Disclaimer: I don't own any think of Troy but my god I'm gonna get the DVD, I lost count of how many times I saw brad Pitt's butt. Also i don't own the lyrics to the Damien Rice song. Time: This happens before the Odysseus gets the horse idea and after Hector's death, Patroclus's death and Briseis being taken back.
Achilles stood on the shore his feet dipped in the almost black sand, his dark robes spread to the west with the wind. The sun had not risen yet and the many boats of Agamemnon's fleet were still heavily perched upon the sandy shores of Troy. He had his back to the city walls as if not looking at them would make him forget letting Briseis go. He longed to feel her body against him as he slept but it didn't matter what would happen now, the fighting was over and soon the army would leave. He couldn't help but wonder if his mother could have been wrong. He was going home in the morning, maybe he wouldn't die.
Achilles slowly turned to the city and knew what he had to do. The myrmidons slept peacefully as he crept out of camp and through the land. He left his armour and only carried with him a spear, for he was the mighty Achilles not some mere soldier. He was not far from the walls when he had to stop and think what he could do to get through them. He dropped his spear and looked to the dim sky. The walls were like giants looking down on him and laughing.
'If you were ever going to help me mother, do it now,' he said not loud, not quiet but in his own tone.
The brightest star in the sky fell to the ground, like a coin it hit the earth and burned into the land. Achilles looked suspiciously at it before bending down and slowly pulling up a golden rope from the hole. He smiled in thanks to her and ran to the wall, with all his might he threw the rope up and by the grace of the gods wherever it landed it would not move. His need to have felt something before he left was so strong he had scaled the wall within minutes.
Achilles moved through the city at slumber, its carts and stalls, temples and fine buildings were all in a state of sleep. The mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, soldiers and royalty all lay at rest.
He made his way to the palace, slipping through the doors and down the corridors, peeking in rooms. He looked upon one where the Prince Paris and hi Helena slept and he marvelled at how well they slept seeing as how it was their idiocies which caused so much death, then he looked upon another room where a maid slept next to the crib of Hector's son. At that moment the slightest drop of regret escaped Achilles at murdering the child's father but he considered Patroclus and the life he took.
Achilles had thought that he had finally stumbled upon Briseis when he came upon the slender body of a goddess laying upon her sapphire clothed bed in the moonlight. Her hair was dark and soft to touch, Achilles had realised this to be Andromache, the wife of Hector.
i remember it well,
the first time that i saw, your head round the door,
cause mine stopped working,
i remember it well,
there was wet in your hair, i was stood in stare,
and time stopped moving,
need you here tonight, need you here,
cause i can't believe what i've found,
want you here tonight, want you here,
cause nothing's taken me down, down, down,
except you my love.
Achilles stood over her as she lay fully clothed upon her bed, her grief had stopped her from caring what she went to bed in. His finger ran over her delicate lips and across her cheek, her head moved with his hand as if she were remembering that someone else once touched her that way. Achilles couldn't take his eyes off her, before now his image of her was a small figure at top the walls of Troy, but now his image of her was Aphrodite or some word to describe the perfection, which lay before him...