Chapter Six

Sorry for the shortness of this chapter, I promise seven will be even better. :D

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Mighty Achilles skulked within the lonely confines of his tent, his eyes dead and empty as whispers of her voice mocked his sorrow, and glimpses of her smile taunted his memory. In a single morning he had lost hold of the one thing that had given him closure, the one person that had given him peace in this wretched lifetime of war. He knew that she was lost, but it was a truth he couldn't come to accept. All his life he had never needed anybody, he had never counted on anyone, and now he found himself trapped by this stupid thing called love. If he left here, she would be lost to him, but if he stayed and fought, he would be lost to her.

There was no way to breech Troy's walls, there was no hidden path into the city, there was no way in. The thought gave him little closure, for if there was no way in, there was no way. If by some odd turn of fate Agamemnon was able to invade the city, she would be trapped. She would be at the mercy of the soldiers, and that was perhaps the worst fate she could suffer now. She would not die, no; Agamemnon would keep her as a kind of pet. No doubt he was furious with the fact that he had not known who she truly was. He would keep her just to spite Achilles, just to make him suffer.

Leave her be, she is safe, his mind whispered, the poisonous thoughts leaking through his defenses. Scowling, Achilles hurled his wine goblet at the fire. Sputtering and hissing angrily, the coals died, leaving a sickly orange glow on the walls before dimming into darkness; leaving Achilles alone with his torturous mind.

II

For the past two nights nightmares of loss, anguish, despair and fear had ravaged the sleep of the Prince of Troy. The horror and reality of the situation at hand were the source of Hektor's lack of sleep. For the past three days he'd been forced to watch his sister's suffering. What was worse is that the physicians said there was little chance of her fighting off the fever and infection that had set in. Her wound had been far worse than either Adonia or himself had guessed.

The blade had gone deep, and praise was due to the gods, for no vital organs had been punctured, but she was indeed dying. The physicians had done their best to stop the internal bleeding, but they weren't confident if they were successful. Hektor had sat at her bedside for days; he'd spoken quietly to her as day faded to night, encouraging her to pull though. He would watch her eyes move behind closed eyelids, he would listen as she whispered words that made no sense, and in the end, he could no longer bare to watch her.

Restlessly he prowled the palace and stood on the great wall, watching the far beach, wondering when the Greeks would act next. Then, the questions would consume him as he stood alone on the massive wall. He wondered what had happened to her while she'd been a prisoner; she had few injuries other than the cuts and bruises, so she had not been tortured. She had been defiant and strong that day on the beach, so they had not broken her spirit. But, what had she been through? What would have driven her to save the life of a Greek who would kill her own people if he was given the chance? The biggest question, however, was how did she keep her identity a secret? For two weeks she had hidden her heritage from them, then again, two weeks of secrecy was destroyed by a single sword stroke. Sighing, Hektor fought back the sadness.

Since they were little Hektor had vowed to protect his youngest sister. He had loved her more than all the others from the time of her birth. She had been so quite, so small, so innocent and so fragile. Now, fragile little Adonia was breaking, and there was no way for him to mend her. No matter what the physicians tried they still said that she would not last past the fourth day, and the thought of losing his beloved baby sister broke his heart.

A strong sea breeze whipped against the battlements, flinging sand from the walls and threatening to knock over anyone who wasn't prepared. Hektor, caught off guard, braced against the wind. He felt the tear fall from his eye and left a single spot on the dusty wall before he could stop it. His grief for his sister was far greater than anyone would know, and to have to face losing her was perhaps one of the biggest challenges Hektor would face in his life. But he could not let it destroy him. He would have to be strong; he would have to show that it did not shake him. If any of his warriors saw him like this their moral would be shaken. Adonia was dying, but there was still a war to fight.

How could the gods be so cruel? To return something you cherish only to take it away? Hektor took in a shaking breath and regained his composure. If she did indeed die, he would tear apart every Greek until there was nothing left, especially that stupid boy who'd masqueraded as Achilles. That fool was the cause of Adonia's injury, and he would pay the price if Adonia died.

Filled with a new resolve, Hektor balled his fist and slammed it down on the battlement. In that very moment he made a pact with the gods, that if Adonia died he would avenge her against every Greek that had dared to step foot onto his beach. If she died he would cut the throats of every last one of the Greek kings, and then he would personally kill Achilles and his worthless cousin.

That was the price the Greeks would pay for stealing his Adonia away from him forever.

III

Troy was burning. Smoke filled the air and masked everything within an arm's reach, an unbreakable haze that burned the eyes and throat. Suddenly, the smoke cleared, and there in the grass she looked down at her own body. The city around her was nothing but a burning ruin, the fires raging around the quiet little patch of grass that stood before the great statue of Apollo. Screams of anguish, terror and pain were like distant echoes, their sound hardly reaching this remote part of the palace. It felt quite odd, to be looking down at her own body and not know what had happened. Then, a sharp pain suddenly dragged through her as she saw the thin, eagle tipped shaft that had stuck just below her heart, and then she knew. The feeling that raged through her was a fury she had never felt before, but slowly, it all began to fade. The rage, the pain, all began to melt into the sweetness of everlasting night. Of this event she knew the outcome.

Feverish eyes fluttered open. The dream had not been like many of her others, because this she accepted. It seemed right, to save three lives there had to be something in exchange, and obviously Hades still had a purpose for her. Why else would she still be breathing? She'd expected to take in the burning ruins of her city, but instead, they saw the faint outlines of a room she had not seen in weeks. A room she had longed to be in the day after her capture, the room she would have given anything to escape to a few short weeks ago, but now, she only wished that the circumstances of her return were far different than these.

Struggling through waves of pain, she heaved herself to a sitting position and took in her small apartment. Everything was how it had always been, neat and orderly, just as she had left it the day before her capture. A muscle spasm ripped through her side and Adonia bit her lip to keep from crying out as she ran her hand along the stained bandages. The memory of the battle on the beach, of stupid Patroclus, flooded back. She'd saved his life, but had taken a sword in the side as thanks. Slowly, she shifted her weight, until she could kick her feet over the edge of the bed. Slowly, for the pain was beginning to make her sight swim, Adonia stood. She gripped onto a bed post for support as she took deep breaths to steady her stomach, she suddenly felt ill, before she attempted to make her way across the room. Clumsily she pulled a tunic over her head, wincing as she moved her left arm.

She struggled sluggishly to the door of her balcony, and just as she reached it, she heard a small gasp from behind her.

"My lady!" A small servant girl cried, "You should not be up!"

"I should not be many things," Adonia said quietly as she ignored the panicking girl and leaned against the balcony railing, more for support than any other reason. Her eyes gazed out toward the beach, and she wondered dimly if Achilles had left after all. In this matter her heart was torn many ways. She wanted him to leave this place, to return to Larissa and move on with his life, to give up war altogether. But, on the other hand she wanted him to stay, she wanted him with her. Even now she wished his arms were around her, she wished he was whispering soft promises into her ear as they lay together in the quite calm of night. She didn't know how long she was standing on the balcony before she heard rough footsteps outside her door and heard the wood protest as it was suddenly yanked open.

Absently she recognized that two people had entered the room, and she turned with great effort to face them. Her fevered eyes took in her father; old, gray haired Priam wore the same expression he always had on when he looked at her. It was a stern, harsh look that always made her feel like he disapproved of her. The other was Hektor. She couldn't read the mixed emotions in his eyes, but she knew they weren't good. Still, she felt the sharp yearning to run and jump into her brother's arms, but she wasn't a child anymore, and she'd learned that he wouldn't always be there to protect her.

"You shouldn't be out of bed," Priam scolded, his rough scratchy voice was quite unwelcomed, but Adonia didn't give any indication she'd heard what her father had said. Her eyes were trained on her brother, the only other person who truly mattered to her, other than Achilles. He looked so tired, and in a flickering instant she wondered if Achilles looked this tired. If he appeared as though he had not slept in days, but the thoughts drifted away, for she had not the strength to hold them still.

"He is right," Hektor said softly, "the physician ordered that you stay in bed."

"The physician also said I had almost no chance to survive, did he not? He said I wouldn't last another night. Sorry to disappoint you, but I have no intention of dying just yet," the words were hard to form, and even harder to say. She felt so weak and pathetic. Her strength drained, Adonia fought collapsing, but couldn't help it. Her legs gave out, and the last thing she saw before she closed her eyes to the sweet relief of darkness was Hektor, rushing forward to catch her.

IV

Carefully, Hektor carried his sister to her bed and gently set her down. Her defiance had made him smile, but after seeing how weak she truly was, the sight once again broke his heart. He turned to face his father who was looking with disapproval at Adonia's pale face. It cut through Hektor's heart as he looked into his father's eyes and saw nothing. There was no love, no pity, no worry for his youngest child. Without a word, Priam turned and left the room, leaving Hektor to regain his seat near Adonia's bedside, the very one he had abandoned the night before.

Her display of stubbornness had forced his hope to spark. Perhaps she would be well after all; perhaps she would resist the call of the dark road and return to this world. There were so many maybes that Hektor shut his mind to them and simply watched his sister sleep. She seemed a little more peaceful now, as if her injury did not pain her so much. He gently brushed her unruly bangs from her eyes and looked down upon her. The cuts were beginning to heal and the bruises were beginning to fade, but the memory of seeing her on the beach was still as sharp as the day it had happened. She'd seemed so strong on that day, as if the Gods had empowered her with a strength most women would not have.

"What happened to you?" Hektor whispered quietly, it was a question he (and the rest of Troy) was dying to have answered, but it seemed like he'd have to wait even longer for her answer. He gently laid his hand against her brow; her skin was still abnormally warm to the touch, but it was no longer hot. The fever was beginning to pass, whether by her will or the gods, Hektor was satisfied with the fact that she had a chance of surviving this.

Before he could think any more of this positive turn of events, the sharp clanging of the city's alarm rang through the sharp air. With one last, fleeting look at his sister, Hektor rushed from the room to prepare for battle. What were the Greeks planning now?