Troy was considered a mythical city in the Mediterranean throughout most the modern era, until very recently in history. I'd seen a few documentaries about how there were a succession of cities that were built on top of each other, being a major port until the natural harbor filled with silt, leaving the city itself too far from the coast to be a useful point of trade, especially with other city-states that weren't buried in direct competition to them. Throughout much of the post-Helen era, in the more recent cities, people visited, in awe of what they believed to be a true history of the children of the gods—something that shifted heavily with the advent of Christendom, and the loss of the harbor. Nothing from the classical tale survived to leave evidence amongst the stony layers of debris at the site. Most everything that proved any of the story true came from various writings—such as a trading partner's documentation of what City States they traded with.

        But these people—these wolves—knew she was real, and the historical implications of their statements was that a woman who was impervious to the bond mates shared, who couldn't be broken free would work potential mates up into a war—not once, but twice, from what I remember of the ancient tale. She should have been known as Helen of Sparta. Given the histories of how obsessed Spartans were with strength, it was very likely that the whole of that people were a pack, not just a portion of their people.

         But it also gave me another thing to think about. Just how involved or how hidden were wolves in history? Romulus and Remus were the start of Rome, both wolf raised men, by what was directly told to the world at large, but Menelaus wasn't called a wolf of Sparta—only thing I could think of for that was a video game. Not that it was uncommon for various City States and other forms of nations to be associated with animals, such as cats in Egypt and lions in Judah. Dogs were not thought of in a polite manner, back then. The absence of respect towards the wolven kind really spoke to a hatred of the weres, as a whole.

        That is, if all there was for shape shifters was the wolf-human kind.

         I'd been sitting there, ignoring the two of them while thinking things through because finding out that what I could do made me like one of the most fought after women in mythology was kind of freakish. Frankly, I looked in a mirror every day, and believe me when I say I'm nothing special, I mean it. Not that I hated my looks—although the one scarred eye got me stared at more than was comfortable. No, that's not the issue. The issue is that Helen was described as the most beautiful woman, a child herself when the first fight over her started. Seriously, at most ,a 10 year old child. No child that young is the most beautiful. They are little more than babies. Given that I couldn't be disposed of, the odds were that this poor kid wasn't even all that pretty, just stuck with a ton of bondmates that couldn't get a rejection to stick, effectively being claimed by the strongest, only to have the most cunning start another damned war over her after she had been with her mate for years.

         That shit scared me. I mean, I feel nothing for Allen. Absolutely nothing. But I could learn to care for this man just like I would for any human relationship, and could find myself at the end of a bond with another man that built up enough to cause a freaking pack war over. There's all the children you could have being caught up in wars over you: Helen had Hermione, Aetheiolas, Maraphius, and Pleisthenes. Hell, there isn't a consistent account of what Helen did in the middle of the battles over her, that I knew of. But now that I think of how many brothers and close friends were tied up in her fate, clearly taking her on as a lover, in some of these cases, I can see why both nephew and uncle were very wary of me.

         Fingers snapped in front of my face, waking me from my reverie. It was Allen—the only one of the two who would get that close to me. I'm quite sure that Jason wanted to prevent any connection he could, for now. "He's got the camera set up, Vanessa. We just have to repeat our...well, lack of vows to each other."

         "Are you up to this?"

         "I don't really have a choice." He sighed. "As it is, I may be forced to push this all the way to the end of my ability to cope with it. A video will save me many demonstrations of this particular failure of ours."

        I hesitated, honestly insecure about what we were doing repeating something that caused him to pass out. Not because of him, damn it, but because it could lead to a level of possessiveness he couldn't control. Already he fought against touching me, looked so worn out. How much could he endure, to leave me unharmed? "I can't live a life free of this, can I?"

        "No, although I hope thing swill change." He paused before continuing, trying to figure out what exactly to say about the whole situation. "Look, there's a chance that we may be able to fix or change our fate. If I didn't trust that we could, I'd have just kidnapped you and spent my life running from other weres, perhaps even killed one or both of us, anything but bring everything I hold dear to it's knees. I'm glad that you know your Greek mythology enough to believe us this easily. I don't want you to suffer as Helen did, and most all the men weren't any better off, as it was."

         It was a very blunt assessment from him, especially as I hadn't said anything before my own little freak out. But then, its easy to rationalize a casual appraisal of my life from freaking werewolves, of all things. I'd not be surprised if they didn't think of me as food as well as potential mate. I nodded, standing to shift my chair towards a phone on a camera stand.

        "It's recording, Allen." His uncle nodded towards him.

        Allen didn't sit down—he was going to fight through this, on his own. I think, in part, he passed out because he was caught unawares. At least I hoped so—fainting is a weakening thing to be caught doing. I didn't want to pass out, and I doubt any male would want to, even more so.

        "I, Allen Titus Allbricht the III, reject Vanessa White as mate and Luna of the Spireshade Pack." It was a toneless, tired thing that came out his mouth, almost like he couldn't bother to sell it for the camera. Very surreal when there had been so much animation to his original attempt. I tried to not look at him as if I was concerned—yeah, I was concerned, damn him. Get me all worried about a massive war over little old me when I've not even gone on date one with a guy.

        But I matched his tone—well without the sepulcher. Don't look at me that way, I needed a 9 letter word for burial chamber last week. "I, Vanessa White, accept Allen Titus Allbrichtthe III's rejection of becoming Spireshade's Luna."

        That's when the thud sounded. He hit the floor without a fight this time. That caused me to shift myself around in the chair, to look at him. "Allen, you still breathing, dude?"

         "He is." That was the voice of his uncle, somewhere off by the phone. The next part wasn't so gentle. "Keep your eyes on him."

          I couldn't help but be puzzled as to why he was barking at me, which caused me to turn and look at him. "What was that for, Jason?"

         The older man pinched the bridge of his nose, like he was struggling for composure." Of course, you're immune to commands as well. That might be a good thing, but it can get you killed if you push the wrong man, Vanessa."

       That caused me to smirk, one side of my mouth curled around a close-lip dimple, a little hook of a thing that was too subtle to notice, for most people. "I've read enough to know that you're that man, sir. These writers love writing about insane men who kill their intended—fathers, uncles, the previous mate, but never the heroine of the story's own mate..."

        That caused a bit of a feral growl—and a glare. Damn it, I should be terrified. I really should. Intellectually, this man was a freak, well beyond me. "In another era, yes, but that would be in part because my nephew would be my enemy, not a chosen successor. In the natural course of things, having been unable to rid himself of you, and my being the older calculative bastard, your death would hurt him more than me. Please don't push that instinct forward. I want to leave this entirely to him, I truly do, but the drive to hold onto any power you wield is far more intoxicating than a damned mate!"

       Of course, he strode towards me, nearly in my face. His eyes had shifted, teeth and nails elongated. That was the first moment in my life that I ever understood the phrase "I damn near pissed myself in fright!" No, I didn't—didn't have to go that bad. But if I had needed to, I would have piddled. Of course—the damned books. I remembered to bow my head and shift it to the side—always bowing to the power of the one in front of you. I couldn't feel this power—but the sight of the man was not calming, to say the least.

        He huffed there, for a moment before finally strangling out his next words. "Put away your neck little one and please look at my nephew, no matter how much it hurts."

         I'm sure his words still thrummed with power—probably more than it did before. But Jason did ask politely. I shifted out my seat, barely scooting out of it to turn and face Allen before a sharp pain dug itself into my shoulder. I didn't turn back, not out of fear of the one causing me pain, but because the pain shook the barrier that I had from the younger Alpha. I could feel him—feel the bond, in spite of not having any grip on him or his eyes on me. The longing to tear myself away from this pain and get to the man on the floor, comfort him, damn it, something. It was unbearable. A strangled sob escaped my throat, and suddenly the pain released me, leaving nothing but a pale echo. It reeked of loss. I felt empty, as if he had died.

         It took me a moment, but I did turn to look at the elder Alpha. He was all the way back by the phone, looking as calm as he did before our altercation. "Why did you do that to me?"
"That's how Paris won Helen's love. We don't easily cause our mates pain and suffering. He wasn't there to win a mate, he was there to kill Menelaus and his mate. Instead he hurt her and it was the first thing to make it through her barriers—and he hurt her far more than I did you. After all, childbirth is not pleasant, she should have been able to feel Menelaus' bond any time they had a child. He took her to the very brink of death before they were compelled to love each other—and it was against their will. But she was older then, perhaps as old as I am. That is your future, as whatever you can do grows in strength until it peaks and dies. You're lucky to have been delayed this long."

        "How many more like me are there?"

          "Over the centuries? A handful, not always women. When a man is like you, it's worse, as he builds a harem and an army. We suspect Attila the Hun was one. I know an Alpha King of the 1600s was like you. Cunning man was more subtle than Attila, united all the packs, foreshadowing many of the changes this era would bring. Not all of you have been harmful—Justice was a fair ruler that brought us into the modern age, but more often than not, whatever you are has caused far more losses than gains."

         I had to think about it some more, so many tendrils of possibilities before me. "You're far more than some villain, Jason. Why am I still alive?"

        He sighed, moving back to his desk. "We need to know how you are made—what in you makes you this way, so we can stop the wars that could follow."

         "So I'm to be a case study."

        "You're too smart for your own good, little one."

        I smiled softly at that. "I assume that this means I can ditch school, right?"