Achilles looked around the empty tent, tired. He felt something in his gut squirming, twisting - it was sickening. His eyes became heavy-lidded as he looked down at the woman who layed beside him, his blank and tired face curled and crinkled in the most beautiful way as he smiled down at her; his hand coming up to gently stroke her shoulder as she sighed in her sleep, snuggling deeper into the warm and safe sheets.

How did he, a man who has killed thousands, come to possess something so beautiful and pure; he thought to himself, smile turning tight as a grimace curved his face inward. His thoughts turned to the events happening outside - the men spoke of an invention they would use to ambush Troy - they spoke of killing all the men, women; Gods, even the children. Achilles shivered at the thought of innocent children being sent to the slaughter - he may have been thought to be heartless, but he would never harm a child, much less an infant.

He felt more then heard as they pounded away at the mechinisim, the smell of acid, sweat and blood filled his nostrils with a putrid odour.

Achilles started to hear a ringing in his ears, a pain filling his head as he clutched his face, eyes tightening shut as he tried to cut out the noise. No - not again. Not here, not now.

When he reopened his eyes he was no longer in a tent, he was looking at the sky, eyes wide in wonder. Ah, yes. This memory. He watched as a younger version of himself ran out of the bushes, their eyes immediately turning to the sky and gulping in the sight of the setting sun. Blues, reds, purples and oranges dotted the sky like a painting. Achilles watched as his younger self reached his hand up to the sky, as if trying to grasp and hold the colors in the palm of his hand. He chuckled sullenly at the sight, his heart giving a lurch at the image of a more innocent him. His eyes and the younger ones snapped to the bush they came out of as a much younger version of his mother stepped out, and younger Achilles gave an excited squeal - running into her open arms and relishing in the warmth she gave off. Achilles watched, and felt tears of his own start falling as his mother cried, dampening the younger boys hair and making him look up at her, confusion lacing their face, "Mother...?"

Achilles nearly choked on a sob as his mother laughed, bending down to younger him's height and holding his shoulders, looking into his eyes as she began to speak, "Oh my sweet boy, my little mortal God..." Achilles chuckled dryly as he remembered this, still not understanding what his mother said, "Become strong, Achilles, and never give up hope."

Achilles shook his head as the flashback faded, and suddenly he was again standing in the tent, the same sound of hammers hitting wood and metal echoing from outside. Achilles once again looked down at the woman who he came to love - and a thought came to him. He had a feeling he would not live to tell her he loved her tomorrow.

Achilles reached over and took a quill and paper out, shakily beginning to write down his thoughts on paper.

Dear, Briseis; my beloved flower.

I know we may not have met on good terms, and I wasn't the most...hospitable person - but I want you to know something that comes from deep within my soul.

No matter where we are, no matter what we do - I want you to know that I forever will love you - may the gods forbid it or not, I will find a way to make my love last.

But I must ask you one thing, my dear messanger of the gods.

I forbade you from loving me back, for that is my curse for murdering the innocent.

~Achilles

It was nightfall when Achilles finished writing the letter, his lips turned down into a firm line. And with that, he rose to his feet as the sound of screams filled the air, smoke bellowing out from the walls of Troy. He charged, waking the woman who once slept peacefully on his bed.

Not too long later Achilles would be lying on the ground, blood pouring from the multiple arrow wounds that pierced his body - he watched as the young boy took away his beloved, his mind going numb as he said his last words,

"You gave me peace, in a lifetime of war..."

The last of the words died off his tongue as his soul began to flicker, and with that his last thought echoed in his head,

"And for that, I will always love you."

Desseray-Anne Louise Hyslop-Dwyer.