A/N: Thank you to everyone who gave this story a chance. I appreciate and cherish all of you! Hope you like this next update. There will be one more chapter after this one!

A note on the names: Since this story is set in Ancient Greece, I opted to use the Greek variant of the character's names (or, in one character's case, I just made up a less French-sounding name ahaha). If you are ever confused about who the character is, see the author's notes at the end. Thank you and happy reading! :D

(Special shout-out to Flippedeclipse for being the best beta ever!)

For the next few days, Erik was distant. He barely looked Nadir's way even as they went through their usual routine, content to pretend that their passionate night together had not happened.

The seeming rejection consumed Nadir's thoughts but his pride was too great for him to succumb to despair. If Erik wanted to play pretend, then Nadir would follow along. Even if every fiber of his being screamed in agony. He would rather have Erik only as a friend than to never have him around at all.

The masked man started disappearing more often, creeping away from their cave stealthily, masterfully blending into the shadows of the night. Whenever Nadir asked Erik where he went, he simply replied "I had to speak to my mother," and no more was said on the subject.

After days of this mysterious behavior, Nadir could stand it no longer. One night, after Erik thought he was already asleep, Nadir followed him. Though it was difficult for him to keep up with Erik's cat-like strides, he moved as quietly as possible. Miraculously, he was able to follow without the other man suspecting anything.

Erik finally stopped at a stream.

There, a tall, large figure stood waiting for him—a woman who seemed to be made of water. She had long hair, adorned with precious seashells, that flowed and rippled like waves. Her elegant silver chiton looked to be made of moonlight, and her eyes shone like large black pearls, making Nadir fear that he would get lost in those depths if he ever directly looked upon them.

Though Nadir was awed by the scene in front of him, Erik looked up at the woman, unfazed and unintimidated by her otherworldly presence.

"Mother," Erik said blankly, "you wished to speak with me again."

"Have you made your choice?" she spoke, tone clipped and harsh like rocks grinding against the seafloor.

"You only told me to hear what Prince Rhalon had to say, and I did as you asked."

The woman's eyes became as blinding as the sun's harsh glare. "You insolent boy! King Philippus and his army will be sailing to Troy in two days' time. You cannot keep postponing your decision. This is your only chance to make a name for yourself, to become the legendary warrior you were destined to be."

Erik grew silent, but still, he looked at his mother with defiant eyes.

She continued berating him. "Why do you hesitate? Is this not what you wanted? You had always been so eager to please me. Now, a great war is coming and you are prophesied to be the one who turns the tides of the battle."

"For a price," Erik muttered.

"Yes," she crooned, "my boy, there is always a price to glory. But you will be a hero, the greatest warrior Greece has ever known. Your name will become a legend, stories of your victory will be passed on until the end of time!"

"But I will die," he sighed.

"The bravest warrior will die for the glory of Greece, so says the prophecy. We still do not know if it is you. All we know is that you will be instrumental to the victory. King Philippus cannot win without you and that is why his brother keeps trying to change your mind."

Erik looked down, seemingly thinking deeply about his mother's words. Then, after some time, he spoke again. "If I must go to Troy, I will take him with me."

Nadir's heart leaped, beating a thousand times per second. He would have run to Erik then but he was afraid of what his mother would do once she saw that he had been spying on their conversation.

The goddess gave a look of obvious disgust. "He is no one. You are a demigod. Despite your horrible visage, you still have the blood of the gods—my blood—coursing through your veins. Why waste your time on a mortal?"

Erik stood tall and proud. "This is my only condition. I will go to Troy and be the soldier you wish for me to be. But I will bring Nadir with me."

She crossed her arms, eyes like piercing daggers, but saw that her son would not change his mind. "So be it."

And then the goddess disappeared back into the waters.

Once Erik was sure that his mother was gone, he spoke out loud, staring at the tree that Nadir had been hiding behind. "You can come out now."

Nadir slowly poked his face out from behind the gnarled trunk. "You knew that I was here?"

A smile spread across Erik's face. "You make a terrible spy."

.

As the two walked back to their cave, Erik talked about his past for the first time in years. His mother, Magdalini, was a sea goddess who looked down on mortals, seeing them as nothing but pawns in a battle between gods.

When an oracle told her that her son would be greater than his father, the gods became afraid that a child born of her womb would take over Olympus, becoming stronger than Zeus himself. To ensure that this would not happen, they made her wed a mortal.

She despised her human husband Karolos, a king of Phthia, but she was excited for the birth of her son, the prophesied great hero of Greece. All of her hopes and expectations were dashed as soon as she looked upon the face of her newborn child. She cursed the gods, believing that they deliberately made her son hideous to spite her, and she named the boy "Achilles". Pain.

"This will be your destiny," she had said to her son. "You have caused me pain and your existence will be nothing but pain until the end of your days."

Magdalini made sure to never let any other being, whether man or god, see her son's face. The first scrap of clothing she fashioned for him was a mask, and she let him believe that anyone who saw him without it would be turned to stone.

It was purely by chance that he discovered that his mother's words were a lie. He was only seven and the sun was beating down on him. He took his mask off for a while and drank water from a stream.

A girl was walking by. She saw him and ran away screaming… but she did not turn to stone.

Still, he put his mask on and never let anyone see his face again. He still vividly remembers the girl's piercing screams. Ugly. Corpse. Monster. And as he looked upon his reflection in the waters, he believed that every word was true.

Nadir touched Erik's shoulder as he told his story.

"It isn't true. You are no monster."

Erik did not look at him. "Ah, but I am. I was born to be a weapon for war, for a battle that is not even mine."

"You don't have to fight."

"It is my destiny. The Fates have made it so."

"Erik, you don't have to. We can stay here. Together. Or we can run away, find a new land. Your destiny is what you want it to be."

"You don't understand!"

Nadir looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Then help me understand."

"If I don't go, who will I be? What will I be? I'm a masterful fighter. I was made for war and have a face that looks like death. What more could I possibly hope to be?"

Mine, Nadir again wanted to say. You are mine, Erik, and I am yours. We will run away. I can be a healer and you an artist. We could have a life and grow old together, far away from prophecies and gods and wars.

Instead, Nadir said, "What do you want to be?"

Erik was quiet for a moment, thinking deeply.

"I want… to do what I was born to do. I would rather die a legend than live wasting the gifts given to me by the gods. I can't let my name fade into obscurity as though I had never existed. I want a legacy that eclipses even the greatest and noblest kings. Centuries from now, I want people to still be speaking my name.

In war, my face won't matter. They will fear and respect me for my skills. I will be a hero, not a masked monster."

Nadir closed his eyes, trying to quell the sharp pain in his heart. When he opened his eyes again, Erik was looking straight at him, pleading for his reply.

"If that is your decision, then I will go with you."

Erik, if you are to die in that battle, then I want to spend every moment we have left by your side.

Nadir wanted to say the words but his tongue would not let him. Instead, he held Erik's hand as they walked back to the cave. His touch seemed to make Erik's yellow eyes shine brighter.

Behind them, the sun had begun to rise.

.

Two days later, Nadir and Erik left behind the mountain that they had come to see as home. They ventured out into the nearest port where Rhalon, the prince, brother of King Philippus, waited for them. As they boarded the ship, Erik hid himself away again to practice his swordsmanship, leaving Nadir behind with the other members of the King's Greek army.

Most of the men seemed wary of him. After all, he was an outsider in their eyes, the exiled prince of a foreign land. Erik was the only reason he was even allowed on board. All knew of the prophecy, that Erik would be the hero to save them all, and so they could not refuse when he insisted that Nadir was to come with them.

The only one who seemed willing to speak with Nadir was the prince. Rhalon was a friendly and kind soul, eager to chat and share stories with everyone aboard the boat.

"Prince Rhalon," the others would address him with a bow.

He would clap them on the back, smile widely, and say, "Please just call me Rhal."

Rhal filled Nadir in on the story of the oncoming war. King Philippus is married to Sorelle, gifted by the gods, a favorite of Aphrodite, and one of the most beautiful women in all of Greece. She is known for being a graceful, elegant dancer and the King fell in love with her the first time he watched her perform. Now, however, Rhal said that Sorelle was kidnapped by the Trojan king who had also been entranced by her beauty.

When Nadir asked if they were sure that Queen Sorelle had not simply eloped with the Trojan of her own free will, Rhal furrowed his brow and said no more.

…

As Nadir looked upon the walled city of Troy, he could not help feeling despair and helplessness. The prophecy foretold that Erik would be instrumental to the battle and that "the bravest warrior" would die to bring victory to Greece. Though he tried to remain optimistic, to hope that a different soldier on their side would be dubbed "the bravest," he couldn't help feeling that his days with Erik were numbered.

He watched Erik closely, how the masked man seemed to bask in others' praise. The other soldiers would practically stare at him, slack-jawed, whenever he trained in front of them. For the first time in Erik's entire life, other people saw him the way Nadir always had. Elegant and majestic. Fleet-footed and graceful.

Erik was right that the mask did not matter whenever he was fighting. He looked every bit like the demigod hero his mother had expected him to be.

For so long, Erik had yearned for the acceptance of others, for people to look beyond his mask and his otherness, for his mother to see him as a worthy son. Nadir could not take this away from him, could not stop him from choosing this path, even if it meant that they would never grow old together.

Instead, he savored those nights, those blissful moments when it was only the two of them in the warm cocoon of their tent. Nights of passionate kisses and gentle caresses.

Nadir would see how the other men whispered about them and had told Erik that they should start sleeping apart.

"Let them whisper," the masked man had responded, "I am giving my everything, my life, for this battle. They cannot take you away from me as well."

.

The cacophony and chaos of battle overwhelmed Nadir's senses—the weight of the spear in his hand, the revolting stench of spilled blood, the noise of a thousand war cries echoing in the scorched plains. Everywhere he turned, men would have swords through their chests or arrows on their back while the walled city still stood before them, impenetrable.

He could not kill anyone. Whenever he moved to strike an enemy, images of that night in the garden would flood his mind and he would recoil as if his hand had been struck by lightning. Only defensive instincts and adrenaline and Erik's protection had kept him alive thus far.

Erik was thriving, fully embracing his role as the hero who would turn the tides of battle. Trojans quake in fear of his armor, the demigod who had already vanquished hundreds of their soldiers so swiftly and effortlessly.

He made battle look like an art form, always so precise and elegant in his movements as he impaled men with his spear and sliced through them with his sword. He was a lion, a predator finally in his natural habitat.

All the soldiers, both Trojan and Greek, had started calling him "The Angel of Death," and Erik relished his newfound fame. Nadir, however, longed for the days when everything was peaceful, longed for the quiet, masked boy he met so long ago.

The boy who would juggle fruits and make them disappear before Nadir's eyes. The boy who could throw his voice, making it look as though flowers were singing all around them. The boy who would play his lyre every day.

They were men now and Nadir knew that he would have to push his childhood nostalgia aside. But he cannot help the stinging pain in his heart whenever he sees the golden lyre that now stood, gathering dust, in a dark corner of their tent.

.

Despite their failure to infiltrate the walled city of Troy, the Greek army celebrated many victories. They had taken over all the villages outside the walls, and, thanks to Erik's considerable gifts, many of the more famous Trojan soldiers had already fallen.

All of the Greek men looked up to Erik, often asking him to train them and teach them his secrets. Even Rhal had started deferring to him whenever battle strategies were discussed. Erik was not yet quite comfortable being around all of these other people, having lived alone for a significant portion of his life, but his enigmatic, secretive nature made him even more alluring to everyone around him.

This angered King Philippus who felt that the men respected and trusted Erik's leadership over his own. Overcome with jealousy, the king made a decision—one that he would come to regret someday.

As the men gathered around and feasted on the meat and wine they had raided from the outer villages, King Philippus called for a toast.

"My good men, I must commend every one of you for your bravery and loyalty to Greece and your king. In these past few months, we have lost a few good soldiers but their sacrifice will not be in vain. Soon, we will ram down the walls of Troy, save Queen Sorelle, and you will all be back home with your families."

A round of cheers echoed in the night air. But King Philippus held up his hand, silencing everyone. "Our victory is all but assured. And there is one man who deserves the most credit."

Everyone turned to look at Erik. Rhal smiled at him, raising his wine glass in the air, and nodded. With all the eyes on him, Erik slinked back in discomfort. A smirk grew on King Philippus' face.

"Come now, don't be so modest. Stand up, our great demigod warrior, the hero who shall turn the tides of battle. Stand up and come here so you may claim your prize."

Nadir squeezed Erik's hand in reassurance. The masked man stood hesitantly, but he walked proudly, elegant like the demigod prince he was born to be, as he made his way to King Philippus' side.

The King gestured toward the Trojan women, the ones their soldiers had abducted from the outer villages, "Since you are our great hero, you get first pick of the women."

The soldiers, except for Rhal and Nadir, cheered. Erik's lips contorted into a sneer. Through gritted teeth, he said, "You are generous, but I must decline this gift."

"Come now," Philippus insisted, "You must like one of them. How about this one? She's a beauty, isn't she?" He said as he grabbed a girl by the arm and pushed her toward him.

The girl was on her knees in front of Erik, head bowed and whole body shaking. "No. Please kill me instead," she pleaded.

The tension in the air was palpable. Everyone held his breath in anticipation of what Erik would do. None of the other soldiers truly knew him enough to understand the expressions behind his mask, but Nadir could feel his anguish even from far away.

He glared at the king, "Again, I must decline."

"Why is that?" Philippus asked, "This is a war. There is no need to feign nobility. All men have needs… That is, if you are a man."

Nadir had never seen such pure rage in Erik's expression and he feared what he would do.

Rhal stood before either of them could make a move, "Philippus, this is enough. He doesn't want the girl."

But the stubborn king was blinded by pride and refused to hear his brother's words. Philippus continued taunting Erik. "Why won't you accept my most generous gift? You know, a king usually gets first pick of the spoils of war but instead, I'm letting you choose. What's wrong? Should I have gotten you a boy instead?"

Erik turned and began walking away, "I will not stand for this disrespect any longer."

"Or perhaps it's the mask that's the problem," Philippus continued and Erik paused, "What are you hiding under there? What respectable hero hides his face?"

Erik balled his fists. It felt like everything was crumbling around him. The respect he had fought so hard to earn, the sacrifice he has made to even join this war. It all meant nothing. He was still not a hero in the eyes of these men.

The soldiers were quiet as they awaited Erik's response. Nadir wanted to reach out and grab him before he could make any hasty decisions, but it was too late.

Erik turned to the king, "You wish to see it so badly? THEN LOOK AT IT!" He tore the mask off his face and watched as Philippus recoiled from the sight. Audible gasps of horror punctured the stunned silence. The crowd seemed to grow restless, many turned away while others stared at him with pity.

It was Nadir's first time seeing his face too. He had often pleaded with Erik to take the mask off in the privacy of their tent, but Erik always refused. Nadir did not want to force him to do something he did not wish to do, no matter how much it pained him to not be able to look at the face of the man he loved.

He looked now, and it was as horrible as Erik had described. Like staring at Death itself. Sunken eyes, skin so thin that it was almost transparent, and worst of all, a large crevasse where a nose should have been.

Nadir did not know if the expression on his face betrayed him, if he looked as horrified as Philippus and all the other soldiers, but the pain and hurt in Erik's eyes were unmistakable. He longed to reach for Erik, to pull him into an embrace, but the other man briskly walked away.

Nadir followed. "Erik! Erik, wait!"

Still clutching his mask in his hand, Erik did not turn to look at Nadir or stop walking. "Why are you here? It is unwise to be in my company right now."

"I was only surprised, Erik…"

"Stay back! Do not follow me!"

"Anywhere you go, I go. This changes nothing."

"Don't lie to me," Erik sneered, "I saw how horrified you were by what you saw. Don't pretend that you weren't afraid."

Nadir tried to reach for him but thought better than to overwhelm him while he was in such an emotional state. "Forgive me, I'm only a man. I did not intend to hurt you. I was surprised, that's all. Erik, please…"

Erik paused, but still did not turn around to face him. Nadir could see the tension in his muscles, the way he balled his fists as though waiting to strike an invisible enemy. "You would still have me even after you've seen it?"

Nadir placed a hand on his shoulder but Erik shied away from him. "You are still mine and I yours. That is, if you will still have me."

At this, the demigod finally turned and held Nadir, letting his tears fall freely. All the tension and fear seemed to ebb away at that moment, and Nadir could feel Erik melting into his embrace.

After a moment of silence, of holding each other under the stars and professing their love through the gentlest of touches, Erik spoke again, his tone firm and powerful but barely above a whisper.

"Damn them all. I'm done fighting in their war."

Nadir's heart stopped. For so long, he had wished for Erik to stop fighting, for the two of them to simply run away together and start new, ordinary, uneventful lives. But he also knew what would happen if Erik refused to join the battle. The Greek army would lose, and Erik will no longer get another chance to become the hero he always wanted to be. He would live as a mortal for the rest of his days.

"They would lose without you," Nadir spoke softly, holding Erik as though he were afraid that he would suddenly disappear into thin air.

Erik looked out onto the distance, gazing at the walled city from afar.

"Then let them lose."

All the changed character names:

Magdalini = Madeleine (Erik's mother in the Kay novel)

Karolos = Charles (the name of Erik's father in the Kay novel)

Rhalon/Rhal = Raoul de Chagny

Philippus = Philippe de Chagny

Sorelle = La Sorelli