In Paradisum -- Patrochilles THE SONG OF ACHILLES

Chapter 9

The next morning I woke to find my face buried into his chest. Our tunics had long been thrown onto the floor and our legs were tangled up into a sort of braid. He clutched me in his arms as if I was the most precious thing in the world and my heart beat rapidly. I left a small peck on the tip of his chin before beginning the delicate process of extricating my body from his.
I was reminded of the many mornings that he would leave our chambers to speak to his mother. A most terrifying women. Yet a woman who has done a great service to me. A woman without whom I would be doomed to purgatory never to see Achilles again. I put on my tunic and looked to see if I could arrange something to eat.
In the Elysian Fields, food or drink was not exactly necessary. We were dead after all, it did not matter. However, most of us preferred to eat once in awhile simply because we enjoyed food and it brought back memories.
As such the neighborhood had some quaint food joints that I enjoyed to frequent fron time to time. Today I went to a small place that was called Hot Like Hades. I found the joke to be quite funny especially since the store contained little pastries that had emblems of fire and ghouls and large terrifying dogs on them. They were quite delicious. I brought back a few to my house.
I opened the front door to see Achilles staring out the window, bathing in the sun. As usual, he looked absolutely ethereal. He heard me step towards him and turned around. He rose to swiftly wrap his arms around me.
"You were not here, where did you go?"
"To the marketplace to get some food."
"Ahh, I see that is where the heavenly smell is coming from. Patroclus, you should have woke me."
"No, we, ahem, engaged in a lot of physical activity yesterday and you deserved more rest."
"What if I wished for more physical activity today?"
"Then I would refuse you."
"Why?!?!"
"Because I wish to continue telling you my story and eat these pastries."
"Then later?"
"Later....is a possibility."
"As you wish," he said, releasing me, a smirk evident on his face.
We sat on my bed, the pastries resting on little pieces of parchment between us.
"Where were we? Ah yes, I told you that we were to go to war with Odysseus."
"Yes," his face grew hard and grim.
"When we were at the site of battle, I rarely ever fought. You would. You were a glorious, incredible warrior and every night you returned to me in bed, blood dried on your clothing and your hair and I knew that it was never your own blood." His nose wrinkled.
"That does not...seem real to me. I do not feel as though I would be capable of killing anyone. At least not without feeling horrendous about myself."
"That is true. In fact, before, Agamemnon had forced you to marry his daughter and it had all been a ruse because on the wedding day, she had been killed and used as sacrifice in order to ensure that we could proceed. It was not your fault, yet when you witnessed her death, you blamed yourself and went cold and you were absolutely terrified."
"Then...what changed?"
"Duty? Responsibility? Perhaps it was a sort of desensitization that occured as you constantly engulfed yourself in war. But you had become a machine of murder."
"I see. What did you do?"
"Most of the time I spent my days conversing with Briseis, one of the many women you and I had saved from becoming sex slaves for other soldiers. Later on, I made myself useful by working as a doctor and healing those who came back injured."
"Briseis...for an unknown reason that name brings me a great amalgamation of emotions. Anger, envy, betrayal."
"Yes. Briseis kissed me once and wished to be my mistress. She asked me if I wanted to have children. When I relayed this to you, you were quite adamant that children were not a priority in your life, especially since you already had one, and that all you cared for...was me."
"Ahh. And...you? Did you want for children?"
"Oh Achilles, we were in a situation where any day the two of us could have died. Children was the last thing on my mind."
"But if you could have had children?"
"I do not know. I never thought of that." He looked down at the bed before taking his pastry and biting into it.
"Anyway," I continued, "At one point Agamemnon kidnapped Briseis and you sat idly by and did not help her. You felt that if you interfered, it would harm your reputation. This is why you feel betrayal. I went to Agamemnon behind your back and slit my wrist to make him bend to my will."
"You slit your wrist?? You know that you could have died from doing such a thing! Is that why you are here???"
"No. I was lightheaded and dizzy but I did not die."
"....how did you die?"
"After a certain point, you had ceased fighting in the war to make a point. Agamemnon had disrespected you and you wished to regain respect towards yourself and your status. This was not happening and more people started to die. Our troops had been halved, then quartered, then eighthed. You did not do anything. I had grown scared and upset so I urged you to fight. I urged you to relinquish your ego and prestige and fight. But you would not listen. Instead, you put me in your armor and told me to go to the battlefield in your stead. That is how I died. Hector, the one who had seemingly never done anything to you had landed my killing blow." Tears rapidly fell out of his eyes and he clutched his chest trying to breathe. I wrapped my arms around him and rubbed his back soothingly.
"I-I am sorry," he choked out.
"You have nothing to apologize for. I am here, am I not? I am here with you and that is all that matters. I am content."
"I am sorry, I am so so sorry. Patroclus. I am sorry," He repeated in a murmur like a chant or a mantra. I held him in my arms tightly for if I let go and caught glimpse of his broken face, I would break  as well.