A Gift from the Gods

11

The dreams were back. For the better part of a week. Troy burning. Now she knew why. But at the center of it all wasn't Paris or Helen. Nor Agamemnon. She was at the center in robes of red and blood dripping from her eyes. She jolted awake this time, startled by the revelation. It took her a moment to remember where she was and the body next to her, dagger in hand, at the ready.

"What is it?" Achilles said, brow furrowed, voice taught.

Zephyra took a deep breath and settled a bit. "Only a dream."

Achilles relaxed and pulled her into him, lying them down again. He stroked her hair, and she adored his breath on her face. How easily she had fallen for him. It happened that first night, really, and had continued every night since. The more she was with Achilles the less she missed her home. More resolved in her fate.

"Troy will burn, won't it?" she said against his chest. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. But she needed him to. She wiped away the tear that had fallen to his chest and snuggled deeper into him. "What is it like out there? Away from this land?"

Achilles shifted to look down at her. "Anything you can imagine and more."

"Are the stories true? Have you helped conquer all of Greece?"

"Not all. Not nearly all. But nowhere as beautiful as Troy."

"What about your home?"

"It does not matter. I will never return home." He looked away from her. "the oceans are as bright as they are here. Fresh water runs through most of the island. My mother collects seashells from the bay by our home and makes necklaces."

"It sounds lovely."

They lay in silence, simply reveling in one another's bodies. Their souls.

"Will Troy burn?"

"Yes."

She closed her eyes.