After the Trojan War.

Achilles was promised to get marry to one of the most beautiful women in Greece in honor of his victory at Troy.

Several hours had passed since the victory and Achilles' request. The camp was quiet; the men were mostly resting and recovering from the battle. It was still night, but the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden hue over the camp.

Achilles was in his personal tent, his body still aching and covered in the aftermath of the battle. He sat in a chair, a basin of water in front of him, washing the blood and dirt from his arms and face.

He was finishing when he heard a noise outside. He stopped, straining his ears to hear whispers and muffled voices. It seemed someone was approaching his tent.

Achilles put down the basin and gripped his sword, automatically assuming a defensive stance. He didn't know who was approaching, and he wasn't going to take any chances. He slowly approached the entrance to his tent, straining his ears to catch any other sounds.

A voice came from outside. It was a soft, feminine voice calling to him.

"Achilles?" Achilles stopped for a moment, tensing at the sound of the soft, feminine voice. He quickly recognized who it was and slowly lowered his sword.

"Come in!" he shouted in a deep, raspy voice, quickly wiping himself clean; he had to look presentable, at least.