Demi-god Twin.-Chapter 11 - : Unexpected Development.

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-Iphicles P.O.V-

The morning sun filters through the mist lingering over Argos, painting the city in shades of gold and pale blue.

Up ahead, the palace dominates the skyline, its towering marble walls a stark contrast to the smaller, humbler structures sprawling around it.

Flying above the city, my bronze wings hum softly with each beat, propelling me toward the seat of Argos's power.

Below, life stirs—merchants opening their stalls, soldiers patrolling the streets, and laborers shouting to one another as they begin their day.

The mask covering my face feels both alien and comforting.

Shaped like a hawk's beak, it serves as a barrier, hiding my identity. Paired with my hood, pulled low over my freshly cropped hair, I feel like a phantom gliding above the city.

But the disguise isn't just for anonymity—it's armor for my thoughts.

My heart pounds against my ribs as I think about what lies ahead. Every step I've taken since leaving Tyrnis has been planned, but this...

As the palace courtyard comes into view, I descend, landing softly on the cobblestones.

My wings fold neatly behind me with a metallic hiss, their motion catching the attention of the guards stationed near the entrance.

"Halt!" one of them barks, stepping forward. His polished armor reflects the sunlight, and his spear gleams menacingly. "Who are you? State your business."

My lips part to answer, but another voice, sharp and confident, cuts through the air.

"He's with me."

Atalanta emerges from the wide stone steps leading into the palace. Her green hair glints like emerald fire in the sunlight, and her bow is slung casually across her shoulder.

The guards exchange uneasy glances but step aside as she waves them off.

"Come on," she says, jerking her head toward the entrance. "Don't make me regret vouching for you."

I nod, following her into the marble hallways of the palace.

---

Inside, the grandeur of Argos's royal seat is overwhelmingly expected.

Walls adorned with tapestries depicting legendary battles, statues of ancient heroes carved from ivory, and chandeliers dripping with jewels hang above us.

Each step we take echoes against the polished stone floors.

Atalanta walks ahead, her pace brisk. She glances over her shoulder, her emerald eyes studying me. "I didn't think you'd actually show up."

I shrug, adjusting my hood to better obscure my face. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because most people aren't stupid enough to willingly face a Hydra." Her words are blunt but not unkind.

I smirk faintly, though my stomach churns at the mention of the unkillable Monster.

Atalanta snorts. "Our Teacher would've been useful. Shame he stayed behind."

"Chiron and Anissa are waiting in the city. They'll hear news of either success... or failure."

I flex my wings, letting the metallic feathers shimmer faintly. "That said, don't count me out just yet."

Her smirk widens slightly. "The wings are impressive. If nothing else, they'll make for a good distraction—or an escape route."

Her casual dismissal stings, but I let it slide. Whether I like it or not, retreat is my fallback option if things get ugly.

---

As we approach the throne room, the sound of raised voices filters through the heavy oak doors. I slow my steps, straining to make out the conversation.

Atalanta pauses, her hand resting lightly on the door handle. "You had the right idea hiding your face," she says, her tone serious.

I frown. "Why?"

She doesn't answer immediately, instead pushing the doors open.

The sight inside stops me cold.

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A face exactly like my own, only twisted with pride and arrogance.

Herakles.

He stands near the base of the king's throne, commanding the attention of the gathered crowd.

It has scant been a week, and yet he looks so different.

Dressed in a battle kilt and draped in a bear's hide, with the animal's skull forming a headdress, he looks every inch the hero he so proudly claims to be.

Herakles the Demigod. My traitorous half brother. My tormentor. The golden child who overshadowed me in every way. And when that proved not enough, stole what I had left.

What. In. Hades. Is he doing here!?

He speaks with the ease of someone who knows the world hangs on his every word.

"The King of Argos seeks to slay the Hydra," he declares, his deep voice reverberating through the chamber filled with Mercenaries and soldier-warriors. "And who better to lead this noble charge than Herakles, champion of Mycenae and Crown Prince of Tyrnis."

The gathered soldiers and mercenaries erupt in cheers, their admiration palpable. Even the king, seated on his gilded throne, beams with pride.

Beside me, Atalanta mutters, "He certainly knows how to work a crowd."

My blood turns to ice, then boils.

I clench my fists, fighting to keep the rage in check. My mind races—does he recognize me? Did someone tell him I was in Argos? His presence feels too coincidental, too perfectly timed to be random.

Atalanta steps forward, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade. "What's your plan then, oh 'Mighty' Herakles? Wrestle the Hydra to the ground?"

Herakles turns, his blue eyes narrowing as he studies her. "And who is this brave wench daring to speak in the presence of men?"

The king clears his throat. "This is Atalanta, leader of the expedition."

Herakles raises an eyebrow, his expression shifting from amusement to mild respect. "Atalanta? The same who wounded the Caledonian Boar?"

"Yes," Atalanta replies evenly.

He smirks. "A student of Chiron, then. I would have expected someone with your training to actually kill the beast."

Faster than I can blink, Atalanta draws her bow and fires. The arrow sails past Herakles' head, pinning his bear headdress to the wall behind him.

The room falls silent.

Herakles' soldiers bristle, hands flying to their weapons.

One of them, a Royal Guard I recognize, steps forward, shouting, "How dare you attack a prince! Guards, seize her!"

Before they can act, I flex my left wing into place, releasing a single metallic feather that embeds itself in the stone floor with a resounding 'thunk.'

Herakles' attention snaps to me, his eyes narrowing as he takes in my wings. His gaze lingers, a frown clouding his features.

The king stands, his voice sharp. "Enough! There will be no fighting in my court. Herakles, tell your men to stand down. Atalanta, control your mercenaries."

Her mercenaries? I glance around and realize the armed men and women scattered throughout the chamber answer to Atalanta.

Both groups face off, ready for altercation.

But unexpectedly, my Twin inclines his head. "Of course, Your Majesty."

He turns to Atalanta, a mocking grin on his face. "I'll see you at the hunt, my lady. Perhaps you and your men can carry the Hydra's corpse once I'm done with it."

Atalanta smirks. "Try not to get in the way of my arrows. They'll be aimed at the Hydra, not a demigod. Either way, they taste blood today."

Herakles throws a final glance at me before striding out, his soldiers trailing behind.

Among them, I spot more familiar faces—elite guards from Tyrnis, wearing the insignia of my father's court. The rest belong to the King of Mycenae.

My stomach sinks. He's not here for the Hydra. He's here for Chiron. He's here for me.

With Herakles' exit, The king turns to his side. "Are the preparations complete, Captain?"

The captain of the city guard, the same one that was with Atalanta upon our arrival at Argos, steps forward. "The catapults are in position near the lake where the Hydra was last sighted, your Majesty."

"Excellent."

Atalanta nods, raising her voice to address the room. "Then it's time. We ride out—for glory and for gold! Today, we slay a Dragon. Today, we slay the Nine-headed Hydra!"

The throne room erupts in cheers, their excitement infectious.

Atalanta glances back at me, her expression unreadable. "Stay close. Things are about to get interesting."

I nod, my mind still reeling. Herakles is here, and he knows I'm nearby. This hunt just became far more dangerous than I anticipated.

But I won't run.

Not this time.