Before you read, I apologise for some of the things which happen in this chapter. Rest assured, they had to happen. Next chapter I will make up for them. A huge thank you to all of you who are still reading and reviewing, honestly can't thank you enough.

~chapter twenty-six~

Leptine and Deiomachus were waiting at the bottom of stairs, talking quietly and coyly. They looked up as Patroclus approached, greeting him enthusiastically.

"There he is," exclaimed Leptine beaming. "What took you so long?"

Patroclus, preferring not to answer, avoided her attention by diverting it towards herself. She was wearing a short, russet-coloured dress with a hem and sleeves lined with reddish fur. Her soft brown hair had been brushed until it shone in the moonlight, coppery strands settling gently on her shoulders around which a fox-skin cloak had been fastened, two fabric ears artfully peeking out from the hood. Her skin, flushed with excitement, seemed to glow golden through the dark and her eyes were bright and shining as he had never seen them.

She smiled at him and Patroclus suppressed an intake of breath. Because she was his friend and he loved her he had always thought her pretty, in an indifferent, platonic sort of way. But looking at her now, so wild and small and fairy-like, he realised how truly beautiful she was.

"You look…amazing," he breathed and her smile paled the moon.

"Puts me to shame, doesn't she?" agreed Deiomachus playfully. He looked Patroclus up and down with an approving expression. "A stag huh? Good call. Suits you. Wish you'd told me earlier, I could have made you some antlers."

He had fashioned for himself some sort of mask or helmet in the likeness of a wild boar, complete with a set of gleaming white tusks. He took Leptine's hand and she gave a remarkably girlish giggle. "Shall we get going, then? We don't want to miss the first dance."

They left the palace and set off briskly down the winding path that streamed from the gates to the wood. Overhead the moon shone bright as a coin dropped into a dark river, lighting the road before them so that it appeared silver and curling like a ribbon of water. They made an odd three; the fox, the boar and the stag travelling companionably together while to their every direction other couples and groups were making a similar journey through the fields, the shadows of horns, tails, wings and pointed ears stretched across the dark grass, an animal army come to seize their realm. Patroclus wondered how the other creatures of the trees and bracken would react to this invasion, these other animals who were like themselves only bigger.

Leptine and Deiomachus talked mostly to each other, flirting and giggling while Patroclus kept a respectful distance, conscious of his inevitably resented presence. Looking down he saw their three shadowy likenesses, distortedly caricatured; two of them entwined so that it was difficult to make one from the other and the last standing alone, surrounded by a patch of green. With a pang of sudden loneliness he cast his thoughts back to the palace where another wild thing paced around their darkened room before curling, cat-like, upon a thin mattress.

With every step they took the noises from the trees grew louder. Balls of brilliant orange flame flew over the branches and the very leaves seemed to shriek with music and laughter. "It's like the whole wood is alive," said Leptine and Patroclus nodded. Tiny lights blinked out from the leaves and branches, winking like the bodies of fairies or a thousand pairs of eyes. The laughter grew louder, more raucous and they could feel the music vibrating beneath their feet. As the light of the torches came into view Patroclus felt suddenly nervous, realising sharply that he had never been anywhere like this before. The wood stretched before him like a dark, tumultuous sea; the joyful sounds from within mocking as well as enticing.

"Is it really a good idea to throw fire around in a forest?" he asked doubtfully.

"Who cares?" Deiomachus shrugged and headed on in without hesitation, pulling Leptine behind him.

Patroclus followed them, mumbling something about how he thought they would start to care if the whole place went up in flames and they were all burned alive when, with one look at his surroundings, the words fell out of his mouth.

It was as if he'd walked into a dream. The glen had been splendidly lit with a hundred torches, all burning in their brackets, some in fantastical colours; purple, blue and green. They bathed the glen in pools of bright light and cast flickering shadows on the dirt ground and trunks of the trees, the wavering result of the cacophony of bodies packed within that space. Everywhere he looked there were people, draped in masks and animal skins moving to the beat of the drum and flute that seemed to sing from the very trees. People everywhere dressed like animals, moving, leaping, grinding, dancing to the music and embracing the wild energy of the wood.

"It's amazing," gasped Leptine. A young man wearing horns and goatskin breeches in the likeness of a satyr strode up to her and offered his hand. She laughed and allowed him to spin her under his arm, curtseying in response to his parting bow before he skipped off and re-joined the throng.

"Let's go get a drink," suggested Deiomachus when her blushes had subsided. "Before anyone else decides to carry you off."

With Deiomachus in the lead they wove their way through the tangled thicket of dancers, holding hands so that they wouldn't become separated. At the edge of the ring a man wrung with vine leaves and holding a staff like the one carried by Dionysus was standing next to several mysterious looking caskets. Seeing them approach he reached into the nearest and withdrew three wooden wrought goblets.

"Newcomers, huh?" he greeted them cheerily. "You're just in time. It's about to get pretty wild."

"What's that?" asked Patroclus, eyeing the goblets warily. "Wine?"

The man laughed at that, the little acorns tangled in his hair wobbling precariously. "If you're planning on getting through the night then you'll be wanting something a little stronger than that," he replied amusedly. "But if it'll set your mind at ease then sure. It's wine."

Patroclus looked at the goblet distrustfully, then at Leptine and Deiomachus. They shrugged and accepted the drinks and Patroclus, who did not want to look like a killjoy, accepted his with apprehension. Gingerly, he raised the cup to his lips and took a sip. The liquid was cool on his tongue but left a burning trail as it slid down his gullet, giving Patroclus the feeling that his insides were on fire. The moment it entered his stomach he felt his head swoon and he grimaced at the strong, sharp taste. Whatever it was, it was unlikely Peleus would be serving it at his table any time soon.

Deiomachus took a large gulp and swallowed it down, cringing at the bitter aftertaste. "Yuck," he exclaimed, shaking his head. "That's horrible." He turned to Leptine and nodded in the direction of the ring. "Fancy a dance?"

Leptine grinned in response and took the offered hand, stopping to look apologetically at Patroclus. "Be back in a bit," she sung merrily before skipping off to join the line of dancers.

Patroclus waved at them, watching as their retreating figures disappeared into the frenzy until they were just another costumed couple, clapping their hands and stamping their feet along with the others. The musicians had struck up another tune and already many of the dancers were dripping with sweat beneath their thick furs. Patroclus took another sip of his drink feeling a little awkward and out of place. Everyone, it seemed, had come here with somebody. And here he was, standing on his own in a corner while his friends were hand in hand.

Suddenly someone tapped him on the shoulder and he gave a little start. Turning around he saw a pretty girl standing before him, a crown of spring flowers braided into her long hair. "Hello," she said with an apprehensive smile.

"Hi," returned Patroclus, trying not to sound taken aback. "Um…can I help you?"

"Oh," the girl flushed to match the colour of the rose buds in her hair. "I was just wondering if maybe you'd like to dance."

For one wild moment Patroclus almost turned to look over his shoulder, just to check that she was in fact talking to him. But there was no one there except for the man dressed like Dionysus who appeared to be drinking deeply from his own crates. He glanced at the ring of people moving before the torches, their bodies twisting up and down like flames and he felt the alcohol within him pleasantly warming his insides. He looked back at the girl who was waiting nervously for his response and felt himself seized with an odd sort of confidence which certainly hadn't been there a few minutes earlier.

"Sure," he replied, returning her smile. "I'd love to."

Her eyes glowed in the firelight as she slipped an arm though his. Patroclus' heart thudded as she led him into the twisting, writhing mass but it was more from excitement than nervousness. "I have to tell you," he said to her, raising his voice over the noise of the drums. "I'm pretty terrible at this."

She laughed amiably and instantly he felt himself encouraged by her warm amusement. "Thanks for the warning," she shouted back. "Just follow my lead."

He did as she told him, relaxing as she took both his hands in hers. The music had sped up to the rhythm of a fast-paced folk song, such as that sung by shepherds in the mountains and valleys of the North. The dance was instantly recognised by the people around him who commenced their steps with renewed vigour and Patroclus was struck with a moment of panic as he realised that he had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to be doing. Luckily for him however his partner clearly did and he was more than happy to let her lead him along. As long as she was in charge he found that it was surprisingly easy to keep up with her; soon they were arm in arm, stepping and jumping in time with everybody else until they were both hot and breathing deeply.

"That was fun," she exclaimed, clapping enthusiastically as the song came to an end.

"Yeah," Patroclus agreed. "Sorry, I think I stepped on your foot a few times."

"Don't worry about it," the girl grinned at his bashful expression. "Phew, it's hot. Want to get a drink?"

Patroclus nodded gratefully and they stepped out of the ring to refill their goblets. They talked for a little while under the leafy canopy of a large Cyprus tree and as they did so Patroclus was aware that he was growing steadily more tipsy. Whatever had been in those caskets was obviously extremely potent and fast-working; already he could feel his head starting to swim and he had trouble focusing on the girl's words. However, looking up he could just about make out two familiar figures running towards him, both red faced and breathing heavily.

"PATROCLUS!" Deiomachus roared, throwing an arm around his buckling shoulders. "WE FOUND YOU! DON'T WORRY GUYS, I FOUND HIM! FOUND HIM!"

"He's a little drunk," Leptine explained in response to Patroclus' questioning expression. "Somebody pushed him into one of those caskets while we were dancing and instead of getting up he just sort of…laid there and swallowed."

"That's right I did," nodded Deiomachus proudly. "Damned good swill, that. Makes the palace stuff taste like sheep's piss. Did you see us dance Pat, eh? She was bloody good," here he gestured aggressively at Leptine. "Like a bloody dryad, or a fairy. A lovely little fairy."

He leaned down and pressed a kiss into Leptine's hair. Instead of blushing and pushing him away, Leptine giggled and threw her arms around his neck which was a mark, Patroclus thought, that she was none to sober herself. Indeed, when she refaced him he saw that her hair was now rather frizzy and a slightly unfocused glaze had formed over her glittering eyes. "My feet hurt," she complained. "Can we sit down somewhere?"

"My friends are over there, just through those trees," said the flower-haired girl, pointing to a little way away. "You're more than welcome to come and join us."

The others nodded and followed the girl deeper into the woods where groups of people were sitting in clusters like clumps of shrubbery, swigging from wineskins and talking or singing loudly. There were couples too, tucked away non-too conspicuously into the undergrowth; their sprawling limbs indistinguishable from the leaves and branches. Patroclus tried to avert his eyes as flashes of white flesh peeked out from the smudges of green and brown but he found his gaze drawn back to them, even as they retreated into the darkness and disappeared from sight.

The flower-haired girl led them to where a large group of boys and girls of about their own age were sitting in a circle. They were passing something around, although with the absence of torches in this part of the glen Patroclus could not see what it was. They sat down cross-legged on the forest floor, Patroclus feeling suddenly self-conscious of his intrusion, his long legs which seeming strangely too big among these people he didn't know. They were welcoming though, greeting him cheerfully and throwing over the wineskin. The flower-haired girl drank first and passed it to Patroclus with a smile; Patroclus took it and lifted it to his lips.

"I tell you," one boy was saying ardently. "There is no such thing as free will. The Gods plan out our existence the moment we're born. Earlier than that. From the moment we're conceived, even."

"Right," responded his rival. "So when I got out of bed this morning and put on a yellow chiton instead of a white one, that had nothing to do with my free will but because the Gods had ordained it from my conception? To fit into some great master plan?"

"No arsehole," snarled the former. "You get control of little things. Like what to wear in the morning or whether to have bread or yoghurt for breakfast. But the big things, the things that really matter? They're out of our hands. If the Gods want you dead, you're dead. If they want you to live, become a king, rain gold out of your arse then that'll happen. If they want you to murder your father and marry your mother then that's what you'll do. It's all written in the stars. Decreed by destiny."

The other boy shook his head. "No," he said. "I don't buy it. The world is too confused to have that kind of meaning. Anyway, what would be the point in living if all you were was Zeus' little game pieces? What would be the point in anything if in the end you had no choice?"

"I don't mean that effectively we're just slaves of the Gods or anything," the other retorted impatiently. "I just mean that, at the end of the day, whatever we do is meant to happen. Our lives mean something, in the bigger picture. So you can't help who you kill or…or who you love because whatever happens is supposed to happen. Humans like to have control, over the earth, over animals, over their own lives. Free will is a human construction designed to deal with the simple fact that we don't always have control. And once we accept that fact maybe we'll all be free to let go and just let the chips fall where they may."

His friend let out a low whistle and shook his head, as if the conversation had suddenly become too much for him. "Whatever man," he shrugged soundly. "I still say you look a little blue."

The whole circle laughed and Patroclus joined in, although he was not sure he understood the joke. It all became clear however when someone started passing around what looked like a bundle of dried flower petals, electric blue and secured with a piece of string. When they came to Patroclus he looked at the girl beside him questioningly.

"You chew them," she explained. "Here."

She broke off one of the petals and popped it in her mouth. Patroclus, with his extensive knowledge of drugs and herbs realised that this was the blue lotus plant, an Egyptian flower which caused a state of relaxed inhibitions and peaceful temperament. He was surprised, these were incredibly expensive and hard to get. He made to ask how on earth they had gotten their hands on the drug but to no avail, to the rest of the group everything was suddenly very funny. He shrugged, put one in his mouth and chewed.

After that time seemed to pass in a haze; people it seemed were moving more slowly, or was it his mind dragging back their arms and voices? Everything took on an ethereal edge to it as if he had just stepped into the fairy world where time and space moved in different circles and chronology was no longer important. Deiomachus and another boy in the group were doing somersaults with Leptine looking on idly, cheering for one and then the other confusedly. Patroclus listened to the talk which had gone from philosophy to sex to politics. The flower-haired girl was leaning against him, her head on his shoulder. Absentmindedly, he stroked her hair.

She looked up at him. Her eyes were wide and slightly red, they beamed out from the smoke like two lanterns. "You can kiss me if you like," she said.

"Okay," said Patroclus, and he did.

He could hear the beat of the drum through the trees, like the cool damp of the earth, and the soft, mourning crow of the flute like leaves on the wind. The fire was yellow and leaping, despite his distorted vision he thought he had never seen fire so bright nor shadows so dark. He felt all at once peaceful and sleepy while at the same time nervous excitement charged in his veins; he wanted to get up, run, jump, climb a tree and he wanted to curl up amongst the roots and close his eyes.

The musicians had begun again, around him people were getting up and making their way back to the ring. The flower-haired girl had taken off with the boy who fancied himself a philosopher; Patroclus looked around him, Deiomachus was involved in a drinking game with his new acrobatic friend which he appeared to be losing; already he was heaving up against a tree and retching forcefully. Leptine was looking on with a faint expression of disgust as with an enormous heaving sound something spattered upon the ground. Patroclus approached her, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Hey," he greeted her. "Want to dance?"

Leptine looked at Patroclus and then back at Deiomachus, who it appeared had a prior engagement with his own vomit. She nodded.

Together they walked back up the path until they had re-joined the dancers. The song being played was not as fast as the last but slower, more haunting and somehow more beautiful. Patroclus took Leptine's hand but she shook her head, removing it and placing it on her waist.

Deiomachus hadn't lied; Leptine was light on her feet and graceful as if she really were a dryad or some other fantastical creature of the wood. Patroclus watched her spin and twirl, her hair flashing red as she passed the light, red as autumn leaves and summer flowers and her face was bright and merry. They changed partners; Patroclus was back with the flower-haired girl but his eyes sought Leptine, skipping and laughing with another man, her little heels flashing against the beaten earth, her slender wrist dipping and twirling like a ribbon caught in a breeze. And now they were back together, their bodies close, his hands on her hips again and everything was fire and earth and music.

They looked at each other, suddenly aware that they were no longer moving. The music started up again and still they stood there in the middle of the ring, breathing heavily and holding each other's gaze. And Patroclus did not know if it was the fire reflected in her eyes or the strong drink or the blue flowers but there was something different there, something which he certainly had never seen from her before.

They crept back through the trees, bodies bent low like two children afraid of getting caught doing something mischievous. The wood closed in around them, shutting off the brilliant yellow light of the glade in a cool space of dark and damp. Patroclus' head was fuzzy, even as he led her by the hand and she lay down in the leaves he was unsure which girl he had with him and from the glazed look in her eyes he thought she was thinking the same thing. But then she reached up, her small hand brushing his cheek and he knew who she was, where he was, and what they were about to do.

"Patroclus," she said and pulled his face down to meet hers.

Their lips met. She was little, so little, and her body was small and soft as a bird's. That's what she looked like then, with her hair all snatched up with brambles and her costume ruffled, a bird caught up in the brackets and snares. And suddenly she was reaching up under his shirt, her warm hands were on his chest and she was pulling him down so that his body was pressed atop hers and Patroclus, who seemed so big and clumsy in comparison, was terrified he would crush her.

She was soft, fluttery and warm. He felt her eyelashes brush against his cheek, heard her little sigh as he kissed her, light as the brush of her hair on his face. He touched her breasts and she moaned, pulling him closer to her. Then suddenly his eyes flew open, he saw where he was, rolling in the dirt and the dark and it was Leptine in his arms, Leptine he was about to do this stupid, drunken thing with. All at once the wall appeared in his head before he could stop it, try as he might he could not get past it no matter how hard he kissed her or what her hands brushed against. All he could think of now was that this was wrong, this was dirty, this was foolish. This was not what he wanted.

"Patroclus," she murmured again, twisting her hands in his hair but it was useless. Patroclus squirmed uncomfortably at her touch and she felt it, although he kissed her again it was half-hearted and unenthusiastic. He was shamefully aware of the fact that he was still soft underneath his tunic, and what was worse, Leptine realised it too. The moment she did so her eyes widened and her arm fell limply to her side. "Oh," was all she said.

"Leptine I'm so sorry," Patroclus started, tears springing unbidden to his eyes. "It's not you, it's not…I'm so sorry…there's something wrong with me I know it, I know-"

"-Hush," spoke Leptine softly as bitter tears began to fall thick and fast onto the dirt. "No, no, hush honey, don't worry…there's nothing wrong with you, you're fine…you're perfect…"

Her words, spoken so gently and carefully as she stroked his cheek only served to make him cry harder until before he knew it he was sobbing into her chest, all the desires and desperations he had kept corked up for so long pouring out like a flood from a broken dam. He cried for Achilles, for the searing, agonizing desire that pricked like needles in his flesh, he cried for the sinful thoughts and feelings that kept him awake at night, he cried for Leptine and the things he could not give her. He cried and she stroked his head and held him to her like a mother comforting her son and "it's alright," she promised him, "it's going to be fine."

He did not know how long he cried for, or afterwards for how long he slept. All he knew was that at some point his tears were spent, his eyes were dry and he collapsed, exhausted with his head in Leptine's lap. He closed his eyes and passed out immediately, semi-conscious of her still softly crooning words of comfort until she too slipped into unconsciousness. By the time he woke up again he felt sunken and drowned; the glen was no longer an ethereal paradise but a cage, pressing in on him, suffocating him. He was also startlingly and undeniably sober.

He sat up with a jolt and a spurt of panic. Glancing desperately around him he saw that the celebrations were still going which meant they couldn't have been out for more than a few hours, although much of the dancing had fizzled out. Most of the couples had retreated into more secluded regions of the forest and the coupling ceremonies were beginning; horror struck he reached beside him and shook the sleeping body rudely awake.

"Leptine!" he hissed, tugging aggressively at her shoulders. "Leptine, wake up!"

"Huh? What time is it?" Leptine grumbled, reaching for a blanket and getting only leaves. Then suddenly her eyes flew open; she sat up as if someone had charged her with an electrical current and stared accusingly at Patroclus. "You!" she cried, hands flying to clamp the sides of her face. "And me…just now…we didn't…did we? Oh dear Gods, say we didn't!"

"We didn't," said Patroclus quickly. "But fuck, it was close."

"Oh my Gods," wailed Leptine, clutching her knees and rocking back and forth like a madwoman. "Oh my Gods oh my Gods…what were we thinking? What did we almost do?" And without warning she raised her hand and struck Patroclus sharply round the head.

"Ow!" exclaimed Patroclus, clutching his already pounding skull. "What was that for?"

"For just…standing there and letting me throw myself at you!" she sobbed ardently. "Why would you do that? What could possibly possess you to let me do that? You're supposed to safeguard my dignity, you absolute prick-"

"-Well I'm sorry Leptine," retorted Patroclus, throwing his hands up in the air in distress. "But funnily enough your dignity wasn't the first thing on my mind at that point."

But Leptine had stopped listening to him and had proceeded to snatching up handfuls of her hair and wrenching them with her fists. With her eyes widened in horror and stark white skin she looked for a moment quite insane. "Oh my Gods," she moaned again. "I can't believe I did that. When I promised myself-"

She broke off with a sob, her head falling into her outstretched hands. Patroclus shifted around so that he was sitting next to her and awkwardly put his arm around her shoulders, uncomfortable as he was at their renewed close contact. Leptine was saying something but her words were muffled by her palms, he only just caught the words "I'm so embarrassed" muttered between her fingers.

"Don't," said Patroclus, hugging her to him. "Please don't. If anything I'm the one who should be embarrassed."

Leptine lifted her tear stained face to meet him, her cheeks streaked with dirt. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Patroclus sighed, realising as he did so that there was no way he could put this off any longer. "There's something I have to tell you," he began.