I watch the fingers of Achilles gently strum my mother's lyre. His golden blonde hair a halo in the sunlight, emphasizing his already God like glory. We are sitting in a field. The tall grass tickling our tanned skin. I am weaving morning glory's I found prior while Achilles continues to play his lyre. After he finishes the last note of his melody, he puts the lyre down and stretches. His long limbs casting shadows on my face. He yawns and moves his body to face me.

"What are you doing Patroclus?" Achilles asks

"I am making something for you." I say, without looking up from my weaving.

After I finish the last fold of stems, I connect the flowers all together, and lift my head to face Achilles. He is starring at me intently, curiosity laced in his eyes. Every-time I look at Achilles the air in my lungs gets stolen. His face is a sculpture. Perfectly shaped with minute precision. His eyes are deep sea green like the ocean depths. His lips are plump and as full as the moon. His hair is sunshine given by Apollo himself. The face of Achilles is one I will never forget, one I would know in the dark and even in death. But still, every time I look at him I seem to forget how beautiful he is. I forget how he emanates power. How his fingers are gentle enough to play the strings of the lyre but strong enough to destroy his enemies in seconds. I forget how much I long for his skin.

I put my finished creation on his head and tuck a loose golden curl behind his ear.

"It is a crown." I say. "I figured that you should start practicing wearing one early." He smiles.

"I think this crown is the only one I will desire to wear." I smile. He takes off the flower crown and lays it on my head.

"You should start practicing too." He says. I frown slightly.

"Why?"

"Because if I am a king you will be too. I want you with me always Patroclus."

I blush and Achilles laces our fingers together.

"We must swear that we will be together always." Achilles says as he pushes a brown curl behind my ear.

"I swear to be with you always Achilles." I say smiling.

"Even if my mother tries to keep us apart?"

"Yes."

"Even if wars demand to be won?"

"Yes."

"Even if the fates decide we are not meant to be together?"

"Yes."

"Even if the prophesy turns out to be true?"

"Yes."

"Even-" Achilles begins but I put a finger to his lips.

"Even in death Achilles, I swear that we will stay together. I will follow you always."

"Even in death?" He asks

"Even in death." I repeat

He smiles, now satisfied with my answer he unlaces our hands and begins to play the lyre again. I rest my head on his shoulder. And breath in his sent of olive oil and figs.

I replay the words inside my mind

"Even in death."