The Trojan Horse of 4EverMore
The Immortal Gazette: Legends and Lore
The sun had barely sunk beneath the horizon, casting the Twilight Vale in shadows. The grand chandelier in the Immortal Gazette studio flickered to life, bathed in the soft glow of magical lanterns. Loki lounged lazily, drumming his fingers on the table. Alice, in her usual mischievous mood, was twirling a glass of blood-red wine, and Rumplestiltskin... well, he was making a very detailed drawing of a map that looked suspiciously like an ancient war plan.
"Alright," Alice began with a gleam in her eye, setting her glass down. "Tonight’s tale comes from an old mortal myth—the Trojan Horse. But, as we’re in 4EverMore, expect some serious twists, some serious drama, and, of course, a little bit of chaos."
Loki smirked. "Ah yes, the old 'hide inside a giant wooden horse and get one over on your enemies' trick. Classic. But how do we make it interesting? Add a little immortality, a few gods, and maybe a touch of betrayal?"
Rumplestiltskin looked up from his map, a devilish grin spreading across his face. "Actually, that’s exactly how this story went in 4EverMore. You see, in the realm of immortals, there’s always a little more than meets the eye. A lot more."
Alice leaned forward, clearly enjoying the anticipation. "So, let’s go back in time to when the gods were pulling the strings of mortal lives. In the world of 4EverMore, the Trojan Horse wasn’t just a trick—it was a symbol, an ancient weapon crafted by none other than Hephaestus himself... with a twist. You see, it wasn’t just filled with mortal soldiers."
Loki raised an eyebrow. "Do tell. What was inside this time?"
Alice’s eyes glinted as she continued. "The horse was filled with immortals—mischievous immortals, mind you. A group of renegade gods and goddesses who were tired of the same old pantheon politics. They thought, why not use the mortals' war as a stepping stone for their own power grab?"
Rumplestiltskin’s voice dropped to a low chuckle. "Picture this—inside the horse, the god of chaos, the goddess of trickery, and a few wayward demigods, all ready to stir up more than just a little trouble in the heart of Troy."
Loki leaned in, intrigued. "So, not only did the mortals get tricked, but the gods were the ones pulling the strings all along?"
"Exactly," Alice said, flashing a wicked smile. "And here’s the best part—when the horse was brought into the city, the gods inside didn’t just break free and fight. No, they had plans of their own. The goddess of trickery, who went by the name of Morrigan, had a plan. She whispered into the ears of the warriors of Troy, turning their bravest into pawns in her game. And while the city celebrated their victory, the immortals were already rearranging the pieces of their own game."
Loki let out a soft whistle. "Betrayal and divine manipulation. Classic."
"And the consequences were... magnificent," Rumplestiltskin continued, tapping his fingers on the table. "The gods didn’t just tear Troy apart. They tore apart the very idea of mortal heroism. Their whispers—oh, they spread like wildfire. The warriors didn’t know who to trust anymore, even among their own ranks."
Alice stood up, pacing with dramatic flair. "But that wasn’t the end of the story. Oh no. As the gods slinked away into the shadows, the mortals were left to clean up the mess. Some of them knew the truth—some of them had even suspected all along. But in the end, what could they do? What could anyone do when the gods were pulling the strings?"
Loki cracked his knuckles. "Sounds like a real divine mess. And I bet the immortals got away with it, didn’t they?"
"Of course," Alice said with a sly grin. "It’s always the immortals who walk away unscathed. The mortals? They’re left with nothing but rubble... and a lingering memory of gods who laughed as they watched it all burn."
Rumplestiltskin leaned back, his grin widening. "And somewhere in the ashes of Troy, a few of those immortals are still out there. Plotting. Waiting for the next war. Because when you’ve got immortality, what’s one more round of chaos, right?"
Loki chuckled. "A divine game of chess. Only the gods never play fair."
Alice’s eyes twinkled with mischief. "Exactly. And that’s the story of the Trojan Horse, as told by us immortals. We’re not just interested in who wins—we’re interested in who falls first."
The Verdict:
The Trojan Horse wasn’t just a mortal ploy to win a war—it was an immortal’s trick to reshape destiny. The gods and goddesses of 4EverMore weren’t merely spectators in the mortal realm; they were the puppeteers behind the scenes, orchestrating chaos, betrayal, and power struggles that would ripple through time. When immortals get involved, even the greatest victories become the most delicious traps.
