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@princenieander
"Father," the eldest prince spoke, his voice small and almost ashamed as he approached the door to his father’s office. He had went over the words he was going to say in his head since he had returned last night after leaving. But somehow, he doubted that was going to be enough.
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Which Achilles’ blessing of course, Aureus had spent hours on the training fields, getting the feel of this new body. But not just with any method, through the way of the sword. He was trained to fight as a lion, but lions were not capable of fighting as men … and he wished to master this as best as he could, as quickly as he could, especially if there was to be an upcoming war. He knew not if Achilles would even let him fight in it, but he would insist until his king gave in. Where Achilles would go, Aureus would always follow.
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Betrayals -
"My king …" Aureus muttered as he entered Achilles’ bedchambers, a place where he was always welcome.
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The fates were not in his favor with this — and as much as he wished it, his little prince could not remain so forever. He knew already what his father was capable of, he had read it in many things over. But those were naught but stories … when he grew older, he would see it first hand. He would witness the bloodshed that Achilles brought forth to the world — he was see the weapon of war that his father became when setting foot upon the battlefield. Achilles is, and would always be Achilles.
Would Andres see him differently as Nieander does now that he is old enough to truly understand? Though caged in iron beneath his breast, his heart could not bear it. He could not bring himself to consider the notion that Andres might too one day think him to be a monster when clad in his armor and helm. Ah, but he is a monster … and he knows it. But he remains untainted in the eyes of his son, and there is not a thing he would not give to keep it that way. He cannot yet hang up his shield … but there might come a day when the golden warrior is presented with no other choice, for his children mean far more to him than the groans if dying men. For now … as Andres did remain small yet, there were things that could be taught .. and Achilles sought to keep the monster locked within his cage at all times, to spare Andres of this inevitable realization. For now … he was his little prince, and Achilles could do no wrong.
If I had just one wish Only one demand I hope he’s not like me I hope he understands That he can take this life And hold it by the hand That he can greet the world With arms wide open With arms wide open Under the sunlight Welcome to this place I’ll show you everything WIth arms wide open Now everything has changed I’ll show you love I’ll show you everything With arms wide open With arms wide open I’ll show you everything
She too, was growing older … and much faster than any child should, given her true nature. Though Achilles did not worry over her seeing him in a different light .. considering she had yet to see him fight at all. He clung to that naivety, his own and hers that perhaps he would always remain a good man in her eyes, even as she too becomes old enough to understand. His time was not so limited with her — although Andres had shared the stories of him and Patroklos with her, it was different. Her maidens kept her busy, and well shielded from him and his wrong doings whenever rage too strong to control struck him unexpectedly. To which he was forever grateful.
But that being said … he did not get to see her half as often as he would like. Especially since she brought forth a childish nature in him … a good one, one that he did not have before, not even as a child. He did not have to be Mighty Achilles for his little princess .. he did not have to be the great warrior king .. he was only papa, and that was the best title to hold.
Look into my eyes - you will see, What you mean to me. Search your heart - search your soul, And when you find me there, you’ll search no more. Don’t tell me it’s not worth tryin’ for. You can’t tell me it’s not worth dyin’ for. You know it’s true, Everything I do - I do it for you. Look into your heart - you will find, There’s nothin’ there to hide. Take me as I am - take my life, I would give it all - I would sacrifice. Don’t tell me it’s not worth fightin’ for. I can’t help it - there’s nothin’ I want more. You know it’s true, Everything I do - I do it for you.
"And why should we listen to you?"
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After spending his time away, Aureus returned to the heart of Phthia with Thema at his side. No longer were shoulders slumped and brown eyes wounded and downcast. He stood as the lion he once was, confident with a smile … and that smile had even gained it’s long lost cockiness. The lion knew where his king would be, and upon the training fields the golden warrior stood aside, observing the men. Aureus, confidence renewed, waltzed right up to him, “I would break words with my king, if he’s not too busy watching his men."
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Upon leaving Thessaly, Aureus traveled in human form, if only to make passage across the ocean easier. But once he hit Egyptian soil, he shifted to his true form, and trotted the rest of the way to Sekhmet’s temple. He was greeted by Zira, as he usually was. Nuzzling against her, the priestess patted his head, before leaving once more to make way for the lionesses who perked up at his arrival. No … I’m not Achilles. Shaking his mane, he approached them and merely stood before them. It was obvious to Thema and Sekhmet that the dominance had shifted to him, there was no reason that they would be unaware of this as well.
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He who greets with fire ...
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Long had the lion’s presence been sorely missed … even cursed with the king of Thessaly. And there he sat now, along his throne chair in the counsel room, absent his lion’s comfort. And yes, these men were not merciful on this day, but still the hard headed warrior king would not grant them a reaction, but it was proving to be most difficult without Aureus’ calming demeanor. Ah, and here he was .. an hour late and not dressed the part. Normally, such small things as this would not bother Achilles, for he and his lion were close enough to know where the other was at all times … but these times were no longer. A glance was shot in the lion’s direction, as he took his seat beside the king, but no greetings were passed between the two. Never did Achilles speak to these men, and that was not going to change today, no matter what conversations fell into place. And Aureus was not so calming this time, there was tension between the two of them, which only caused the rage to brew all the more beneath the Grecian’s breast. And finally a question came:
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War is the answer;
War had come to the edge of Thessaly, despite Patroklos’ attempts to achieve piece with the neighboring polis’. Perhaps his efforts had been in vain, since his husband and co-regent remained at home, responding to such threats with blood and example. Even if he tried, Achilles was not a man for peace — nor was he a man for calm negotiation in the wake of death of his people falling in droves. It seemed taking tongues and heads was not enough of an example, and this time Achilles would strike at the heart of their ambush, with more force than they would ever see coming.
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"If you doubt yourself so much in this form, how can I ever expect you to fight another male, should one enter my territory?" She asked, the demand in her voice was there, for this was not really a question, it was a true fear that she had not allowed to surface until that moment. And it stung — but it did it’s job in letting him know just how much of a price the doubt Achilles had in himself was going to cost not only him, but those around him. As always, her words were enough to spur his thoughts into action, causing the warrior’s heart in him to beat as it should, with the yearning to prove himself.
"I would fight to death for you, in any form. I would fight to keep you, I would fight for you, for the pride. The doubt I harbor for myself does not change that, nor would it prevent me from doing so. I will always fight for you."
He craved that chance, more than he had ever craved a chance to prove himself before. Such words had fallen to the back of her mind, and if they came to light, she did will in hiding them from him, but Achilles never forgot. It was those words, the disappointment in her voice that he would use to his advantage should the opportunity ever arise. For it was dawning on him that it was not just her that he would have to fight for — it was the very life that she knew now … it was her freedom, the notion to never remaining behind a cage. And that is what would happen should he fail in defending her. This was bigger than himself, and it crossed his mind often in reminder of that. Little did he that the day was coming sooner than he thought.
He saw the move coming, and one paw moved to slash out at the other’s muzzle, and once he had turned with the force of the swipe, Achilles sank his teeth down into the other’s neck, where his jugular still yet allowed him to live. It was a vice like grip, one that only tightened when more of the opposing lion’s mane could be tasted upon his tongue. And that blood! The blood of a lion was almost as intoxicating of that of men. Every time Achilles remembered what he fought for, the grip of his jaw tightened. For Sekhmet. Tighter. For her cubs. For his. Even tighter. For their cub. For the pride. Tighter, until he could feel the life draining out of the one below him.
"I told you I would always fight for you."
As you go through life you’ll see There is so much that we Don’t understand And the only thing we know Is that things don’t always go The way we planned
But you’ll see everyday That we’ll never turn away When it seems all your dreams come undone We will stand by your side Filled with hope and filled with pride We are more than we are We are one Even those who are gone Are with us as we go on Your jouney has only begun Tears of pain tears of joy One thing nothing can destroy Is our pride deep inside We are one We are one you and I We are like earth and sky One family under the sun All the wisdom to lead All the courage that you need You will find when you see We are one
"Why do you call, Achilles? Do you need me?"
"Son of Menoetius, soldier after my own heart …"
The day had been filled with battle cries and groans of dying men — Achilles and Patroklos had participated in full when it came to the taking of Trojan lives. However, Patroklos, being the gentle soul that he was had invested some of his time to the healing tents, and thus had left the battle early. The golden warrior remained, preying upon the Trojans who dared draw near — though Athena had held him back, when their prince came close. He was fated to fall after taking the life of valiant Prince Hector … but in battle frenzy, he wanted only the highest glory. To be prevented of such was a blessing in that moment that he would be grateful for later.
When the great horse tamers had relented, and battle drew to an end, Aristos Achaion headed back to his tent, along side his black ships. The great, dark liquid clung to his matted golden hair, rusted his bronze armor, and flaked off of his similarly olive-colored skin. He was the symbol of victory — and so all the long haired Achaeans would know it as he trotted through their camp. Many a Grecian greeted him, to clasp arms and speak of the honor it was to fight at his side — the gesture returned to those he had deemed deserving of such. The Myrmidons trailed behind him, entering their tents upon the eve as well.
Pulling the flap to the tent back, those emerald eyes were visible even through the dimly lit tent. The subtle vision brought a fond smile to his lips, much in contrast to the snarl that had been in its place the length of the day. Armor was drawn off of his form and placed to the side for later cleaning, as he hovered over the basin that had been so thoughtfully placed there, for him. Achilles had been expecting to see Patroklos preparing dinner for them both as he often did, but given the scent that permeated through the room, it had already been prepared. Azure eyes sought the form of his beloved, as they turned to look across the length of the tent.
There he was — not cooking, no. His gaze was fixated upon him, as he stood there over the basin, running the water over his neck and face. It would take more than the water here for him to truly bathe, but he had no care for this now. He wanted only to clean off to prepare himself properly for dinner. However, he could still feel those eyes upon him, and a smug smirk tugged at his lips, “What thoughts cross your mind, my love?"
Watching him still, a soft smile graced Patroklos’ lips, illuminating each of his features, “That I was dead — and I’m alive again, merely at the sight of you." The shadows had otherwise concealed the younger Grecian’s form, soiled as it was, “Come closer, let me see you."
He knew so well how to strike out at every other emotion in Achilles that others were never allowed to see. A playfulness came forth at his words, and water was splashed in the direction of the elder warrior as the lightest hint of a blush crept upon his cheeks. Never could Patroklos be denied, not with anything he desired of Achilles … and slowly he sauntered forward, head lowered almost timidly to reveal himself in full to the man of his heart. When no words were offered in his presentation, Achilles almost grew nervous, and the butterflies fluttering about in his stomach were not something unknown when in the son of Menoetius’ presence. He waited almost patiently, before a long moment had passed of those emerald eyes roaming over his form before he whispered, “No words for me now, my dearest love?"
The way he looked upon him … with a gaze that held absolutely no judgement for the things he had done … with eyes kinder than any he had ever seen before, with a love that emitted from him strong enough to swallow Achilles whole. Patroklos’ voice was soft as he spoke, as tender as his gaze, “Words aren’t important, beloved. I never doubted your abilities in war, but I’m only overjoyed to have you returned to me after the day’s battles." Once more his gaze swept over the younger Grecian’s form, covered in blood and soot as it was, “Come here, let me touch you …"
As if he had to be told! Moving the rest of the distance towards Patroklos, Achilles leaned over and placed a hand on his beloved’s cheek. And in this, he didn’t need to be told — a kiss was placed to his lips, as golden hair cascaded over his shoulders. And there it was .. the only sensation in the world that made him weak in the knees — Patroklos was the only man that he would ever kneel before. And he was not a king, nor was he a god. But that was not important … in deed and loving gesture, Patroklos had always been far more to him than any king or god could ever be. Without a mere thought behind the action, Achilles — Aristos Achaion — the golden warrior — took to his knees before Patroklos, as his kiss did exactly what was intended; the overwhelming love shared between them in that moment swallowed him whole.
…and when one of them meets the other half, the actual half of himself, whether he be a lover of youth or a lover of another sort, the pair are lost in an amazement of love and friendship and intimacy and one will not be out of the other’s sight, as I may say, even for a moment…”
― Plato, The Symposium
Death could not part them — fate had a way of separating the two warriors, the lovers … and yet by the wills of their own hearts or the paths of Eros, they would find each other once more, and vow never to be separated again. It was this time apart, when Achilles was whisked away to Skyros without the comfort of his beloved, that made their bond grow stronger. Even for all the distance between them, still he could hear the beating of Patroklos’ heart whenever he closed his eyes. And it was this, and this alone that gave him strength. This, perhaps that played a part in his agreement to leave when Odysseus had found him, and coaxed him to war: he knew they would be reunited. And no more would he have the elder Grecian from his side.
Even in times of war, when separate ends of the battle field were claimed by each, when they started off and yet were not able to remain by one another’s side, still he could pick out that one voice from the cluster of thousands. That cry — the same cry that the younger of the two had heard within their tents, within the room that they shared in Phthia was one that he knew well. Even if then it was coated with blood and dripping with victories of war. He would know that voice even in the depths and darkness of Hades’ realm. The gods had not stopped him before … they would not stop him from remembering that voice, from recalling that handsome face that he woke to each and every morning. War hardened fingertips had moved over each feature of his face — the slope of his chin and chiseled jaw, the curve of his cheekbones and the arches of his brows. In the dark .. absent all sight, Achilles would know that face. His presence was one that brought a sense of peace to the young man who had been deemed as naught but a weapon of war. It was not the spoils that were taken from him — glories and women that brought him peace. It was the man beside him, offering comfort in touch and words, and with that presence alone. Even absent all senses, he would know that presence.
For even when such agonies were endured, and they were reunited but for the briefest of moments when Patroklos appeared once more, couseling him in what to do next … it was as if he had never left. In that brief moment Achilles was whole again, for his other half had returned. It was nothing but a rude awakening — that he would no longer fight his fate. It would be welcomed, with promise of really, truly reuniting with the other half of his soul. Mighty Achilles always gets what he wants, and there was nothing that he was unwilling to do to just hear that voice again, to see that face, to feel his presence … his own life would be forfeit in order to do so, for life was worth nothing without the other half of his soul. Without Patroklos.
Death could not part them, because here he laid, with Patroklos sleeping at his side. It was true that Hypnos did not grant him rest unless it was in the arms of his beloved. But even still, there were nights when sleep was not desired .. when Achilles wanted nothing more than to lay against his chest and breathe in his scent. To remind himself that he was here .. that he was not teasing mist that would seep through his fingers … that he was not a cruel and delightful dream. He is here, and he lives. And so does his own reason to wake each morning, to hear that voice … to see that face, and feel him near. Never would he be complete without Patroklos at his side.
ooc; small announcement
I'm gonna be moving Nieander over to Achilles' blog. I'm 23456% sure i don't write as nie very often at all because for some reason i'm too lazy to switch accounts. and aureus gets plenty of interaction and plottages, and i think that's because he's on the same account.
so i'll be moving nie over there too, and it'll make it way easier for me to interact there, and make him a constant presence there too, like he's supposed to be. i'm gonna keep this blog in case i find a use for it for nie or something haha but he'll be over on achilles now :)
Uhmmm ...
I thought I had lost you, dad. I didn’t… I didn’t know you would come back … I didn’t think I would see you again. I know we fight a lot but .. I-I don’t ever want to lose you, dad.
*Pulls him back into another hug and holds him closely against himself, one hand moving to stroke along the back of his head* Sshhh .. you will never lose me, Nieander, I swear it. But I will protect you, you and your brothers and sister, I will protect all of you, always. But I am here, son, and I care not how often we do or do not fight, for I will always love you with all of my heart.
I love you too, dad… I’m s-so glad that you were brought back… I don’t know what I’d do without you… and—and I want to move back into the palace. I don’t like the city as much as I thought and… and Lance and I broke up and I miss all of you too much, I don’t want to be alone anymore.
*Beams* You wish to come back home? *runs a hand through his son’s hair with a soft, yet huge smile* I am sorry to hear about you and Lance … but your room is still where you left it, baby .. I go in there sometimes, when I miss you most, but I swear it is just as you left it. *smirks* I love you very much, Nieander, you are my first born, my eldest … there is always a place for you here, always.
You do? I didn't know you missed me that much... but I love too... So, yeah. I'm here to stay this time, for good.
Nieander! *hugs*
Astrid? Hey! *runs to her to hug her, lifts her from the ground and spins her about*
