Chapter 20: A Drawing End

I had given up crying, my heart lifting at the news that Odysseus provided. The sun was twinkling over the sand dunes in the east, and here I sat, amongst the cold sand. My body ached, tired from the journey that my life had been forced to take in the past weeks. My eyes were rough with the tears that stained my check. Yet beyond all this sorrow, all this despair that was trapping my body in an endless torture, I felt in my heart a deeper courage was setting in. I shall find him…till the end of this earth I shall search…

The sun, the spirit of Apollo blazing forth in tremendous splendor, crept over the sand, shinning into my face. I had not moved since leaving the camp. Like my convictions, my beliefs, I was stranded, stuck in an unending battle between the two lives I now had. My eyes were frozen over on the sand, dawn rising swiftly and quickly. A shape suddenly appeared in the distance, the heat from the sun already causing waves to blur vision. Standing slowly, heart twisting in confusion, I watched as a wooden creature emerge from the sea. A horrible realization crawled its dirty path up my skin. A cold fervor set in. The end of Troy is near…

I scrambled back through the small stone tunnel, pushing it shut behind me. I take a breath, sinking into the cold sand that relaxes my warm, weak body. My throat catches and I lose all the strength that I had a moment ago with Odysseus, the strength that willed myself to come back here as opposed to my greatest wish of leaving with him. I sob with great heaves, thinking of Patroclus, thinking of that giant horse that is now looming towards Troy and me. There were cuts along the wood, cuts from a dagger. My dagger. My decision is set, set in stone and will be known throughout the ages. A smile comes over me and I fervently stand up, wishing to leave as soon as possible. A greater sense of determination overwhelms me, for I suddenly know that I shall leave Troy forever. Troy is not my city anymore, and in reality it never was. I knew with a sense of deepest depuration that the city would fall, and I would never see it again, I would finally be free of it. Then so be it…

Gathering myself up, I turned and began the trek back to the end of the tunnel. A shuffle made me shrink back, clinging to the wall, and grabbing for defense. But from the shadows emerges the foot of Myles, asleep against the wall with his sword in hand. I stop, pausing and watching his breath rise and fall. All that I knew, my whole life…would be gone. I look at Myles. His face is gentle, soft and relaxed. There is a heaviness that clings to it, the makings of war. I reached out my hand, wishing to touch his face, to stroke the face I had loved once. I dropped it. I had too many lovers. All disappointed in some way. There was only one that didn't, one that I wanted to cling to forever for protection. I slinked over to Myles, crawling halfway over him. He shifted, his hands grabbing the sword. Like a cat, I straddled him, hovering over him, thinking of what had happened between us. I feel my eyes softening, looking over his tired face as he sleeps. He had grown so much, not the boy I had once fallen for.

"Myles…" I want to say more but no words form. Swiftly I leap over him and head back towards the city. Abruptly, Myles hands fly towards me, grabbing me and swiftly turning me back around. His eyes are wild with dreams and nightmares. I stay frozen, unable to move. My face expressionless, I wait for him to realize who is holding in his arms. His eyes stay wide, his hands holding me too tightly. I gasp escapes me, and pain erupts through my body. Myles, in a start, lets go of my arms, but stays close. He knows in my eyes what path I have taken, what I shall do and who I shall let go.

"Aldreana…" he whispers. His face melts into sadness, a depression that he will never be able to let go of. His dark eyes search my face, filling into a deeper and deeper pit of despair. He lowers his head, his dark hair masking his distraught face.

"Myles, you need to leave the city as soon as possible," I breathe softly. Myles' head springs back up, his face full of concern. Tears well up in my eyes. My hand drifts up to his face, his stern, mature face. 'Oh Myles, you and I have changed so much." My hand rests on his cheek, feeling the sharp bone underneath. I look into his eyes.

"What do you know?" he demands. I stagger back; he grabs me and holds me to him. "Aldreana, what do you know? Please," he whispers. "Please tell me."

"I'm so tired…" I whisper, my hand drooping down off his face. "Myles…" I look up at him. It would be the last time I would see him. "…I can't…" I feel one more teat slid down my cheek, the last tear I would shed for a long time. I felt my heart give way to Myles, the young man who I had once so earnestly loved. Now, my heart was cold and bleak. Nothing would stir it till I would find him. "Myles…" I inhale deeply, the warm air filling my lungs. The tunnel around me is silent, only the sounds of movement in the city's streets disturb our silence. Myles holds me when I begin to move. "Myles, the King will want to see me."

"What is going on? What waits outside Troy?"

"Myles!" I shout. I grab his face in both hands, my eyes spearing into him. "Leave! I beg Myles. I want to see you alive after this."

"I will not leave my country!" he retorts back just as quickly, grabbing my hands and holding them in front of us tightly. The air seems still, staying motionless as Myles awaits what I shall say next. I feel him move closer.

"Please forgive me Myles," I softly say. He whispers my name as he shifts closer, his lips shivering. I feel his kiss, and respond, but yet I feel nothing. I pull away just as quickly as it begins and without saying another word I disappear through the tunnels doorway.

The city is quiet. People stir but do not wish to move. Those that walk the cold stone streets are solemn. I wait till no one is looking and sneak out. Guards walk past me, looking at me, their sneers evident. I look ahead as if too tired to care, which bares truth as my body starts to fail. The homes around me, built up by sand and stone. The baskets of clothing, the wagons of food. I look upon the city around me, towards the balconies that are perfectly draped with flowers, garlands of spices and herbs. The city was just as tired as I was, it was finished, and it was weak. I walk along the streets, stones bouncing off my steps; my eyes are not looking anywhere, but rather are in another world. Women begin their day, stepping briskly out of the doorways, dressed in light chitons and carry baskets against their hips. Children, weary with sleep, trudge along the streets beside their mothers, blinking wildly at the brighten sun that is rising higher and higher into the sky. The pale stone shares in indifference with me, neither sparkling with happiness and pride, nor bleak with sorrow for the war that rages around it. The city is just as dead as I am.

I walk to the courtyard of the city, the main street that cuts its way unpleasantly towards the beaming palace. I look at the palace, draped in deep blue and set in gold. It burns in my mind, flames skirting up towards the high ceilings, spinning along the draperies and curtains of the palace entrance. I hear screams from the bustling people around me as they run from the Greeks, falling like dry grass and breaking into a thousands pieces. I stop in the courtyard, in the marketplace that is just blanketing itself with life. I turn to the large wooden doors, the entrance to the city. Days before stood Hector, and now here I would stand. I see it crumble down, sparks rising into the starry night.

"Aldreana," King Priam's voice burst through the dream-like state I had fallen in. I turn, and there stands King Priam, Paris, and trust advisors to the king. I slightly bow my head, staring ahead at the sandy ground with indifference.

"My lord," I utter. Priam begins to trudge forward, his body tired and broken. He walks past me and stops when I do not rise. "Come," he commands. I look up and Paris is next to him once more. Paris' eyes are hard, yet I still see a fear lying in them. He fears what I know, and he knows that I have a secret. His distrust is shown furiously on his face, yet I cannot let him win. The great doors opened, Priam continuing on. Paris still stares at me, and when I walk past him to the follow the king, he reaches for my arm.

"Do not scare me with your words, they mean nothing Prince!" I swore to him under my breath, so that only he could hear. I watch from the corner of my eye as Paris drops his hand. His eyes bear down on me and I continue on.

We walk across the flat ground in front of the city's walls. The ground is hard, dry, soaked with the blood of the slaughtered. Within all of our minds is Hector. I wonder now if his blood is stain I walk upon, forever ground into the earth. The horse looms ahead, filling us all with trepidation. My feet move forward, my mind elsewhere. I scan the horse up and down, from head to foot to the ropes that cling along the sides of it. Nothing seems amiss. But as we rise over the sand dune, we are faced with a strange sight. Men, dead Greeks, are scattered over the land. Their bodies were laid out in boils and sores, or so it showed. To me, it was a trap, the dead bodies of those Greeks fallen in combat, their skin burned to form the resemblance of wounds. Priam suddenly stops, looking at the horse, squinting into the sunlight. Paris stops next to him and I continue to walk ahead, ignoring Priam's call, the guards that line the dune behind us and the destruction that lay all around me. I see Odysseus' face in my mind, urging me forward. The wood creaks in the heat of the day, folding underneath the warmer temperatures. I walk towards it, the king and men behind me remaining silent. As soon as I place my fingers on the chilled wood, I realize its origin. The wood is from the ships, harden from seawater and still saturated. The others begin to inch forward once I have placed a hand on the wood.

I move around it, sneaking underneath the legs of the horse as the men begin to discuss what to do with it. I look up into the bowed and shaped wood. Suddenly, the eyes of Odysseus peer back at me through the wood. I freeze, but then quickly sneak a line of rope into my hands to appear distracted. I walk past the horse, looking to the sea. It invites me, calls to me. The cool dark waters look so welcoming, the sound of the waves crashing against the sand a soothing sound. The screams of Troy rigidly cut through he peace of the sea.

"Burn it!" Paris shouted sternly. Silence followed and I turn to see Priam walking up to me, seeking counsel. What do you think? His eyes say to me. I swallow deeply, looking back up to the horse. Paris bears down his eyes on me, but I remain silent. I clamped my mouth shut, speaking not a word. Priam turns back to Paris and his men.

"Bring it into the city," he says swiftly and begins walking back to the city gates. Paris opens his mouth in protest, but Priam ignores him and continues. A wind sharply came through, catching my hair and spinning it around my face. My eyes are fixed on Paris. His eyes quiver with angry towards me, his fists clenching at his sides. The guards and advisors move away, the guards searching for tools to move the giant horse. I begin to walk back to Troy, but Paris steps in front of me. My hand moves to the sword at my side. Paris flinches with disgust, but his hand mimics my actions. His dark eyes pierce into me.

"Is that his?" he spits at me, clenching his teeth.

"Is she really yours to have?" I say with a sneer. Paris' lips curled at me. I tried to walk past me, but he clings to my gown, reaching his ear to his lips.

"If Troy burns, I will not stop until I kill you at my feet!" he seethed into my ear. I pulled away sharply, stepping back. The wind still flung around me, gathering my hair over my face, obscuring my fury from Paris and the others who had begun to look at our confrontation.

"If Troy burns, the world will remember the Prince who stole the Queen, not the Greek who fell in love with Achilles' cousin," I threw this at him with ice in my voice. It cut Paris to the very core. His feigned courage crumbled back, leaving the cowardly shell of the prince. "History will remember you Paris, not me."

The city celebrated the wooden horse. The streets fluttered with flowers and garlands of sweet scents. The celebration had begun. Plague had struck the Greeks all that remained was the wooden horse. Victory was in the hands of the Trojans. I stood on a stone balcony, watching as the city flourished once more with life. It was a sweet happiness, but also a happiness that would be short-lived, and the people felt it. The royalty that sat atop their balcony were not as pleased as their kingdom. Priam still stirred with unease, Paris with anger at his own people, Andromache still sat with tears rolling down her face in grief.

I sat on the balcony, my legs curled under my arms. Patroclus' sword lay next to me, shinning in glory. I had everything that I would need, for I would not be returning to the city again. Tonight was the last night that Troy would stand, and I did nothing. I was a shell, prone to feel indifference. The sting of the world, my father, and the bloodshed that loomed ahead of me all whirled around me, yet here I sat, unable to feel anything.

I remembered the balcony as I sat upon it growing up, my father and brother bricking below. I remember reaching for the limp ladder, shimming my way up. I would look upon the city in solace, ignoring the fighting below. It was the same now. I looked at the city for solace, for peace. It gave me known, instead it was a condescending feeling, deriding towards me. The city was alive. The stone danced with the people, the horse a beacon of hope for everyone that gathered around it. I turned my head, facing the sea that rose above Troy's walls. It glimmered as the sun began to set. The orange glow creating millions of shadows along the city. Torches began to be lit as the sky darkened. Guards turned towards the outside walls, standing upright and alert. The party below raged on.

The sky turned to a deep purple as the sun drew deeper, settling itself underneath the earth to rest. But in my mind, in my soul, there would be no resting. The sun grew bright, shinning in my eyes. The city held it's orange glow, reflecting with brilliance. AS I looked out upon the happy people, finally settling down, I realized that for the first time in my life, I found the city beautiful to behold. The green gardens that flowed their way up to the palace, the colorful fabrics that draped themselves over ropes that hung over the streets. The gold shimmering in the dying sun. Troy was beautiful, and I smiled slightly, feeling my head droop down onto my arms, and with a sigh I felt my eyes close and drift to dreams…

The heat was warm, unbearable. I felt it all around me but I couldn't move. I willed myself to raise my head, only to feel a heavy smoke push it back down. I fumbled around in the smoke, reaching for his sword. But it wasn't there. An emptiness surrounded me and suddenly I heard the washing of water on rocks, the trickling of fountains. My eyes began to focus and I saw a temple ahead. Pillars aligned the fountain that ran towards me, the cool water splashing back and forth along the edges. The temple led to a statue, though the smoke hindered the face. It was a strong man, seated on a throne of gold and stature. I willed my body to stand, its heavy weight bearing me down to my knees. I couldn't breath, my lungs suffocating with the acrid smoke that poisoned my lungs. The water soon was rushing, but I did not feel the cool liquid on my body.

Instead the heat intensified, as if it were fire that was rushing towards me in fast currents. I looked up again, and suddenly the smoke cleared. Patroclus stood at the end of the fountain, his body clothed in dark blue, emerged in the fountain. He held out his hand and instantly I felt my body rise, my feet move towards him. I was moving to his will, whispering his name over and over again. His eyes were sad, his face plastered with sorrow. His neck was unholy. A huge scar meandered along his neck. He had grown up, his face was haggard with war, his eyes dark and menacing. He was not the Patroclus that I loved. I stopped at the end of the fountain but with a beckoning finger I was drifting into the cool waters.

Suddenly the smoke cleared, the heat was gone and the temple was visible. The pillars stood, dark and ominous. I waded through the water, and Patroclus stepped further towards me, his hand still outstretched. We met in the center of the fountain, and wildly he grabbed me, his arms wrapping themselves around me. He held me tightly, kissing me fervently. His kiss was lushes, healing my broken body. But then his form slacked and I broke away from him. Blood curdled on his lips, seeping down his mouth. I brushed it away but it only gathered even more. I looked to his face but his eyes were the color of gold coins, and he grew limp in my arms. Holding him to me we sank into the water, sinking deeper. Around the pillars emerged faces I could distinctly recognize. Achilles, Odysseus, Agamemnon, and Eudorus on one side, Briseis, Priam, Hector and Paris on the other. Hector looked at me with huge, loving eyes, begging me not hold onto Patroclus. Achilles was full of sarcastic laughter, his eyes twinkling at me. Agamemnon, Paris and Priam were full of hatred and scorn, while Briseis and Odysseus held faces full of pity. From behind Patroclus, who sunk deeper and deeper, came steps into the water.

I held onto my love but couldn't. His body was too heavy and his weight was causing my body to crumble with him. Tears flowed from my eyes as I slowly let him go, his touch still on my lips, my fingertips tingling as they grazed his skin. The man who stepped behind my love cast a shadow upon me. I looked up, praying for Patroclus who now had sunk within the pool of blood that formed around him, my hands desperately groping around the water for him. I gazed up…and met the eyes of my father.

He grinned at me with pleasure. My body and mind were too weak to fight and I collapsed underneath is powerful stare. Urgently and harshly, he picked up by the arm, dragging me to meet his face. His breath was rancid, seeping over my face. A nausea set into my bones, weakening my whole body.

"Aldreana…"he whispered with contempt. "You're to be judged now." I tried to pull away in fright, but instead in grabbed my whole body, throwing me towards the statue. I looked up to face the Gods, their faces all staring at me, contemplating me with the greatest anger. Suddenly, an evil chuckle burst from my father's lips. It was the laugh of a madman, the laugh of a murderer. My body flung itself forward into the water, and instantly my lungs closed up as I began to drown beneath the Gods…

My body sprung upright. Coughs flowed out of me as I imagined the water clinging to the insides of my lungs. But it was not water that I choked from. Trying with all my strength to breath, I felt the same growing, intense heat, the heavy smoke swirl around me. With dread, I looked up. Screams erupted the sound of crackling wood. Flames shot up in all directions around me. Troy was burning.