[It is hardly fair, but it was inevitable. To have defied the weave of Fate for as long as they had, two men marked for death, each one's lot sinking low in the great bronze scales wielded by Zeus almighty, was rare. Only a fool could think that he might continue in so grand a fashion interminably, and Achilles is no fool. Yet he cannot help but wish for one day more, one night more, each hour passed leaving him aching for more.]

You speak well and true, dear Sieglinde. Patroclus was denied children of his own, having no wife to bear for him strong sons and beautiful daughters, but he counted himself blessed indeed to welcome you as his kin. Such is the life neither of us were meant to keep, quiet and common while we ebb into an old age we never shall reach. Although it may have been a story spun for the sake of this mission, it was not wholly false. And fleeting though it was, for this time he was undoubtedly grateful, as am I.