The Song of Achilles one shots

Ten Years of Heartbreak

  

Year one

I sit waiting for him to come back to me.

When he is back he is covered in blood and dirt. Never do I worry that it is his. He told me once not to, that the Trojans are to scared to approach him: "You should see how cowardly the Trojans become at my presence. It is a marvel."

After a long day on the battlefield he would come back to me brilliant and with stories that make me cringe: he killed three Trojans with one swipe of his sword, he held back twenty men by himself, he killed a royal prince to Troy.

His stories always made me flinch. Had men lost their minds? Their humanity long gone at the sight of riches and glory.

He was my favorite killer.

———————————————————————

Year two

I do not try to make Briseis like him when he brings her to our tent. She will not listen to him so she listens to me.

She knows little Greek and I less Anatolian, but we get along and she is smart with my gestures and mispronounced words.

One day when me and her are talking in the tent he comes in with another girl. She is similarly tied at the wrists just as Briseis had been. Beaten like Briseis had been. Scared how Briseis had been.

Briseis whispers in my ear that she can help. That she can talk to the girl. I tell him that she can help and he agrees with a nod of his head.

I pull him to the side and ask him why another girl? What use do they bring us? Where do they women come from?

He sat and spoke softly : "They are safe with me. With us. They do not like me."

"Is there more woman?"

"Yes."

"How many more?"

"Three."

"Where are they?"

"With Agamemnon and Ajax."

"O"

He would bring woman to our tent for their safety.

He was my favorite savior.

———————————————————————

Year three

Thetis still visited him. It was rarer, but he was still her beloved son.

"My mother says my son is three." He never talked of his son. Never mentioned him. Never cared for him.

"She says he is healthy, well, strong." He looked uncomfortable talking of his son.

I go to hug him.

He reciprocates the hug and he puts his head on my shoulder. He sighs.

I can't tell if he does not talk of his son because of me or because of himself.

The talk of his son leaves me hurt. Even if I tell him it does not bother me that he has a son. Really it doesn't, only when we speak of him it does. Only when he exists in our heads it does.

He was my favorite father.

———————————————————————

Year four

We lie in bed together when he asks me if I liked working in the medical tent.

I said yes. I said that it felt like I was helping.