After another lunch spent alone, Patroclus doesn’t bother trying to wait for Achilles for dinner on Friday. He knows he won’t be accompanying Patroclus. He’ll probably be finding some other girl to get bored of immediately. Maybe Patroclus could start a club with them.
He texts Briseis to see if she wants to meet up, but in the dining hall, it’s not a girl Achilles is with. He’s at one of the smaller tables, his dinner mostly eaten, next to Antilochus.
In all honesty, Patroclus finds Antilochus kind of annoying. Within ten minutes of meeting Achilles, he decided he should grow his hair out, too, and now he keeps it in a tiny nub of a ponytail almost at the top of his head. He shows that kind of enthusiasm for pretty much anything Achilles says and does, and Achilles seems to find it amusing.
He seems like he is especially enjoying his company tonight. Achilles has his chin on his hand, his elbow far across the table, leaning toward Antilochus, and as Patroclus watches, he takes something off Antilochus’s plate and pops it into his mouth.
A hand on his arm startles Patroclus enough that he jumps. Briseis has found him. He quickly glances to make sure Achilles didn’t notice him staring at them—but no, he’s totally engrossed in whatever Antilochus is saying. Briseis starts to lead him away, pulling on his arm, but Patroclus can’t seem to look away, like watching a car crash. Achilles catches his eye then and frowns, his face going hard, and Patroclus realizes Briseis is talking to him as she drags him toward the food.
“—confront him with you, if that’s what you want,” she says. He blinks at her.
“Confront him for what?”
Her eyebrows are raised in concern for him. “For flirting so obviously in front of everyone—if he’s not already cheating on you. Which…” She sighs and gives him a truly tortured look. “I didn’t want to be the one to tell you this, but I heard he invited Diomede into your suite to hook up and then kicked her out for no reason. She was pretty upset. I thought maybe you knew or walked in on them or something. I figured it was why you were so down yesterday.”
Patroclus is already shaking his head by the time she’s finished. “He’s not—we’re not together.”
Prince Wilhelm hates dancing, but he absolutely loathes ballroom dancing. And he's spent his entire adolescent life avoiding it at all costs, something that's become increasingly hard to do when his mother assigns him a tutor in hopes of shaping him into the perfect suitor. Claiming the key to finding a wife and securing the royal line is ballroom dancing. All Wilhelm needs to do is complete his classes, then he'll be free from the hell his mother is determined to put him through. A task that seems tolerable… until it isn't.
or…
Kristina hires Wilhelm a dance tutor in hopes that with a little more skill on the dance floor he'll find a wife. But she and Wille get more than they bargained for once Simon enters the picture. Basically, Simon's hot when he dances and Wille struggles to keep his hands to himself.
I know you said in the past (or at least I think you did) that you aren't really motivated for vds anymore but still wanted to finish ywmc, I was just wondering if that's still the plan? I don't want to pressure you in any way with this ask, but yeah, just interested in how you feel about ywmc right now :)
i’m still not very motivated and i’m very low on inspiration for actual words to finish ywmc the way i always wanted to, but i do still want to. it’s more difficult when i haven’t got anyone to talk to about it (which is why writing is a lot more difficult in general for me now; i still get my own enjoyment out of it, but it’s hard to hold onto enthusiasm when i don’t actually know anyone who cares or is interested or wants to hear about it). but this ask inspired me to finally write the last hundred or so words i needed to post the next chapter — thank you for being here this long ❤️
Chapter 2 of Swallows in the Windless Field is out
Summary: Patrochilles but make it Robin Hood (Pat is Robin Hood)
Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning
“Why would a nobleman seek out Robin Hood?” Ajax spoke first, too curious to keep from speaking his mind.
“Why else but to join him!” As the nobleman strode forward confidently, his knight did not relax. His dark eyes slid smoothly from Patroclus with his bow to Ajax with his branch. Briseis brandished a knife but did not seem to draw as much attention. Patroclus could recall thinking it was a foolish oversight. She was more ruthless than he. “My apologies, I’ve yet to introduce myself. I am Odysseus, son of Sir Laertes, Earl of Locksley.”
At this, Patroclus narrowed his eyes. He had briefly met the Earl of Locksley, though it felt as though that were in another life. If the Earl’s son recognized him, it did not show on his face. “I am Patroclus. If it’s Robin Hood you seek, then you’ve found him.” He said, not yet presuming that they were either friend or foe.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 5/?
Fandom: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller, Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus (Song of Achilles)
Characters: Achilles (Song of Achilles), Patroclus (Song of Achilles), Peleus (Song of Achilles), Philomela (Song of Achilles), Thetis (Song of Achilles), Menoitius (Song of Achilles), Phoinix (Song of Achilles), Briseis (Song of Achilles), Odysseus (Song of Achilles), Penelope (Song of Achilles), Diomedes (Song of Achilles)
Additional Tags: Alpha/Omega, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, menoetius is a good parent, he loves his family very much, and he protects patroclus, as he should, patrochilles - Freeform, alpha achilles, omega patroclus
Summary:
Everyone in all of mighty Achaea knows of how protective and proud Menoetius is of his only son — so much so that it reflects in the boy’s very name — Patroclus. Pride of the father. The boy has been a revered figure since the very day of his birth, given he is an omega in a land where his kind are not only worshipped but are also rarely descended from royal families because of their very strong alpha lineage.
Now eighteen, and eligible for marriage, suitors begin visiting the grand walls of Opus to have a chance to catch a look at the prince, and possibly gain his hand. Menoetius gives his son the leave to choose his husband, but it does not mean he will make it easy for anyone to just whisk him away. So he plucks a few pages out of books of older traditions and revives “Athlos” — a series of games that had once been held in the honour of omegas, to allow them to see and select the best of the alphas for themselves. To separate the wheat from the chaff.
Menoetius watches mighty princes trip over each other for his Patroclus. For him, it is a challenge — a dare to see who could take away his precious son from him. He already sees himself as the victor.
Summary: Achilles is the young Prince of Phthia, Patroclus is his squire, in a story where they come together, come apart, then find each other all over again.
Read on AO3!
Chapter 2: Sleet
The wind that blows over the castle is mellow, yet still sharp with winter chill. The packed earth of the bailey is wet with spring’s first thaw, and swallows fly to and fro over the battlements; some of them have built their nests in the hollows of old houses and forgotten awnings, seeking shelter from the cold. They’re restless and swift, coming fresh from the distant south and its lingering warmth.
It is the eve of the prince’s fifteenth birthday.
Normally, it would be celebrated with a large feast, thrown in his honour, with jugglers and dancers and musicians, the most renowned and skilled that Phthia has to offer. This year, the halls are quiet. The castle is pale and drab in his absence. What once felt like home to is now an empty and cold shell, despite the swarms of servants and nobles that constantly crowd it and the bustling city beyond it. Amidst this ceaseless motion and the ever shifting crowds, Patroclus is painfully, devastatingly alone.
It’s already been six months — six long months of bitterly cold winter— that Achilles has been gone.
During that time, Patroclus has been demoted from squire to inner keep guard, and then to watchtower duty. His new colleagues and superior officers don't pay much attention to him; he doubts most soldiers and guards he comes across even remember the fact that, as the prince’s squire, he once used to outrank them. Worse than that, some of them relish the opportunity to make snippy remarks about him finally returning where he belongs, where he should have been from the start, uncaring whether Patroclus overhears. No one has really forgotten — or forgiven— the fact that Patroclus was chosen by the Prince without a clear reason or excuse, when most of them had been vying for his attentions for years before Patroclus arrived.
Patroclus doesn’t mind much what they say behind his back, or to his face. It’s all the same to him. He spends as little time in the mess hall as he can, and doesn't join the men in their drinking or dice games after the end of every shift. He only has to keep it together and do his duty until Achilles comes back.
When the prince's birthday arrives, the King's herald announces to the troops that a group of messengers will be chosen to send gifts to the prince. The rumour spreads through the ranks like wildfire. Everyone wants to go; they all want to witness the famed Mount Pelion and its evergreen forests. Besides, who would turn down the chance to take a break from boring, repetitive or back breaking work for a time?
At the end of his shift, Patroclus asks —almost begs— the Captain of the Guard to let him go. The man, not even looking up from the stack of reports on his desk, says he’ll consider it.
A day later, Patroclus is informed that his plea has been denied. Three other men, Automedon amongst them, are chosen for the task.
The rejection hurts like a stab in the gut. Patroclus doesn’t even care about Mount Pelion or its forests, or the expensive gifts the messengers will be tasked to carry. All he wants is to see Achilles, to speak to him, to hear his voice again. It aches, bone deep, how much he wants it. It keeps him awake at night.
Still, he doesn’t let this deter him. He finds Automedon in the stables and presses into his hand a small package, lovingly wrapped in soft linen cloth. It’s a wood carving, of a boy playing the lyre, his head rising towards the sky, as if he's singing. Patroclus has been working at it for weeks, carving layer after soft layer of walnut wood with his knife during those long winter nights that he stayed awake, thinking of Achilles, missing him.
“A gift, for the prince,” he explains to Automedon. “Give it to him, and no one else. Please.”
Without a question, Automedon places it with care into the pocket of his horse’s saddle. “Don’t worry,” he tells Patroclus. “I’ll make sure the prince gets it. You have my word.”
Patroclus gives him a smile of thanks, which doesn’t fully conceal the hurt he’s feeling that he's been left behind, again. His heart burns with envy as he watches the gates open, and Automedon and the rest of the messengers ride out towards the east.
He returns to his post, looking out at the expanse of snow melting over green fields, the rolling hills in the distance. For the first time in months there's a thread of hope, however tentative; there's anticipation, reserved thrill. Soon, Achilles will receive his gift. He will know, then, that Patroclus has kept his promise to him. That he will always keep his promise.
My entry for Day 7: Alternative Universe of @patrochillesweek 2022! Achilles is the young Prince of Phthia, Patroclus is his squire, in a story where they come together, come apart, then find each other all over again. Read on AO3!
Chapter 1: Heart of Winter
Phthia’s hall is packed tonight. Patroclus doesn’t think he’s ever seen it this full. There are jugglers and dancers and a band merrily playing, and the raucous laughter and animated conversations reach him in a wall sound. A servant fills his cup to the brim. He drinks.
The king’s table is full too, laden with platters of food, one dish more extravagant than the one before it. Patroclus has lost count of how many he has tasted, and he isn’t even sitting amongst the lords. He’s at the squires tables, sandwiched between Automedon and his cousin, Alcimedon. The young man brings his cup to his lips, but he’s so sauced already that a glug spills over his chin, drips onto Patroclus’ thigh. He quietly pats it down with a towel. He could have elbowed him and told him to watch it, he supposes, but he doesn’t want to make a fuss. It’s easier to simply endure.
“A proper party, yeah?” Automedon laughs, arm thrown over Patroclus’ shoulders. Patroclus nods. It’s a party, alright. He has never been fond of them, and this one… this one has his stomach twisting in knots.
I always did really like your url. Hope you’re having a nice morning, dear
i’m glad you like it. there was a sheep in my city called nick boing that i read about in the news once and i was obsessed aha. thank you for this ask i think it’s my first which is so exciting!! i hope u have an amazing day xx
“Where are you gonna stay?” Briseis asks him for the third time that same week.
“With a friend.”
“But you don’t have any friends.”
“Ouch.”
“I’m serious, I’m the only friend you have.”
“Antilochus is my friend.” Patroclus corrects.
“You met him through Achilles earlier this year. So he doesn’t count.” Briseis shrugs, then her eyes widen in sudden realisation. “Oh my god, you’re gonna stay with Achilles!”
I’ve done something that I’ve never dared before… Rewriting S03… It’s such an amazing story that the idea of changing it scares me… But I’ve gone ahead and I hope you’ll like this alternative version of events…
Robbe is working as a PhD student in a cancer lab. To the outside world he seems to have it all. A beautiful girlfriend, an academic career, and one of the richest men in Belgium as a dad. But in reality his life is an absolute mess. He has never known happiness at home and his relationship with Noor is in stormy waters. Then, the arrival of a bleached blond intern shatters all he believed he was and changes his life for good…
Final chapter posted. “Do you quarrel, Sir?” is now complete!!! 🎭❤
Photo credit: @annadriesen2121 💕💕
Chapter Summary: A short epilogue that occurs about two months after Romeo and Juliet ends.
***
Epilogue: “Happiness courts thee in her best array”
Robbe and Sander nearly skipped down the hill after school, hand in hand, elated at the warm weather and the long weekend ahead. The spring day was sunny and calm, and they’d thrown off their blazers the second they’d left campus, draping them over their shoulders to fly behind them as they took off down the hill.
Laughing as they tripped and faltered, they ground to a stop at the street, almost colliding with a bus signpost. Sander couldn’t believe their luck. Mr. Grey and Mr. Carter had given them the whole weekend off from rehearsal for the musical, so they’d rented a cabin on the coast with their now very intermixed friend group, Robbe’s, Sander’s, and Zoë’s friends having melded together into one large group.
Bursting with excitement, Sander yanked Robbe into his chest and slammed their lips together in a sloppy kiss. He then walked him backwards into the shadowed corner of the bus stop, pinning him against the wall, his elbows framing Robbe’s face. Robbe hummed and swept his hands up into Sander’s hair, biting his lip playfully before smiling against his mouth. “You’re ridiculous,” he murmured.
“I don’t care. I’m happy.”
“Me too. Let’s go. Mama’s waiting, and you’re helping with dinner tonight.”
“Yeah. Okay.” He pecked Robbe’s lips five, maybe six more times–okay, fine, he kissed him breathless. With no regrets.
Finally, pulling back to smirk down into Robbe’s dazed face, he took his hand, kissed it, and then tugged him along the sidewalk toward the house.
Chapter Summary: The title says it all. This chapter is about friendship.
Art by @stainedglassdisco; @skambigbang
***
Robbe couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. It haunted his waking hours, memories of Sander’s lips, his tongue, his breath, flitting through his mind at awkward moments, making him flush with heat, forcing him to breathe slowly or disappear to the bathroom to cool off. It filled his dreams and took over his nights. More often than he’d like to admit, he woke up gasping and sweaty, the dream still fresh in his mind, still so real, still so close, and he’d try to fall back asleep before it was gone, try to catch it and sink back into it.
In his dreams Sander wanted to kiss him. They made out for hours, exchanging promises of love and friendship, and there were never any awkward apologies, no hesitations. Sander always liked boys when Robbe was asleep, and he always wanted to make out and maybe…other things, though Robbe tried not to let his fantasies run away with him out of respect for his friend. The guilt he felt afterwards wasn’t worth it.
Their kiss was everything to him, and yet it had meant nothing. It was a tease, a brief glance into what could be if life were different. He’d have to learn to be fine with that, and he would; but for now, he indulged his imagination as a way to cope.
In truth, Robbe didn’t know how he survived that last day at Sander’s house. It had been torture–knowing that he’d kissed Sander, knowing that he shouldn’t have, knowing that he was such a shit actor that he couldn’t control himself in a love scene with a hot guy, albeit one he was secretly crushing on…but still. How could he call himself an actor, how could he want to be an actor, if he couldn’t control his emotions or his body? It was infuriating.
“In the Darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun.” [The Song Of Achilles- Madeline Miller]
"My pulse jumps, for no reason I can name. He has looked at me a thousand thousand times, but there is something different in this gaze, an intensity I do not know. " [The song of Achilles- Madeline Miller]
