A/N: So, uh, all the writing truncated. Don't shoot me if the paragraphing is sloppy. I did my best to space them out the way they were.

C A S S A N D R A

She teetered between sanity and insanity like two faces of the same moon. One moment she could be laughing with you; the next, weeping for a tragedy yet to come. Her fingers would trace the stars to make new meanings, to promise new prophecies, to stylise new songs, and then they would trace the curve of her twin brother's spine in hope of keeping their two halves intact for as long as the walls of Troy could stand.

In Cassandra's lifetime, a war raged on beyond the castle walls. Blood hung in the air, a sharp tang of metal. Her people lived alongside the clash of steel on steel. Battle cries rang more frequently than the temple's bells, tolling the number of deaths rather than the hour of the day. She lived in constant fear, for there was talk of a prophecy that could steal her twin from her bed, a hushed whisper that rang back and forth amongst the serving maids like birds calling to each other from treetops. The maids whispered about the prince who would come to slay Prince Achilles of Phthia. Only a prince of Troy could slay the Achaeans' greatest warrior.

But Cassandra was going to change that.

* * *

She should have never bartered her virginity for the power to see beyond the stars. Apollo had returned to claim his prize but Cassandra was no fool to let an Olympian defile her in the eyes of the other gods. She was a pious girl, purer than a red rose plucked from a garden of whites, blood stained where her thighs should have stayed sealed.

"Cassie, Cassie, won't you let me in?" Apollo cried in an elongated moan, a cat longing for the embrace of its owner. He knocked on her balcony window like a ghost.

Tap, tap, tap.

"Cassie, Cassie, won't you let me in?"

Lips pressed thinly together, Cassandra sat at the foot of her bed, rocking back and forth to drown out the sound of the god's cracked voice. Beautifully as he warbled her name, she blocked out his heartbreaking cries by clamping her hands over her ears. Apollo didn't have to speak out loud. He didn't have to speak at all. He was in her head, always.

Her twin brother, Helenus, was curled up on their bed with his limbs stretched out like a starfish. Cassandra focused on her brother's soft snores and honed their gentle rumble, concentrating, amplifying, echoing, blocking—

"Cassie, Cassie, won't you let me in?" Apollo cried, tapping the glass again.

Her voice shook. "Leave me alone!" Helenus stirred in his sleep.

"Cassie, Cassie, won't you let me in?"

"I said," her voice trembled, "leave me alone!"

"But Cassie, I only wish to talk to you. You know," he added, hesitating, "like we used to."

Apollo paused; his eyes were a disc of green glowing and growing, luminous like two swollen moons. He hung his head, dark curls kissing his lashes when he glanced back up. The dangerous sheen in his eyes didn't go amiss. Ever since Cassandra had deceived Apollo two years ago, the Trojans had come to call her insane. They were wrong. They had never witnessed the manic switch Apollo held within his flashing eyes. Happy, sad. He flicked between them. Friend, foe. He flicked the switch again. Murder, murder.

"Leave me alone!" Cassandra screamed, hurling a hairbrush at the window. It shattered. Glass rained down like a waterfall of winking diamonds. Cassandra blinked through her tears, frantically searching the room for the god but he was gone. As expected, he had only been a reflection.

"Leave me alone. Leave me alone." She rocked back and forth, curling into a ball. "Please, no more visions. No more. Please, leave me alone. I can't do this anymore."

Maybe he was never there to begin with. Maybe the other princesses were right. Maybe it was all in her head.

It was all in her head.

"Cassie?" Helenus murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

He felt around the bed for his sister but came up with a fistful of sheets that had been cool for hours. Only six-and-ten, Helenus was already taller than her, beautiful like their famous brother Paris and robust like the oldest prince of Troy, Hector. There were always murmurs in the castle walls that Helenus was the forgotten love child of Aphrodite, but the twins were mortals; so why was Apollo so transfixed by her wide mouth and sleepy lashes? He could've have Paris, if he wished. Or he could have sought out the fairest in the kingdoms, famed for his mighty speed and haunting eyes: Achilles of Phthia.

When Cassandra replied with a defeated whimper, Helenus bolted upright, knife already gripped in his hand. He bolted out of their bed with Cassandra pressed protectively against the wall. He stood between her and the window, eyes narrowed as he stilled and listened for sounds. Cassandra wept into her palms.

"Was it him again?" Helenus demanded, spinning around to regard his sister.

She sniffed, wiping her tears using the back of her hand. "It was nothing, brother. Just go back to sleep."

"Cass?" Helenus held her gaze, frowning. "What happened?"

She looked away. "I had a bad vision."

"Another one?" he asked. She nodded. "But that's two in a night."

She always had visions but Apollo tended to pay her a visit when they crippled her most. He only wanted to talk like they used to—she knew that—but since he had returned Cassandra couldn't bear to face him. She couldn't be sure if he'd try to force himself on her again, or if he'd try to enchant her with sleepy kisses and lullabies. Even if he claimed that he was no longer interested, something had changed since he'd returned.

He reeked of hyacinths.

Helenus, unimpressed, raised an eyebrow. "It was him again, wasn't it?"

Cassandra didn't deny the obvious. Apollo's odour still lingered behind, a bed of hyacinths that filled the castle of Troy with spring and colour. Maidens were going to wake up at sunrise and draw deep sighs, stretching their arms over their heads, warmed by his fragrance, by his musk, by death—a scent to chase away the metallic stench of blood that was seeping through the city walls. His fresh fragrance would be enough to restore the morale of the falling city.

But Cassandra knew what the hyacinths truly meant. She'd seen Apollo and his lover in a vision two years ago just after they made their deal. She knew that hyacinths only marked death. Thousands were blooming on the battlefield, drenched in blood, like poppies. Most of the stems were crushed by the fallen soldiers, but the midnight blues and singing violets that were left untouched stood proud and tall. Hyacinths were growing everywhere. Death was growing everywhere. She knew that death had no place amongst the living, yet Apollo had defied mortality with the smell of spring and sunshine.

When Cassandra didn't answer, Helenus tried again. "Was he in your vision?"

"No. But you were," she cried, throwing herself into Helenus' arms. "Father is going to take you away from me."

His face, hard as steel, softened like metal beaten to bear another shape. "You don't know that," he said quietly, holding Cassandra at arm's length.

"I saw what I saw, Helenus. I saw you lying in a battlefield with hyacinths growing all around you. One arrow had pierced your shoulder and another one was wedged between your ribs. You were calling for me, lips chapped and bloodied. Achilles stood over you, longsword raised. You called for me, Helenus." Cassandra's throat squeezed tight. She choked, "You called for me, and I couldn't hear you." She bowed her head, curls that were white as snow spilled over her bare shoulders. "Achilles will not survive this war. Hector will perish. So will you." She looked away, whispering, "Only Paris will live to see the end."

"Hector is going to die?" Helenus asked, worrying a thumb over his lower lip. Cassandra nodded. Their older brother was going perish first. Patroclus—Achilles' sworn brother—had tasted Hector's steel kiss. Tomorrow, Achilles would make Hector taste his own blade. Then the rest would follow. Trojans would fall like horses. Face pale in the streaming moonlight, Helenus finally swallowed. "Don't worry about Achilles, Cassie. Don't worry about my well being. Worry about yours. Worrying about taking Mother and the rest of the girls to someplace safe like Athens. You need to leave."

"No. Don't talk like that, Helenus."

"Why haven't you been taking the potions we made together this morning? They're strong enough to stop Apollo from getting inside your head." Helenus pressed his lips together to form a thin, white fold. "He's manipulating you again."

"He showed me this one by accident."

"He's hurting you," her brother bit back.

"He didn't mean to."

"Stop defending him. He has robbed you of your maidenhood." He shook his head sharply, a mane of curls fanning out before them like the first feathers in a heavy snowfall. "Really, Cass. What prince of Greece would want to wed a soiled princess? Defend your honour, not his pride."

A spike of anger seared her chest. "I am not defending him!"

Helenus' soft eyes grew tighter around the corners. "You are. You always jump to his defence when he's the reason why you can't sleep at night anymore."

"Don't be so harsh on him. He's just like us."

Her brother did a double take. "He's a god."

"At heart, he's still a boy."

He squinted at her. "What is wrong with you lately? Can't you smell the hyacinths everywhere? He stinks."

Cassandra held his gaze, steeling herself up for another altercation over Apollo. It was true; Helenus was right that the Apollo reeked like raw onions of the flower kingdom. And he was right that Apollo was unstable, manic and unpredictable. He was driven by his emotions, weighted with horrors and loneliness. So alone, she thought sadly. 

"I thought you hated him, too," Helenus said quietly, the fight diffusing from him like a dying flame.

Cassandra lowered her gaze. "Of course, I do."

Helenus picked her gaze off the floor by clipping her chin gently. "But you love him, too." She did not answer. "What does he have that I can't give you?"

She dragged her toe across the tiled floor, studying the reflective moonlight spilling into their bedroom.

"He gave me the stars."

"And tortured you with nightmares."

"Visions," she corrected him, shuddering as she recalled the most recent of them. "Bad things are to come."

Helenus dropped his hand with a defeated sigh, his brows hanging low. "What bad things?"

"Achilles will fight tomorrow."

Helenus laughed drily. "No he won't. Haven't you heard the great news? He's protesting against his own army because they wounded his pride." He chuckled triumphantly, smiling as his eyes danced over her shoulders. "Don't concern yourself with Achilles anymore, sister. He's still a mortal. Someone will kill that fool eventually."

Cassandra shook her head. "No, you don't understand. Hector. . . He. . . He—"

"He what?"

Her gaze failed her, but her lips moved to whisper, "He killed Patroclus. Today."

Her brother's eyes blew out, rolling out in disbelief. "What?"

"Patroclus has been slain," she announced solemnly.

"No," Helenus sputtered. "No, no, no, no, no. No. That cannot be right."

"I'm afraid it is, brother."

"But. . . That means that once Hector falls then I am next."

Cassandra took Helenus' face in her hands, stroking the soft planes of his cheekbones. He's still a boy, she thought sadly. Like Apollo. Like Patroclus. Boys, they were all boys dressed in their fathers' rusted armour. The rusted skeleton of the dead, the dying, and those still waiting for Hades' hand.

Her voice was strong, though her heart quivered many times, a candle victim to a wind of coming horrors. "How many times must I tell you that a prince of Troy has to be the one to kill Achilles?"

"Hector will kill Achilles. He has to. Father said so," Helenus replied, closing his eyes and leaning into his sister's cool hands. "Then this war will be at its end and we can finally travel to Athens like we always dreamed. And you can tell Artemis that her brother is targeting Trojan maidens again." He chuckled, smiling boyishly, dizzy with daydreams. "If there's any soul who can tame Apollo, it's his feisty sister."

Cassandra shook her head, flooded with the broken images of her recent vision. "Hector will not kill Achilles."

"Then who will?" Helenus asked, eyes widening. She took a deep breath. In her mind she heard a whisper, crushed with grief, a floor caving in to let Apollo slither his way in.

Cassie, he whispered. Don't. Please, not yet.

Leave me alone, she cried, concentrating hard to silence him. He faded into the darkness, for now; but he would be back soon. He always returned in her moments of solitude.

"Who will slay Achilles?" Helenus repeated.

There was a pause, smooth as ice. Unbroken. Cassandra cleared her throat and straightened her sloping shoulders.

"I will."

"You?" he echoed, stumbling backwards. He tripped and fell onto their four poster bed.

"Yes." Cassandra scooped her hair to one side, avoiding her brother's troubled gaze. Helenus' eyes darted across the floor. When the real meaning of her role in the mighty Trojan War sunk in, he raised his head and looked her dead in the eye.

"Then I will die with you, because whosoever kills Achilles will also perish. You will not survive a second out there on the field without me."

"You are not coming with me," Cassandra said, emphatic and assertive, but Helenus shook his head fiercely. "Don't even think about it, Helenus. I have always been the better sword."

Cassandra took a seat beside her brother and began to pat down the feathered curls on his head that stuck out in every direction. His shoulders couldn't help but gravitate towards hers. In his eyes, he had always been the moon and she had always been the sun. They were binary stars, orbiting one another, around and around, spinning yet always in sync. Without him, she would continue to shine. Without her, he would cease to exist.

I'm sorry, Cassie, Apollo whispered.

Her shoulders sagged like the slopes of a mountain.

I know you are.

***

She had been fourteen when he first paid her a visit in the Temple of Artemis, wearing a tunic of gold to match his brilliant stare and handsome smile. In exchange for a night of pleasure, he offered her the stars: the curse of murmured secrets, of veiled faces, of blurred lips, of a clock spun forward. Vision after vision swallowed Cassandra—in the dining hall, in the royal family's bathing house, out in the flourishing gardens. She could not escape the prison he built from bricks of kisses. The prophecies dancing on his tongue flooded her like a tidal wave, and in pleasure she would scream. Her eyes would glow white, no pupils or blue irises in sight.

Sometimes, she would see the stars when the sun was high in the sky. The younger princesses would scream and flap like frightened swans, desperately trying to swim away from Cassandra in the bathing house. She would float on her back and speak in a voice so deep that the water rose around her like fists. Apollo would often be sighted during Cassandra's prophetic declarations, leaning against a marble column like a handsome suitor, arms folded across his broad chest as his skin shone like olives. He was always smiling.

The princesses of Troy would shout for Helenus. It always fell upon him to dive into the treacherous water to rescue his twin before she drowned at the hands of the mighty fists around her. Cassandra wondered why Apollo always stood still as statue, waiting for her to drown. He bargained wildly for her maidenhood but gave no afterthought when it came to her life.

Do you truly love me? she'd ask him in her mind.

Again, he would smile. But never—not once—would he offer her a reply.

* * *

On the eve of the new moon, Cassandra liked to swim in the royal bathing house with the stars for her only company. The water, warm and bubbling under the palms of her feet, broke over her shoulders when she hauled herself out of the pool to pat her naked body dry. 

"Cassie, Cassie—"

She held up a hand. "Stop right there, Apollo."

"But Cass—"

Sternly, she warned him, "I do not wish to talk to you. Leave."

His footfalls, soft and silent, were marked as wet footprints. He had been swimming with her and she hadn't even noticed. All she could focus on was the blanket of water beneath her back and the raining meteor showers above. The bathing house was roofless tonight. Apollo had stripped back its pyramidal peak and slanting clay tiles to grant her the night sky. And she hadn't even noticed. She never noticed the small things he did for her.

"You can't be here, Apollo."

"Why not? We used to talk all the time under the stars. Don't you remember, Cass?"

"That was before you came back reeking of death." She turned around, tightening the towel around her chest before folding her arms. "I know what you did when you left Troy. You tampered with the cycle of life and death, didn't you?"

Apollo paled a fraction, eyes wild. Then his face shadowed. "I did no such thing."

She barked a high laugh, arching a brow. "Hyacinthus, was it?"

"Who told you about Hyacinth?" Apollo echoed. She smiled allusively and reached up to rap his temple. He caught her wrist in a vicious yank, pressing her to his marble chest. "Who told you? Tell me!" he boomed. His stone composure had shattered. Veins corded his neck, thick as ropes.

Cassandra cocked her head to the side. "I saw him last night. He came to me in a vision. You showed me his face and I spoke to his spirit." She blinked. "Wait, wasn't I supposed to see that?"

"I didn't show you Hyacinthus. That's impossible. How. . . How did you talk to him with me present as a mediator? You. . . Why would you. . . How dare you!" His body trembled, quaking with anger. "You've been stealing my memories," he exclaimed. She responded with a careless grin, his parting signature on their nights under the stars. "I showed you Patroclus. I showed you Hector's spearing that young boy and avenging your people. I showed you triumph. And in return you betray me by tampering with the veil of the spirit world?"

Cassandra shook herself free, smug as a cat. "You didn't have to show me a thing. I could see it all for myself. You're not exactly a private person, are you?"

Enraged, Apollo gripped Cassandra's forearms. "What did he say to you?" Startled by the earthquake that shook the bathing house, she fought to free herself but it was no use. Apollo was a god, and she was a mortal.

"Let go of me!"

"What did he say to you?"

"He was angry," Cassandra screamed back, a red steam trickling down her forearms as his fingernails dug deeper. "You betrayed him like you betrayed me! You promised me the world and instead you gave me hell! You promised him a life and instead you condemned him to an early grave!"

"I didn't mean to hurt him. It was an accident!"

"You don't do accidents, Apollo. Only malice and intent." Her eyes welled up, stinging like sharp knives. "It was your fault, Apollo. It always is, because that's what you do! You destroy and then you worsen everything when you try to make amendments. You promised me the stars and gave me insanity. You promised me your love, but I knew—I knew that you didn't love me. You never loved me. You only loved my virtue."

Cassandra wrenched herself free to wave a hand at the roofless bathing house and the stars above them, raining light, weeping souls, bright fires of white that shot across the sky at his will. He was tampering with Zeus' constellations, yet another thing that he was ruining. The constellations were stories of heroes, mortal beings who were risen to dine with the gods forever. Apollo's grip loosened. He stepped back, eyes hooded and brimming with tears.

"You're pathetic," she tried to spit, but it came out as a hoarse whisper.

"I loved him."

"Just as I loved you," she whispered, fiercely drying her eyes with the back of her hand. "Please—for the sake of my family—just rewrite the prophecy and leave this city. Leave us. Leave!"

His voice cracked. "I can't, Cassie."

"Leave!" she sobbed. "Just go. Please."

"I can't. I need you."

"You need him more."

"I love you."

"You loved him more."

"I still love you."

"Then save me, Apollo. Save Troy from Achilles." Her voice broke. "Save my brother."

"I can't. Once a prophecy is revealed it is set in stone forever. You know how it works, Cass." Apollo was silent for a long time, but when he spoke again, he lifted his torn gaze from the tiled floor and said, "But the prophecy does not specifically state that a prince of Troy must kill Achilles."

Cassandra tightened her towel around her chest, staining the sides with her bloodied arms. Continents of red took shape among a sea of feathered white. A silence fell between the two. She watched Apollo's chest rise and fall, half hoping he would kill her in his common attacks of vengeance; but he could never hurt her. He had already killed Hyacinthus as a result of his poor temper and, as much as he hated to admit it to himself, Cassandra was the greatest storyteller he had ever come across. She told him the greatest tales of dragons, witches and wolves on the nights they spent together in the lavish gardens, stargazing in a bed of sunflowers and lilies.

"So I was right," she said finally.

"Right about what?" Apollo wiped his eyes and grew taller and wider. Cassandra held back the urge to roll her eyes.

"That I can rightfully slay Achilles to free my brothers."

Apollo raised his brows, surprised. "You are no prince, Cassandra."

"But I am the eldest daughter of King Priam. My blood is pure and I have appeased the gods with plenty of sacrifices. The Olympians will side with me."

He arched an eyebrow, reminding her of the temple where he had laid blankets and kissed her soundly. "Artemis will not," Apollo reminded her with a pointed look. It was, after all, the Temple of Artemis where he had parted her silken legs for the first time.

Cassandra's ears turned red. "Artemis does not know of love and pain. She only meddles in mortal affairs which she has no business in."

Apollo's eyebrows rose a fraction and his lips twitched. "You say you are a woman of the gods yet you are quick to criticise Artemis for driving you mad for baring yourself in a place of worship."

"You drove me insane," Cassandra hissed. He smiled and shrugged. The switch in his eyes had flipped without her noticing. "My duty is to my family—first and foremost. Love holds more weight above all things, wouldn't you agree, Apollo?" She paused, arching a thin brow. "Weren't you willing to become a mortal for the sake of love?"

The light in his eyes was quickly dimmed. "You may have been a home to me before Hyacinthus made his stay in my heart but do not think that I won't hesitate to—"

"Kill me?" She laughed then, a haughty echo that pinpricked Apollo's back with coldness. "I saw many visions while you were prancing around on a farmer's field with a boy no older than me. With my replacement." Cassandra chewed the inside of her cheek. "I saw Troy. Burning."

Apollo's breath caught in his throat. Nobody—not even the gods—knew what the final outcome of the war would be. "What?" he echoed, falling back a few feet. He shrunk in size, reduced to his mortal form again. Back he was, honing the face of the boy she fell in love with—merely a tall, gangly boy, tanned and toned, green eyed and solemn. "How did you. . . What do you mean you. . ." He swallowed. "Troy will fall?"

"Troy will fall."

Apollo gulped. "You are lying."

"I am not."

"Troy's gates are impenetrable."

"Troy will fall."

"And Achilles?" Apollo asked, his voice edged with steel. "What will become of him?"

"As you have always wished," Cassandra replied. "He, too, will fall."

Apollo shook his head. "I don't believe you. You are a liar. You've been dabbling with black magic again, haven't you? I can smell acacia on your breath." He lowered his lusty gaze to her body, and then flicked his eyes back up. "You deceived me once before with your games when you tipped your brother off to come and save you from losing your honour to me."

She scoffed. "What honour? You took that, too."

He smiled. "I did, didn't I?"

Cassandra held his gaze, spitting fire. "And you cursed me with nightmarish visions for trying to fool you."

"With a gift that most would kill for."

"I can't tell what's real and what's not real anymore."

"I'm real."

She snorted a light laugh, mirroring his dancing eyes with a flame of her own.

"Are you?" she asked.

The corner of his mouth ticked upwards. "Maybe."

"You are despicable."

"Serves you right for not holding up your end of our bargain." He flicked the switch again. She saw murder, but was unafraid. "You promised me forever, and I promised you stars."

The fire in her eyes was snuffed out. In a small voice, she said, "I loved you. Was that not enough?" Apollo kept silent. She felt the sudden urge to shove him into the pool but swallowed the acid in her throat long enough to ask, "Will you help me now that you know what lies in store for my people?"

"Only if you let me speak to Hyacinthus."

"No."

"Then you can watch your people burn."

Cassandra thought about it for a while. She thought about the acid that continued to crawl up and down her throat, burning her chest, searing her tongue, stinging her eyes. She wondered how she would manage to amplify the whispers of a thousand stems to form the words of a boy long gone. The only whispers she had heard lately were of men who lay dying in the battlefields, moaning for their mothers, and the spirits that Hades had yet to collect, begging to be set free.

She heard Patroclus whispering to her right now, tormenting her with broken pleas. His heart had stopped, but the beat was strong.

Ach-ill-es.

Ach-ill-es.

Ach-ill-es. 

"Will you let me speak to Hyacinthus one last time?" Apollo interrupted quietly, gently raising her chin with his thumb. Surprised, she wondered why he could not hear the faint beat too.

She thought about it for a long time. Counting the beats in her chest, the rhythm of Patroclus' murmurs, the faint whispers of the boy who stole her place in Apollo's heart. She always knew that they would never be good together. Apollo was fire, and she was the sun. He couldn't make her shine, and she couldn't make him brighter. Together, they had only been destructive and careless. They had been a ribbon caught in a tree, a servant sneaking off after sundown, a child's cheeky giggle.

He knew their fate; and she was only just beginning to understand that maybe he never meant to take her heart without intending to put it next to his. Maybe he only wanted to protect it in the warmth of his ribcage until she found someone else worthy of her hand. Apollo may have been full of darkness but Cassandra never would've chosen to wish him away. She knew that he'd snuffed out her light many times with the smouldering burn under his tongue, but she would have never been able to see the stars if it hadn't been for the sweet warmth of his kisses and the pressure of his arm pillowing her neck as they lay sprawled on a bed of grass. Helenus despised Apollo, but she could never hate him.

He gave her power, and with it she chose to learn the world's secrets.

"Please," he begged. "I know how hard this must be for you but I have to tell him that I'm sorry. I. . . I-I need to be forgiven." His voice, gravelled and scratched, broke with each word. "Cassandra, please. For me. Do it for me."

She raised her head, meeting his gaze with sadness.

"As you wish, my lord."

* * *

A new bargain was formed. A new sword was forged. Apollo received forgiveness, and now he had to wield victory from Troy's losses.

Mortal and god plotted together, Apollo's grief hardening Cassandra's armour to form iron that could withstand the mightiest of blows. His fingers worked fast to nip and tuck her fleshy stomach and breasts until she became a spitting image of Helenus. Tall and built, he graced her with all the arts of battle, teaching her how to block and attack. Block and attack, block and attack. They practiced using wooden swords and then played with longswords. Last, lay her hair. A splendid waterfall of white-gold—the talk of Greece and envied by Aphrodite herself.

Apollo handed Cassandra his own sword, set with emeralds that shone like his eyes. "Do the honours, Cass."

"Stop calling me that." She took the sword stiffly, slowed by her chinking armour. "It makes me feel like a child."

"Then what should I call you?" he asked, chuckling when she puckered a frown. "Easy on the frown, Cass. You'll ruin your face with wrinkles."

She jerked away when he reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear. She grunted as she lifted the longsword and began to saw off locks of sunlight. He watched her, strangely transfixed by the woman he had raised in one moon cycle from the girl who had asked him for his help. He laughed when she replied, "You have never—not once, called me Cassandra."

"Cassie suits you."

"I hate that name."

"All the more reason why I like it."

Cassandra rolled her eyes and set to work on the last handful of hair. Curls piled at her feet, now dull as straw. She held out the sword but Apollo shook his head.

"Keep it. You'll need it more than I ever will."

Cassandra held his gaze before lowering her arm and sheathing the sword so that it hung from her back, another weight to burden on her last sunrise within the city's sky-high walls. Helenus had already been called forward by the king to fight in the war but the switch had also already been made. In Cassandra's bedroom lay a girl of six-and-ten, hair streaming sunlight and eyes sick with madness. They would never believe the girl that Helenus had become. He would be known as the mad sister forever.

With one last practice sword fight with Apollo, Cassandra joined the ranks of men marching onto the battlefield. The sun shone on her face but no one suspected the delicate lashes and soft jaw that lay underneath a chin housed by fine, golden hairs.

"Wait!" Apollo ran after her, sandals licking the dried plains of sand. Men turned around, shrinking away from the god. Apollo rolled his eyes at their quaking fear and handed Cassandra her helmet, refusing her outstretched hands by holding it over her head. "Here, let me do it."

"I'm not a child," she grumbled as he carefully slid the modest hunk of metal onto her head.

"You are to me," he murmured, busy with the clasp under her chin. "Make sure to aim for his heels."

"I'll cut out his heart," Cassandra vowed, eyeing the dark smudge growing along the horizon. The Achaeans were already lining up on the field.

"And his heels," Apollo added, patting the helmet in place before stepping back to admire his handiwork. A moment passed between the two, heavy and filled with blurred memories of their brief and catastrophic affair..

All Apollo had ever wanted was a friend, and she was glad she'd given him that at the very least.

"Apollo?" she called out. He turned around, eyes turning like leaves in the summer, deep green and fringed with gold. "Hyacinthus truly loved you. You know that, right?"

He nodded once, lips crooked and tight with pain. "I know. And that you're pleased I ruffled your feathers, too."

"Be quiet."

He threw his head back to laugh before sobering himself, eyes dead serious. "Take care of yourself. And don't let fear rule your strikes. Jab him clean with your sword and then slit his heels." With a helpless smile, he added, "I'll be waiting for you on the otherside."

She swallowed the stone of fear lodged in her throat and nodded curtly before spinning around on her heels to merge into the ranks of men marching past the city walls onto the parched plains of death. Soon the soil would quench its thirst with her blood, but Achilles' blood would satisfy its hunger and appease the thousands of Trojans who had already died at his hands.

She was ready to meet her end.

* * *

Cloaked in red, Cassandra floated on her back in her own blood, a shallow puddle she shared with the world's greatest warrior. He smiled at the cloudless sky, lips frozen in relief where her sword had sliced through his heels.

"Patroclus," Achilles whispered hoarsely, turning his head to the side. They stared at one another. His eyes, dimmed by the shade brought on by his curls, were coloured with the same grief that once tore Apollo apart.

Cassandra's breath caught in her throat, a ragged whisper of her own surfacing, "Helenus."