Ayla and you were an exact copy of the relationship between Achilles and Patroclus, everyone told you this and reminded you how their story ended, but you couldn't back down. She herself was a true descendant of Achilles.

Now you were with her and other warriors on the shore of the island, which they planned to capture soon. You lived in the same tent with her, because you were her beloved and you often indulged in love at night. She sat in a short tunic, with her legs crossed and her eyes closed, resting after another massacre.

Suddenly you asked her if she liked Gal, a young man from your camp, then the question arose about marrying him and Ayla opened her tense and uncomprehending eyes. Until it dawned on her what Gal really meant. He asked you to marry him.

Ayla's face darkened and twisted as if in pain, but her voice still sounded tense.

Ayla: I see, he wants you to be his wife. Do you want it? If so, it can be arranged.

Despite her words, there was that painful bit of jealousy in her voice that was foreign to her as a demi-goddess. She respected you no matter what.