Yo, my fellow nerds! I want to begin by apologizing to all my readers. So many of you have reviewed and reviewed and reviewed and I've just been here...twiddling my thumbs! But I will admit, I lost my copy of Troy for MONTHS and I could not find the scene that I need for this chapter. Finally, just had to buy a new copy...then found my old one...sigh. Anyway, I think it's time we get to the good stuff, yeah? Let's go!

Troy, nor the Iliad, is mine.

Chapter 8: Slave No More

Achilles approached his good friend with a sense of dread. Although he sought to change time and fate, he never considered that his brother in arms may soon become his enemy. Achilles was a Greek—and he had no desire to turn his back on his people, but Achilles sought to aid the lives that mattered most to him.

Breseis and his babe deserved a chance to live, whether or not if Achilles survived.

He told Eudorus to pack everything in passing—they set sail before sunset. He would need concealment for his plan and he knew that the Trojans would attack with the coming sun. He had no desire to be upon even the beach of Troy while Hector fought, knowing that he stole the life of Patroclus before.

Sitting next to the blond man, Achilles greeted him with a full cup of wine, the Trojan sun dancing on the red waves in his goblet.

"Agamemnon is a strong man," he began, and Achilles smirked as he recalled this moment, "but he knows when he's made a mistake."

"The man sends you to make his apologies?"

There was a moment and Achilles, as always, went for the heart.

"Why are you enthralled to that pig of a King? Does he not only seek gain for himself and his own countrymen?"

Odysseus scoffed, "The world seems simple to you, my friend," he shook his blond head, curls dark with sweat and oil, "but when you are a king, very few choices are simple."

Achilles sipped his wine, choosing his words and deciding whether or not he should take a new course of action.

"Ithaca cannot afford an enemy like Agamemnon," Odysseus stressed.

He decided quickly, "Do you fear him?"

Odysseus straightened, "Fear is useful," he snapped, "You fear no one, and that is your hubris."

Achilles sighed, and Odysseus looked away.

"We need you, Achilles," the man said, honest. "Greece needs you."

"Greece got along fine before I was born," the words slipped out, uncontrolled, "Greece will be Greece long after I am dead, whether or not Troy stands."

"I am not talking about the land," Odysseus sighed, growing furious at the selfishness of heroes. He grit his teeth and downright begged,

"The men need you. Stay, Achilles, I beseech you."

Achilles waited for the words that had struck him like a hammer against molten steel. The words that burned him, that ate at him before and now. The words that lowered him to nothing but a tool, no better than a sword to be swung in one direction or another.

"You were born for this war."

But he was born only to die, Achilles mused, fury making his throat clench. He swallowed more wine, gaze turning out to the sea, and like dipping that same hot steel into the water, his heart was hardened to the fate of Greece. He was no pawn—he was Achilles, and he would make the decisions that would benefit him and the woman he loved.

Not the people that saw him only to use him.

"Things are…less simple today."

"Ah, yes…women complicate things."

Indeed, they did, but it was not only a woman that complicated this new and yet old situation. Achilles had been here before, walked these same footprints before, and it was time to veer off the path of sacrifice and find solace in his own desires. True, if Breseis had not been involved, he would not have changed his mind or taken Discordia on her offer. He had died an honorable death, and he would be welcomed as a hero into the Underworld.

"Of all the Kings of Greece, I respect you the most," and this was true, "But in this war you are a servant. However, I understand that to lead sometimes you must serve…but this is not that time."

Achilles stood and patted Odysseus on the shoulder, leaving him to sit in the sand. Patroclus appeared, his youthful face mottled with colors of yellow, green and purple, as his wounds healed slowly.

"We are going home?" He asked, pleased to return after so many years.

Achilles pulled him to his side with a noncommittal grunt, knowing that they would not be returning home but merely sneaking off in the dead of night.

"But…what of our brethren, our fellow Greeks?"

"Fear not, cousin," Achilles muttered, "Greece will always remain, even if our brothers fall."

Patroclus slumped a bit under his arm and Achilles shook him.

"Do not think of death," he advised softly, "While you live."

"But I desire others to live as well," he pressed, "Even if it means my own life. Perhaps I could…take your armor, raise the morale of the men, and…aid—"

"No," Achilles bite was harsher than he meant it, but when he saw Patroclus in the corner of his vision, he saw him grey and pale, his blood crusted black along the slice in his throat, and it made him ill as if death still clung to the hem of the young man's chiton.

"You are a better man than me, my dear cousin," the blond man smiled at the goodness of his cousins heart, despite his lacking in true heroism. He shook his cousin by the shoulder again, reminding himself that he was alive, breathing beneath his arm.

Heroism is selfish, destructive and violent, much like war which satisfies it so much. It took life with ease and relished in all that was lost and stolen, not what it gave to others. Heroism wasn't something to be admired, or sought. It merely was and because of this, it was more powerful than any force forged by gods or man.

Achilles closed his eyes and sighed, knowing that this decision was better than the last.

)O(

Hector swore angrily, throwing another vase into the walls. Astynax wailed in fear, yet he couldn't hear his son over the imagined screaming of his own people as they fell under the forces of Agamemnon. He grunted in rage at his own helplessness, and nearly struck Andromache when her hand found his shoulder.

She slid back in astonishment, her eyes on his raised hand.

He immediately lowered his fist, and she spat at his feet in fury.

"You act like a brute before your son," she hissed, "You dare to strike his mother?"

"Hold your tongue," he pinched her face between his strong fingers, and she growled and pulled free.

"I'll remind you that you are a Prince," she scowled, "Not some disgusting pig."

He breathed through his nose.

"I'm sorry, my love," he murmured.

She relaxed a bit, but her eyes still spoke of anger.

"We attack at dawn," he explained. "We…will unite the Greek soldiers. If Achilles rejoins the ranks of Agamemnon, then we have no chance to survive."

She waited for him to continue as he sought words through his rage. He stared at Astynax, who now peered up at him with his eyes that mirrored his own, searching for safety in his father. Hector was strong, the general of all of Troy's armies, but he stood no chance against Achilles, who was cherished by the Goddess of War.

"We cannot win against him."

Andromache hummed, sitting on the bed and untying her robes to feed her son. She pressed his lips to her breast and he began to suckle, making her wince in pain.

"Then, what will happen?"

She asked, quiet.

"We fall," he whispered, watching his son feed.

He slowly made his way to her and took a seat beside her on their bed, leaning his aching head into his hands.

She swallowed, closing her eyes.

"Then you must destroy everything," she offered, "You must make sure that…Achilles dies on the field of battle."

"He is Athena's hero," Hector laughed mirthlessly, "He will never die."

"All men die," she swore. "You can kill him, Hector. You can. You are better than he, the strongest man in all of Troy! And you have something he does not…"

He looked at her, searching.

She smiled and led his gaze to his son, who's small hands curled into fists along the underside of his mother's breast.

"You have something worth fighting for, worth living for," she placed her palm along his jaw. "You will save us all."

Her words gave him strength, and his heart swelled with pride and joy at his wife and son. He swore to all the Gods that Troy will remain standing.

Even if he did not.

)O(

Discordia cackled, gleeful. She clapped her hands as she watched the hero of Greece sail from the beaches of Troy as the sun sake below Neptune's waves.

It was coming.

Chaos.

Glorios chaos!

She squealed in excitement, spinning around in a near childlike manner.

She could feel it, it swam in her veins and it pulsed in her heart, and she knew that it was coming. It would come to the gods and to the humans and she let out a shout of victory to the skies.

Lightning crashed against the water before her and she laughed again, mocking now as the sea merely continued to lap at the shore.

It was time.

She turned to the skies and vanished with a clap of thunder that shook both Greeks and Trojans from slumber.

)O(

Achilles stood on the bow of his ship, his eyes staring at the glowing embers as Greek soldiers on the Trojan shore slept. His army of Myrmidons flocked around his trireme, confused, murmuring.

"My men!" He beckoned to them, "My kin! My swords and shields! My Myrmidons!"

They gave a holler of excitement.

"I ask that you stand by me, once again, in the heat and threat of battle!"

There was a roar of agreement.

"We have stood on the beaches of Troy for ten years, feet in the gore and blood of soldiers we fought against and beside! We have seen battle for ten years, but I ask you to aid me in ending this war!"

There was questioning silence.

"Agamemnon has been cruel…he seeks only to better himself and his people, he cares nothing for us. We are his tools! We are his slaves! I am no slave! Are you?!"

There was another excited yell.

"I seek to do what is right."

There was quiet as he took a moment, collecting his words.

"I seek to change fate, shift destiny and deny what the Moirai have laid before us!"

He pointed his blade to the shores of Troy once more.

"I say we find immortality by defying Agamemnon, defying fate! We join King Priam! Stand beside Hector! Fight for Troy!"

There was no noise, no cheer, no agreement.

"Achilles?" his cousin asked, worried, confused.

For a moment, Achilles feared the revolt of his men. Taking a deep breath, he grit his teeth and continued.

"We have wasted ten years on a greedy, selfish man. He's used us. He's treated me, your Lord, like a common soldier! He stole my war prize when his own prize brought plague and pestilence to our ships! Do you want to fight for a King like Agamemnon?"

There were a few murmurings and Eudorus proudly declared 'no!'

"Or do you want to want to write history for yourselves and live past this war?"

There was more agreements now, more shouts of pleasure.

"Do you want to be slaves?!"

A loud and violent disagreement.

"Then let me lead you to battle once more! Allow me to bring you glory! Allow me to give you immortality!"

He puffed up as his men gave way to madness, raising swords and spears, beating their feet upon the ship with pleasure.

"Let me lead you to the shores of Troy once more—this time, not for a King," he spat the word, "But for ourselves!"

His name was chanted to the heavens and he grinned, his eyes rising to the night sky and he laughed at fate.

He was Achilles—and he would make his own destiny.

)O(

Moirai: The Fates

Woohoo! I really tried to make this chapter long because you guys have just been awesome while I took my damn time! I hope you all enjoyed it! Let me know what you all think!

-YG