Achilles' Choice
A one-shot spin-off to Army Postal Service, especially dedicated to Kokoro who have been so encouraging and supportive and who asked about Achilles.
After Patroklos' death Achilles had been beside himself. To put it mildly. Or to put it more correctly, he had become a berserking madman, crazier in battle than Ares himself. To avenge his beloved cousin Achilles had sought out the Trojan Hector and slaughtered him brutally. Hector, who had generally been considered Achilles' superior when it came to fighting skills, hadn't stood a chance against the infuriated Greek. Achilles had attacked Hector with murder in his eyes, not seeking a battle kill but pure and hot blooded murder, the war forgotten; avenge being the only thing that counted. As if that hadn't been enough Achilles had defiled and desecrated Hector's body severely and humiliated the Trojans by tying Hector's dead body to his chariot, driving it around the sieged town. Still that hadn't been sufficient; Achilles' deeds of bravery and madness couldn't heal his shattered soul. It couldn't cleanse the deep grieve he felt; it couldn't remove his painful sadness - and most of all his guilt.
He has promised his uncle to take care of his younger cousin when they marched off all those years ago. He had promised to watch over his relative and make sure Patroklos returned to Greece in one piece. But Achilles had failed; he had ruined it so terribly by letting his own stubborn pride getting in the way for what he was supposed to do. By sitting on his fat ass in his tent and pouting like a five year old Achilles had forced young Patroklos to take a responsibility he was not ready for. While Achilles was moody over a woman (who wasn't even pretty when he thought more about it), and refused to fight, his cousin had gone out and led the Myrmidon fighters into battle, using Achilles' armour and helmet, to fool the Trojan that he, Patroklos, had really been Achilles.
The real thing didn't know from where his cousin had got that crazy idea, but shining armour hadn't saved Patroklos in the end, Hector had killed him just like he had killed so many other Greeks. That became the kill which had finally chased Achilles out of his tent and back into battle. Dressed in arms given to him by his divine mother, the sea goddess Thetis, Achilles had not only slaughtered Hector but chased all the Trojans back inside their walls again, screaming and raving with madness.
"The man is insane!" King Agamemnon said.
"He has a death wish," Agamemnon's brother, King Menelaos replied.
"Still, he's winning this for us," Odysseus pointed out. "I've never been the most ardent follower of Ares, but he does his job well with this lad I can tell. He's not just berserking with him; he's making him win as well. He's making him scare the Trojans back behind the walls and thus buying us some time."
"They say his mama dipped him into the river Styx when he was a babe to make him invulnerable," Menelaos said.
"Bull!" Agamemnon replied.
"Or if it was a pit of fire I don't remember. Nevertheless..."
"A pit of fire?" Agamemnon scorned. "What kind of lame-brained drinker might believe that, you think? How should she've been able to pull that off? Without burning the kid's skin to cinder?"
"Because she's a goddess," Menelaos suggested.
"A goddess? Then she wouldn't need either fire or Styx water, because then she'd just have to wave her pretty li'l hand and 'poof' the lad's not even invulnerable but immortal as well."
"It's not that easy," Menelaos snorted. "Well, for Zeus almighty perhaps. But not for a minor goddess like Thetis."
"Thetis, huh?" Agamemnon huffed. "She should be a goddess? Yeah right! Then I'm Herakles!"
Meanwhile Odysseus took a stroll to the edge of the palisade. He had had quite enough of those bickering fat old men as it was already. There was always something which seemed to have them getting into each other's hair. (And beard as well.) For what time in order he couldn't remember, did Odysseus regret going to this war with these clowns. He had been mad to do so, when he could've stayed at home at his island Ithaca with his at that time young family. His son had just reached his teens now and was probably not even remembering old papá. And he - Odysseus - who was called the crafty - was stuck here outside Troy, watching an over-hyped crackpot go rampage down there.
"Athena, get me out of here..." he began, but his pleading with the goddess he revered was cut off by screams echoing up from the plane below."
"Achilles!" they were calling out. "Achilles has fallen!"
"What?" Agamemnon was heard as the cries down there kept repeating themselves.
"Achilles has fallen!"
"An arrow," somebody else was calling out, "A poisonous arrow. Right trough the one opening in the arms he wore. Hit his heal. Such a strike of misfortune!"
"Well, Menelaos, so much for your invulnerability," Agamemnon scorned, but there was an edge to his voice, hinting at the Mycenaean king being really worried over the fact that one of the greatest Greek heroes had fallen.
"Perhaps it was where his mother held him when she..." Menelaos began but his brother was not hearing him, he leaped down the stairs, worry creasing his brow.
"Get him inside the barricade," he called out. "Get Achilles! Somebody!" And Odysseus watched his commander leap down the steps, almost surprised that the fat man didn't fall, that he, in spite of his overweight was so agile.
Menelaos on the other hand looked crestfallen, and as if he longed for a cup of wine. No, make that an amphora of wine. The cuckolded king had become more and more addicted to the gift of Dionysos over the years. Something which had begun to show on his face, a reddened nose and cheeks and a kind of puffy look. If they with the help of the gods managed to win this war, in spite of all setbacks they had suffered, this 'new' Menelaos would never have a chance to get Helen back nonetheless, of that Odysseus was sure. Sighing he gripped the wooden balustrade and leant over. Then he looked down on the other side and tried to see what was happening. Had they got Achilles? And how badly wounded was the big guy? But the man from Ithaca saw very little, just people running to and from. And he noted that the all of the Trojans seemed to have withdrawn behind their walls as well, the only thing seen were some stray archers and watchmen moving about on top of the fortification.
"Sweet Athena!" Odysseus sighed out in the wind. "It has become time to move over to plan B."
*o*o*
Achilles had no idea that he had outrun his fellow Myrmidons. Or any other man from the troops of his allied Greeks. And even if he had known he wasn't so sure he would have cared. All that mattered now was killing as many Trojans as he possibly could. If he could he would have sacked the town all by himself, tore it down brick by brick. If he had had the powers of Zeus there wouldn't have been ashes left of the town and its citizens at nightfall. As if collateral damage could heal his soul when nothing else had.
But he was just a mortal guy. Perhaps a bit more large and sturdy and more skilled with the blade after years and years of practice. Nonetheless he had no god powers. It was true that his mother belonged to the immortals, but that mattered little to him. It took two gods to sire a divine child; a single one would just have a mortal child, a kind of half-blood, perhaps with some special gifts but still a mortal. So as a mortal Achilles had no hope in Hades to tear down Troy on his own. Still, he couldn't care less. He had disconnected his brain. All that mattered now was revenge. So he pursued the last of the Trojans as they fled towards the large city walls, and he would probably had run after them if not a single defender had sacrificed himself by throwing himself in the way of Achilles and challenge him. Achilles lost focus, and stroke the man down by pure instinct. Then, when he turned around to resume his chase a shower of arrows poured down over him from the archers on the crest. But Achilles held up his large shield and the arrows just bounced off, not making any harm. As if he really was invulnerable.
During that short time the Trojans had regrouped and came at Achilles again, while a handful of his Myrmidons caught up with him, and the fighting was in full swing once more. While he fought Achilles felt how the worst of his rage was beginning to wear off. He remembered that there was a reason for him to be here, a real reason, and that was not about exacting revenge. This was a war, and he was here to take down Troy, and that had been what Patroklos had come here for too. Patroklos had died, but he was far from the only one. Of course he had known the risks when he came here. All who went to war knew it. Achilles too. Still he continued to hack and to slash, but a bit less recklessly this time, He tried to conserve his moves, to prioritize endurance and to use his strength and skill to keep his comrades alive. He owed that to them, and he'd better honor Patroklos by helping as many of them to survive this day instead.
Covered in this shining armor Achilles did appear invulnerable at first. It was as if nothing could touch him, and he and his Myrmidons were starting to slowly but steadily advance in spite of the Trojan's lager numbers. They began to get a bit too close to the big gate for the Trojans to feel completely comfortable. Thus the defenders gave order to man the crests with more archers, and as the Greeks neared the gates they became harassed by a heavy torrent of arrows spraying down from the walls in front of them. Many men fell but they kept on pushing. Achilles knew that trying to get inside the gates would probably be suicide, still he couldn't help moving on, carried by the tide of battle and his own surge of adrenaline. And he let that surge carry him closer and closer to that wall - until...
One archer of many, an insignificant boy in the larger perspective, raised his bow once again, and hooked a new arrow, one of many. Then he aimed at that golden thing down there again and let loose. That superhuman in shining arms who seemed impossible to kill, who just kept on charging ahead like a lethal automaton. Like Ares himself. Regardless of that this boy let go of his arrow and it flew straight towards the golden man, a bit low perhaps. Meanwhile, as Achilles turned and leaped, a tiny opening was shown between the shin protective and his shoe. A small spot of unprotected skin. But large enough to take a hit. And this very arrow, spiced with poison, hit right on target.
First it was as if the large Greek hadn't noticed, he simply kept on going. But as the poison shot up his vein, the pain came as well, and Achilles shouted out, not a battle cry this time, but a roar of pain. The next second he stumbled and fell, collapsed and crashed right down in the sand while the fighting kept going around him...
*o*o*
...it was as if time froze around him. All the commotion surrounding him stopped. The swordplay, the running and jumping men, the many falling, the fountaining blood and the cut-off body parts, everything seized to move. And all the noise stopped, the screams, the clashes of arms, the neighing of horses, the running feet, the bodies being hit and sliced apart. Not even the calling crows and gulls were heard. Achilles felt as if reality had become paralyzed and highlighted in a strange kind of milky white, almost grainy, and he felt as if he and everything around him had become suspended in amber, just like those frozen insects he had seen in droplets of that material.
Just in his line of view Achilles saw a falling Myrmidon with an arrow protruding from his chest, the man was suspended in mid air, his mouth open in a silent scream and his eyes bulging as they faced death. Beyond him Achilles spotted other fighters who had stopped as well. In the air hung arrows as if they were glued to something and what remained of the dry grass was bent to a wind he didn't notice anymore.
Achilles also noted...
...the pain was gone.
What?
What had happened?
Then he heard it. A deep, monotone sound in his ears, slowly slowly growing in strength. And he kept listening to that for a moment while he watched the frozen scenery in front of him, feeling even more puzzled. Was this death, was he dying? And then where was the river of Styx and Charon with his ferry? This looked nothing like the underworld; this just looked like the plains outside Troy, but with everything around him stopped and painted in this strange whiteness, as if snow had suddenly covered it all. Then unexpectedly, above the thundering sound the Greek heard someone calling out his name.
"Achilles? Achilles, can you hear me?"
"Who?"
That deep, resounding, female timbre reminded him of his mother in a way. And yet not, it was deeper, more melodic and not as sad as he remembered his mother's voice.
"My name is Orianthe," the voice said. And behind her that deep resounding boom kept growing in strength. And didn't that Myrmidon with the arrow in his chest fall a little bit more during those seconds?
"Orianthe?"
"Yes. I am a daughter of Hermes, a messenger goddess."
"And what message do you carry to a wounded man?"
"Listen, we have very little time, son of Thetis. Do you hear the boom in your ear?"
"That deep sound? It is growing in strength it seems... no, it's fading again."
"That sound. It is your heartbeat you hear. Time is not entirely halted you see. Achilles, it has only been slowed down. Son of Thetis, it was poison in that arrow. Enough poison to kill an ox. And for every heartbeat it pumps that poison closer to the heart itself. When it reaches your heart the poison will make it stop. You will have to make your decision before that."
"What decision? I'm..."
"Dying, yes. If you don't decide to stop that process. Obstruct your death."
"I can do that?" Achilles asked surprised as the deep sound kept fading out in his ear and the Myrmidon fell a little bit more, his arms flowing out slightly more, his eyes growing dimmer.
"Yes you can. You have the ability to prevent your own death right now. But not without a price."
"A price? What do you mean?"
"To stop death you have to embrace immortality. You'll have to let trough the divine part of you, the part which you have inherited from your mother."
"You mean - I can have immortality?" he asked this unseen Orianthe who was speaking in his head.
"Yes you can, Achilles." Orianthe repeated.
"Why? I thought... Because I was a hero? I was a hero, right?"
"Yes you were, but that's not the reason. The real reason is that you are a demigod. You do know that your mother is a sea goddess, an Oceanide, right?"
"Yes. She told me once. I didn't believe her then but - she proved it to me."
"From her you have inherited enough divinity to be able to choose between life and death. But there is only one such chance given, and it happens during a very special part of the demigod's life. It is only in this meantime just between life and death a demigod can make this decision. Decide if he wants to go on in the cycle of life and enter the land of the death to become cleansed and reborn. Or if he will have immortality and walk the Earth forever being the one he is now."
"Then come on! Give it to me! Make me immortal!"
"You sure about it? After all this is irreversible, you will never seize to be Achilles. You will be forever tied to this body and this existence no matter what goods or bads which come with it. You won't get the mortal's fresh start ever again. You will forever carry Achilles' pains and regrets with you."
"I'm dying, you said, then what do I have to lose?"
"This!" And in a blur of pictures he saw his friends, he saw Patroklos well and healthy, he saw Deidamea - the only woman he had really loved, but whom he had to leave to go off to war. He saw his father and mother and little sister. He saw his good friend Odysseus, big Aias, Diomedes, Thersander and other buddies he had made during this long campaign. He saw them all drinking, eating and laughing together. He saw himself on horseback, running across the green fields back home and he saw Chiron the centaur, his old teacher. He saw himself swimming in the strong currents of the sea outside his home, feeling the liberty and the relief the streaming freshness of the water brought to him, and he even tasted the salt upon his lips. All this he saw and felt during a few short moments while the booming sound faded away completely in his ears.
"I'm not sure I understand. I mean Patroklos is gone already and so is my father..." Achilles begun as the booming sound which was his heartbeat started over again.
"What I mean," Orianthe explained, "is that you have to abandon your old life completely. You cannot go back to those mortal people and show yourself, because you'll become a god and god cannot interact more than briefly with mortals other than when they have the permission from the Council of Twelve - which is the highest circle of the gods of Olympos. And it is absolutely forbidden to interact with those who have been a part of a demigod's former life."
"Why?"
"Because there's always a strong temptation involved to give unjust favours and benefits to those he has loved earlier. Or to punish old foes. And since he is a young god with powers he had not really learned to master yet, he might instead harm his friends severely or harm other people around them. And those he exact revenge upon, may get to suffer more than what is justified. That has happened earlier when young gods have favoured old friends and family members and attacked their old mortal enemies. So the Olympos has put a stop to it."
"You mean I cannot go back to Deidamea? She wrote me and said she had given birth to Neoptolemus. You mean I cannot see him? I've never known him. My own son."
"You can see him for sure, but you cannot interact with him. And thus it may be to the best if you just have a brief look at him. So you don't become tempted to involve yourself in his life."
"But I want to help my son; I'd hate to see him grow up without his father. But then I guess I cannot do that whatever path I chose," Achilles sighed, as the booming sound faded again. This had been a shorter beat and he feared that time was speeding up again; before he remembered that the human heartbeat was actually consisting of one long beat followed by a shorter one. Why it was like that he didn't know, that was something which just - well - was.
"There's one more thing I'll need to tell you before you make up your mind," Orianthe said. "Which is you have to leave this place immediately. If you chose immortality you cannot involve yourself in the Trojan war anymore."
"But there are gods all over this place! Ares and Athena and Apollo and Poseidon and Aphrodite and..."
"Yes, that is true, but those are Olympians. Different rules apply for them. You see, immortals are not an equal bunch, far from it. There's a greater difference between the lowest immortal and Zeus himself than between any mortal slave and a king."
"And I am to have slave status among the gods; it's that what you are saying?" Achilles asked as he listened to his heart starting all over again.
"No, your rank will be fairly high, since you'll more or less inherit your mother's status. She's after all an Oceanide with connections within Olympos. On top of that you have shown that you're a great warrior and a man of good judgment most of the time, even if the story with Briseis might have proven otherwise."
"It killed Patroklos! Damn that woman!" Achilles cursed, and in front of him the dying Myrmidon finally hit the ground, slowly slowly, and with grains of sand starting to fly all over. And it was as if Achilles could see every single grain spin around and fly away.
"You must forget about that. Achilles!" Orianthe said. "You will have to make up your mind now. You have only one heartbeat more before the poison reaches your blood and then it will be too late, because then your soul will leave your body and enter the journey down to Hades."
"I can't even say goodbye?"
"No, you cannot. But then very few people who die in battle can do that."
"Whatever, I'm not a coward. I don't fear death. Neither do I fear what immortality may bring. I know the Olympians can play a cruel game, but I'll try to stay away from that. I'll go... see my mother. And then I'll guess I'll improvise from that."
"Good choice, Achilles. Now take my hand."
"But I don't see..."
Then he realized he did. In front of him stood the most beautiful woman he had seen in a long time. Not even Helen, who they were fighting this cursed war over, held the solemn and strong beauty of this woman. She had shining and intelligent turquoise eyes, coloured like a shallow pond and long, rich and deep brown hair, highlighted with golden strands. Parts of it were falling down over her shoulders, while other parts were braided into an intricate, crown like pattern on top of her head. Orianthe wore a dress so deeply blue that Achilles had never seen a colour like that. It seemed to go on forever, right into his mind. He found himself gasping with astonishment while regarding this vibrant being who was Orianthe for the first time. Had she been standing here all the time, without him being able to see her until he made this decision for real?
Achilles found that he could rise up again, and he reached out and took the goddess' hand. It was small and uncalloused, skin soft like a baby's, yet it was a strong hand. Strong and skilled, and he could tell that she was used to handle all kinds of things with her hands. He got a vision of a bow and arrows, of a loom and musical instruments and of writing tools.
He also saw other things around him he hadn't noticed before. He saw the soul leave the fallen Myrmidon (The man's name was Emendon, Achilles suddenly recalled) , it looked like a being of silver, semi-transparent and vaguely alike the now dead man, as if the features were slipping, melting like ice in the sun. He saw a couple of women in short dresses on the crest of the Trojan wall, and it seemed that the sun was shining brightly upon in them spite of the general haze of the day. And he saw something black and evil-looking lurking in the corner of his eye, but when he turned and looked, the menace was gone. He tried to ask Orianthe about it, but she shook her head.
"I will answer no questions for you. Someone else will do that later. Now you must leave this place."
"Why?"
"As I said, you are not allowed to roam here now when you are immortal. You must go elsewhere. Your mother's home is a good place to start."
"But if she's still in Phthia, I will surely meet old acquaintances. My sister..."
"She's married by now. And your mother have left her mortal husband's town and returned to Ternesiada, her home as a goddess. That's where we're going... No, Achilles, don't do that!"
"Do what?"
"Don't turn back and look at your mortal body!"
"Why not, I'm... Is it a bad omen?"
"No, but it's often scary and uncomfortable to see your own dead body. That's often the most painful part of dying. And in a sense you did die, Achilles. The part you inherited from your father Peleus is dead now. All that is left comes from your mother. Then, as a new immortal you're not that psychically stable yet. You need to rest and to get used to your new abilities and emotions."
"I... but what is this body I have now then?"
"It is your immortal body, formed from your strong soul essence. It has ripped the immortal part of the genes from your mortal body and cloned you a new body."
"Say what?"
"That too will be explained better to you in due time, come on now!"
*o*o*
Ternesiada. Achilles had only heard about the place, never seen it. His mother had described it as being beautiful in 'quite a different way than Olympos. Wilder and harsher'. That had said Achilles very little since he didn't know a thing about Olympos. Back then he hadn't even cared. He had only felt a tiny stab of remorse over the fact that his mother was a goddess and that she had access to places he at that time believed he could never visit. Nevertheless now Orianthe was guiding him to this 'island beyond sunset' and he got to see it with his own eyes. And Ternesiada sure was a place to behold. His mother was right, it was beautiful. Not pretty but wonderful in a challenging way.
The island consisted of a high, tar black rock formation with waterfalls streaming down into a blue lagoon surrounded by dunes of sand where tall palm trees grew. On top of that rock was a lovely, white temple-like vista surrounded by a small but neat garden. That was his mother's home, Achilles sensed it within his whole being, and he felt his heart miss a beat. His new, immortal heart which would never be bothered by poison. He felt that this wonderful, crispy-looking white building appeared as if it was welcoming him in a way he had hardly ever felt welcome anywhere. Because even though Achilles was regarded a hero, people would seldom let him close to themselves, or across their thresholds. They feared him and thus he had hardly ever been really welcome as a guest anywhere. The lovely Deidamea had been one rare exception, she had received him with love and trust, and she had welcomed him as a member of the family while others shooed away. But she was gone from is life now, instead it had brought him here, to Ternesiada, his mother's real home.
As they landed on the path which ran through the little garden outside the house. (Flying had been another breathtaking experience) Orianthe told him:
"Good bye Achilles, I will leave you here, since my duty is now done and I'm expected elsewhere. Go see your mother and take care."
"Will I..." he had a hard time letting go of her hand. "...will I ever see you again?"
"Sure! I'll be around. The immortal nation is not that big, and with eternal lives you do tend to run into everyone sooner or later. So we'll meet again. Perhaps not this year or the next year. Or even this decade. But we will, count on it, young man. Now say hello to your lovely mother from me, Achilles. And good luck!"
Then, with a strange popping sound, Orianthe was gone, as if she had never been there. Now the warrior was standing alone on the graveled walkway, looking at a house which was so white it almost hurt his eyes surrounded by roses in pink, red and yellow and in such an amount that even he, who knew next to nothing about gardening, understood that this was not real. He also spotted a small fountain spewing up glittering water in the air and a deer with a kid - completely unafraid - feeding on the leaves of a tree. The place smelled of honey and bougainvillea, so very different from the stench of war he had gotten used to. This was so unlike the large manor where he had grown up, the place with all the servants and people, all the comings and goings all the time. This little house on the rock of Ternesiada was so much more private.
Achilles didn't have the time to become nervous or even consider his meeting with a mother he hadn't seen in more than ten years, because the embryo of thoughts about what to say became interrupted by a joyful call of his name. Then the door flew open Thetis came running out on the stairs. Thetis, his mother, and she sure was a sight to behold, she looked just like he remembered her from childhood, young and pretty, with her jet black hair braided in five or six thick braids hanging down on her back, her cheeks rosy and her emerald eyes sparkling.
"Achilles!" she called out again, beaming with joy. "I so knew you would come."
The next moment she was in his arms, hugging him hard, and as he hugged her back he was surprised of how tiny she was. Once he had used to cuddle up in her large frame, but now she hardly reached up to his torso. Yet this petite body held strength so prominent that she was almost able to squeeze the air out of his lungs. He in turn hugged his mother back, tears of joy streaming down his cheeks. For the first time he was able to let his emotions come through. Themis laughed as she buried her head in his torso, and then she looked up at him, saying:
"Everyone said 'nah he won't become a god, he's too much of his father'. But I believed in you Achilles, I knew that when you were done down there you'd return to me. I knew how much you wanted to make a name, to become a hero. To be remembered. But I also knew that when you were done with the Troy thing, with the war career, new things awaited you."
She looked up and faced him, eyes moisty and tears stuck to her long lashes, and she smiled that lovely smile she had always had when she had tucked him in for the night when he was a little lad. That made him feel so welcomed and comfortable. His mother had always believed in him no matter what everyone else had said. She had always loved him and cared for him. Trusted that he would do the right thing.
"You look great," Thetis went on. "A bit tired and confused but that's only to be expected. But still awesome. Young and fit, a true god! And I'd never knew you'd become so tall and brawny. Nevertheless, you must be hungry, dear! And you sure need something else to wear than that smelly and dirty tunic. And definitely a bath!"
He couldn't help laughing, she sure sounded like his mother always had don. She had always had this hang-up about bathing. If he only had gotten one small stain upon himself he could bet his best sword that Thetis would desire of him to take a bath.
"Do gods bath?" he asked, but beneath the tease was an edge of seriousness, which Thetis heard as well.
"Why of course they do," she huffed, but shaped the sentence slightly into a question, as if urging him to go on with what puzzled him. So he complied:
"Mother," Achilles began. "I know next to nothing about this god business. I don't know where to go and what to do. What's expected of me. I feel confused and insecure, like a child taking his first step and I'd hate to be naïve. You know, mother, when I entered my first battle I had no idea what it was like for real. I knew how to handle a sword and an axe, true. I knew how to throw a dagger and a javelin. I even know how to use hands and feet, should I have nothing else to defend myself with. But nothing could prepare me for what war was like for real. The death and the terror. The blood and the gore. The stench, the wet heat, the mud beneath my feet, the loss of comrades, the enemy and the real kill or be killed thing. Ground slippery with blood and - well - other things. Nothing they teach you at the military academy can prepare you for the real thing. And in a way I think it's the same way with being a god. I knew about you of course, and I saw the gods in Troy sometimes. Athena talked to me once in person for instance."
"She did?" Thetis rose a brow, but didn't sound utterly surprised. Without really thinking, Achilles felt across the back of his head, remembering how the goddess had pulled at his ponytail to get his attention. He had almost lashed out before he learned who it was and Athena had smirked at him because of that, her eyes telling him that she had got some of her prejudices about him confirmed. Achilles sighed, everyone had always taken him for the hot blooded guy who acted first and thought later. And he hated the realization that Athena had thought so as well, and that she might have been even more convinced afterwards. Achilles knew that Odysseus and Athena had some kind of special relation, and he so envied his good friend for that. He could never get that amount of respect from the Goddess of Wisdom, he knew. (Achilles had actually suspected that Odysseus and Athena were lovers and that all this Virgin Goddess thing was just pure nonsense. And he knew he was far from the only one thinking so; although no one said it, save for those who were not careful with the wine.)
"Yes she did," Achilles said when he came out of his reveres.
"What was it about?" Thetis wanted to know.
"Long story. Perhaps later." he shrugged and Thetis let him off the hook for the time being, although he could tell she was curious about the Athena thing. Everybody was curious about Athena after all.
"Now dear," she hooked her hand around his arm. "How about this bath..."
*o*o*
Achilles guessed he had planned to stay just a few days with his mother, but those days had grown to weeks and then to months. And before he knew it, two years had passed and the Trojan war was over. Odysseus had pulled one of his crazy stunts again, hidden an elite force in a hollow wooden horse-statue and tricked the Trojans into pulling that one into the city. It sounded totally madcap but the set up had worked, the city had fallen and the war was over. And what for? Al right there had been some plundering and burning, but the real reason for all of them coming to Troy years and years ago - Helen - she was nowhere to be found. The only thing left was rumours. Some said she had killed herself, others that she had fled to Egypt. Others in turn told the story that she had left with the remaining amazons when they had deserted Troy and that she was now living up there in the mountains with them.
The young god had learned to use a sight pool, and he had amused himself royally with watching the spectacle which was the end of the Trojan war. He saw the two fat men (Agamemnon and Menelaos) fight over the booty just as they had always done, the greedy old bastards and he saw his good friend Odysseus insult Poseidon. That was utterly stupid, especially for Odysseus, but perhaps he hoped Athena would save him from the angered sea god. Finally he saw the Greeks set the once mighty city on fire and then shatter like crows when someone threw a stone into the pack. And then it hadn't turned out better than that Agamemnon, upon returning home, had met his death by the hand of his own wife who had taken a new lover. Menelaos in turn became expelled from Sparta and Diomedes had almost met the same fate in his homeland. Finally Odysseus had disappeared without a trace just as Helen did earlier, thanks to the angered Poseidon.
Helen, yes, Achilles decided to try to find what had happened to her, if only to still his curiosity. And to see if he had learned to locate a mortal. He knew he should really have been trying to find Odysseus, but Achilles figured that hos clever friend was now resting on the bottom of the sea. After all if there was one thing his mother had taught him well, it was to not anger the sea god. Poseidon was known for having a terrible temper and almost no respect for mortal lives, so if you angered him and then stepped into a boat you could consider your days numbered. In small figures.
So! Helen. Achilles brought in new and fresh water from the spring, cast magic over it and filled up the sight pool once again. Then he backtracked to the last time he had seen Helen in that pool. It was almost a year before the fall of the Ilion city. Yes, there she was, she had left with Aeneas and a few others, disguised into an old hag nobody would looked twice upon, and together with her new found friends she had embarked a ship set for some uninhibited territories in the west. Achilles traced the ship as it sailed towards the sunset, and he saw it land in several exotic places before it reached its destination, a place almost untouched by man. Helen had settled there together with several other Trojans and other refugees, and she had been together with a young man looking only half her years. She was still a stunning beauty, even if she didn't look like that awesome appearance she had been when Achilles first had laid his eyes upon her. She must be in her mid thirties now, Achilles guessed, yet she was still radiant and colourful, that blond hair shining like the sun and those dazzling blue eyes sparkling, unbothered by the fine lines surrounding them. She was slightly pudgier as well but she sure carried herself like the queen she had once been.
Yes, Achilles knew where she was now, and that knowledge gave him an idea. He should go visit these new lands. Perhaps even have a talk with Helen. She might not know that he was considered 'dead' and he ought to be able to come up with a plausible story about what he was doing there. It wasn't like he had some kind of crush upon Helen, far from it, even if he too had been infatuated with her in his youth. No, he simply wanted to talk with someone he hadn't talked with in years. He was curious about her, the face which had launched a thousand ships. He wanted to know why she had done what she did - followed Paris to Troy. And started this mother of all wars. He wanted to know how she had reasoned. And he itched to hear it from her own mouth rather than from someone else delivering his or her knows-it-all theories. He had had enough of these now. He wanted to know what had cut his mortal life short and why all the gods had become dragged in to stir the stew as well.
The settlement was built upon one out of seven rolling hills by a river leading out in the sea. It didn't look that impressive, still Achilles had a feeling that this place would become something extraordinary in the centuries to come, and that it would last for millennia. He got visions of marching armies, hundredfold larger than the Greek alliance which had attacked Troy. He saw large buildings and other impressive constructions, dueling men and women in extravagant outfits. All this flashed before his eyes in just a few seconds, still he knew it, he was treading the grounds of the future now. It excited him because he knew that he would be around. He would see this city rise, crumble and rise again in another shape. He would know 'the eternal city' way into the future, when the memory of his mortal self was long gone or reduced to a distorted fairytale. But now...
"Achilles?" someone called out and cut into his thoughts. He turned, bewildered, who knew he was here? He hadn't even told Thetis where he had gone, she let him more or less do what he desired these days, he only had to show up for dinner. Especially if she had friends over - most of the time other Oeanides. Some of those were her sisters, others were ladies his mother tried to date him with, but none of them were of his interest.
"That happens to be me..." he responded, gazing at the man who was standing a bit away and up the hill, with the sun behind him, making it hard to make out his features.
"Good. I had a feeling you'd show up here sooner or later."
"Why? And who are you?" he asked of the stranger.
"I knew you'd be trying to trace down Helen almost as soon as you turned divine. After all who wouldn't after having fought for her for so long? I know you don't desire her, she's not the kind of woman Achilles wants." The man started to walk down the slope and towards the young god. He was dressed in black leather from top to toe and he carried a long sword tied to his back and another, shorter one by his left side and his bluish black hair was tied back in a ponytail. He was carrying a worn leather backpack slung over his shoulder and in his left hand he grasped something Achilles couldn't see, but he could feel the energies of the electrum metal radiate from inside the clasped fist. The other man was holding some kind of bracelet with a charm it seemed. Achilles knew it was another god he was beholding, yet he didn't recognize him.
"As for who I am," the stranger went on. "I consider myself your new employer. I'm quite sure I can give you an offer you cannot refuse. As soon as you have had your little talk with lovely Helen you'd be ready for adventures again, son of Thetis."
"So what is it you'll tempt me with?" Achilles asked. He felt like the other's dark eyes were burning right into his soul, reading every thought and emotion of him.
"You want to make war again, right? You're weary of your mother's house and the tittering ladies she's trying to match you with. You don't like cutting roses and you're tired of diving into the lagoon. The high fall from the cliff doesn't even tickle your sense of danger anymore."
"What? How do you know all these things about me when I don't even know your name?"
"Because I don't hire people before having checked them out well. I want men of the right stuff in my pay. I want real fighters who can use their heads as well as their arms and legs. As for who I am, I think you can figure that out if you think a bit before you ask again."
Achilles regarded the stranger who carried himself like a fighter all in all, but with a hint at royalty as well. The other man was even larger and more muscular than Achilles himself and he radiated danger and power, as if he could have torn down the walls of Troy all by himself if he so should have desired, no matter that they once were raised by Apollo and Poseidon themselves. Achilles swallowed; no it wasn't hard to guess who this god was once he began to put together one and one.
"Mighty Ares," Thetis' son said. "You're looking to hire me?"
"Yes, who can resist the perfect recruit? The number one hero of the fields of Ilium turned god. I'm sure you and I can make an invincible team if you decide to join me."
Without thinking Achilles felt that he started to grin. Sure, Ares had hit him right at the soft spot (and that wasn't his right heel) he definitely wanted back in the action again, and going to war with Ares, he couldn't imagine anything more exiting.
"I'm in!" he said and saluted the war god.
"Great. Catch!" Ares let go of the item in his left hand in a short threw and Achilles caught the small metal piece on its chain, the electrum glittering tantalizing in the midmorning sun.
"What is it?"
"It's an electrum necklace with an identification charm. Wear it! It gives you access to Olympos anytime, we're going there later. But first; I'm taking a special interest in this place. I take it you can feel the force residing in this ground as well. This will be a place of power. And I want to hang around to make it happen. I have big plans for these settlers and the generations to come..."
Achilles followed Ares towards to the place which was to become Rome. And he knew it; he had made the right choice this time. Following the God of War was his destiny.