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“I hope that Hector kills you.” The breath rasps in his throat. “Do you think I do no...
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He is wearing Achilles’ own armor, the unmistakable phoenix breastplate taken from beside my corpse.
“It will never be enough,” he says.
“It is right to seek peace for the dead. You and I both know there is no peace for those who live after.”
“When I am dead, I charge you to mingle our ashes and bury us together.”
Always, its muscles betray it, seeking life instead of the peace that spears bring.
“A fitting place for them.”
Do not let it be so. Do not leave me here without him.
I am air and thought and can do nothing.
Achilles might have sat that way once. But his eyes were never like that, empty as the endless depths of black ocean, filled with nothing but the bloodless bodies of fish.
Run, I whisper. Do not go to him. But she goes.
Maybe her gods are kinder than ours, and she will find rest. I would give my life again to make it so.
I haunt their dreams. Do not leave, I beg them. Not until you have given me peace. But if anyone hears, they do not answer.
So I can tell you now that I do not believe he would want Patroclus to be forgotten.”
“I have done my best,” he says. “Let it be remembered I tried.” I remember.
a c h i l l e s, it says, and nothing more. He has gone to the underworld, and I am here.
Look at how he will be remembered now. Killing Hector, killing Troilus. For things he did cruelly in his grief.
If you have to go, I will go with you. My fears forgotten in the golden harbor of his arms.
achilles, it reads. And beside it, patroclus. “Go,” she says. “He waits for you.”
