This chapter is pretty happy, which I think is well deserved. LOL wish it could stay that way forever... Of course, thanks for being here and happy reading. Please let me know your thoughts, and thank you thank you thank you to everyone who has commented. Your words of criticism and of encouragement are so inspiring and helpful and wow you guys are WONDERFUL:)

Chapter 25

In one night everything had changed. It was as if in admitting her own need and desire for the warrior, she had truly been reborn. Adara was no longer a servant to anyone – Achilles had given her authority, autonomy, desire, and for once a sense of belonging. Agape he had repeated to her. The Greek word for unconditional love. She had not known how true it was until she had whispered it aloud, feeling his tears of joy on her hands and lips as she kissed him.

When Adara woke in the morning, she did not hesitate to wake Achilles. It seemed foolish that they had spent so long apart, and she wanted to never waste their time together again. After all this is a war, she remembered as she pushed a stray golden lock of hair behind his ear, nothing is guaranteed.

"Achilles," she murmured, placing a quick kiss on his cheekbone, letting her fingers trace up and down his arm. As she propped herself up on her elbow, she felt her body groan, sore in a way that was unfamiliar to her. She blushed at the thought of the night before – it had not been what she had expected, but it had been real and natural to be so close to Achilles. To give herself so fully to him, and himself to Adara in return.

"Achilles," Adara whispered again, felling the corner of her lips tug upwards as his eyes scrunched together and then flickered open, summer blue gaze humming to life as he spotted Adara smiling down at him. A mischievous smile slid onto his own face as he awoke, and without warning he lunged until Adara was pinned beneath him, his forehead pressed against hers and his body burying Adara in the furs.

"Good morning," he whispered, one hand already tangled in her honey colored curls, the other pulling the final fur that covered Adara's body off of her as they melted into one another once more.

When at last Achilles and Adara had both been sated, the sun was long risen and the voices of the men could be heard as they moved around outside the tent. Achilles got to his feet, picking up a stray chiton from the floor and pulling it over his head as Adara watched from the bed. Our bed she thought with some shock. She knew that she would not be returning to the women's quarters after last night. I must speak with Melitta. Adara wondered how her friend would take the news. Of course Melitta had always known that Adara and Achilles had had a special relationship, but Adara had never mentioned any sort of feelings for Achilles – she had hardly known herself. But Melitta was kind and typically whatever Adara desired is what Mel desired for her. Patroclus will be different she thought darkly, her face falling slightly as she thought of the broken look on the lieutenant's face when he discovered what had taken place between herself and his best friend. Achilles had seen her face fall, and cocking his head to the side, he returned to the bed, Adara's clothes grasped in his hand.

"What is it?" He asked, taking her hand and helping her to stand. Adara felt small before him, but she couldn't help but laugh as he threw her top over his shoulder and opened her skirt, looping it around her waist and tying it in a knot at her hip. She lifted her arms above her head so that he could pull the top over her shoulders, his lips finding hers briefly the moment her head popped through the opening.

"It is nothing," Adara said with a smile. Even the foreboding thought of speaking with Patroclus could not damped her spirits now. In this tent with Achilles, she felt as if they were separate from everything – Apollo's fury, the Myrmidons, the war. Achilles' good mood too seemed to be inextinguishable, and he took Adara at her word, nodding.

"We will need to find something else for you to wear," Achilles said as he finished dressing her. With a jerk of his head, he motioned for her to go back to the bed. Adara refrained from rolling her eyes, recognizing even in this warm and gentle state that he was a leader and expected to be obeyed. But not as a servant Adara realized, and that made all the difference. As something more. But what she was now to him now she was unsure.

"Why? What is so unbecoming of these clothes?" Adara asked, seating herself on the edge of the bed, watching as Achilles moved about the tent collecting fruits and cheeses and wine for a late breakfast.

"The woman I am with cannot dress as a servant," he replied simply, leaving Adara reeling. "I believe I have a few chests of chitons that were taken from one raid or another."

"No," Adara said flatly, feeling a stone drop into her stomach.

"Of course you will wear something else," Achilles countered plainly. His voice was firm, but not unkind, and Adara understood that he was trying to honor her. Again Adara shook her head.

"How could I possibly wear one of the chitons that one of the very Queens in your camp used to wear? It would embarrass and shame the very women I used to work and sleep alongside!" Adara explained, smiling and Achilles lack of understanding in the face of the obvious truth. To Adara's surprise, Achilles laughed.

"I see, but still you are wrong," he began, sitting next to Adara and placing the plate to his left where Adara could not reach it. "These clothes were in a shipping crate from Crete, Achaean made and never worn. We took them because they were valuable and we thought that Agamemnon may want them for his wife when he returned home, but Agamemnon did not want them and so they were left to me," Achilles explained. Adara felt the weight on her ribcage lift and she nodded.

"Alright," she murmured, "thank you." What Achilles was offering was a royal gift, and Adara had spent enough time in a palace to understand how thoughtful it was. Achilles response was one of his golden smiles that made every ounce of her body shake, but it ended when he reached for a handful of grapes and commanded Adara to "open up."

Raising her eyebrows, she hesitantly opened her mouth, and Achilles lost no time in sliding a grape between her lips before placing one into his own mouth. Adara bit down, feeling the burst of flavor spread across her tongue, somehow made sweeter by the domineering yet gentle gesture from Achilles. Knowing that this was how he wanted things, Adara rearranged her body, laying her head across his lap so that she could gaze up at him as he spoke. All she needed to do was open her mouth and seconds later Achilles would serve her – sometimes goat's cheese, sometimes dates, other bites olives or grapes. It was strangely intimate as one of Achilles coarse, warrior's hands fed her and the other ran absentmindedly through her hair, but Adara did not mind.

As Achilles fed the two of them, they spoke. First about Odysseus' warning, then of the running of the camp, and on and on through more topics. Their conversation was easy and flowing. Adara had never seen Achilles this open with anyone beyond Patroclus, and the thought that he now regarded her with such intimacy made her pride swell.

When at last the food was gone, Achilles helped Adara sit up and got to his feet. Strapping his ever present sword onto his side, he looked down at her.

"I must help Odysseus sort the sick livestock from the healthy, and you have a camp to run," Achilles reminded her. Adara nodded, not bothering to mention that she already knew where her duties lay. "I will have one of the men fetch the chitons for you and bring them to my tent." Again Adara nodded, getting to her feet and stretching, feeling several bones in her back pop as she reached for the low roof of the tent. As she stretched Achilles arms snaked around her waist and he kissed her once more, Adara's hands falling around his neck. How naturally we seem to fall into one another Adara mused, returning the kiss, felling a hunger begin to gnaw at her stomach. Achilles seemed to feel it too, because when he pulled away his tempest blue eyes were storming and his face was somber.

"Until tonight," he murmured with a bow, and then he slid from the tent, leaving Adara alone.

Moments later Adara scampered from the tent to find Melitta and the other women, chagrined at how much of the day had gotten away from her. She found them outside the provisions tent, rolling dough in the heat and talking amongst themselves. Briseis, thankfully, was not among them.

"Adara," Melitta called, motioning to the empty space that had been reserved for her to Mel's right. Adara smiled at her friend but held up a hand as if to say wait, before she moved over to Lanassa and consulted with the old queen to organize some of the women to begin preparations for dinner.

"Lamb and hare," Adara called for, "and enough fresh bread and olives for all the men." Lanassa nodded and smiled and moved off to collect the food and begin preparing for the evening. With that done, Adara moved over to her friend's side, beginning to knead the dough gently.

"Where have you been, and why do you wreak of blood," Mel asked, her nose wrinkling in disgust. Do I? Adara had stopped noticing the constant perfume of iron that seemed to haunt Achilles' footsteps, but it made sense that like so much else Adara had adopted this from the warrior. She felt a flush creep up her neck and cheeks.

"I have a story for you, Mel," Adara began.

"Does this have something to do with Achilles?" Melitta interrupted, her hands stilling in the dough, her voice frank but gentle.

"Everything to do with him," Adara admitted. To her surprise, Melitta smiled and shook her head, the princess's hands resuming their kneading.

"I know that I have been preoccupied with Iatrokles, but I knew that you had not been sleeping in the women's quarters. The other women talk, you know. And he has been summoning you left and right since the night you screamed at him like one of the furies," Melitta explained. Adara felt her stomach sink, realizing just how little she had been confiding in her closest companion. As if sensing her disappointment, Melitta spoke again.

"It is alright, friend. I do not think you knew your mind, so what could you have said to me? I am not upset, but I am glad you have started to speak to me now."

"He wants me to start wearing royal chitons," Adara stated bluntly, unsure of how to begin to speak of the whirl of emotions that had flowed through her over the past few days, nor to explain how drastically her relationship with the great warrior had changed. Speaking of the chitons was the easiest and safest course of action.

"I'm sure he does. He will not have the woman he is bedding lumped in with the rest of the female slaves in his camp. Achilles will probably also have you stop doing our menial chores and more managing of the camp," Melitta admitted. Adara winced at her tone, but Melitta was not the type to be bitter. The woman he is bedding Mel had said. This idea was a painful one, and it was what the outside world would think of hers and Achilles' relationship. But that is not what it is Adara thought firmly, recalling the one word they had murmured to each other last night. Agape.

"How are things with Iatrokles?" Adara asked, genuinely interested for she hadn't heard in a few days. It was Melitta's turn to blush as Adara questioned her.

"He makes me very happy, Adara," Melitta replied. "I have been sleeping with him, and I think he intents to ask Achilles if I may be his wife."

Adara stopped her kneading and hugged her friend, the two women spinning in circles as they laughed and whooped.

"You deserve all of the happiness in the world, I am certain that Achilles will say yes," Adara confirmed to her friend. Achilles wanted the best for his soldiers, and if marriage to Melitta would bring joy to Iatrokles, there was no reason that Achilles would not grant it. Melitta smiled at her friend, but then her face grew somber.

"And what of Patroclus?" Melitta asked. Adara's heart sank.

"I must speak to him," Adara murmured, punching the dough harder than she meant to in her frustration.

"The moment you are seen in Achilles' chitons he will know – it must be today, Adara," Melitta instructed her friend, and Adara nodded her head in agreement. In her mind's eye she could see Patroclus' face, narrower than Achilles and more open and expressive. His jaw would slump with grief, his ocean blue eyes pool with tears. The image seemed to rip something inside Adara, and it took all of her strength not to focus on the picture.

When at last the chores were done for the day and the sun had begun to set, Adara made her way to the shore where she bathed herself in the ocean before returning to Achilles' tent, dripping wet but refreshed. It was empty inside, and quiet, but in the center of the floor a large wooden crate had been place, the lid opened so that Adara could see the piles of hand embroidered chitons. Her mouth fell open as she knelt before the case. Deep reds, flowing ivories, gold thread and silver thread and even a purple chiton, the color saved only for royalty. The gift was too much. How could she, a lowly handmaiden, be expected to wear these things? They were far finer than the one's Briseis had worn in Lyrnessus. Everyone will see through them Adara thought horrified. As if I am a little girl playing dress up. Through her mollification Adara heard the distinct sound of the tent flap opening and flapping shut. She turned, planning on begging Achilles to take the clothing back, but fell silent when she found Patroclus standing in the doorway, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his blue eyes, which were a shade deeper than Achilles', sinking with emotion.

"Is it true?" He asked, his voice completely hollow, his words evenly spaced between gasps of air. Adara wondered through her shock if he had run here all the way from Odysseus' camp. "Is it?" Adara felt frozen to the spot – this was not how she had planned on having this conversation, although in truth she had not at all considered how the conversation might go. Feeling numb, she nodded.

Patroclus slumped then, his shoulders drooping and knees buckling so that he collapsed into the chair where Adara had once upon a time waited upon Achilles to clean his armor. His face was buried in his hands, but there were no tears. Only silence radiating around the tent, sending spikes through Adara's heart with each second that passed. What had Achilles said?

"Patroclus," Adara finally whispered, her chest shuddering, her voice more fearful than it had ever been when speaking to Achilles. The man in front of her looked up, his eyes peering from between fingers that clawed at his face.

"Do not try and explain," he replied, his voice still so painfully hollow that Adara wished that Hades would split the earth below her and swallow her whole. "I have never, in my life, begrudged Achilles any happiness, not even if that happiness was you, and that still remains true. But to know that he is your happiness as well? Eros is cruel indeed." Patroclus ran his hands through his hair, revealing the red rim around his eyes as he withheld tears. Again silence prevailed, but Adara did not ask him to leave, she could not bear the idea of hurting him any further. At last he got up to go, his eyes roaming the inside of the tent unseeingly, as if his mind was thousands of miles away. It was as he was at the flap that Adara spoke, her voice halting and hoarse.

"Patroclus," she whispered, her body shivering. "It was real, what I felt for you." Patroclus froze in the doorway, only half of his face visible in the setting sunlight. Tears had begun to roll down Adara's face, but she hadn't noticed, her eyes only fixed upon the figure before her. Patroclus, nodded, and then laughed, a pitiful breathy thing that seemed to speak more of pain than of humor.

"But it wasn't enough, was it?" He replied, and then he was gone.

Adara gave herself a small time to wallow in her sadness and guilt, but she forced herself to tidy up, aware that Achilles could arrive home at any moment, and she refused to let him know how great of an effect Patroclus still had over her. Looking through the crate of chitons, Adara selected a deep blue one with silver threading and beading. It was a similar shade to the robes the women in the Myrmidon camp wore, and it was strikingly similar to the color of Achilles' eyes. If she was to present herself above the women she had worked alongside for so long, she would also show where her roots had begun, and that she was not truly royal or of Achilles stature.

Along with the chiton, Adara had painted her face with khol and adorned her upper arms and ankles with silver bangles that she had found in a smaller chest below the clothing. Overall the outfit seemed to lavish for her, but all the same she enjoyed the sensation that they were her clothes.

Adara was just pouring two goblets of wine when Achilles entered, his eyes immediately trailing up and down her form. He smiled and nodded approvingly, understanding alighting in his summer blue stare, and Adara knew that Achilles comprehended the message she was sending. Passing one of the goblets to Achilles, Adara stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his briefly, feeling a knot she had not known was in her back loosen.

"Tell me of your day," Adara asked, taking a sip of the wine. It felt strangely normal, to greet Achilles in this manner, to be wearing his clothes, to even ask how his day had been while they were apart. As if we are two halves of a whole. Isn't that what humans had been though, four armed four legged beasts who were split, constantly searching for their other half? Perhaps I have found mine.

"These clothes suit you," Achilles offered in response instead, picking up a corner of the chiton and running the length of it through his fingers. The garment was lightweight despite the many folds, and it rustled as she moved due to all of the beads and coins sewn into the hem. Her body was more covered, yet more visible than in her working robes. The skirt and top had been a dense, opaque material that stretched to below her knee and flowed loosely around her body, but the chiton dragged the sand behind her and covered her head with a blue veil. The fabric, however, hugged her form, the thin material hinting slightly at what lay beneath.

At Achilles' compliment Adara blushed, still unsure if she felt worthy of the clothing, or if she enjoyed having so much of her body…visible.

"I came to summon you to dinner," he said, taking his own sip of wine. Adara understood the meaning of what he said though. Are you prepared to present yourself to the camp alongside me? Adara did not hesitate, she beamed at him taking the arm that he offered and following him outside of the tent and to the table where the rest of the Myrmidons waited by the fire.

When dinner was over, Achilles played the lyre for his men, a rare treat that the entire camp sat silently for. Achilles was famed for his music, something that had surprised Adara when she had first landed on the Trojan shores, but she had understood it as part of his duality, just as his ability to heal seamed to mock his destructive nature on the battlefield. Adara was seated at his feet this time as he played instead of serving the men refills of wine with the other women. She was allowed to gaze unabashed upon his features, and to let the music, a joyful melody about the reuniting of Persephone and Demeter, fill her to the brim. Achilles was stoic, but not unkind throughout dinner, and it had taken almost half of the meal to understand that the had finally seen every part of him underneath his mask, and that the man that was presented to the rest of the Myrmidons, and in fact to the rest of the world was not the man that Achilles truly was.

After Achilles played, there was tremendous applause and several men let out hoots and hollers. Achilles gave nothing away except a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth before he took Adara's hand and led her back to his tent while the rest of the men began a raucous dance around the roaring bonfire.

Safe in the confines of their tent, Achilles bent to kiss Adara before pulling away and removing his sword and belt. He hung it on the frame with his armor and then beckoned Adara over to him. She felt no modesty as he began to peel away layers of her chiton, his calloused hands treating the fabric with care, folding each layer and placing it onto the table beside him. Achilles peeled the bangles from her arms antagonizing slow, each simple skim of his fingers sending lighting bolts throughout her body, goosebumps raised in anticipation. Achilles chucked as he disrobed her, seemingly fully aware of what he was doing.

It was as he was undoing the complicated knot Adara had tied her hair into that he spoke, his voice soft and very different from the loud, commanding tones he had used all night at dinner.

"When did it start, for you?" He asked, nimble fingers pulling pins from her hair. The question had been vague, but Adara knew his meaning.

"I do not know. I was indifferent, and then awoke one morning unable to bear the thought of life without you," she admitted. When had her feelings for Achilles arose? She had always respected him, there had been initial distaste for what he was, but there was always respect. But that had developed into a desire to get to know him better, and then to serve him, and then it seemed that all at once her life had revolved around him. "Perhaps it was the night I dreamed of you, or even the day you demoted me in your household."

"The day I demoted you?" Achilles asked, surprise in his voice. Adara could picture the wrinkle between his brow and she bit back a smile. Already we know each other so well.

"I had failed you, and hurt you. Of course I was ashamed, but when I saw that you had replaced me with Briseis…I was jealous," Adara admitted. "It is an ugly thing to be sure, and at first I tried to convince myself it was only the position I was jealous of, but I began to wonder if she saw the real you after the close of each day of fighting as I had." Adara had never shared these thoughts with anyone else, not even Melitta. "I felt replaceable, although I did not realize until much later that it truth I was jealous that she had your attention, and that she was the one you turned too at the end of each day."

Achilles hands worked tirelessly on her hair, one curl occasionally falling onto her back as slowly they were freed.

"She never knew me," Achilles replied easily. "How could she? She is too cold, too greedy. If perhaps I slipped and my mask fell, Briseis thought only that I was angry with her. She could never see beyond herself." Achilles words sent a roaring feeling of triumph through Adara. To know that he had never cared for Briseis, and that she had never been afforded the openness he had given her made Adara feel lightheaded with victory.

"I did choose her to make you jealous," Achilles added, and this time she could hear the smile in his voice. "I wanted you to feel how I did when you chose Patroclus," he admitted. At the mention of Patroclus' name, Adara stiffened. Attuned to her body, Achilles lay a hand on her shoulder and silence prevailed for a moment before Adara forced the conversation to continue.

"And when did it begin for you?" She asked, letting her shoulders release so that Achilles would continue to undo her hair.

"The moment I saw you – in the Queen's bedchambers in Lyrnessus," he replied simply. Adara spun on the spot, her mouth hanging to her jaw. Behind her Achilles was smirking, his summer blue eyes glistening with the playful light he got when he would ask Patroclus to spar or wrestle with him. With a chuckle, Achilles twirled his finger, motioning for her to turn back around so he could continue his work.

"You were covered in blood and the Myrmidons were swarming the room, ransacking everything. I bent to carry you, do you remember?" He asked and Adara nodded. "You could have asked for anything, your safety, your freedom, but you asked for that boy's body to be buried. Immediately I was intrigued, but then the next day you came atop the ship and I knew."

"But how could you know?" Adara demanded, astounded. It has been this long for him? Almost a year she realized with shock.

"Because when you looked at me, there was confusion and maybe some disgust, but there was no fear. It was…refreshing," Achilles admitted as the final strands of hair fell onto Adara's shoulders. To her right, out of the corner of her eye Adara saw Achilles chiton land on the ground, and her gut clenched.

"I have spent over a year waiting for you to feel the same, praying to the gods for it," Achilles said, walking around to the front of her and scooping to pick her up. "And it seems that my time has finally come."