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"That is how a son should act." Patroclus looked downward as his father berated him. Suddenly, a flash of soft green light blinded Patroclus. He closed his eyes and when he opened them, he was in the strangest room, his father beside him with his sword out. A few people were also with them, they looked to be older, some were his age. Patroclus didn't want to hide behind his father for his father would most likely just sneer and be even more disappointed in him. In the corner of Patroclus' eyes, he saw the familiar golden hair. He turned and saw it was the prince from just a few minutes ago.
They heard the tapping of heels on the marble floors. Everyone turned to the noise and saw a teenager who held up her fingers that looked like a two. She smiles, as if she hadn't kidnapped kings and princes. Patroclus noticed, in the corner of his eyes, that the golden prince's father stood in front of his son, protective. Patroclus couldn't help but feel jealous. He looked towards his own father who didn't even move towards him or look at him. Not surprising, but it still hurt. "Hi, so I'm here to give you some sights of your future." The female says, proud and loud.
The people couldn't help but realized that the girl had clothes like no other. She wore a wool like cape that somehow had sleeves and pants. Her black hair was tied halfway up, her eye bags below her eyes weren't that noticeable. She held up a large book. "Open it up, I'll explain later." A few kings gritted their teeth, not liking to be commanded, by a girl no less. Peleus opened it, he could feel the power oozing from the girl, much more raw power than his wife. Once the large book was open, it lit up and a projection of two males were shown on the blank pages. Everybody gasped, not knowing that these types of magic or power could be done.
"Hm," the girl suddenly made noise. "Since you all believe me now,
to some extent, this book is about a life of a certain prince here and everybody in his life." Patroclus wanted to look at the golden prince a couple of feet away from him. It's the only explanation, no other people here were God-born, or gifted like the prince across from Patroclus was. "Who is this prince?" Patroclus' father, Menoitius, suddenly walked forward. The girl smirked, amused. Patroclus can't figure out if she was amused by the King's idiotic bravery or by the King's disgusting arrogance.
"Who might this prince be, girl?" Menoitius had a rough tone to his voice, his gaze was confident, as if the girl wouldn't hurt him. "Please don't call me girl. My name is Orphic, please address me as such." Her voice was steady, gaze empty. "And you'll know once you start looking at the book." Orphic, such an unusual name, said. She then turned around and sat on a comfy looking sofa. She watched them silently. She was waiting for them to follow her instructions. Patroclus could see people now starting to sit on the sofas that were arranged. Patroclus froze when he realized that the golden prince sat next to him. The prince turned to Patroclus and tilted his head slightly.
"What's your name?" He asks, whispering. "Patroclus, Son of Menoitius." The brown haired male says softly, shy. The golden prince smiles. "I'm Achilles, Son of Peleus." Patroclus nods, smiling shyly. He then notices that the sound of a breeze was being heard. He looked towards the book that seemed to have grown.
A hill was shown, grassy and windy. Two boys were then shown. One had golden hair while the other had brown. The brown haired boy was on the branch on a tree that sprouted figs.
Menoitius looked at his son who sat beside him, wondering why he was with the Prince of Phthia. Patroclus and Achilles' eyes widened. They were surprised that it was them being shown. Other people in the room were still wondering why they were also chosen to watch this.
"Patroclus, if you manage to gather five figs, I'll play the lyre, any song you want." Achilles playfully bargained, smiling brightly at the brown haired boy on the tree who raised his eyebrow. He smiles and immediately
started to gather the figs on the leaves. He got five figs and showed it to Achilles proudly. "Could you climb down with those five figs?" Achilles smiles, challenging Patroclus.
Patroclus wonders how close they were in the future. Peleus looked at the two boys, smiling gently with a small frown. He loves his son, but would the two boys really have a friendship?
Patroclus could only sigh and threw a fig after fig at Achilles weakly, laughing slightly when the other boy began to juggle the figs just like he did at the dinner once upon a time.
Menoitius' eyes narrowed, would his son shame him in the book too? His sharp eyes looked at Patroclus. The King found glee when he saw that his pathetic son shrinked into himself.The other princes and kings in the room raised an eyebrow. It wasn't that uncommon to have friends from other kingdoms, but somehow the boys inside the book were looking super close. Like they were family or— no. They shook their heads.
Patroclus held just one fig in his hand now. He bit into it and jumped down from the tree branch. The rich flavor of the fig still felt unfamiliar in his mouth. "Patroclus." The figs that Patroclus had thrown down to Achilles were on the grasses, sprawled around them. "Play." Patroclus smiles, nodding his head to the beautiful lyre that leaned on the large tree trunk.
Patroclus wanted to jump into the book and grab the familiar lyre.
His mother's lyre, his lyre. Patroclus frowned and tightened his hold on his clothes in discomfort.
Achilles looked at the beautiful lyre in interest, where had his father gotten that? Achilles almost wanted to ask his father if it was supposed to be a birthday present to him right there, but he refrained.
Menoitius was curious as to why the lyre was there. The lyre had been locked into his dead wife's drawer, along with her other stuff that made Menoitius puke with disgust. Had Patroclus grown up to rebel against his father?Peleus was curious himself. But not to the same reason as the other King a few seats beside him. He was curious as to how comfortable they had to be that Patroclus practically demanded Achilles—
God born, Aristos Achaion— to play the lyre for him. Peleus' mouth twitched up in delight. Had his son finally made a friend? Or better yet, his own
Therapon?
Achilles laughed slightly, walking over to the tree and picking up the lyre. The golden haired prince sat on the soft grass, leaning on the dark bark of the tree. Achilles looked beautiful, almost like a God. Patroclus sat beside the prince. They looked so happy. They looked like they had been doing this for years.
Achilles' fingers grazed the lyre's strings carefully. His eyes were a color of poison with occasional gold shining through. They looked at the dark skinned boy beside him with adoration, like Patroclus had hung the stars and moon just for Achilles himself.
Patroclus' eyes widened, his cheeks colored. No one had ever looked at him like that. Not his simple mother, and certainly not his father. The tussel of gold hair caught his attention once again. He could see, even without turning his head, that Achilles had turned to him in wonder.
"Patroclus," Pa-tro-clus, "what song would you like me play?" The boy in question smiles, laughing a little. "Anything you'd like." Achilles turned his head up, resting it on the hard tree. And just like every other time Patroclus would ask him to play the lyre, Achilles sang.
The lyre's strings moved with his fingers, his voice like the seraphs lullaby. Patroclus closed his eyes, his hands tapping on his thighs gently as he listened to Achilles.
The God-born child hummed quietly. They looked comfortably close. Even the other princes had faces of astonishment. Usually, they'd only befriend another prince if it had an ulterior motive. Ranging from the amount of fame the other prince would bring to their fathers telling them to keep the enemies closer. But either of the boys in the book didn't look like they had any plans of betraying the other.
The pages in the book started to flip to another page.
The royals gasps, staring as the book flipped page after page by itself until they were met with the same two boys, now almost men, laying down on another patch of grass with a ravine in front of them. They didn't know where it was.
Peleus' eyebrows raised. Achilles was in Mount Pelion. He was sent to Chiron, it seemed. And Patroclus, Peleus added to himself.
Achilles was silent before he looked at Patroclus. "Name one hero who was happy." Achilles knew Patroclus listened to the stories more intently, more passionately. Patroclus didn't say anything, thinking about all the tales he had been told. "You can't." Achilles says, "I can't." Agreed Patroclus, smiling gently. "They never let you be famous,
and happy." Achilles adds.
"I'm going to be the first." Achilles claimed proudly, turning to Patroclus with a large grin that rivaled the sun's glare. "Swear it." Patroclus looked at the prince in front of him with confusion. "Why me?"
The royals grew silent. Some princes had looked to the real prince. He was claiming that he'd be a hero, first to be happy.The fathers of the two boys were surprised, even their sons were.
"Because you're the reason. Swear it." Achilles looked more determined, telling Patroclus to promise him. Patroclus laughed before nodding. "I swear it." Achilles lied back down, satisfied. "I feel like I could eat the world raw."
Patroclus blushes again.
He'd
be the reason for Achilles to be the first happy hero? That sounded a bit too romantic. Menoitius scrunched his nose slightly. He didn't care if his son were to like men. He wasn't even surprised by now. The disappointment kept being a disappointment even in the future, Menoitius sighs. He had to get another heir if this were the case.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Orphic watches at the people she
kidnapped brought to her little dimensional pocket as they conversed with one another. They were still reeling with how they were brought here. They didn't know how to feel. Were they lucky to have been chosen? Or, were they unlucky?
Orphic's cat, Coke, jumped onto her lap and meowed sweetly. The cute cat purrs as Orphic pets his soft fur. The girl snapped her fingers, watching with unrestrained hysteria.
The pages of the book flipped for the longest time since they were there until it finally landed on a page. Orphic, from her place, could see a certain ruler of Ithica making conclusions in his head.
A cliff is shown, with trees in the surroundings. You could see the white sand of the beach from the cliff and hear the waves of the ocean crashing onto the shore. A large rock was now seen. It had moss all over. But if you look close enough, you could see letters etched into it.
When the people figured out what the rock was, they bowed their heads and muttered prayers. They did it out of pure etiquette, not really sympathy.
A transparent body is shown. It sat on the ground, leaning on the large rock. It was a shade.
The people gasped. They hadn't seen a shade ever. No one actually believes they exist. No matter how much magic they've seen in Gods, the girl here right now, or the beasts in the woods, they really haven't seen any ghosts or shades.
Patroclus frowns. Why does it feel familiar? He grew nervous.
The body is shown first. A large gaping wound was in the middle of its chest. The shade's ribs were shown and what was supposed to be its lungs. The lungs were punctured, as if a spear had been thrusted into the back. The two middle ribs had been broken, they weren't even there anymore, while some of the other ribs had cracks.
Most of the people exclaimed, shocked, and disgusted. Some were getting sick by what they were seeing. A few even puked. Patroclus wanted to close his eyes, look away, something. But still, the disappointment in his father's eyes if Patroclus did any of those hurts him.Achilles touches Patroclus' hand as a sign of comfort. He did so awkwardly. They weren't close by any means, so even a bit of touch was awkward.
Peleus went to cover his son's eyes. No matter what the prophecy says about Achilles, the golden haired child was still, well, a child. Achilles can see the spoils and the consequences of war in the future. In the very far future, Peleus wishes.
As if to make it better, vines had grown on the shade's ribs, intertwining and circling around the showing bones. Leaves were growing alongside the vines, showing that they were a grape's leaves.
Patroclus flinches. He doesn't even want to
think
how that might feel. The prince doesn't know if the shade can actually feel it, but he doesn't want to think about those what ifs too.
Multiple ruler's eyebrows were raised. It doesn't take a genius how the shade died, but the rulers didn't really know why the shade was important. Some grew suspicious. Does this mean that one of the princes being shown earlier will die?
It pans up, the shade's face is shown. Somehow, the shade's tearstains can still be seen on his cheeks. The shade's shoulders shook, it seems he's still crying.
Patroclus's whole world shattered around him. He looked fairly young in that projection. The young prince tried to inhale
but why can't he? No matter how much puffs of oxygen he tries to inhale, it seems that he can't get enough. Patroclus clenched his hand, his chiton wrinkling with his hand as he tries to not cry, to not make any noise.
Achilles looked beside him, the Opus prince was oddly quiet, given how they were watching Patroclus being dead, or worse yet, a shade. Being a shade meant he didn't get a proper burial. He wasn't buried or his burial place wasn't marked.
Peleus wonders why the shade — now revealed as the Prince of Opus himself — was staying beside the giant rock. It couldn't be the shade's bruial place, since he was, well, a shade. But then what's the explanation of Patroclus being there? From the big books of ancient times, or the gifts the Gods would give them, it says that shades were renowned for staying at the place where they were buried but not marked. And the giant rock was clearly marked, so, the question goes unanswered.Menoitius didn't really know how to feel. The child is his son, but the King really rathered the disappointment wasn't. Menoitius always thought that if he was given word of his son's death, he wouldn't feel anything. Not happy, not angry, and certainly not sad. So imagine Menoitius' surprise when he
did feel something. He wasn't sad by any means. Menoitius watched the boy grow, he didn't raise him, but he watched. Menoitius didn't know how he felt. Maybe disappointed that Patroclus died at such... a young age.
The sounds of the waves crashing grew louder until Patroclus' sense of smell was hit by an overwhelming scent of the ocean sea. There stood, in all her glory, Thetis. The sea nympth herself. Patroclus didn't bow, nor did he even acknowledge the sea nymph.
Many people scowled at the act of disrespect. But really, they were surprised at the act of such rebellion. They weren't sure if being dead had made the prince's self preservation go away, or maybe the dead prince was confident his friend wouldn't let his mother hurt him.
Achilles' eyes widened slightly at how Patroclus didn't do anything respectful to his mother. His own pride was slightly bruised. Patroclus looked shocked himself at how his future self wasn't shaking or gasping at such a sight. Had being dead really change him? Or, was future Patroclus every self absorbed asshole present Patroclus hates and fears.
"..." Neither said a word. Thetis only kneeled in front of the rock herself. She didn't say anything about the disrespectfulness of the dead 'prince'. "Patroclus.." Thetis said it in such a manor like everybody else. She said it in a rush, as if the name disgusted her, as if the name was a thorn on her side. "Thetis." Came Patroclus's curt reply. He didn't care anymore. He was already dead anyways, what would Thetis do?
Patroclus could've fainted right there and then. How could he be so disrespectful? Menoitius's eye twitched. Did the boy want the sea nymph to drown their kingdom to the ground?
She brushes the moss from the giant rock. "Why are you here?" Patroclus says in a snarl like manner, his eyes looked at Thetis in the eyes, unafraid. Thetis bristled a bit. She's a Goddesses compared to the mortal in front of her, a dead one at that. But she didn't do anything. "Is it such a crime to visit my son's grave." Thetis calmly answered. As calmly as she could. Her shoulders shook as she brushed away the moss, showing the inscription of Achilles' name.
Achilles freezes, not unlike how Patroclus had when he realized he was dead. Achilles could feel his father freeze as well. Achilles was supposed to be Aristos Achaion, he was supposed to be a God (as his mother kept muttering to him whenever they met). Achilles wasn't supposed to be dead. It's a fact Thetis kept telling Achilles. Like the sun was hot and the sea was wet.Patroclus glanced over at the prince beside him, seeing how he froze, how Achilles's father froze. The other royals in the room muttered to one another. Could they really believe the book now? A God-born, dead? Unheard of! (I mean, was it really?)
Patroclus scoffed, looking away from Thetis. But he didn't say anything else. "What happened to Pyrrhus?" Patroclus didn't look at Thetis, staring at the cracked ground beneath him as he wondered what ever happened to Thetis's grandson. "He's dead."
Patroclus made the feeling of glee from his heart to die down. He looked up at Thetis. "How?" Patroclus didn't really care. "King Agamemnon's son killed him after taking advantage of his fiancèe."
Achilles wonders who this Pyrrhus was for Thetis to know about the boy. Was he Achilles's brother? Achilles knows how outrageous it was since Thetis has hated humanity and mortals since day 1, but what other reasons was there for his mother to know or even care of this boy's fate?
Patroclus grew angry at the thought. He wasn't angry for Pyrrhus in any means, Gods no, he'd rather fall into Tartarus itself before getting angry in Achilles's son's behalf. He eyebrows furrowed and the grapevines around his ribcage tightened in his anger.
"That is what you wished Achilles to be?" Patroclus hissed. "You liked Pyrrhus because you believed him better than Achilles because Pyrrhus had no Patroclus beside him, had no weakness." The brown haired ex-prince wanted to release his anger, his anger at Thetis, at the world, at... at Achilles.
Thetis stayed silent.
"The poets would sing of Achilles's cruel actions that he did in grief, his killings, the tragedies. But nothing of his skill with the lyre. His beautiful voice.." Thetis seemed to be waiting for more of Achille's more kinder achievements.
No one spoke. How could they speak when such raw emotions were being shown by the book. In the corner of the room, Orphic could be seen sipping her cup of coffee, her cat sitting on her lap loyally.
"Do you not have any more memories?" Thetis questioned—
demanded more like, after Patroclus stayed quiet. The dead prince frowned, looking straight into Thetis's eyes. "I am made of memories." Thetis demanded Patroclus to speak more of her son. Patroclus looked like he'd rather be killed ten times over. But, for whatever reason that the others do not know of, Patroclus's mouth falls open and all the memories flooded both their ears.
The others in the room had no choice but to also listen. Achilles seemed to preen with every praise Patroclus on the book's projection. Peleus smiled proudly, patting Achilles's back.
Patroclus didn't know how many hours, maybe days, they had been sitting there. Just Patroclus talking and Thetis listening. The sun sets in the distance. "I could not make him a God.." Thetis faintly says. She rests her head onto the stone that was Achilles's tombstone. Her voice was in such a sad tone, a humanely sad tone.
Patroclus looked at her with a sympathetic face. "But you made him." Thetis doesn't utter another word. The night sky was littered with the lights of small stars, the moon bright and illuminating their very spot.
"I have done it." Thetis suddenly said, standing up. Her long black hair that was as long as a horse's tail flowed onto her back. Patroclus looked confused at first before he noticed the scribble just below Achilles's name on the stone. A jagged 'Patroclus' was written onto it. Patroclus looked at Thetis, her back still turned to him. "Go," she finally mutters after feeling his stare burning her back. "He waits for you."
Patroclus had not been needed to be told twice. He disappeared from the earth's grass in golden specks. Thetis did not look back. She walked to the ocean until she felt the waves brush her form and surround her until she was submerged into the deep depths of the sea. If Thetis wanted, she could be on the bottom of the ocean. But maybe it was far too close to the underworld. Maybe if she had been on the ocean's ground that night, she might've heard two boys joyfully laughing and running around in the underworld.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Everything was quiet. No one made a sound. The soft meow of Orphic's cat drew their attention back to the young girl. She only smiles back at them, her dimples showing. She twirls her finger in the air, the book in front of them turns a couple more pages. Once the pages stopped turning, the area they were shown was clearly the underworld.
The sky was black, dark smoke accompanying the empty ink, like clouds. Patroclus was finally smiling again. He hums as he makes a pie. Of course, the dead wouldn't need to eat, but since there were so much figs around their home, Patroclus wanted to make one (maybe three for their neighbors?).
Patroclus still couldn't believe he died so young. While it was... expected to die young since because of small wars that would occasionally happen, it still stung. Patroclus wonders why there were so many figs as well.
The other royalty in the room couldn't help but balk at how: A.) The dead prince was in Elysium and B.) Said prince was
baking. Royalty baking? Simply unheard of!
How did they know it was Elysium? Well, many and most mortals know of how the Underworld worked. And it was said that if you choose to stay in Elysium, then the place would gift you whatever house you'd like.
"There you are, Philtatos." Achilles's arms snakes around the man's waist. He laughs, smiling at how affectionate Achilles is. "Here I am." Patroclus nods, finishing the crust of the pie. "I am making fig pies." Patroclus shows Achilles the unbaked version of the pie.
Still unused to such behavior, both Achilles and Patroclus blushes, their cheeks red with embarrassment. Patroclus wonders when he learned how to cook. His father would rather drop dead and let him inherite the throne than let Patroclus learn such un-royalty like skills.
"And I'm certain that they'll taste great like always." Achilles hums, resting his forehead on Patroclus's shoulder.
It's such a sight. For many different reasons. One was that both were dead. And from where Achilles was, they could see a hole on the heel of Achilles. A small yet narrow one as well, like an arrow's injury. Another was that both dead princes looked so happy and content with their undead lives. Not many were lucky to find their other half, and not many cared to even look for such.
Peleus smiles, happy that Achilles found happiness, yet, he finds it frustrating that it wasn't a girl. Not even an heir to leave for their kingdom.
Orphic then claps her hand once. The book closes slowly, the light dying down. "Thanks for participating." She grins before she disappears, leaving a small swarm of stardust. A door suddenly appeared, with the destination of each door just on top of it.Peleus waits for Achilles by the door where their kingdom was. Achilles had turned around, staring into Patroclus's gorgeous syrup colored eyes. Patroclus's father had walked in first, not caring to look back. Achilles waves shyly, smiling when Patroclus waved back.
He wonders when they'd meet again.