Concern?"
"For Prince Menelaus learning this. Your 'gift' son."
Menelaus: promising prince, admired 'father' Atreus, tight with Agamemnon. Truth's reveal?
"His world crumbles. Might even avenge on 'father' Atreus. Think his life stays peaceful?"
I pitched burying some truths for peace.
"Cooperate, and it dies with me."
"Charming. Burglar by night, thug by threat."
"No excuses. Just grant my request."
I laid out the plan: Execution day's blockbuster drama. Her face surely paled; body stiffened.
"You're insane...? Actually planning this?"
"Haha, I drown worries in booze too. But sober as a judge on this. Your call, Majesty. Shame true love and cherished son? Or end god-cursed adultery and patricide?"
Sleeping with brother-in-law, abetting son Agamemnon's death. Tragic past? No pity.
"Shake me all you want—no. My tears dried long ago. My son won't buy your lies."
Expected resistance. Time for the killing blow.
"If your resolve's firm, Majesty, I stop."
"Finally getting it? You've been rude enough. Leave."
"As you wish. One last word before I go."
"Fine."
Regaining composure, clinging to dignity. I crushed it.
"That night, it wasn't King Atreus who killed Pleisthenes."
"What?"
"Precisely: Thyestes, your lover, on Atreus's orders."
Youngest slew second brother at eldest's behest. Mycenaean royalty: divine soap opera.
"Impossible..."
Voice numb with shock. I tsked at her.
"Pitiful, Majesty. Bedding your husband's true killer, warming his sheets with perfumed flesh—all unknowing."
"Lies... Can't..."
Denials rang hollow. I twisted the knife.
"Pleisthenes knows in the underworld? Weeping blood. Bravo, Queen."