Author PenName: Dysis Nyx

Author's Note: Sooooooo sorry about the long wait, but I have the remaining chapters done. I will be posting all of them tonight or tomorrow. I wanted to do this one ahead so you all knew. Again, I apologize for the loooooooong wait. Buuuut without further adieu here we go.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the "Troy" characters.

With his tears shed, Achilles fled from the confining shackled of his hut. The grief still lingered in the air with the sense of death. He was finished with all of this. No more would he stand for all that had occurred. A numbness settled around his heart like a plague.

Today Hector would die.

As he passed through the flap he spotted Eudorus asleep in the sleep, waiting. The man had stood vigil for him. It was to be commendable…if Achilles had it in him to commend anyone at present.

His feet sank into the sand with every step he took towards the pyre. There he stood and waited as the sun arose at his back. Patroclus would have his vindication on this morning.

Achilles closed his eyes as the presence of Patroclus surrounded him in a gentle wind. He was here. Achilles could feel it with every fiber of his being.

Although as he opened his eyes, he was alone. There was no mistaking it. Patroclus was here but he was not. Why do you abandon me, cousin, on the morning I need you the most?

Achilles swallowed the bile rising up from his soul and stalked back to his hut. His mission was clear and doubt was nowhere in sight.

"Eudorus."

The man stirred awake and struggled with sleep to stand, "My lord?"

Achilles did not even bother to cast him a second look as he made his way to prepare, "I need my armor."

The idea that the hut would be clear from all the death and grief was a fool's hope. And Achilles was no fool.

Not today.

As he dressed in his armor he welcomed all the darkness that lingered around him. It was all a reminder of what it was he was about to fight for. With each piece of armor, his resolve grew stronger and his hatred of Hector became unbearable.

In every fight Achilles held himself back. He toyed with his victims, but not today. Today he would unleash everything Ares and Hades had gifted him with. Today Hector would know the frightening truth behind what Achilles truly was.

The sun greeted him with a blinding light as he stepped out onto the Trojan beaches. Not too long ago these sands had held the happy footsteps of his beloved Patroclus. He swallowed deep as he remembered that happy smile running towards him after that first victory.

No more would the gods grant him that happiness. Achilles was alone in this world and unlike his Patroclus this was his own choice.

He stepped into the chariot where Eudorus attempted to join him. Achilles barely looked at him as he simply said, "No."

Eudorus attempted to hide any of his apprehension and hurt at being refused, but both of them knew Achilles wouldn't have cared regardless.

He was just about to snap the horses in gear when a woman's scream pierced the morning air. Her steps were heavy and quick as she raced towards him. Her touch left him cold as a statue as she pleaded, "Hector's my cousin. He is a good man. Don't fight him! Please don't fight him. Please!"

The woman was nothing to him now, so her words fell on deaf ears as he snapped the reins and went on about his duty.

Patroclus had made Achilles human and Achilles had let him down. He had vowed to protect him. There on the boat he had made both of them a promise. A promise he had failed with the help of one Hector of Troy.

As of last night by the pyre, Achilles had made a new promise. A promise that he would erase Hector of Troy from every eyes and heart of every citizen of all of Greece. No one would know him and Hector's death would be so filled with regret and fear that his soul would never find peace in Tartarus.

This was his new vow and it was one that Achilles would go to his grave fulfilling.

He rode behind two black horses on his chariot and a strange of rightness settled around Achilles. These two black horses carried the chariot of death. With each plodded hoof fall Achilles heart beat stronger and stronger as anger brewed inside of him. Vindication was slowly turning into rage as he quickly approached the gates of Troy.

There he stood alone before the monstrous city. His voice was hoarse with fury as his chest heaved into the still, empty air. He could feel the entire city's eyes upon, but Achilles cared not. Let them point their arrows. Today he would have his blood.

He would hear Hector scream for mercy while Achilles made sure the only response he was to get was to be Patroclus' name. Hector would go to the underworld and the other souls he had sent there would tell him of the fool he was for killing the cousin of Achilles.

Hector would never know peace, not even death. Achilles would make sure of it.

After what felt like a lifetime of yelling his opponent's name, the gates to the great city opened and there they revealed his adversary. Achilles sneered at the sight of him. He held off his fury for a few more moments as Hector approached. He would let himself lose control in a moment.

For now…for now he had the sense to know what he needed to say and do.

Hector did not give Achilles the chance to speak first. As soon as the man approached, he poisoned the air and Achilles control with his voice as he said, "I have seen this moment in my dreams, Achilles. I'll make a pact with you and with the gods as our witnesses. Let us agree that the winner will allow the loser have all the proper funeral rituals."

Fool…

Achilles kept his gaze dead as his lips slightly curled with a hunger for this pompous ass' blood. He would bleed him dry. Achilles voice was even as he spat in Hector's scared face, "There are no pacts between lions and men."

It was clear to both of them who would live and who would die. Hector had sealed his fate before the first drop of Patroclus' blood had touched the ground.

Thoughts of his cousin's body drifted into his psyche once more and Achilles found his control about to break. His muscles tightened as his jaw ticked as he stabbed his spear into the ground. Blonde hair whipped gently in the wind caused by how fast he ripped his helmet off. Achilles stared back at Hector as he growled, "Now you know who you are fighting."

His white teeth glimmered and his mouth salivated as the sand begged for Hector's blood. The more he studied this man's face the more Achilles agreed. This man needed to die.

Anger flitted across Hector's face as he prepared himself for battle and tossed aside his own helmet, "I thought it was you I was fighting yesterday. And I wish it had been you. But I gave the dead boy the honor he deserved."

The dead boy?

Every part of his body was boiling with rage. At any moment, Achilles thought his stomach would reach it's limit and he would began to spew fire. Yet still he remained calm and how he did not know.

Hearing Hector's pitiful excuses and hearing him reference his beloved Patroclus as simply and easily as 'the dead boy' was almost too much for him to bear.

But bear it he did.

Only his eyes screamed of his ever burning rage as he replied back to Hector, "You gave him the honor of your sword." far worse than he deserved "You won't have eyes tonight. You won't have ears or a tongue. You will wander the underworld blind, deaf, and dumb, so all the dead will know…this is Hector, the fool who thought he killed Achilles."

And that was it. Everything that needed to be said was said. Achilles almost smiled as he turned to a lion made from fire and born of vengeance. The fight exploded as he startled his onslaught of what soon would be the once Prince Hector.

His vision became blurry and his muscles tightened as his sense and reason escaped him. Achilles anger and fury was fueling this fight. It was as though he was channeling the god Ares himself.

Achilles blacked out as his mind checked out so his body took over. This was one fight Achilles was not going to play with him enemy. Hector would get the beating of all the grief and anger Achilles felt.

As his vision left him and the monster took control, Achilles blacked out so the first thing he blinked back to was Hector crawling away from him panting and sweating as he scrambled for breath and a weapon.

This was too easy. Achilles sneered as he watched him squirm away, "Get up, Prince of Troy. Get up! I won't let a stone take my glory." or my vengeance…

Once again the battle was underway as Achilles dodged both of Hector's swings with ease and immediately turned his dodges into a full blown swing to Hector's right leg. The mighty prince yelped as he tried to continuing swinging.

Their swords rang into the heat of the day as Hector tried to take Achilles' leg out as well, but in this moment Achilles smiled as he raised his leg to dodge.

Not today Hector, today is for Patroclus.

After a few breaths, Hector charged him once more, but the fight was so close to over. It was beading down every inch of Hector's face. Achilles dodged every one of his attacks without a sweat. His hand reached out pushed Hector back, so to watch the man stumble and groan with fatigue and loss of blood.

Finally it was drawing to a close. Achilles fed off the man's pain and despair. It was time to finish this. In a few swings Achilles had his opening. With a quick blow his spear stabbed through Hector's right shoulder with a force all its own behind it.

Hector grimaced and tightened as the pain burned to the rest of his chest.

A smile and sneer tugged at Achilles' lips as he reveled in the destruction of this odious man. Hector fell to his knees before Achilles and the moment was sweet.

Achilles glanced up at the eyes staring at Hector with grief already filling them. That is right, feel what I have felt. Watch him suffer. The moment was long for them, but far too short for Achilles. He looked back to Hector and pulled back to deliver the final blow to the gasping man's heart. A breath left him as he stabbed it straight and true. He killed the man through his heart, just as Hector had done to him.

A heart for a heart.

There was always more though. Pride clouded Achilles judgment as he reached for the rope in his chariot. It was not as simple as becoming even to Achilles. He would forever make Hector pay. His body would receive it's proper burial. It would serve as a reminder to all who laid eyes upon it.

Mercy was dead, humanity was gone, and Achilles was no longer a man.

With that he rode off with all of Troy's eyes upon him. He wanted them to see just how far their fool prince had fallen.

~*~*That night*~*~

He sat there sharpening his sword with her eyes upon him and her wretched sniffles in her ears. He was weary of her. No matter how cold he grew towards her, she still lingered.

Women were all alike weak and fickle creatures who would cower behind any who could protect them. How wrong he had been. He thought he loved this trembling creature who thought she had all the answers. His Patroclus never cowered. He was brave and strong despite any of the hardships and torment Achilles through his way.

How had he repaid him? With more torment.

Patroclus had truly served him well.

Now he was a shell, a mere-

Her voice broke his concentration, "You have lost your cousin and now you have taken mine. When does it end?"

Achilles did not even bother with giving her any sort of care or true response as he muttered, "It never ends."

With that she stormed out.

Achilles didn't care. He cared about nothing at this present. He had done his duty to Patroclus and to himself. So now he would either fight or die. He cared not about the future. For him it was just another sunrise he had to remain in this dark and ugly world.

His eyes closed as he paused in taking his sword, "Come back to me, spirit…"

Nothingness greeted him into the night as his plea was met with further silence. Patroclus was gone now. He had said it himself. He was meant to keep Achilles on path. To kill Hector and so he had.

That meant saying goodbye to even the last remaining shreds of Patroclus then so be it. In the moonlight he spotted the last piece of what remained of Patroclus glittering in the moonlight.

So he stalked over to his bed and held tight to the delicate piece of jewelry. More grief and more pain. Was this what humanity was? How could all that good the lad brought into his life hurt this much after?

Before he could begin to drown his sorrows into another pitcher a cloaked figure entered his hut. An old man pushed back his hood to reveal himself.

Achilles watched transfixed as he fell to his knees before him and kissed each of his hands. Tears still lingered in the old man's eyes as Achilles recognized the pain that lingered there.

He tried to keep his voice harsh, but the sympathy eased it some as he asked, "Who are you?"

The man's eye continued to sparkle with tears and moonlight, "I have endured what no man on earth has endured. I kiss the hands of the man who killed my son."

Confused understanding hit Achilles as he stared back at this man in a hazy clarity. He rose to his feet and stepped away as the man's grief kept his hatred at bay. Those eyes showed everything that was in Achilles' own soul at present. They understood and yet still he had kissed his hands, "Priam? How did you get in here?"

The man remained on his knees while he explained, "I know my own country better than the Greeks I think."

In this moment, he could not hate him or begrudge him. Till he gave him reason otherwise, Achilles would show him respect. He helped him to his feet and complimented, "You are a brave man. I could have you head on a spit in the blink of an eye."

Achilles took a seat as the two of them eyed each other curiously. Neither one sure of what to make or do with each other. Priam's voice shook as he stared incredulously at Achilles, "You really think death frightens me now? I watched my eldest son die while you dragged his body behind your chariot. Give him back to me. He deserves the honor of a proper burial. Give him to me."

Life was not that simple. Not anymore.

Achilles met Priam's gaze without hesitation in the dark while he said with greater conviction than ever before, "He killed my cousin."

Still the old man did not back down. The wisdom of his years and the love of his son adding to his own quiet fire, "He thought he was you. How many cousins have you killed? How many sons and fathers, brothers, husbands, how many, brave Achilles?"

The rest of the old man's words faded as a warmth seized his hand. It was as though someone was holding his hand. When he looked down there was just his hand. His face contorted in a pained confusion as he struggled with the hope there was someone there and not just a spasm. Still the light pressure holding his hand continued.

Priam sat on the bed next to him as another strong pressure squeezed the back of his neck just as he had done so many times before to Patroclus. It was there own private form of affection. Achilles struggled to cope with these as his focus look forward.

Patroclus was here.

He could not see him, but he could feel him. There was no mistaking it.

Finally, Achilles caught the rest of Priam's lecture. He knew how it must look to Priam, but maybe the old man would just think Achilles was struggling with his words and not some unseen apparition. The last think Achilles heard was Priam say, "Let me wash his body. Let me say the prayers. Let me place two coins on his eyes for the boatman."

It was clear was Patroclus wanted Achilles to do. He was giving him support to do the right thing. He was urging him to let go of the hatred and give in to a father's request. The warmth surged up Achilles' arm and neck as the feel of hands upon them did not cease. He took a moment to feel the hand on his hand, to feel that gentle rub to his neck, to feel the once overpowering support once more of his dearest Patroclus.

His gaze stared into the night with them giving him just enough support to help Achilles say, "If I let you walk out of here, if I let you take him, doesn't change anything you are still my enemy in the morning."

To Be Continued…