Riverslegacy, thank you so, so much for your support! I'm sorry you're conflicted, but even if they may not have much time left, what they do have is important. And there are still some significant loose ends that need tying. So there's still a bit of story to tell.

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CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

The sun is rising. I stand up and walk slowly to the window, feeling a familiar ache in my old, cracking joints. But it's worth the effort to see the new day dawning over the sea.

The eagle takes flight to leave the windowsill for me, but it doesn't go far. It lands again on top of the low wall across the yard and stays there, watching me with its glittering amber eyes. I'm almost ready, my winged friend, but there are still a few things I need to go through before I go. Just have a little more patience, please. I promise I won't take too long. By nightfall. Yes, I think by nightfall I will be done.

o-o-o

You had always been intense and passionate and rather possessive, but that night it was as if a dam had burst inside you in a tidal wave of all the pent up grief and pain and loneliness that had been crushing you. It was as though you were claiming ownership, not so much over me, as over your own life through me. The intensity and possessiveness of it all would have been disturbing if I weren't feeling exactly the same way.

In fact, by the time we both collapsed panting on the mattress, covered in sweat and completely spent, I slowly began to realize I was aching and sore all over. You had gripped my hips so hard your fingers were imprinted on them and there were marks on my skin, where you had grazed it with your teeth just this side of biting. But you didn't seem to be in a much better shape than me. I noticed with some discomfort that there were claw marks on your shoulders and upper arms, and more than a few signs that I had done quite a bit of teeth-grazing of my own.

You were scanning me up and down as well, with an endearingly guilty look on your face.

"I'm so sorry", you said sheepishly. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

I smiled. "You didn't. Not really. Not while… you know." You laughed a little, still clearly ill at-ease. I touched one of the deeper looking scratches on your shoulder.

"I am sorry", I said. "I didn't realize I was clawing you that way."

"It didn't hurt either. Not while, as you put it." A genuine smile played on your lips. "I guess we both lost it a bit, didn't we? Still, I need to have a better grip on myself. I'm too strong to…"

I put a finger over your lips to shush you. "We needed to let ourselves go. Both of us did." I nestled against you and added softly: "It felt good."

You laughed heartily this time, a low rumble in your chest. "A bit of a wild cat, are you? I never thought you had it in you." I felt myself blush and slapped your arm playfully. You laughed again, then disentangled yourself from me. "I'm going to get us some wine", you said. "The good one we got for Priam, not that disgraceful coloured water you had me drinking all evening."

You returned shortly with a jug of unmixed wine and two cups. I sat up in bed, sipping my drink and studying the new scars on your beautifully sculpted body. There was a particularly nasty looking long jagged cut, that had needed stiches and stretched all across your right thigh.

"How did you get that?", I asked. "It looks bad."

You shrugged. "It was a spear. I didn't see it coming until it was almost too late. Still I managed to deflect the worst of the blow. It only scraped me, didn't really go in."

"It could have severed your artery" I said, running the tips of my fingers lightly over the scar. I hesitated, wary of broaching a subject that was sure to kill the light, happy mood. But I had to know. Keeping my voice as soft and gentle as possible, I asked: "Achilles, why did you want to die?"

You shook your head: "I didn't. I don't. That's the problem."

I looked up in shock: "The problem? How is that a problem?"

There was a short silence, then you sighed deeply and sat back against the cushions, pulling me so I was nestled again with my head on your shoulder.

"There was an oracle", you began slowly. "A long time ago, shortly before I became of age. You know how it's common practise to consult an oracle before the celebration of a boy's manhood, right?" I nodded and you went on: "Well, the one my mother consulted announced that I had two possible and mutually exclusive fates: I could become the greatest warrior the world had ever seen, and attain such glory fighting in the great war that was coming that my name would be remembered through the ages, but I'd pay that glory with my life; or I could live a long and happy life, die peacefully of old age in my own bed, but I'd pay that longevity by fading into forgetfulness after I died."

"And you chose glory?", I asked, my voice catching in my throat.

You shook your head again and took a swig from your cup. "I never really chose one way or the other. My mother panicked and hid me in Licomedes' house, dressed as a girl. She never explained why. When the allied Achaean kings got their armies ready to sail against Troy, they consulted an oracle of their own, which proclaimed that their mission would be hopeless if they couldn't count on a young unknown prince, the son of Peleus. So they asked my father to send me at the head of his famed Myrmidons. But my father didn't know where I was. My mother hadn't told him. At least, that's what he said. I admit sometimes I wonder whether he wasn't in on the secret and actually working with my mother for a change. The ruse worked for about a year, but then Deidamia got pregnant, there was this huge scandal and it became pretty clear for everyone that there's where I was. Agamemnon sent Odysseus to try and find me, but Licomedes had given his word to my mother that he would protect me, so he kept me hidden with the girls. Odysseus, of course, wasn't fooled by Licomedes' claims that I was no longer there and, being Odysseus, figured out a way to make me reveal myself. You know that part already."

I nodded, smiling a little at the story of how you had been irresistibly drawn by the sword and shield Odysseus had hidden among the garments and feminine trinkets he was purporting to offer as presents for the ladies in Licomedes' palace, and how you had grabbed the weapons to leap to the city's defence when Odysseus' men had sounded the alarm over a fake attack.

"I must admit I was glad I had been found", you went on. "There was nothing I craved more than taking my role in life as a man and begin building a reputation for myself. When my mother finally told me about the oracle I was a bit shaken, but you know how it is when you're very young: death seems something so alien, so distant, that you don't truly believe it can happen to you. After I began fighting, though, I realized only too well that it could in fact happen to anyone in the blink of an eye. But then I reasoned that I'd just try and find a way to walk a sort of fine line between both potential fates. You know, being a good enough warrior to earn me the reputation I aimed for – and actually allow me to walk out of the battlefields alive – but not pushing it so far as to become eternally unforgettable."

"But you were never just 'good enough', were you?", I asked, sitting up to be able to see your face.

"I…" Your voice trailed off and you took another swig of wine from your cup before resuming. "I suppose I'm too competitive. I want to be the best. I always want it, in everything I do. Besides, there's this… I don't know how to express it – excitement? rush? vertigo? release? maybe all of these combined – but anyway, there's this very intense emotion or combination of emotions when you're fighting that carries you away to a whole other level where you're just commited with all that you have. And there's also the responsibility: you can't allow yourself to do anything but your very best, you must really give it your all, because if you don't that can be the death of you or of your comrades. There's no excuse for holding back."

You fell silent, seemingly lost in contemplation. I refilled both our cups, then asked softly:

"Why didn't you ever tell me about the oracle?"

You sighed again and shifted to settle yourself more comfortably.

"I guess it just never came up. It's not like I'm always thinking about it. As a matter of fact, I rarely ever used to think about it at all. It was just something that was somewhere in the back of my mind, something I knew but didn't really feel the need to ponder that much. In a sense, I just got used to it and figured that there wasn't really a lot I could do about it except trying to remain on that fine line that might allow me to retain both my honour and my life. After all, I knew I was good, but not necessarily unforgettably good. Beyond that, well, what would be would be."

"But now that changed, didn't it? You're thinking about it quite a lot."

You nodded. "Yes. When Patroclus was killed I realized I was at a crossroads. I was confronted with the fact that there was a decision to be made after all and that the time had come for me to make it. There were no more fine lines I could try to walk. It was either living in shame if I let his death go unpunished or avenging him, as was my duty, and forfeit all hope of longevity."

"Why does it have to imply forfeiting longevity? I mean, you already were a great warrior before. What's so different now?" My voice broke. I knew there was a difference, I could see you had changed, but I didn't understand why that would mean you'd have to die.

You reached out to stroke my face. "That battle… it was the most brutal I ever fought, Briseis. The most brutal I ever heard of. From what I could gather, speaking to some of the most experienced warriors in the army, the most brutal anyone ever heard of. It changed me in a way I can't quite understand myself, let alone explain to you. But there's no doubt in anybody's mind that it was unforgettable, in more ways than one. To begin with, it brought about the death of the leader and true backbone of the Trojan army. That alone would be enough to tip the scales deeply in our favour, but we also pretty much destroyed the enemy forces. Their whole structure is crippled, probably beyond repair. Everybody seems convinced that it will only be a matter of time now. Even Priam let slip a few things that led me to believe he thinks so too. But that was achieved through a level of brutality that affected everyone who fought that day. And I was the one who led that brutality, who chose to make the whole thing as brutal as it could possibly be. I started it and stuck with it to the bitter end. I…" You hesitated, then finished in a low voice: "I enjoyed it, Briseis."

There was a silence, long and heavy.

"Do you still enjoy it?", I asked at last. "When you're out there fighting, I mean."

You shook your head. "No. But the truth is I haven't been able to enjoy anything at all since that battle. Until tonight, that is, with you."

I nodded in acknowledgment, then asked: "Do you regret it?"

You paused, pondering your answer. "Most of it, no, I don't. It was what it took to avenge Patroclus and finally change the tide in this gods-forsaken war, so I'd do it again if I had to. I only regret a few things that I took further than was strictly necessary. Some things, admittedly much further than might ever be necessary. I suppose I regret those. Or, at least, I wish I hadn't done them." You paused again, then added: "But I don't like that I've enjoyed the brutality. I didn't think… I didn't take myself for that kind of man."

Your voice sounded more broken that I'd ever heard it. I felt an almost irresistible urge to comfort you, but instead I touched the scar on your thigh again and asked softly:

"Are you sentencing yourself to death because of that?"

You smiled bitterly. "No, nothing of the kind. But… the way it all played out made me realize that the oracle was right. There was a price to be paid for either choice. And I made mine."

"Then why have you been exposing yourself deliberately to danger?"

"I haven't. Not the way you mean. Like I said, I don't want to die. But I'm trying to come to terms with it. I haven't been seeking danger as such, but I haven't been avoiding it either." You hesitated again before continuing: "You see, I saw Hector run from me. There's no question about his courage, but there was a moment when he gave in to panic and ran. I don't want that to happen to me. When the time comes, I want to be able to stand my ground and just go down fighting for all I'm worth. So I decided to sort of train for it. To teach myself to stay put, whatever might be coming my way, and just try and deflect it without actually ducking, or stepping away, or doing anything that could become a first step to a full-blown flight."

"You do realize how stupid that is, don't you?", I had to make an effort not to shout.

"It goes against the best training I've got, yes. But, on the upside, I've gotten really good at deflecting, both with the shield and the sword. And even with the spear." Your tone had become lighter and I realized you were going to change the subject. I couldn't press it much further. Still, there was something I really needed to say before I let the matter go:

"Please promise me you won't do it anymore now. If it truly is your fate to…" I found I couldn't bring myself to say the word, so I started again: "Whatever your fate truly is, it will come to pass one way or the other. You don't have to push it. You shouldn't push it. And I honestly think you don't need to train yourself not to flee. For all that I've seen in you ever since we met, when you are attacked, you fight back. It's your nature. You just don't run from a fight." I paused, my voice catching: "I need you, Achilles. I can't face the idea that you may disappear. So… just do your best to stay around for as long as you possibly can, alright?"

You pulled me in and kissed me deeply:

"I already promised that, remember? Yesterday, before leaving for battle. I won't take any more stupid unnecessary risks. I want to live, Briseis, not to die. Even more so now that I have you again. You can't begin to realize how much more attached to life that makes me feel." You tightened your arms around me even further. "In a way, this makes it all much harder, but I wouldn't trade it for the world."

"What does it make harder?", I asked, wary of the answer. And, sure enough, you replied:

"To know I'm going to die. It means I have so much more to lose."