I look up at her,
my last moments, I her arms.
My closest friend, a sister to me
I shut out the feeling of horror and pain.
Instead I embrace her gift to me.
It's ironic that I'm dying through war
with a true sense of knowledge.
Both of these, her gifts.
She will make a wise ruler one day
and many would be honoured to have known her.
Yet as I look up into her eyes
I struggle to fight the feelings of jealous
'Equal, that is us'
If only Zeus' daughter knew my bitter truth
from now forth.