The thick smell of jet fuel lingered in the air as the military aircraft touched down on the private tarmac just outside the capital. General Odo stood rigid and silent near the end of the runway, his black coat swaying lightly in the breeze. His silver-gray eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the aircraft's hatch as it lowered with a mechanical groan. He had been waiting for this moment — the arrival of his son, Captain Tade Odo, fresh from Greenland. Reinforcements had been requested to quash the persistent rebellion in Forun, and his son, decorated and fierce, had answered the call.
But what Odo did not expect was who came down the steps behind Tade.
First came Tade himself — tall, broad-shouldered, his uniform immaculate, the insignia of Greenland's elite military glinting under the sun. The resemblance was undeniable. His stride was confident, inherited. His sharp jawline and commanding presence were a reflection of Odo himself in his younger days.
General Odo's chest swelled with pride, and a rare smile crept to his face — until he saw the next figure disembark.
Bianca.
His wife.
Her blond hair fell in graceful waves, untouched by time. She wore a cream suit and oversized sunglasses, but even through the facade of fashion and elegance, Odo could read the pointed defiance in her movements. Behind her was a smaller figure — a young girl, perhaps seventeen or eighteen. Didi.
Their daughter.
She was the mirror of her mother: blonde hair like golden silk, falling just past her shoulders, and one sharp brown eye peeking from behind her curls — the other hidden bashfully as she stepped out onto the tarmac. She was beautiful, radiant in a way that made Odo's soldiers blink and stand a little straighter without knowing why.
The General's smile faded.
He took two steps forward and called out, "Tade!"
His son snapped to attention with a salute, then strode forward, arms wide, embracing his father. They locked arms briefly, the embrace firm and full of unspoken understanding.
"Father," Tade said, stepping back. "It's good to see you again."
"You too, son." Odo nodded approvingly. "But… I wasn't told you'd be bringing… the family."
Tade's smile faltered just slightly, but he turned to gesture behind him. "I couldn't leave them behind, sir. Greenland's not the same anymore. With you gone and me gone, the political enemies are circling like vultures. Mother and Didi wouldn't have been safe."
Odo's jaw tensed. "I had arrangements for their protection—"
Bianca cut in smoothly, strolling up with all the poise of royalty and none of the patience. "Oh, is that a frown I see on the great General's face?" Her voice was playfully sharp. "Are you not happy to see your lovely wife after—what has it been? Six months? Or do your battle plans no longer account for surprise visits from your own family?"
Odo let out a slow breath. "Bianca."
She crossed her arms. "That's Mrs. Odo to you. Or have you forgotten?"
Didi giggled behind her, trying to soften the tension. "Hi, Daddy," she chimed.
The General's expression cracked just slightly as he looked at his daughter. She had grown. Taller now, more composed, with that same spark in her eyes he once saw in Bianca when they first met. He stepped forward, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.
"You've gotten taller," he said quietly.
"And prettier," Bianca added smugly.
Odo shot her a look, but she only smiled wider.
"I'm glad you're here," he said at last, speaking to all of them. "I just… wasn't expecting it. That's all."
Bianca tilted her head. "An apology from the General? I think I need to sit down."
Tade laughed, and even Odo allowed himself a small chuckle.
"Come," he said, gesturing toward the convoy of black cars waiting nearby. "Let's get you to the villa. You've had a long flight."
The family moved toward the vehicles. Soldiers saluted as they passed. Bianca slipped her arm through Odo's and leaned in close.
"Don't worry, darling," she murmured. "We won't get in the way of your little war."
Odo didn't respond. His mind was already moving three steps ahead. The Forun rebellion was heating up. And now, with his family here — with his daughter vulnerable, his wife unpredictable, and his son marching to his side — the stakes had never been higher.
The war was no longer just about power.
Now it was personal.