B. Sylphaen's Blog - Posts Tagged "lgbt"
A scene from Achilles's perspective (The Song of Achilles, spoiler warning!)
I stirred, restless. The lyre's music had been filling the night for Chiron and Patroclus, but not for me. I was deaf to it. The words that I had forced out of my mother echoed inside of me. She had tried to make them a breeze that would escape me, but she had failed, and so they roared still in my ears.
Chiron yawned and moved his legs in the way horses do when they’re ready to sleep. My heart leapt and I forgot about the music I was playing.
“Are you weary, Chiron?” I asked, sensing the opportunity I had been waiting for.
“I am.”
“Then we will leave you to your rest.”
I stood up and left for our cave. I did not dare look back to see if he was following. I washed myself and was already in bed when Patroclus came into the soft light of our entrance. He stretched; his body was slim, but was flourishing strong. He had become taller than me and one day, I was sure, he would cast a shadow over me.
I felt a thunder-like desire striking me at his sight. My heart beat like a piece of bronze being hit by Hephaestus’s hammer. My mouth was dry and hungry.
“You didn’t ask me about my mother’s visit yet” I said.
“How is she?” he asked, moved by his kindness, not interest.
“She is well” and the rest of the words I had practiced got stuck on my throat.
“Good.”
My head got dizzy. I almost went blind.
“She says she cannot see us here.” I managed to blurt out, and blinked hard to not lose sight of the stars on the ceiling.
“Hmmm?” I heard from Patroclus.
“She cannot see us here.” I took a breath. “On Pelion.”
“What do you mean?” he asked. Was he not thinking about it? It was the first and only thought I had had the whole day.
“She says—I asked her if she watches us here.” I licked my lips. “She says, she does not.”
Patroclus did not move.
“Oh.” He exclaimed and turned his back on me.
Had I awakened anger in him? Bother? My mother had already caused him so much pain and there I was, trying to spark in him the memory of that day on the beach when his courage had won over the terror. I had not forgotten the suffering it had caused him. Us. My mother had pulled me away from him, from his side, where I was sure I belonged. I remembered that morning when I had left, not sure if he was to follow, if I was worthy of being followed, and a crack formed in my heart. I was not to live long if now he decided to leave me behind like I had done to him before.
“I wished to tell you.” I tried to justify myself, but my words faltered. “Because— I thought you would wish to know. She—” I looked at the ceiling and took a deep breath. “She was not pleased that I asked her.”
“She was not pleased” he repeated. His voice was distant and cold. Letting his emotions run wild had caused him to take a life before meeting me, so he never allowed it to happen. I never knew the storms stirring on the other side of his silver eyes, if there were any. I had never seen the tall walls around him crumble or even tremble.
Except for that day at the beach. His kiss. The one he had gave me. My kiss. Everything had fallen that day. He had escaped his prison without any warning and taken me. I had not known before that day that those feelings had been blossoming in him too. His strength and power over me had scared me, but since then there was nothing else that I had wanted to see again more.
Patroclus pulled back the covers in our bed and laid down. I did not dare pursue his sight, afraid that mine would confess my thoughts.
“Are you pleased with her answer?” he asked, his voice broke the silence that had invited itself in and was trying to widen the gap between us.
“Yes.” I gasped for air. I still felt myself burning up, but the desire was slowly turning to shame.
Patroclus closed his eyes and abandoned me there. I turned to watch him. Hopelessness claimed me. Punished me.
Where had my kiss go? Had the flame of his love for me died? Was its shy flutter destroyed by my mother when she swatted it away to keep me from him? Had I waited too long to reach out to him? Had his heart gone cold inside its walls?
He turned and his silver eyes opened to find mine. I held my breath. His face was not using his stoic mask anymore, it had cracked and fallen and so I saw a fear, deeper and wilder than the one he had had for my mother, that he might have misunderstood my words. His eyes questioned me, begged me to be honest and merciful. I felt my body lighting up like the sun breaking over the horizon. Every doubt and shade ran, if they ever existed. There was nothing between us anymore. Just us. Just Patroclus and me. Our kiss called, demanded to be made present again, and, this time, I was the one to answer.
---------------------------------
Hi, everyone! I hope you liked what you just read, my own version of that wonderful scene in The Song of Achilles from author Madeline Miller. I made this as an exercise, as my next book will have both Achilles and Patroclus as secondary characters and I wanted to have a feel for them before getting to work (and also as a gift for my best friend, who cried her eyes out when we read this beautiful novel together). I used Madeline Miller's dialogue as it was in the book, but everything else is my own work. The description of Patroclus (tall, strong, grey eyes) I took from Dares Phrygius, a trojan priest, because Pat almost never describes himself in the novel and he has a very distorted sense of self anyways.
Please let me know your thoughts, I love getting feedback.
Chiron yawned and moved his legs in the way horses do when they’re ready to sleep. My heart leapt and I forgot about the music I was playing.
“Are you weary, Chiron?” I asked, sensing the opportunity I had been waiting for.
“I am.”
“Then we will leave you to your rest.”
I stood up and left for our cave. I did not dare look back to see if he was following. I washed myself and was already in bed when Patroclus came into the soft light of our entrance. He stretched; his body was slim, but was flourishing strong. He had become taller than me and one day, I was sure, he would cast a shadow over me.
I felt a thunder-like desire striking me at his sight. My heart beat like a piece of bronze being hit by Hephaestus’s hammer. My mouth was dry and hungry.
“You didn’t ask me about my mother’s visit yet” I said.
“How is she?” he asked, moved by his kindness, not interest.
“She is well” and the rest of the words I had practiced got stuck on my throat.
“Good.”
My head got dizzy. I almost went blind.
“She says she cannot see us here.” I managed to blurt out, and blinked hard to not lose sight of the stars on the ceiling.
“Hmmm?” I heard from Patroclus.
“She cannot see us here.” I took a breath. “On Pelion.”
“What do you mean?” he asked. Was he not thinking about it? It was the first and only thought I had had the whole day.
“She says—I asked her if she watches us here.” I licked my lips. “She says, she does not.”
Patroclus did not move.
“Oh.” He exclaimed and turned his back on me.
Had I awakened anger in him? Bother? My mother had already caused him so much pain and there I was, trying to spark in him the memory of that day on the beach when his courage had won over the terror. I had not forgotten the suffering it had caused him. Us. My mother had pulled me away from him, from his side, where I was sure I belonged. I remembered that morning when I had left, not sure if he was to follow, if I was worthy of being followed, and a crack formed in my heart. I was not to live long if now he decided to leave me behind like I had done to him before.
“I wished to tell you.” I tried to justify myself, but my words faltered. “Because— I thought you would wish to know. She—” I looked at the ceiling and took a deep breath. “She was not pleased that I asked her.”
“She was not pleased” he repeated. His voice was distant and cold. Letting his emotions run wild had caused him to take a life before meeting me, so he never allowed it to happen. I never knew the storms stirring on the other side of his silver eyes, if there were any. I had never seen the tall walls around him crumble or even tremble.
Except for that day at the beach. His kiss. The one he had gave me. My kiss. Everything had fallen that day. He had escaped his prison without any warning and taken me. I had not known before that day that those feelings had been blossoming in him too. His strength and power over me had scared me, but since then there was nothing else that I had wanted to see again more.
Patroclus pulled back the covers in our bed and laid down. I did not dare pursue his sight, afraid that mine would confess my thoughts.
“Are you pleased with her answer?” he asked, his voice broke the silence that had invited itself in and was trying to widen the gap between us.
“Yes.” I gasped for air. I still felt myself burning up, but the desire was slowly turning to shame.
Patroclus closed his eyes and abandoned me there. I turned to watch him. Hopelessness claimed me. Punished me.
Where had my kiss go? Had the flame of his love for me died? Was its shy flutter destroyed by my mother when she swatted it away to keep me from him? Had I waited too long to reach out to him? Had his heart gone cold inside its walls?
He turned and his silver eyes opened to find mine. I held my breath. His face was not using his stoic mask anymore, it had cracked and fallen and so I saw a fear, deeper and wilder than the one he had had for my mother, that he might have misunderstood my words. His eyes questioned me, begged me to be honest and merciful. I felt my body lighting up like the sun breaking over the horizon. Every doubt and shade ran, if they ever existed. There was nothing between us anymore. Just us. Just Patroclus and me. Our kiss called, demanded to be made present again, and, this time, I was the one to answer.
---------------------------------
Hi, everyone! I hope you liked what you just read, my own version of that wonderful scene in The Song of Achilles from author Madeline Miller. I made this as an exercise, as my next book will have both Achilles and Patroclus as secondary characters and I wanted to have a feel for them before getting to work (and also as a gift for my best friend, who cried her eyes out when we read this beautiful novel together). I used Madeline Miller's dialogue as it was in the book, but everything else is my own work. The description of Patroclus (tall, strong, grey eyes) I took from Dares Phrygius, a trojan priest, because Pat almost never describes himself in the novel and he has a very distorted sense of self anyways.
Please let me know your thoughts, I love getting feedback.
