The ring of men swayed as they stood watching the pair in the middle, locked in the intricate dance of battle. The Trojan swung up at the Greek as a vulnerable spot presented itself. The blow caught the Greek off guard and flung him to the ground, his back arching gracefully as he fell back onto the hot, blood stained sand, gasping for air as his own blood began to spill from the gash on his chest. The men watching, Greek and Trojan alike took in a sharp breath, how could Achilles have fallen? It didn't seem possible, the Trojans whooped but the Greeks stood in stunned silence at the body of their fallen leader. It was at this point that the Trojan prince, Prince Hector, realized that the man he was fighting could not in anyway be the mighty Achilles. There was no way the legendary warrior would have gone down so quickly; there must be some kind of a mistake. He knelt next to the man and gently, almost caringly pulled off the man's helm, his breath hitched in his throat. It was indeed not the mighty Achilles, but a boy, a boy looking at him now with wide blue eyes, full of fear but also pleading, pleading for Hector to not let him die. Hector was disgusted with himself as he looked down on the boy's bloodied body and too big armor, Hector couldn't move out of pure loathing for himself but then he heard a voice behind him, not one of a man but of a god. Apollo placed a gentle hand on his shoulder

"Save him Hector," Apollo spoke evenly in Hectors ear, his words a type of command, "This boy need not die, not like this, I can stop the flow of blood slightly but take him back to Troy where your healers can work on him. Hurry Hector, saving this boys life will save yours."

Hector was puzzled by the sun god's words but he didn't question them, tearing his eyes away from the dying boy and sun god he searched the crowd for a slightly familiar face.

"Enough for one day." Hector spoke to all the men about him; they nodded but stayed put in their silence. "Odysseus!" He called, his voice straining on the name. "Odysseus!"

There was a shuffling of feet and then the King of Ithica, his brown eyes full of resentment but more full of sorrow. He kneels next to Hector his eyes never leaving the boys pale face, the blood had stopped flowing thanks to Apollo but it was still mixed with dirt and sweat on his boy and in his hair. His breathing shallow, the Ithacan king winds a finger through the grimy golden locks.

"He was Achilles' cousin." His words cut through Hector like a knife, he swallowed his fear, they were moving too slow, there was little time left to lose.

"Still is Achilles cousin," Hector replied. "I have spilt his blood but this boy still breaths, we can heal him but me must return to Troy there is no other way. I know you how it feels to lose a cousin," He paused, the thoughts of Briseis paining him. "And I wish it on no man, even my enemy. Inform Achilles of what has happened, we will try our best to save him."

With that Hector motioned to one of his men to bring the chariot, the King of Ithica did not argue just stepped out of the way as Hector carefully laid the boy onto the platform.

"His name is Patroclus," Odysseus mumbled to Hector, "Take care of him or you will have Achilles to answer to."

"I swear by the gods that I will do all in my power to save him and that he will not be harmed inside our walls."

The prince and the king nodded to each other and then Hector turned, racing back towards Troy, his army following diligently behind. Odysseus pondered the events that had just occurred while he turned back to face his own men, where had this compassion come from and why for an enemy. He guessed that he had underestimated the compassion of his so-called enemy, but as long as Patroclus still breathed, Achilles would be held at bay. Odysseus only hoped that no one would have to face the god mans wrath and with that thought, the old king followed his men back to camp making his way slowly towards the warriors' tent.