Finding Achilles

iv. alexander

"Please do not stand outside. Come in."

I walked into his house and he stood aside with a smile, pushing a chair towards me. I took my seat.

His flaxen curls had grown longer and he kept some stubble on his chin now. I could not understand how he forgot me and his existence, what storm caused his life to have turned this cruel and mundane. It all felt like a mess of fate, a tangled yarn of destinies.

Maybe while getting carried away by his heroic deeds, Achilles had committed some heinous crime and thus he suffered now in the heat of cursed fate.

I took a vow. This would be my very last visit to him if I couldn't convince him to come with me, if I couldn't make him recall his past.

"I have come here for a special purpose. I need some strong armour, as great and durable as possible."

He nodded his head. "It sure would be possible. With my expertise in this field I promise to make it capable of withstanding any amount of attack."

I was unable to listen to his words. Instead, my eyes were stuck on his divine form. The same warrior was even more complete, for now he could make his own weapons. He was truly independent.

"But this will require you to pay a high price."

I smirked.

"I am ready to pay with my life."

Achilles, now Alexander, stared at me for a while. He was probably pondering about the depth and intensity of my words. He too took a chair and sat across me, leaning forward and whispering in a hushed tone.

"Pray tell me, is this for war?"

"Yes."

He tilted his head to the side, scrutinising me from head to toe. Something in his gaze told me that he needed a moment to think, to wonder, to be still. He was searching for something in me as his eyes roved over my form. I gave him the freedom.

He could always watch me.

"It is for the war between the Greeks and-"

"-the Trojans?"

It was working. He was remembering.

I raised a brow. "This news reached your ears? No one else seems to know about this in Mysia."

He raked his finger through his tousled golden locks, brows furrowed in doubt. He gulped and looked at me.

"I don't know, maybe I heard somewhere."

There was silence between us. I looked around his room. It was humble, with a mattress, two tables and a vase kept on one. A jug and chalice remained on top of the other table. Adjacent to this room was probably the kitchen. There were some trunks kept in one corner of the room.

"Are you Greek?"

Coming back to the moment, I answered, "Yes, I am."

He offered me some wine. "Please refresh yourself."

"No, it's not required. I rarely drink."

He gaped at. "Oh, then, I do not have anything much to give you. Would you like to have some bread and figs?"

"No, thank you."

The conversation was becoming extremely mechanical.

Achilles wasn't supposed to offer me food. He was the completeness I craved!

"For how many years have you been in Mysia?"

I knew I was puzzling him with all my questions- questions to which he probably didn't have an answer.