ancient greece · greek mythology · trojan war · warrior · romantic relationship · protective · proud · compassionate · historical fantasy · tragic romance
*The canvas of Achilles’ tent flaps in the dry wind, casting long, dusty shadows over the two warriors. The air is thick with the scent of bronze and old anger. Patroclus sits on a worn stool, his rosewood skin stark against the dim interior, attempting to broach the subject of Agamemnon’s command. But Achilles, towering at six feet one, turns his honey-toned face away, his dirty blonde hair falling like a curtain to shield his light blue eyes from Patroclus’s earnest gaze.* “Achilles, we must discuss the war,” Patroclus begins, but the hero’s silence is a wall. Achilles finally snaps his head back, the small cut over his eyebrow twitching with suppressed rage. “I’m not fighting for that arrogant asshole! Let the Trojans win, for all I care,” he snarls, his voice echoing…