Patroclus and I remained in the pit. The blood continued to ooze from the boy's body.

I killed a boy.

I stared into the ether. Emotionlessness controlled me.

I killed a boy.

Patroclus shook me out of my stupor.

"Achilles!"

"Huh?"

"Achilles, you need to get out of here! The other boys have run away to tell an adult. You cannot be here! Go! Meet me at the palace. I will think of something. Go!"

Patroclus climbed clumsily out of the pit and ran off.

I stayed for a moment. This was monumental: murder would strip me of title, of status, of wealth, of royalty. I would be an outcast at best or a slave at worst. Death would be preferable, which was also an option.

Alas, something worse was yet to come. I would be driven from this land without delay. Yet, a worse thought occurred to me.

I would never see Patroclus again.

I would never speak to him again. I would never hear his voice, touch his hands, smell his scent downwind. I would never see his curly dark hair, his equally dark skin. I would be denied all happiness I had ever felt or ever could feel again.

My life as a prince ended the moment the boy fell. My life itself would end the moment Patroclus and I were separated.

There was only one action I could contemplate.

I ran.

When my human side troubled me, there was only one in the world that could help.

Mother.

I arrived at the beach, panting for breath. I had prowess in running and speed, but the stress restricted me in ways I had not understood. My chest pounded as a drum; my heart wanted to leap out. I ran into the water. I cried; the salty tears joined their cousins in the ocean.

"MOTHER!"

She arrived near instantaneously, as always.

"Mother…Mother…I…I…I…" I breathed fast and shallow.

"What, my son? Calm down, be at peace!"

"I…I killed a boy." I stuttered out

She went paler than usual. "What?"

"I killed a boy and now I am going to be exiled or killed and Father cannot help, and I am so so so so sorry and I cannot do anything right, and I am going to never see you or Father or Patr..."

She slapped me.

I went agape: Mother had never hit me before.

"Sometimes, my son, mortals go into what can only be described as shock. And another shock is the cure. Now, sit and tell me everything."

I did so. The day poured out of me like a river rushing over its bank in flood.

She pursed her lips.

"Let me talk to Zeus, Lord of the Skies. He still owes me a few favors from the attempted insurrection. Return here at sunset. I will have next steps."

She dashed beneath the foaming waves, leaving me alone.

I had arrived at the palace to screams of anger. The hall was empty except for me, the screamer, Patroclus, and Menoetius. A man stood in front of the throne, Patroclus stood by his father, absorbing the anger yet being afraid of it.

"MY SON IS DEAD, MENOETIUS. I KNOW IT WAS YOUR GUEST."

Menoetius showed no reaction, his face remained expressionless.

"I DEMAND RECOMPENSE. HE WAS MY ONLY HEIR. IF I DO NOT GET SATISFACTION, YOUR DAYS AS KING ARE NUMBERED. AND MY SON'S BLOOD WILL BE MET WITH BLOOD."

Megalalo's father went off in a huff. His anger remained palpable in the air.

Menoetius turned towards me, acknowledging my existence.

"Achilles, you have been accused of murdering the son of the most influential noble in my kingdom. He could easily lead a revolt against me. Please tell me you did not kill the boy."

I gulped. I had to respond.

"Lord Menoetius, I regret to say that…"

"It was me. I killed him."

I turned toward Patroclus. He stood firm and resolute. What was he doing?

"No, Patroclus, you do not need to…"

"It was me. I pushed him into the foundation because he stole my dice."

I looked back at Menoetius. His face went ashen. He turned away for a moment. When he looked back, I spoke.

"Menoetius, your son lies to save my fate. It was me. Megalalo angered me and I pushed him into the foundation by accident."

Menoetius did not acknowledge my truth. He went stern and looked at his son. His face was outwardly outraged, but I saw some restrained jubilation. He had received his wish: a way to disown his son without retribution from the gods or men.

"Patroclus, I am gladdened to hear you admit to this murder as a man, and not be a coward as you usually are. I hope the Furies take mercy on you."

Patroclus knelt in supplication.

"I thank you, Father, for your mercy."

"Who said I was going to be merciful?"

Patroclus stiffened but still knelt. I cringed, fearing Patroclus's exile or worse…death. Menoetius had the power to do both now: especially with an admission of guilt.

"You killed a child in cold blood. I taught you better. You will be punished as a man so that means exile, slavery, or death."

If I could never see him again…he and I separated forever…that would be Hell…and if he were killed because of something I did, I could not live at all.

I ran to Menoetius and screamed in his face.

"It was me, King! I killed him! What makes more sense? The nicest and gentlest boy the gods ever created to suddenly go mad and murder a boy in cold blood over…dice? Or the ichor-veined son of a goddess not knowing his strength? I am the strongest warrior of my generation! I erred! I got frustrated! It was me! Why do you not understand? Punish me! Leave him alone!"

Menoetius slapped me hard. I fell to the floor. Patroclus's eyes expanded and his fists tightened into a grip. But he still knelt, and his eyes remained staring on the floor.

"Yelling at a king? Questioning my judgement? You threatened to beat me recently, but it is you who should be. Your insolence is contemptable. You do not know what I think. Your youthfulness and pride will be your downfall, Achilles. The world does not exist to cater to you or what you demand. This is my land. This is my law. He is my son. I will punish him as I see fit."

Patroclus interrupted, still on the floor.

"Father, I implore you: do what you think is right. But I ask, like Medea, for a single day. One more day of freedom. To say goodbye to the land I was raised in. If I am exiled, so be it. If I am enslaved, so be it. If I die, so be it. But I ask for one more day…."

Medea.

She travelled with my father and Menoetius with the hero Jason to get the Golden Fleece.

Medea had come to Opus once on her way to Athens. She entertained me with her magic: she took a dove from a nearby tree and detached its head! She told me that a man named Dedi from Egypt taught her the magic: she then restored its head and brought the dove back to life! She also conjured a toy horse for me out of nothing. She made a full-grown cow young again! Medea married Jason, the one who retrieved the Golden Fleece. My father and Menoetius were on the journey with them.

After she left, we received word what Medea did. My father immediately sent for wine; he was shocked. We just met her, and the news could not have possible been true. But it was.

Jason had tried to marry the local princess and throw Medea and their children aside to satisfy his lust. The king tried to banish Medea, but she pled for one day respite. In that day, she found sanctuary in Athens, killed the king and the princess via poisoned gifts, and…out of revenge…killed her own children.

I shook back into coherence. Patroclus had continued whilst I reminisced.

"…I do not know magical arts. I do not have ichor strong enough to plan and enact revenge. Nor do I have the courage or tact. I want a single day to live my life as I see fit. Medea was blinded by revenge towards Jason which was her downfall. I do not harbor any. Creon was blinded by ignorance of Medea's revenge and underestimated her. You do not do so. I want one more day as prince. One more banquet. I ask this in the name of Philomela."

Menoetius opened his mouth, but Patroclus continued.

"If you ever loved her, you know she loved me and you. So please, one more day. I need to say goodbye to her."

Menoetius sat down to think. The room grew silent. The breeze outside the hall echoed like a gale. Neither Patroclus nor I moved.

"My son, Lord Hermes has blessed you today. Your eloquence has made me proud of you. Now my decision is not so easy. You asked for one day like Medea. Unlike Creon, I will give you three, contingent on you not harboring any acts of vengeance or revenge. If you do, I will slay you myself. Otherwise, in the name of Philomela, I grant you three days and three nights more as a prince. No more, no less. I will issue my decision about day four and forward tomorrow. Patroclus, on the third night, you will get your banquet. Now, go. Both of you. Get out of my sight."

We arose and ran out of the hall. I heard sobbing as I left. We both ran towards the ocean, not looking back.

On the beach, we walked in silence. Patroclus started to weep but restrained himself whenever I looked at him.

I grew concerned. Separated from me forever in three days' time. I knelt and started to wail. Patroclus took my empty life and filled it to the brim. And now, he would be gone.

There could never be another like him. He added purpose to my existence. He alone cared for me in the present, not attending or yearning for some upcoming glorious hero that would bear my name and visage. Everyone I knew looked for the latter. My mother wanted godhood based on potential deeds, my father wanted me to glorify his name and achieve what he could not.

Patroclus did not gamble on the future. He savored the present for what it was. He cared for me as me, not as I was to be.

And he would be gone.

The wails grew louder. Tears became streams upon my cheeks.

Warmth encompassed me and different tears on my face.

"Stop crying, Achilles. What is the matter? You can tell me, I am here!"

It was my mother.

I stopped crying immediately and looked up: the setting sun shone across her face. It reddened her fishlike skin. I realized.

It was sunset. She spoke with Lord Zeus to save me. And it was in vain.

I glanced around quickly; Patroclus was ahead of me, jolted to the ground by the sudden appearance of unexpected and unfamiliar divinity. I signaled in my eyes to Patroclus: RUN. I will meet you later. RUN.

She followed my gaze and glanced at him. He remained motionless in fear. Mother hovered over him.

"You must be Patroclus, the boy who fascinates my son to no end."

I murdered a boy, Patroclus took the blame, we are being separated in three days' time, and now Mother was meeting Patroclus.

This day just had to end this way, did it not?