Athena knows she will win this war.
The two warriors circle each other. One for revenge, one for duty. One born to kill, the other to protect. One a godlike adversary, the other a mortal man.
There is no contest.
The Goddess of War stands next to her champion, urging him on. He obeys without hesitation her stern commands. Her grey eyes take pleasure in seeing his wrath take the form of battle. She guides his sword strokes and gives him the strength he needs to defeat all foes.
Thousands have fallen before the power of Achilles. The river Styx is surrounded by men who wait listlessly for their killer to join them and curse the Goddess who condemned them to die. So Athena watches as her favored warrior battles with the ferocity of lion and smiles.
He is her beautiful killer.
Athena spys Apollo atop the high walls of his city. The young God has abandoned his champion to certain death for that is all the Son of Troy will find outside the tall walls. The beautiful immortal merely sits on the balcony waiting for what he already knows will happen. His is the God of Prophesy and yet he does not aid his warrior who is doomed to fail this last endeavor.
The Goddess's keen stare returns to the battle. The Son of Troy fights for his life while Achilles dances with immortal talent. She feels the powerful rage that has taken over his blood and urges him to exploit every fault in his unworthy opponent. He does not fail her.
At last his spear whirls through the air and instead of the clang of metal, hits soft flesh. She proudly watches as her ruthless hero plunges his sword through the breastplate of a weaker warrior.
Athena raises her gaze in triumph while atop the Sacrean Gate, her Brother shuts his eyes in grief. A single golden tear falls from the battlements.
Why does he waste his tears on a mortal?
The sand is stained crimson with blood. She watches as the life leaves the Prince of Troy and can almost hear his sigh. He too, must have known the outcome of this dual. He knew his City's fate was sealed with his death.
And for a single instance her perspective shifts. She no longer sees the furious enemy, the symbol of Trojan defiance nor the Prince to be King. She simply watches a man -just, moral, honored, and loved - takes his final breath.
And watches as Troy's heart dies with him.
The mortal who faced the Gods alone. A husband, a father, a son, a prince. A flawed man. She glances towards his City as a family mourns; watches as a wife's soul dies, an old man withers, and a brother regrets. Their hearts bleed for him.
No one cries for the battle-hardened warriors, but a country will grieve for this fallen man. She watches, horrified now, as Achilles drags the body through the Greek Camp. Her beautiful warrior - a ruthless killer - a tyrant's mercenary, leaves the Goddess alone on the battlefield, alone with her prize.
Her Brother stares down at her from the walls. His brilliant stare is hollow, his splendid bearing sags. He is defeated. She sees him glance down at his people, knowing he cannot save them. She sees him survey his glorious City one last time before it falls to ruins. Lost forever.
The Son of Troy died with no help from the Gods. He died alone, brave, young and so undeniably human that even Persephone will weep for him. He fought knowing death was coming. And he still fought.
Apollo has not wasted his tears.
Athena knows she will win this war.
She will have her justice. Her wounded pride will be avenged. But as she sees the sand soaked with the blood of Troy's last and only hope and she cannot help but feel cheated.
Athena has picked the better warrior. Yet as she glances up at the God of Truth and Light, she realizes that perhaps this time he has picked the better man.
She does not notice as her own tears of salt join those of Apollo on the plains of Troy.