[Achilles; Patroclus] “I am glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things.”
❛ Tolkien on the Sands of Troy !
( ♛ ) — Patroclus wondered, as their tenth year of war donned, how it was they had pushed themselves to fight a war that was barely their own for so long. How they had forced themselves to fight a war in which they knew their lives would be snuffed out as easily as the funeral pyres they lit every night. Honor had long since stopped seeming like a worthy cause. So had another man’s wife. A place in history had slipped into those same ranks. So why, then, had he pushed himself so far in this destruction of others ? The longer they spilled blood over the earth, the longer it all seemed for naught, as if the gods simply wished to laugh at their petty, insignificant lives. They fought these wars for them and for what ? For a minuscule moment of glory to be immortalized ? It did not seem like enough, in the grand scheme of things. But then, he supposed there was not much else to be gained from the battle they were fighting aside from a wife that might have left willingly. Then again, he also had no way of knowing every warrior’s personal stake in such a war. Passing such arbitrary judgement would only push him further into a bitterness he dare not cling to. Not in the war’s final year.
He let his gaze wander out over the cliff he stood on, the ocean pitch black as it crashed into the rocks beneath him, save for where it reflected the night sky farther out. The beauty of the ocean, of the sky—the beauty of the world they lived in—stretched out before him as far as the eye could see. The salt-leaden winds pushed at his hair, tickling his nose, and rustled the leaves of the trees behind him. He closed his eyes to feel the breeze along his skin and to simply listen. Allowing himself to bask in the splendor of the natural world for just a little while was surely acceptable. Finding time to oneself was rare here. He would soak in every precious moment of it. However, it didn’t take long for his mood to shift to melancholy as Achilles flashed behind his eyelids.
Opening his eyes again, he returned his gaze to the ocean. This was their tenth year walking the sands of Troy. This was the year he would lose his golden lover. It seemed so cruel to fight a war that they knew would end in such a way. It seemed crueler now than it had years earlier, when Achilles’ death was still something so far in the future it might as well have not been real at all. After all, to their younger minds, death was inevitable. So what if it was ten years away versus fifty ? Now that those ten years were up, it all seemed much shorter.
A wandering mind was not something he should have allowed himself in such a state, but the prospect of a different life, maybe one where they could have traveled all of Greece or even one where they had not been born princes but had still been brought together; one where they had been allowed to do as they pleased instead of being the slaves of fate… was always tempting to get lost in. Perhaps it was the whimsy of it that made it seem so preferable to the Fate they had followed up to now. Perhaps it was the denial of impending loss that made him wish so vehemently for something that would never be and likely never could have been. There would be no light for him at the end of it. After all, he had followed his light into this darkness and here is where it would be put out. He did not know how and he did not know when, but he did know he would be snuffed out with it. It had not been prophesied for him, but the Fates knew and so did he.
The tears that threatened to follow such a realization did not surprise him. It was the sudden hand on his back that forced him to stiffen, only to relax back into it at the voice that accompanied it, speaking his name. That he had not noticed Achilles’ approach concerned him only for a moment before the other man’s words caved his chest and stole his breath away. I am glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things.
It was only natural, Patroclus thought, that he should come along and say something like that. Something that reminded him of why he was here. The only thing he needed to hear. It took two sentences spoken quietly in his ear to remind him why he had fought a nine year war and done things he would never speak aloud. Because truly, he was also glad to be there with him. If this was the only option they had, he would take it. If ever he were given the choice between a peaceful life without Achilles or this, he would choose this a thousand times. He would fight this war on the sands of Troy for eternity if it meant he could love this man every single time. Certainly, it all came down to a few things. Achilles would die, Patroclus would follow. That was what this tenth year held for them. All Patroclus could do was trust that his lover had made the right choice. His name would be remembered, as he had wished. Who was Patroclus to argue with that desire ? He could only pray that history would remember him favorably. That whoever wrote of him would see him even a margin of the way that he saw Achilles.
Humming, he turned and allowed his gaze to sweep over him before speaking. ❝ My Achilles… ❞ He cupped his face in his hands and smiled, tugging lightly so he could press his forehead against his prince’s. These stolen moments were precious. He would make full use of them. ❝ There is nowhere else I would choose to be. ❞
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