Wavering Love

Chapter 16: A Stirring in the Blood

Once, as my heart remembers

All the stars were fallen embers

Patroclus didn't see nor hear any sign of Achilles' leaving. The silence of his name brought the prince crashing down in tears when he was alone in the sanctuary of his room. And in the evening when he heard the name from distant conversations it only made the tears pour faster then not hearing it. By both ways, he was stuck between the dimensions of life and death it seemed.

Nothing could numb the pain that swelled in his heart. Food was brought to the hermit who locked himself in his rooms. Once this was notified to Menoetius he quickly fled to the aid of his broken son. Many hours were spent trying to dig through Patroclus' locked mouth but as the king realized he was asking the same question over again and getting the same answer, he left hoping time will be the boy's medicine.

The worry of his son was just as painful and distracting as Patroclus' own pain. His thoughts were consumed with his son's depression, poisoning his daily life. Until the fretting of his son became unlivable to the king he devised a plan to help him understand his son's sadness.

Clysonymus was Patroclus' dear friend from the beginning since he lived in the palace. He was the son of a popular and wealthy noble, and was always willing to guide Patroclus into the livings of royalty. Once Menoetius was fully confident in the idea he privately asked Clysonymus to talk to Patroculs. Without hesitation the boy dispatched to the prince's rooms.

"Please leave me Clysonymus." Patroclus said though his pillow that he laid face down on.

"Patroclus! Please, get your senses together!!" He quickly lifted Patroclus from his pillow grave and made his stand up right. "What could have possibly happened to you over the past that made you act like this? Your father's sick of worry—I'm worried!" Realizing that he was being to harsh in volume, Clysonymus sighed and sat next to his beloved friend on the bed.

"Tell me Patroclus," he pushed away traces of fallen tears. "What's wrong? You can tell me anything." Patroclus, who was staring off into the floor, now turned to his devotee.

"Achilles asked me to return with him back at his home. And no matter how much I would wanted to go, my father would cripple in sadness if I'd left home so soon and long. I even asked him of the matter and the response was what I imagined…But when I said 'no' to him, it wasn't me who said it. It was just a hollow replica of me giving up my happiness. And now that time has passed, and Achilles wouldn't take me back I'm torn at both ends of my heart. I love my father, but then why am I feeling so miserable?"

After hearing the source of all this sadness, Clysonymus fumed with even more anger towards Achilles. Ever since he saw the famed warrior, Clysonymus envied not only for Achilles' brute strength and godlike looks but also for his closeness with Patroclus. How he wanted to stroke Patroclus' hair and whisper words of tender thoughts. Yet he knew all his chances of doing so crashed at the sight of them kissing in the gardens and then some. Clysonymus wasn't some pervert and walked off when seeing the horrid sight that ravaged his mind.

His looks of compassion and sympathy changed drastically when Patroclus said Achilles' name. Patroclus noticed this and the tone of his manner when he got up from the bed and walked to the other side of the room. Patroclus followed.

"What's wrong? Is there anything in that matter of my problem?"

"Of course there is!" he snapped. "It's Achilles!! The most lowest thing of a man on earth! What makes you related to him in any friendly relations? Are you so gullible to see through this barbaric!!?" Clysonymus' response shocked and bewildered Patroclus' expectations.

"What makes him so low?" Patroclus asked. Clysonymus didn't want to answer. It was to close in talking out his true feelings of Patroclus and him. He knew heir friendship would sink if such a truth was blurted out. Instead he heaved out an anguished sigh and walked to another point in the room.

"Wait!!" Patoclus grabbed Clysonymus' hand for him to stop. "Tell me. Is there really something that you despise about him?!!"

"Only that he is a scoundrel! A brute! An uneducated idiot that only knows how to hit people with a sword!!"

"Shut-Up!!" Patroclus yelled. "I will not take you or anyone speaking like that of him in my presence." Clysonymus ignored that request.

"He's ungrateful, leaderless. Only listens to himself and no one else. He believes he is a god, higher then all others. A liar, a hard-headed dog. A son from a woman so terrible that his father ran away from I've heard!!" His taunting followed Patroclus everywhere he went. No matter how much he pleaded him to stop, Clysonymus persisted even more then before.

Every syllable was heated with a hatred Patroclus reviled. He now gave up on running away from the words in his room but they still rang on in all forms of disgust.

"How can you consider him an equal to you?!! He has no respect for any king, or even a god!!"

"SHUT UP!!!!!" Patroclus threw with all his might a thick and heavy discus towards the direction of the noise. Once the names all stopped instantly he immediately turned to find his friend on the floor. He thought the blow knocked Clysonymus out cold, but the sight of a pool of blood coming from his head slashed all explanations out the window.

Clysonymus now lied cold on the floor of Patroclus and would never get up by any call of alarm. It seemed the longest period of his life was spent on staring at the fallen body of Clysonymus. His dark locks were soaked with blood, staining the rich rugs. No scream came out of Patroclus; instead he trembled uncontroablly at the knowledge that he killed his own friend.

Forever he pictured his first killing of a man would be deep in the battle, along side Achilles. But to his dismay, it was a committed murder with his love days away.

Menoetius paced the floors of his chambers long enough for him to assume the meeting was over and quickly charged into Patroclus rooms. What he didn't expect that he would walk into the blood of Clysonymus. He stopped immediately.

"father," Patroclus whispered. "I don't know what to do." His father's silence burned more guilt into Patroclus. "Father? Please tell me what to do." His voice was on the brink of tears. The second time repeated Menoetius, who was staring intently at the dead body, finally looked up.

He stretched out his hand and beckoned him to cross the room to his side. "Come here my son!" His words were as quiet as Patroclus' yet they were more rushed. Patroclus quickly walked around Clysonymus and into his father's arms. The king's hand gripped deep into Patroclus' shoulder, but at the moment the son was numb to all feeling. Silence washed over them, endowed fear and panic into their minds.

"What happened?" His father finally said flatly.

Didn't think death would come into play did you. Oh yah, I think I told you last time! Well, History Tip: Clysonymus was Patroclus' friend and did die by his hand over a game of dice to some resources. But this event did take place according to historians of the Iliad. And this becomes a turning point of Patroclus' life and his father's even. Please REVIEW on how you think this was written in, and tell me was the event a big surprise to you or not. The ending is getting closer. Thank you for reading!