Perspective Swap

Achilles (8)

The flickering torchlight faded, replaced by a swirling vortex of golden light. Disoriented, I stumbled forward, the familiar weight of my Myrmidon armor replaced by the feel of cool, damp sand beneath my bare feet. The air thrummed with an unseen energy, the scent of salt and spray heavy in my lungs.

Then I saw him. Patroclus stood on the shore, the wind whipping his dark hair around his face. He was clad only in a white linen loincloth, the fabric clinging to his toned form as the ocean breeze toyed with it. A gasp escaped my lips, a sound raw and unfamiliar.

He turned, his dark eyes locking with mine. A slow smile spread across his face, a smile that sent a jolt straight to my core. He beckoned me closer, his voice a husky whisper carried on the wind.

"Achilles," he called, his voice a siren song that lured me forward.

I waded towards him, the cool water lapping at my thighs. The sand gave way beneath my feet, pulling me deeper in. Panic welled up within me, the urge to fight the invisible current overwhelming.

But then, a strong hand grasped mine, warm and calloused against my skin. Patroclus pulled me forward, his touch sending shivers down my spine. We emerged from the water, standing breathless on the shore, the droplets clinging to our skin like a shared secret.

He stood so close now, our chests nearly brushing. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the faint scent of herbs that clung to his skin. His dark eyes held mine captive, their depths swirling with an unspoken desire that mirrored the turmoil within me.

My breath hitched as he reached out, a single finger tracing the line of my jaw. The touch sent a spark igniting deep within me, a yearning I couldn't name. I leaned into his touch, my own hand trembling as it reached up to cup his face.

His lips parted slightly, a silent invitation. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat urging me forward. I closed the distance between us, the taste of salt and sea air mingling with the intoxicating warmth of his touch.

The kiss was electric, a jolt that sent shivers down my spine. His lips were soft, yielding beneath mine, his touch sending a wave of heat through my body. I explored his mouth with a newfound urgency, the taste of him both foreign and familiar.

His arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer until our bodies were pressed flush together. I could feel the heat of his skin against mine, the rapid rise and fall of his chest mirroring the frantic beat of my own heart.

Suddenly, a harsh cry pierced the dream, a sound that echoed across the vast emptiness. I pulled back, gasping for breath, my heart pounding a frantic tattoo against my ribs. The golden light swirled, the image of Patroclus dissolving into the shimmering vortex.

I awoke with a jolt, sweat clinging to my skin, the taste of salt still lingering on my lips. The dream faded quickly, leaving behind a phantom ache in the place where his touch had lingered and a yearning so intense it felt like a physical weight pressing down on my chest.

Dazed, I reached out, searching for the warmth that had been beside me. But my hand met only empty air. The realization hit me like a physical blow – it had all been a dream, a cruel trick of my own traitorous body.

Frustration and a strange sense of longing warred within me. The taste of his kiss, the feel of his touch, lingered like a phantom sensation, a constant reminder of what I craved yet dared not seek. Rolling onto my side, I stared out the window at the faint light of dawn creeping across the horizon. Sleep, once a refuge, now felt like a torment, a place where forbidden desires played out in vivid detail, leaving me yearning for a reality that seemed as distant as the stars themselves.

I eventually fell back asleep, but this time, it was deep. No Patroclus. Good. I heard my mother Thetis say to me, but it was all a dream, and I was fainally at peace.

The morning sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow across the room. Hunger satiated by breakfast, I found myself drawn back to my chambers. Restlessness settled in my gut, a strange unease I couldn't quite place.

Flinging myself onto the familiar comfort of my bed, I stared at the exposed stone wall across the room. An impulsive urge to break the silence seized me.

"Hello," I called out, the word echoing in the stillness. My voice sounded rough, unused to such casual greetings. A flicker of worry sparked – would he interpret my invitation as unwanted? Would he flee back to the discomfort of his pallet at the first sign of hesitation?

But I held my ground, forcing myself to maintain a relaxed posture, one leg dangling carelessly off the edge of the bed. Silence stretched, the air thick with anticipation.

Then, a soft answer drifted across the room, barely audible. "Hello," came Patroclus' voice, tinged with uncertainty. Relief washed over me, warm and welcome. He had chosen to stay.

A slow smile tugged at the corner of my lips. He rose from his pallet, his movements hesitant, and crossed the room towards his designated sleeping space. My eyes followed him, taking in the way the morning light caught in his dark hair, the slight furrow in his brow that hinted at his remaining nervousness.

This was uncharted territory for both of us, and a strange mix of excitement and apprehension coiled within me. What did this shared space mean? Where would it lead? For the first time, I found myself looking forward to the coming night, to the quiet companionship that awaited in the cool darkness of my chambers.

My outward demeanor – calm, collected, the picture of a warrior prince – masked a different me. Hidden beneath this stoic facade resided another Achilles, one playful and unpredictable, his spirit as multifaceted and captivating as a gem catching the sunlight.

This hidden self found amusement in defying even my own capabilities. Blindfolded catches, attempts at impossible leaps across furniture – these were the games I played with my own skill, a silent challenge that brought a secret smile to my lips.

Another telltale sign of this hidden me? The white, calloused heels on my feet, a badge of honor earned from a lifetime spent roaming barefoot. My father, in a futile attempt to soften them, had me endure the indignity of sandal oil infused with the cloying scent of sandalwood and pomegranate. But the callouses remained, a testament to my boundless energy and my disdain for restrictive footwear.

As the day progressed, Patroclus began to weave his own tales, a captivating counterpoint to my earlier narration. He spoke of the opulent palace where he had spent his childhood, then delved into more personal stories of skipping stones on sun-drenched beaches, forgotten wooden toys, and a cherished lyre that once belonged to his mother's dowry.

A warmth bloomed within me when I said, "I am glad your father sent it with you." The thought of him having a piece of his past here, within these walls, felt strangely comforting.

The confines of night dissolved as our conversations flowed effortlessly. To my own surprise, the well of words within me seemed inexhaustible. We talked of everything – the sun-soaked sands of the beach, the camaraderie of the evening meal, even the latest gossip about a certain young soldier.

With Patroclus, I found myself speaking plainly, expressing my thoughts without artifice. It puzzled me when he didn't always follow my bluntness, a fact that made some label me simple. He, however, saw something different, something sharper. In his eyes, my straightforwardness was a form of genius, a blade that cut straight to the heart of a matter. His perceptive words lingered in my mind, a seed of something new taking root within me.

Weeks bled into one another, the rhythm of our days settling into a comfortable routine. But a restlessness gnawed at me, an unspoken yearning for something more. One afternoon, as Patroclus rose to leave me for my usual training session, I blurted out an idea that surprised even myself.

"Why don't you come with me?" The words tumbled out, laced with a nervousness that felt foreign on my tongue. Even to my own ears, I sounded hesitant, and the truth was, I was.