The room had a few threadbare tapestries and four chairs. I sat up straight, stiff, facing the two princes with Patroclus beside me. The tension in the room and the glare on my face was apparent.
“It was a trick,” I snapped. Odysseus was unphased at the accusation.
“You were clever in hiding yourself; we had to be cleverer still in finding you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Well? You’ve found me. What do you want?”
“We want you to come to Troy,” Odysseus said.
“And if I do not want to come?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Then we make this known,” Diomedes said, lifting my discarded dress, staring at it with a foul look on his face. It had felt like he had struck me. He might as well have. The ugliest insults were reserved for men who pretended to be women, such insults were to kill over. Odysseus raised a restraining hand.
“We are all noble men here and it should not have to come to such measures. I hope we can offer you happier reasons to agree. Fame, for instance. You will win much of it, if you fight for us.” He had not denied that they would reveal my shameful secret. Judging by how much I
“There will be other wars,” I defended.
“Not like this one. This will be the greatest war of our people, remembered in legend and song for generations. You are a fool not to see it,” Diomedes said. I raised an eyebrow.
“I see nothing but a cuckolded husband and Agamemnon’s greed.”
“Then you are blind,” Diomedes spoke harshly. “What is more heroic than to fight for the honor of the most beautiful woman in the world, against the mightiest city of the East? Perseus cannot say he did so much, nor Jason. Heracles would kill his wife again for a chance to come along. We will master Anatolia all the way to Araby. We will carve ourselves into stories for ages to come.” He was not wrong. This war would be sang about for centuries to come, the heroes would be crowned with untouchable glory. Before I opened my mouth to further argue, a new voice spoke.
“I thought you said it would be an easy campaign, home by next fall,” Patroclus accused, eyes darting over to Odysseus.
“I lied,” Odysseus shrugged nonchalantly. “I have no idea how long it will be. Faster if we have you.” He looked back to me. “The sons of Troy are known for their skill in battle, and their deaths will lift your name to the stars. If you miss it, you will miss your chance at immortality. You will stay behind, unknown. You will grow old, and older in obscurity.” His confidence uneased me. They were not the words of an unassuming, overconfident nobody. The way Odysseus spoke the words were almost mocking, as if he knew something I didn’t. I didn’t like it.
“You cannot know that,” I challenged.
“Actually, I can.” He lazily leaned back in his chair. “I am fortunate to have some knowledge of the gods. And the gods have seen fit to share with me a prophecy about you.” His lips turned up mischievously, as if everything was humorous to him.
Me and Patroclus shared an uneased look. Odysseus would come to Scyros with more then just tawdry blackmail. He was given the name polutropus, the man of many turnings.
“What prophecy?” I asked, almost dreading his answer.
“That if you do not come to Troy, your godhead will wither in you, unused. Your strength will dimmish. At best, you will be like Lycomedes here, moldering on a forgotten island with only daughters to succeed him. Scyros will be conquered soon by a nearby state; you know this as well as I. They wll not kill him; why should they? He can live out his years in some corner eating the bread they soften for him, senile and alone. When he does, people will say, who?”
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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...
