Summary: No one wants to be orphaned twice in the same lifetime. A new look at why Patroclus might have taken Achilles' armor that fateful night. Oneshot, no slash intended.
Disclaimer: They never have been mine, and I don't pretend they ever will be. Also, in keeping with the Christmas season, I freely confess that I have borrowed a line and theme from that classic carol "Oh Little Town of Bethlehem."
Author's Note: A thousand thanks to my good friend Krahl for all her ideas and support with what will officially become my 50th story on this site. You are wonderful, my dear!
Of Hopes and Fears
"Your cousin Achilles is the finest warrior in all of Greece – probably in all the world. With a little good fortune, I'm sure you could meet him someday."
Those words spoken so long ago had been filled with love and were now come to their full fruition…but still it is often difficult to think back on them without an aching, bitter resentment rising up within my chest. It had all seemed so unfair back then. And if I could change things now, would I bring my parents back from the Underworld? Of course I would. But I would not want to give up my relationship with Achilles. He has been everything to me since he first took me into his home seven years ago, and I cannot imagine what it would have been like growing up apart from him. Nor can I imagine my life moving forward without him. I would miss him more than I can even begin to comprehend; and I don't want to even try.
"Who will you fight for when I'm gone?"
Why would he even ask me that? And dear gods, why would he make it sound as though I need to know my answer soon? I do not understand his urgency of late, as though he thinks these days spent here at Troy will be our last together. But surely that cannot be. After all, he is Achilles – the most feared, the most lethal warrior in all the world! I can understand his desire to protect me, even if I do resent it at times; but it is not like him to refrain from a fight himself – especially from one so great as this.
Lost in such thoughts yesterday afternoon, I let my feet wander where they would, until they eventually lead me to the one person who might have actually been able to help me in my growing confusion. I'm sure Eudorus felt nothing but annoyance when he heard me call, coming over to bother him once again; yet as he beheld my troubled face, his expression softened considerably. He nodded at the empty space beside him, and I sat.
A few heartbeats of silence passed before I finally found the courage to verbalize my apprehensions. "Is Achilles afraid of Hector? Or is it something else that haunts him here?"
I don't know what had possessed me to be so blunt, but Eudorus blinked back at me, genuinely surprised. "Patroclus, your cousin does not fear even the Royals of Olympus, whom he should fear. Why ever would you ask that?"
I fidgeted, tugging determinedly on a frayed strand of cloth at the edge of my tunic. "I don't know. He's just been acting so…strangely ever since he decided to come fight here."
My companion shrugged noncommittally. "You know better than most of us how he can be – how his temperaments are often so very volatile."
It was the closest thing to a critique of my cousin that I had ever heard, or would ever hear, from Eudorus – from the man who has served his lord for nearly two decades and whose unfaltering loyalty to Achilles is one thing never questioned by a single soul.
"And you're not afraid for him, are you, Eudorus?"
"Afraid of what, child? Why should I fear for the man I've never seen defeated?"
I could feel the intensity of his sharp blue eyes as he studied me closely. He sounded so certain, so confident, of his commander! Does Eudorus really trust Achilles more than I do, or is he simply better schooled in the art of obedience than an inherently rebellious teenager like myself? I suddenly felt ashamed, despite my stronger need to continue the conversation.
"He may not have ever lost a battle, but I've still seen with my own eyes that there is red human blood beneath his skin. Isn't it just possible that something could happen to him, if the gods willed it?"
Eudorus sighed. "If you put it that way, Patroclus, I suppose anything is 'possible,' even if that same thing is impossible to imagine. And in mentioning the gods, who of us can know what your aunt, his divine mother, has revealed to him about this war – if anything at all?"
That last comment set my mind to racing again. "Do you think she has? Maybe he has doubts about being here because of something she told him before we left?"
"Didn't I just say it was impossible to know? I agree, Achilles does seem distracted lately, but who are we to guess the cause? Most likely, the stress of his feud with Agamemnon is all that you've been noticing. If I were you, I would let him be, and not worry myself about it any longer."
Eudorus let the conversation drop at that, and I would not force him to take it up again. I suspect his patience with me, which is normally quite generous, was finally wearing thin; and so I left him.
Later that same night found me seated beside the dying embers of a small cooking fire in the midst of the Myrmidon encampment. It was late, and scarcely anyone was stirring; but I could not sleep. I was admittedly surprised, however, when Achilles himself emerged from his tent behind me, appearing to be deep in thought. I would not have expected to see him, considering that Agamemnon had returned the pretty priestess to him only a few hours previously. Achilles looked up to meet my gaze when he felt my eyes upon him.
Without needing or even awaiting an invitation, he came over beside me, his familiar hand warm and strong against my shoulder as he sat. I couldn't look him in the face at first, for fear that my eyes would betray the anxious turmoil in my heart. He must have misinterpreted my silence.
"Are you still mad at me?"
He was referring to our brief argument earlier that morning, of course. I hadn't talked to him since then. He was not apologizing, though, for his voice carried not even the slightest hint of remorse. It rarely ever did, at least in my memory.
"Not really," I replied neutrally.
"Then what's kept you up so late?" he pressed me.
I couldn't resist another little jab. "Well, since now you won't let any of us fight, I was just thinking about what we might do when this is all over – once we get back home."
Only silence answered me at first, and I held my breath, waiting for a response. My cousin had not been present quite long enough for me to guess his mood, and I did not know yet if my remark would be met by the patient, gentle Achilles who could ignore my own hot-headedness, or by the violent, dangerous Achilles whose temper even I am loath to rouse. Quite to my surprise, I received the former – the Achilles who actually chose to answer me rather than to argue with me.
"Before we left, my mother revealed that one possible path ahead of me was to find peace and long life with a wonderful woman." No doubt he was thinking of the priestess as he said this. "If we return home soon, I expect many happy times in store for all of us."
"And if you stay to fight?" I pushed back, forcing myself to see past his melodramatic sentiments. "Was that another 'path' she told you of?"
I know subtlety is not one of my inherent strengths, like it is for Odysseus, but I watched Achilles closely out of the corner of my eye as I finished speaking. I can read him better than almost anyone, and now I waited intently for any sign of how he felt concerning his native land. My efforts were not fruitless, for suddenly it was Achilles who would not look me in the eye.
"If we decide to stay and see this through," he began slowly, almost reluctantly, "then Destiny becomes a greater force than any mortal desire. Although, perhaps Destiny can still bring to each of us what we long for most."
"Immortality?" I guessed succinctly, and was truly surprised when he nodded mildly in assent.
His voice grew soft. "If my name can outlive my flesh by staying here at Troy, Patroclus, it might be worth any sacrifice necessary on my part to make it so."
I shivered suddenly, though not from any chill sea breeze, and stared at him in mounting apprehension. He was gazing past me into the glowing embers of the fire, as though he'd forgotten I was even there.
"But are there not other, deeper joys to be found in a long life, such as I wish for you?"
By then I was too confused to answer straight away. For who was he really trying to convince with all this talk – me or himself?
I finally found some words, though they still stuck painfully in my throat at first. "Cousin, I…I would not desire the long life you speak of unless you were there to share it with me."
His golden hair reflected the red firelight as he shook his head and turned again to face me. "No, Patrolcus, I think you would do just as well without me, if not even better. I don't know that there is much more I can teach you – at least, not much more that I would actually want you to know. Only do mind Eudorus, cousin, if the day should ever come when I am no longer with you. He is a good man, wiser than you might think; and I would not wish for there to be strife between the two of you in my absence."
Who will you fight for when I'm gone?
Panic now had a tight hold my chest, making it difficult to breathe, let alone speak. Hopefully I concealed this from him, yet by no means could I keep the dire earnestness out of my next words. "Achilles, please don't speak like this. You make it sound as though you won't be coming home with us at all."
But he only smiled, a gesture I could not possibly have mirrored at the time. "Nothing is decided yet, cousin; for now, Destiny is still at our command."
He then rose, gently taking my head in his hands for a parting kiss, as was his wont. "Now get some rest, Patroclus. There's no telling what tomorrow might bring."
I looked up rather timidly to meet his eyes, afraid of what emotions I might find there. My guardian was still smiling down at me, the expression warm, affectionate, and no doubt meant to offer comfort. But only then, meeting his gaze directly, did I see the hollowness and the longing in his blue eyes, even as his lips were parted in a smile.
Without another word, he left me and withdrew back into his tent; and that's when I finally understood.
Achilles is afraid, even as I still am. He's afraid of making the wrong choice. Why else would he speak so much of "decisions" and "Destiny"? And either way he chooses, he fears the consequences.
Is that why he's so reticent about fighting here? Does he actually believe he'll be killed in battle if he stays?
And I wonder also: does he really think me too young to fight, and yet still imagine that I'm somehow old enough to carry on without him? If Achilles dies, I truly do not know what would become of me – or of any of us, for that matter. The Trojans have proven themselves to be stout, stubborn adversaries; especially with Hector fighting at the front of their ranks, it has become clear to everyone that we cannot beat them without the participation of Achilles and his Myrmidons.
If ever the need arose, I suppose Eudorus would assume the leadership of that fearsome band of warriors so unswervingly loyal to my cousin; I can only guess what his attitude would be toward me. Achilles clearly hopes there would be cooperation and harmony between us…but I am not so certain. Though I've no doubt he would honor his lord by looking after me as best he could, I also know that I could never have the same closeness and companionship with him that I now share with Achilles.
Do I dare admit that some secret part of me deep inside actually rejoiced when he announced that we were going home this morning? But my better conscience would not long permit it, not with the death cries of a thousand Greeks ringing in my ears. I cannot stop imagining that those screams are his, while I stand back at the ships, powerless to aid him.
And so, after a day of inner agony, this late hour finds me staring down at Achilles' wondrous armor. I am a fool, perhaps, but I've no intention of turning back now. My hands still shake, though, as I pick up that famous breastplate and reverently brush away the sand that has dulled its luster.
Truly, the hopes and fears of all my years are met in this tonight. Hopes of helping my fellow Greeks and proving myself a warrior worthy of a rightful place among the Myrmidons. And fears – fears of being banished, disowned, and cast out. Of once again being alone in the world without a home or family to call my own.
At the excuse of loving a Trojan girl whom he's not known more than a full two days, my cousin is allowing an entire army to suffer. Is it really so inexcusable then that my love for him, forged over seven long years, has lead me here right now? If he can permit the loss of countless lives in the name of "love," may I not for the same reason save the only life I value even above my own? For I do love Achilles, not only as I loved my parents, but also as a brother and a dearest friend. I cannot lose him, too.
Perhaps this way I can assist the Greeks in their most desperate hour; but in the ideal end, Achilles will still want to return home and live the life he fears to lose in staying. I can only pray that he will take me with him when he goes, and not disown me. For that alone, of all things, frightens me more than the prospect of him dying while I survive. I would rather be killed myself in the pending battle than have to live through that. The very thought makes me feel sick and anxious again, like I've not felt in a long time.
This is a ridiculous risk, but I'm the only person who can take it. My cousin's anger is as fierce as it is infamous; but perhaps there might be just one small corner of mercy in his heart for me, a place forbidden literally to all others. Even the ever-faithful Eudorus, if he were to attempt what I am about to do, would surely pay the price of it in blood. His own blood, never mind what glories he might have won for the Myrmidons. Because only Achilles' glory matters here. Yet that sacred ground is exactly where I must trespass; for I, in all my youthful selfishness, just want to bring him home. I will not feel that ache, that wretched loneliness, again!
For who would I turn to this time, when the tears and the nightmares come? And I am not so very naïve as to think that they will not. My dependence upon Achilles has lessened gradually with each progressing year, but whenever I've needed someone to lean on, he has always been there. Without him, there would be no one. For while I do consider Eudorus a friend of sorts, I can hardly see myself weeping against his shoulder.
I realize I do not have to do this. I could easily cast off this armor and return to my tent, and no one would ever know what had almost come to pass. We would still leave for home in the morning, as planned. But if the fires reach our ships, my cousin will fight…and what would happen to him then? Would I even be able to help at all?
But it is too late to wonder now. All hopes and fears must be set aside. For the sun is rising, the Myrmidons are roused for battle, and I must be Achilles. I must fight as Achilles. Perhaps in this way I can also fight for him – and save him.
Merry Christmas, Everyone!