The Song of Patroclus

Chapter 13

The next days passed quietly. We took meals in our room and spent long hours away from the palace, exploring the island, seeking what shade there was beneath the scruffy trees. It was not without its troubles. I could not move too quickly, be even seen holding a weapon, or even speak normally. But it had become less difficult with Patroclus. We found new places together, where no one would see us, search for us. Where we could be who we were, just two boys in love.

Patroclus had one day asked me of my nights spent with Deidameia. I told him I did not want to speak of it. It was not out of nervousness or awkwardness; nothing was forbidden between us. It was simply something I did not remember, nor want to. He urged it on.

"It had been swift, fast. I did nothing, I did not want to hurt her. I did not feel pleasure, the stickiness of our bodies almost repulsed me." Patroclus was quiet for a second, and urged for more. I did not know how to describe the smell, the wetness between her legs as it covered my stomach. "It was greasy," I settled for. "Like oil." When he tried to press further, I shook my head. "I cannot remember, really. It was dark, and I could not see. I wanted it to be over." I touched his cheek with my palm. "I missed you."

--

On a particularly quiet day, we went, hand in hand, to the other side of the island. We found a deserted side of the beach. Rock-filled and quiet, but it was almost twice the size of our running tracks. I yelled in delight and ran into the water, abandoning my dress on the hot sand.

"Count for me," I told Patroclus, over my shoulder, and disappeared under the water. I let the water swallow me, swallow my senses until it was all I could see or feel or hear. I let a few bubbles escape to the surface before I followed them. "How many?" I asked.

"Thirteen," He called back.

"I was just warming up," I defended, even though there was no hint of mockery in his answer. I heard him hum in response. The numbers had only decreased from there. Eleven, nine, seven...until I couldn't stay under for even another second. I came to sat beside him, dripping on the sand. I told him of my days as a woman, with only the dances to fight off the stiffness in his joints because of the long, idle days.

I had felt free now, like I could have stood through storms. I probably could have.

When it was time to go back to the great hall, I would begrudgingly put on my dress, and smooth back my hair. It was a chore, but an important one. I usually tried to put cloth over my head as well. Golden hair was an uncommon trait. Not impossible, but unusual enough to start whispers. The whispers reaching clever ears was not a risk worth taking.

Every time we would return, a table would be set for us in front of the thrones. It was only us four; me, Patroclus, Lycomedes, and Deidameia. I thought I would have to argue to get Patroclus a chair, but the king was understanding enough. A little too understanding then I had expected a father to be.

The dinners were usually silent, they were used to quell gossip, to maintain the idea of Patroclus as my husband. It was the only lie I enjoyed living. I wished it were the truth.

I felt Deidameia's eyes on me every single dinner. I did not look back. I had even less reasons to, now that Patroclus was here. My eyes unconsciously fell on Patroclus. He was looking nervously at the princess. I held his hand under the table and squeezed it. Her hurt is not a concern for you to bear. He simply looked down at our hands and held it tightly. I continued eating.

I had told him this many times. He does not have to feel guilty for her hurt. He had always pleaded me to be a little, only a little, kinder with her.

"I respect your worry towards her," I told him. "And I can try to be kind. I already do. But I cannot try to pretend I love her. I do not. My heart belongs only to you."

I had let go of his hand, still eating. He stayed tense beside me. After a few moments of silence, he tapped me beneath the table. I turned.

"What is it?" I asked. He titled his head towards the princess, a gesture so small I barely noticed it.

"The princess wants to know if you are well." I must not have heard her.

"Oh." I looked over at her for a second before I turned my gaze back to Patroclus. "I am well." I am well now.

--

Me and Patroclus had fell into a routine. I would wake early and practice with spears. We had hidden weapons in a distant grove and I would practice there while he would sleep. I would rip off my dress, escape my hair from the confines of the cloth, and let my feet move in rhythm with the inexistent music of the sword. Usually, Patroclus would come join me, but sometimes I would be done before he was awake. I would then join him in the bed, sweating and tired, and sleep until he woke me up.

It was one of those mornings. The sword was in my hand, the cool grass under my feet. I let the breeze embrace me, slicing through it with my sword. It had been a while now. I had come before sunup, and now the rays were shining on the metal of the blade.

Usually, I would let the adrenaline course through my body, letting the sword consume all my thoughts, pretend I was on a battlefield, slicing through Trojans. But today, the sword was clumsy in my hand. It had even almost fell once. It was not out of lack of practice; but lack of focus. A weird dread crawled up my spine, and I shivered quietly.

I tried to ignore the rising unease and focus on the imaginary bleeding Trojan in front of me, piercing his chest.

I let the sword drop from my hand, but the feeling did not drop with it. I fell to the ground, tugging at my hair in frustration. My chest clenched in anxiousness. I tried to pick up the sword again, but my body would not let me.

Patroclus.

--

After smoothing out the wrinkles in my dress and resting the cloth back on my head, I went out to look for Patroclus. The palace was quiet, it was still early in the morning. But the risk of someone seeing prince Achilles in a dress was too dangerous.

I went to our chamber. The sheets were messy and upturned. He was nowhere to be seen. The uneasiness gave way to fear.

"Patroclus!" I called out in feminine voice, walking through the halls. I sigh at the silence that follows. I call out for him again. As I'm ready to leave the hallway and take my search somewhere else, his panicked voice responds.

"Achilles!" He called back. I turned around, watching his sweaty, frightened figure run to me. Before I can even get a word out, he pulls me to him. I furrow my eyebrows. He wraps his arms around my waist. I wrap mine around his hair and stroke it gently.

We do not speak. I see that he does not want to. I settle for resting my hands at his neck and kiss his cheek repeatedly.

We never spoke of it. I had once tried, but he had not answered. I did not ask again. But I always knew something had happened. What he was hiding, I did not know. I was not sure I had wanted to.

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heyooooo. this is a shockingly short chapter so i got it done fairly quick. hope yall enjoy and if u have feedback take it and shove it up ur ass.

peace✌️