There are moments that stretch to eternity, moments that define man. For Achilles, time slowed as the Amajans charged forth. In truth, if he wanted too, he could escape. They couldn't stop him. But then Helena’s sisters would be captured, and Helena would go with them.
I swear upon my dreams he had said. But how much were his dreams worth? Were they worth his life? His childhood flashed before him, a time of dreams, when such an oath would have been everything to him. He saw his mother die before him, saw himself casting aside his dreams in favor of safer pursuits, but for the first time he wondered. Had he truly cast aside those dreams?
Gaius had been right. He may be convinced those dreams were dead, and yet whenever he had had the opportunity, he had thrown himself back into danger for something other than himself. And here he was, facing down the most powerful city in the world for love.
If his dreams were not worth it, what was?
He stopped holding back.
Life was a thousand blades, aiming to break the dreamer.
But the dreamer would not break, would not stop.
For he was
Invincible.
Instead of them meeting him, he met them, sending soldiers flying as he struck, spear whistling out its deadly rhythm. Their spears left but faint scratches on his skin, while he dealt out gaping wounds, filling the halls with the iron stench of blood.
He fought like he never had before, putting it all on the line. And it was glorious.
They came at him in waves, and in waves they died, their blades skating off of his skin, their curses falling on deaf ears, a mountain of corpses forming before him. He could feel his understanding of invincibility surging forth under the pressure, newfound understanding granting new depth and power to his moves.
But he was flagging, the myriad of wounds and exhaustion catching up and holding him back. Slowly, and first, and then with increasing speed, he began to give up ground, till he found his back pressed against the door to the girls room.
He had more unbroken skin than whole skin, and blood flowed from him like a river, taking his strength with it. Still, stood strong, his spear held high as he prepared to face the end of his path with dignity and defiance. He knew he wouldn't survive the night, his wounds were far too serious, but it wasn't too late for Helena’s sisters.
If he could only…
“Enough! Can’t you useless peasants kill one man! I’ll do it myself!”
Hector marched through the blood towards Achilles, wrinkling his nose at the smell. He looked annoyed, as if the men he had lost were nothing more than mild inconveniences.
He smirked when he saw Achilles state. “Not so mighty now, are we?”
Achilles merely raised his spear.
Hector's smirk widened, and he smoothly lunged forward, only to be deflected by a sweep of Achilles' spear. He dodged Achilles’ retaliation with sidestep and moved into Achilles’ reach.
There the fight began in earnest.
Hector was an excellent fighter when he wasn't drunk, and Achilles in his wounded state struggled to defend against him. Finally, with a sharp twist and roundhouse kick, Hector managed to disarm Achilles, transitioning into a smooth downward slash, only for Achilles to catch his after swing and wrench his blade out of his hand.
Hector motioned for one of the soldiers to toss him a replacement blade, and received the blade without looking, leaving him the only one armed. He smirked as he rushed in once more. Achilles defended as best he could with his mere limbs, but Hector was careful, taking advantage of Achilles previous wounds to slowly bleed him out.
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Finally, when Achilles’ vision was fading in and out of black, his fabled invulnerability failed him and Hector, smelling blood, struck.
This time Achilles was too slow.
The sword pierced him right through the stomach, piercing his spine as it came out the other side. Immediately, Achilles fell to his knees, legs useless, vision wavering.
Hector followed him to the ground, squatting in front of him and leaning forward to whisper in his ear. “This is for the humiliation at the Council.”
Achilles spat blood in his face. Hector’s expression darkened and he grabbed Achilles by the neck and drove him further into blood covered ground, folding him over his kneeling legs in a series of sickening pops. He began to slowly choke Achilles, till his world narrowed to nothing more than the will to endure. His fingers scrambled through the puddles of blood for anything that could let him endure for even a second longer.
He found it, and then as if by some miracle, Hector’s grip loosened for a second, letting Achilles take in a desperate gasp of air, feeling strength fill his limbs.
Then in a single smooth motion, he plunged the dagger he had found deep into Hector’s neck. He stiffened, the light leaving his eyes. Achilles wasn't stupid enough to leave an enemy alive to gloat. As Hector’s body slowly slid off of him, he idly noted the dagger was the one Helana’s sister had thrown at him.
As he lay there, hovering on the brink of death he heard soldiers yelling and the sound of weapons clashing. He smiled as he heard Helena calling his name. Her sisters were safe.
All went black.
—-----------------------------------
He woke up to tears. The world was foggy around him, but he could make out Helena’s form kneeling over him, weeping. He tried to reach out, to caress her cheek, to comfort her, but his arm wouldn’t move.
He was dying, he realized, even as his last moment brought unprecedented clarity. The blurry shapes hovering over Helena resolved to Gaius and another of his captains, faces filled with grim acceptance. So they had succeeded in taking the city after all. He felt his men behind them, felt their awe at the hundreds of corpses he had left in his wake, felt their despair at his inevitable passing. He tried to say something, but his mouth wouldn't move.
He struggled for a moment longer, feeling himself become strangely light. He knew it was a sign of his impending demise, but all the same, in that loosening for mortal bounds, he found his voice.
Everyone, he said in the voice of his soul, projecting outward for all to hear, Do not despair.
She jumped, as did all of his men in the vicinity. “Achilles?” she whispered.
Yes, my love.
Her tears fell faster. “I…I…I don't kno…I just…I’m s-”
Hush, my love. Do not mourn me, for I die as myself. He tried to smile, but once more his body failed him. He was dead, he realized with a start, his heart gone still. Only, his will kept his soul anchored, and even that was quickly slipping, his mortal sensibilities peeling away, leaving only the seed of divinity at his core.
A golden sea loomed above.
And my men, do not forget this. How love toppled the mightiest city in the world. How even now, I resist the call of the beyond with will alone. We are dreamers, and we are invincible.
He felt more than heard their thunderous call of “General!”, his ears too far gone to process such an immense sound.
He felt Helena’s sisters approach their sister, tears pouring down their faces. He reached out with a hand of essence, and brushed away the source of their tears, revealing the power hidden within them. He did the same to his men, and the same to Helena.
We are dreamers, and we are invincible. He said once more.
“Achilles, please don't leave me. I just… I ju-”
He stroked her soul with gentle hands. Do not despair, dreamer. So long as you and your ilk walk this wretched world, so do I.
The last of mortal thought left his soul, leaving only his deepest truth enshrined in pure will. It reached out tendrils of power, touching everyone within its reach, marking them with its truth.
We are dreamers, and we are invincible. Achilles the Invulnerable said for the last time.
And then he was no more.
—-----------------------------------------------------
I still think of Achilles sometimes, of what he represented. He dared to dream in a time that slew all who dared do so, and he lived those dreams well.
But it was his end that caught my attention the most.
For he was one that burned brightly with the embers of divinity.
And he fell to mortal blades all the same.