I woke to the red of my eyelids straining out the sun. I turned to my side, to find unfamiliar sheets instead of Patroclus' familar torso. I frowned, sitting up in the bed. I was not in my room, not even in the palace at all.
The room was untouched, detached. Everything was perfectly in its place, and the lack of comfort in the room left me unsettled.
"Patroclus?" I called out, having little hope for a response. There was not one. I got off the bed, looking around the room. I spotted a chest beside a large window, outlooking a serene river. We did not live near a river.
I opened the chest, frowning. My clothes and a few of my belongings were packed lazily into the chest. I widened my eyes as I looked through the clothes. Thankfully, the ash figurine Patroclus gave me was still safe, resting inside my cloak. I sighed in relief and pulled it out. I ran my hand over it, and hid it back in the chest.
I walked towards the door cautiously. I opened it, peeking out to the hallway. My frown deepened. I was definitely not in the palace. Guessing by the tapestry and designs on the walls, I was not in Phthia at all. The magnificent hallway made it clear that I was still somewhere important, probably another palace. My hand went to find the dagger at my waist when I stepped out, but it was not there. Uneasiness filled me at the sensation of vulnerability.
Patroclus, I called out again. This time, a voice answered. But it was not Patroclus.
“My son,” Came my mother’s voice. Her voice led me to a courtroom, with my mother standing in the middle. An old, weary throne sat proudly on the far end. A much younger girl, about my age, stood in front of my mother, grin apparent on her face. “We shall talk.” She nodded to the girl, who winked at me. My mother pulled me back towards my room by my arm. I turned to look at her when she closed the door.
“Where am I?” I asked. If anyone were to know, it would be her. She hesitated for a second, before answering.
“Scyros.” An island, nowhere significant. Nowhere someone would search for a prince.
“Where is Patroclus?” My panic escaped me as a crack at the end of the question. My mother frowned.
“He is not here. Why would he be?” She raised an eyebrow. I felt as if I could not breathe, the thought of Patroclus being so far away made me nauseous.
“He is my companion,” I found my voice, timid and breathless. “He should always be with me.”
“Not anymore,” She declared, proud to do so. “This is your home now, son.”
“My home is where he is.”
Fury enveloped her at this. “Listen to me, Achilles. You will stay here, it is my command. You don’t come with me, this is the only other way I can keep you away from the war. You will go when you are ready. You cannot go yet. It is too early. You are not ready. I have convinced the king you are a woman in need of foster care. Do not make me to be a liar.” Her latter words did not process
“I do not fear war, mother. Take me back.”
“But I do! I fear your death, my dear Achilles,” She rested her hand on my head, the weight almost pulling me down. “You will stay here with your wife.” I looked up.
“What?”
“That girl out there? Princess Deidameia of Scyros. She is not a perfect wife, but the best I could have done on such short notice.” I moved out of her grip.
“She is not my wife.” My mother’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes she is. I have already spoken to her. She was quite pleased at marrying Aristos Achaion.”
YOU ARE READING
The Song of Patroclus
Fanfiction"The first was Patroclus. The first was always Patroclus." Achilles. Son of a king and a goddess. Destined to become the Greeks' greatest. But there is something more he craves. A reason to become the greatest, perhaps? Or maybe a reason to live. E...
