𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐒, heroes of olympus³

xxv. when his heart is already burned and confined within the urn

━chapter twenty-five,
❝when his heart is already burned and
confined within the urn!❞
『R O M E O』

☆

━━━Achilles had lost the love of his life━that had been the root reasoning for his psychotic break. Patroclus, his beloved childhood friend and lover, had been killed by Hector. Achilles had sworn he wouldn't fight even though King Agamemnon had begged him to, and Achilles danced on the fact that the Greek's leader knew they wouldn't win the war without his help. Achilles was the greatest warrior in his age, of any age and every age until the end of time━that destiny had been written in the stars long before Zeus had lusted for Thetis. But Achilles was meant to be great. The greatest. And Zeus would not take the chance to be overthrown by his son, like he had done to his father and his before him.

     So Thetis had a child with a mortal man━a mortal king, King Peleus of Pythia. And she had dipped her son, when he was born, into the River Styx to make him invulnerable and resistant to all injuries and disease. Everywhere on his body except his heel, where her hand had held him whilst he'd been underwater. But no one knew his weakness━not even Achilles himself knew of it.

     And so he was known everywhere, all throughout the world, as aristos achaion, the best of all the Greeks. He was destined to gain glory and bathe in it as one does in the sun, yet it was also his fate to fall ever so tragically━lose the one he loves the most, and become so mad with rage that he slaughters over and over again, and then die at last by his only weakness, and even, in the underworld, he does not reunite with Patroclus at once, no.

     Romeo lives through him━he falls to his knees when he finds Patroclus, dressed in his gold, phoenix-plated armor, having led the Greek army into battle despite Achilles, who had stood on his pride and sworn he wouldn't go into battle. He cries to the heavens and beats his hands against the earth and grasps Patroclus's dead body like it were his string of life.

     He would not allow Patroclus to be burned. He fell into a state of deep sorrow, so deep in the depths of despair he thought he'd never make out of it. He kept Patroclus in his bed at night, stripped of his armor, and Achilles held him as he did every night before then, but he did not sleep. He tried to, yes, but when he put his head on his chest, he could not feel the rise and fall of his breath nor the sound of his heart beating gently. Instead, he cried and cried, feeling emasculated as he did so, but he did not care, for he had lost the love of his life.

     Patroclus slipped right through his fingers. He had been the best of the Greeks, the best of all men━and Achilles should've known it. He should've known the prophecy had not been about him. Not when he stood by and watched Greeks be slaughtered just because of his hubris; he was no better than the gods, it was about time he understood that.