It was most certainly Agamemnon's youngest. He nodded as she sat, pushing his work away so he could focus on her. The years had been kinder to her than her father.
"You look well, no less brave than I last remember." She would have made a proud wife to any meaningful warrior. "You are not a face I ever thought would reappear. I am glad however, that you have." It only meant her father would not be far behind, a man he still loathed greater than Paris himself.