A/N: It's been a while since I've updated this, hasn't it? Eek. So sorry for the delay :(

---

When the faint beams of daylight seeped into our tent, my eyes were wide open to perceive them. Achilles had, somewhere along the course of the night, fallen asleep, but I had remained frustratingly awake.

There were sounds of roaring outside the tent, men stamping, shouting, swords clinking…was there going to be yet another battle? Would this never end?

Achilles stirred and I turned my head to look at him. He half-opened his eyes, wrapped his arms a little more securely around me, and snuggled his head into my shoulder.

"Achilles," I murmured.

He made a protesting sound in the back of his throat.

Seeing him as he was now, with his blond hair messed and his face filled with sleepy content, it was increasingly difficult to believe that he was the great warrior feared by so many men. How could there possibly be an Achilles, who could kill without batting an eyelash, and yet the same Achilles, who could hold me comfortingly the entire night? It was impossible, it was downright…ludicrous. And yet it was true.

He was the enemy, but I didn't want to leave him. I couldn't leave him. He was already a part of me, so deep and so tender that to leave him would be to tear out a piece of myself. Stay with him. How simple it sounded. Yet…it meant never going back to Troy, never seeing Hector or Paris or Andromache or Uncle Priam again.

Oh, why, why, why? Why did I have to lose in order to gain?

The sounds were getting louder and Achilles stirred again, obviously displeased at being waken up at such an early hour. "Idiots," he muttered.

"There's going to be a battle." I reached out and tugged at his hair gently.

"Mm."

"Aren't you going to fight?"

"No." He moved his head from side to side.

"And…your men?"

"I told them not to."

"Even after last night? You don't want revenge…?"

"Hush." One side of his mouth curved up into a smile. "Revenge and battle and glory…they're not worth getting out of bed for."

"But worth leaving Greece for."

Achilles raised an eyebrow. "If I hadn't left Greece you wouldn't have met me, so what are you complaining about?"

"No one's complaining." That said, I inched forward and pressed my lips against his.

"That's more like it," he said approvingly as we parted for breath.

Seeing as he evidently wanted to continue sleeping, I settled down again into the circle of his arms and closed my eyes. Nightmarish scenes were probably happening right outside the tent, but I didn't want to think about it now; actually, didn't want to think about it ever. I suppose it was a very selfish thinking, but really…I was just so tired of it all. Was it so wrong to want to rest peacefully in the arms of the one I loved?

It seemed a very short while before we were both disturbed by Eudorus calling, "Achilles!"

I pushed Achilles and he grunted. "Get up," I said. "It's Eudorus."

He heaved a tremendous sigh as he forced himself up. "This should not be tolerated."

"Just go and see what he wants, then you can come back and sleep the day away," I said, giving him a sweet smile.

He smiled in return and went out, closing the tent flap behind him. I heard a few muted voices as I pushed myself up into a sitting position and rubbed my face. Another day. What could Eudorus possibly want?

I heaved myself up and made my way out of the tent. Why were the Myrmidons returning as though from battle? Why was Eudorus on his knees? A nasty core of dread manifested itself in my stomach and slowly spread itself throughout my body. Something had to be wrong. The Myrmidons would never go into battle against Achilles' wishes. And Eudorus looked heartsick…

"I didn't lead them, my lord." There was a sort of pleading in Eudorus' light eyes. "I thought you did."

What did he mean?

A sudden look of fear overtook Achilles' features. "Where's Patroclus?" He turned his head and shouted, "PATROCLUS!"

"We thought it was you, my lord," said Eudorus, almost pleadingly. "He wore your armour, your shield, your greaves, your helmet…he even moved like you…"

What did he mean? Was it Patroclus he was talking about?

Achilles suddenly charged at him and knocked him to the ground. No! He was going to kill Eudorus…I had to do something…but Achilles looked so enraged. He would kill me if I dared to interfere with him. Would he…really…hurt Eudorus? He loved his Myrmidons…

"WHERE IS HE?" Achilles shouted. When Eudorus didn't reply, he shouted again, "WHERE…"

"He's dead, my lord." Eudorus managed to get the words out. "Hector cut his throat."

Hector…

A mist drew over my eyes and I wanted to shriek, to beg somebody to explain what was going on…and when the mist cleared, Achilles had his foot grounded into Eudorus' chest. Eudorus was already choking…he was going to be killed…someone had to do something!

I pushed all thoughts away and rushed forward. "STOP! STOP!" I screamed.

Suddenly my throat was being gripped and there was no air…I saw a blurred Achilles snarling at me, but it didn't register. Pain was beginning to flash black spots before my eyes…air…I needed air…my throat was hurting…my body was becoming numb…I tried to reach out, to force away that grip, but it just became tighter and tighter…then it vanished and I was thrown to the ground.

I choked, gasping, clawing at the ground. Achilles had done that…he had almost strangled me – he had almost suffocated Eudorus to death. Oh heaven…

Eudorus was lying on the sand, more dead than alive. None of the Myrmidons dared to come and help…they were all standing away, hesitant, frightened. FOOLS! FOOLS! They who could do battle without flinching, who could end a man's life without thinking, were too afraid to come forward and help their friend! Well, if they didn't, then I would. There was no way I was going to be cowed simply because some man had half-strangled me in a fit of rage.

I crawled across the sand to him, reaching out to touch his face. "Eudorus," I tried to articulate, but all that came out was a rasp.

He was gasping lightly, his eyes dilated.

"Eudorus," I tried again, and managed to come out with a barely legible whisper.

He shifted his eyes to my face and shook his head. "No…no…," he whispered, his breath coming out in short spurts, "no, my lady. Don't help me…Achilles will…hurt you…"

I wanted to weep. "I don't care," I whispered.

Every nerve in my body screamed as I forced myself to my feet and half-dragged Eudorus back to his tent. Nothing mattered except helping him to stay alive. Nothing mattered except that Patroclus had been killed – young, eager, enthusiastic Patroclus – and that his killer was my cousin Hector.