Aristoi Achaion [A the song of Achilles fanfiction] 2

Chapter 27

A/N: TW:fake war.

The morning air hitting my face the next day was different than it had ever been. It had a certain coldness I had never felt before. We would soon have to march for war, not to win prizes but so we could reach our goal. We would fight for only the gods know how long. Until we could -hopefully- bring back Helen. Well the main goal, Agamemnon's goal, is to have this city burned to the ground. But you won't see this city burn. So I suppose the prophecy wasn't about me then. There was this prophecy long ago which claimed that the great city of the East would only be able to be destroyed by a descendant of my grandfather's. My father and uncle tried but their supposed success wasn't long lasting.
A/N: if y'all don't know about the first Trojian campaign please search it up it's really interesting.
And I guess it isn't supposed to be my brother either maybe Ajax or Teucer?
A/N: wouldn't you like to know weather girl...
Or perhaps it could be me, why would Athena go to such great lengths if it isn't about me?My brother was probably right, Cassandra was trying to scare me away;

I reached for my bucket of water but it rather empty, thankfully though, Briseis soon appeared at the opening of my tent holding a small amphorae filled with water. I had asked her to bring me one last night and I couldn't have been more greatful, since I was extremely thirsty.
"Good morning" she said with a small smile.
"Morning" I replied as she was placing the vase near my bucket.
"Thank you" I smiled.
"Of course" it was unfortunate, that even though I have been teaching her and the other girls and we had established some kind of friendship she was basically still my slave, or my brother's whatever you'd like to call it.
"Briseis" I spoke, as she was ready to leave.
"I've been meaning to ask for quite some time... What's your name? Your actual name, not the one derived from your father's"
"Hippodamia" she muttered. Hippodamia, she who masters horses.
I nodded.
"Is there anything else I could assist you with?" she asked kindly.
"Not really, you can go, thank you again"
I drunk most of the water and then washed my face, I brushed my hair with a wooden comb and styled into multiple braids, put on my undergarments and parts of my armour.
I had got uses to seeing myself wear it, I must admit, I thought it suited me quite well.
Then, I headed to meet my brother and Patroclus for breakfast. The usual: fish, bread and olives.
"You eat like a dog" I teased my brother. He might act as if he doesn't care about all of this but because of the war he sometimes doesn't eat at night, causing him to be famished each morning.
"I also fight like a dog"
"Well we fight similarly so I can proudly say we fight better than dogs"
Patroclus subtly laughed. Who I smiled at.
"Are you still thinking about yesterday?" Achilles asked.
"Not really" I lied. He looked at me intensely as if he failed to believe me. Who was I trying to fool? He knew me better than the back of his hand.
"Maybe a bit..." I admitted.
"I just think you should forget about it, you are better off without her stupid advice anyway"
"I can promise, I'll try"
"Good"
After that we just continued eating, the food was nice but I miss figs, -and other fruits we used to eat in Pelion- but mostly figs. I can't believe it has been five years since me and Achilles were seating under that olive tree in Phthia eating figs. He promised me we would make up for the time we had lost. Will we ever? Are thirteen years a lot to ask for?
After we finished eating we put on the remaining parts of our armour we met outside our tents, that's when I noticed his hair wasn't exactly perfectly braided.
"Your hair needs fixing" I commented.
"I am sure it's fine" my brother said runnings his hand through his hair to check.
"Well it's not that good"
"I did try my best" Patroclus shrugged.
"I am sure you did"I looked up. "Now let me fix it"
"Fine..." Achilles slightly lowered his head so I could reach it. I braided parts of his hair and styled them so they would annoy him. Not that he would fight any less well if they were completely loose.
A/N: what's the family love language? :
"Alright, it's fine now"
"Thanks" he smiled.
I subtly touched Patroclus' shoulder as we were walking away.
"Have fun with the sixteen year old"I whispered laughing. My brother rolled his eyes.
"Do you feel ready my little charioteer?" I asked Patroclus, quite blushing now what my brother had gone to find Automedon.
He was quite stunned by me calling him that so he took longer than expected to answer.
"Yes, I think I am feeling quite ready"
"I am glad*
A/N: don't mind the flirting guys she is probably going through ovulation.
We could hear the army before we saw it; boasting, clattering weapons, blowing horns. Then the beach unkinked and revealed a bristling sea of men laid out in neat squares. Each was marked with a pennant that declared its king. Only one square was empty still: a place of primacy, reserved for us and the Myrmidons. We marched forward and arrayed ourselves. Behind us, rank upon gleaming rank of proud Phthians.

Before us was the wide flat plain of Troy, ending in the massive gates and towers of the city. At its base a roiling morass was ranged up against us, a blur of dark heads and polished shields that caught the sun and flashed.

In a clanking, clattering mass, we lurched into a run. This is how we fought—a dead-run charge that met the enemy in the middle. With enough momentum you could shatter their ranks all at once.

Our lines went quickly ragged as some outstripped others in their speed, glory-hungry, eager to be the first to kill a real Trojan. Some were scared to approach me, others had mo choice. Let and right men fell either from my own spear or  because of others.

I ran, armor banging. My breath came thickly, and the ground shook with the pounding of feet, a rumbling roar growing louder. The dust kicked up by the charge was almost blinding. I felt more comfortable, with Patroclus close to me, he was good. Better than most would expect an exiled prince to be.
And now, in actual war, that's when my talent showed, I flourished.

Dusk came at last and released us, limping and exhausted, back to our tents, dragging the wounded and dead. A good day,the kings said, clapping each other on the back. An auspicious beginning. Tomorrow we will do it again.

We did it again, and again. A day of fighting became a week, then a month. Then two.

It was a strange war. No territory was gained, no prisoners were taken. It was for honor only, man against man. With time, a mutual rhythm emerged: we fought a civilized seven days out of ten, with time off for festivals and funerals. No raids, no surprise attacks. The leaders, once buoyant with hopes of swift victory, grew resigned to a lengthy engagement. The armies were remarkably well matched, could tussle on the field day after day with no side discernibly stronger. This was due in part to the soldiers who poured in from all over Anatolia to help the Trojans and make their names. Our people were not the only ones greedy for glory.
Odysseus carried a light shield and faced his foes crouched like a bear, spear held low in his sun-browned hand. He would watch the other man with glittering eyes, tracking the flicker of his muscles for where and how the spear would come. When it had passed harmlessly by, he would run forward and spit him at close quarters, like a man spearing fish. His armor was always soaked with blood by the day’s end.

I began to know the Trojans, too: Paris, loosing careless arrows from a speeding chariot. His face, even strapped and compressed by the helmet, was pretty but not beautiful enough for the most beautiful woman perhaps ever known. They said he was a coward, who didn't always come to fight for the war he started and instead sent his brother. I saw Hector. He was always alone, strangely solitary in the space the other men gave him. He was capable and steady and thoughtful, every movement considered. His hands were large and work-roughened, and sometimes, as our army withdrew, we would see him washing the blood from them, so he could pray without pollution. A man who still loved the gods, even as his brothers and cousins fell because of them,But you, you will take all that would be left for me to hold onto; Who fought fiercely for his family rather than the fragile ice-crust of fame. Then the ranks would close, and he would be gone.

I wasn't sure if I should get close to him and neither did Achilles, who carefully turned from his glimpsed figure to face other Trojans, to wade off to other shoals. Afterwards, when Agamemnn would ask him when he would confront the prince of Troy, he would smile his most guileless, maddening smile. “What has Hector ever done to me?”
Well, truthfully speaking, if my brother simply dies at war, Hector would be the only one capable enough to do it.
A/N: wouldn't you like to know weather girl p.2