Mingle Our Ashes

Achilles was dead.

He knew this. The moment he touched the boat, he knew he'd finally been buried.

But somehow, he did not feel lost. As Charon's boat crossed the Styx, and Achilles marched through the dark Underworld, he only came closer to the one thing he needed. The only victory he would ever want.

His sandalled feet stopped walking the brown dirt path as he hit a crossroads that looked like a three-pronged fork, but after two parallel meters they all curved in different directions.

To his left, mangled tree branches and overgrown roots that sprouted bloody red leaves curled and twisted into each other over a packed, red dirt road as if blocking his path. Ahead of him, a grey-stoned walkway trickled into a dull, grey forest, and Achilles wondered if it had ever received any sunlight.

But to his right…

A marble street embedded with diamonds and gold led the way to a bright green field with trees and animals and other happy people, surrounded by a glorious bronze fence that went on for miles. The place was joyous, energetic.

That is the way of heroes, Achilles thought to himself. That was the path he was destined to follow, to spend eternity in.

He paused for a moment. Was he a hero? If so, he wasn't a very good one for letting the man he so dearly loved charge into battle dressed as his own self and then die. What kind of hero would ever let their beloved one be killed?

Achilles looked back to the middle path, only to find a man who had not stood there before. He wore billowing black robes that matched his raven-black hair and obsidian crown. Diamonds and silver decorated the black crown, and they matched the silver decor over his robes. His pale face was sunken like a corpse, but he was otherwise handsome.

Achilles almost forgot to kneel. "Lord Hades."

Lord Hades nodded. "Hero."

Achilles sighed. "I am no hero."

"You may not think so," Hades objected. "But I do." He held his hand out and directed Achilles down the path to Elysium.

Achilles could not see who he wished to find. Days passed as he lived alone on Elysium's mountain. He did not leave the cave at all until he heard a voice.

Achilles turned. He saw something in the field he hadn't seen before; the shape of a man. The shape of the man he knew so well, that he'd touched so many times, that he'd fallen in love with so easily.

He ran down the mountain's dirt path, feet barely making a sound, and crashed into me with so much force we tumbled to the ground.

It did not stop Achilles from kissing me as hard as he could, from pulling his body to mine so tightly I was glad I no longer had to breathe to live. He smelled of his smell, and of that only. I could not know what it smelled like, only that it was him. His breaths were hot, and his hands clutched my back so tightly I thought he would pull off my tunic.

He focused so intently on me that he did not notice the tears falling down his face and between our lips. His body shook with sobs as I clutched his waist, but he did not let go.

Maybe I cried, too. I may have. I probably did.

But whether or not I shed my own tears seemed irrelevant with Achilles above me, our bodies so close we were almost one.

He pulled away to look at me. "Patroclus," he breathed. "Patroclus."

I nodded and pulled us to our feet. "Achilles." My smile hurt my cheeks.