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littlesparklight · 24 days ago

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Got the (foolish lol) idea to go through some of the works I know give physical descriptions of at least some Trojan war characters and collate them. They aren't in alphabetic order, sorry, but the works/authors are colour coded, at least!

I'll do this in two parts; this one for Achaean characters, the next one for Trojans. Watch Philostratus fanboy over Palamedes and Protesilaos (why????) and marvel, when compared to basically everyone else's description, across all works!

Helen The Iliad: 'terribly does she seem like the immortal goddesses to look on' (spoken of her, not narration), divine/shining/noble among women In Hesiod and other works she is given the xanthos = blond/auburn/etc epithet Dares: Helen resembled Castor and Pollux. She was beautiful, ingenuous, and charming. Her legs were the best; her mouth the cutest. There was a beauty-mark between her eyebrows. (Castor and Pollux: they were twins, blond haired, large eyed, fair complexioned, and wellbuilt with trim bodies.) Malalas, Chronographia: full-grown, well-dressed, with fine breasts, white as snow, with beautiful eyebrows, a beautiful nose, shapely, curly-haired, blonde-ish, with big eyes, charming, with a beautiful voice, a formidable sight among women. She was 26 years old. Tzetzes, Antehomerica: white, with soft skin and beautiful eyebrows and nose. Her skin was so white and bright as if it was made of snow. She had lovely breasts and a pretty face; she had languishing and large eyes and a melodious charming voice; she had long, curly, blond hair; she was well-behaved and perfect in everything she did; she was a lot more beautiful than all the other women, just like the moon is brighter than all the stars in the sky. At that time she was twenty six years old.

Agamemnon The Iliad: '[…] tell me the name of this gigantic man. […] To be sure there are other men even greater in height, […] handsome, nor so majestic, for he seems a kingly man.' Dares: blond, large, and powerful. He was eloquent, wise, and noble, a man richly endowed. Philostratus, Heroicus: Agamemnon and Menelaos were alike neither in appearance nor strength. […] He looked majestic and magnificent and like the sort of person who offered sacrifice to the Graces. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: white, big, of a wide chin and dark hair. He was well-bearded, well-educated, resembling the blessed ones.

Menelaos The Iliad: xanthos = blond/auburn/bright, 'standing towered with his broad shoulders. Dares: moderate stature, auburn-haired, and handsome. He had a pleasing personality. Philostratus, Heroicus: Agamemnon and Menelaos were alike neither in appearance nor strength. […] [he] wore his hair boyishly long, as was the Spartan custom, and the Achaeans made allowance for him when he was visiting, since they did not mock those who came from Euboea even though their hair was ridiculously long. He says he conversed most easily and very concisely, mixing pleasant speech with his discourse. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: the bodily frame smaller [than Agamemnon]; he had a breadth, though. He had a red skin, dense beard and blond hair.

Odysseus The Iliad: 'lesser in height than Agamemnon […], but he seems broader in the shoulders and chest.' (Also shorter than Menelaos.) Dares: tough, crafty, cheerful, of medium height, eloquent, and wise. Philostratus, Heroicus: extremely skilled in public speaking and clever, but he was a dissembler, a lover of envy, and praised malice. His eyes were always downcast, and he was the sort of person who engages in self-examination. He appeared more noble than he was in military matters; surely he was not well versed in preparing for war, in commanding naval battles and sieges, or in drawing of spear and bows. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: middle-aged, pot-bellied, white, with plain hair, nose looking down and fiercely glaring.

Achilles Dares: a large chest, a fine mouth, and powerfully formed arms and legs. His head was covered with long wavy chestnut-colored hair. Though mild in manner, he was very fierce in battle. His face showed the joy of a man richly endowed. Philostratus, Heroicus: For Achilles' physique appeared startling and divine […] When he became an ephebe, a brightness radiated from his face, and his body was beyond natural size, since he grew more easily than do trees near springs. […] hair is thick, lovelier than gold, and becoming no matter where and how either the wind or he himself may move it. His nose is not quite aquiline, but almost so; his brow is crescent-shaped. The spirit in his eyes, which are bluish-gray, casts off a certain eagerness even when he is still; when he is rushing on, they spring out along with his purpose, and then he seems more lovely than ever to those who cherish him. (long hair until Patroklos dies) Tzetzes, Posthomerica: tall, of a beautiful chest, graceful in everything, white, of blond curly and thick hair. He had a big nose, melodious voice and the eyes of a woman. His glance was terrible, in a race was swift-footed; he had long legs and scanty beard.

Patroklos Dares: handsome and powerfully built. His yes were gray. He was modest, dependable, wise, a man richly endowed. Philostratus, Heroicus: Patroklos, although he was not much older than Achilles, was a divine and sensible man, […] In size and bravery he was between the two Ajaxes. He fell short of the son of Telamon in all things, but he surpassed both the size and bravery of the son of Locris. Patroklos had an olive complexion, black eyes, and sufficiently fine eyebrows, and he commended moderately long hair. His head stood upon his neck as the wrestling schools cultivate. His nose was straight, and he flared his nostrils as eager horses do. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: middle-aged, potbellied and well-bearded. He had blond hair, red skin and lovely face.

Ajax, the son of Telamon The Iliad: 'outstanding among the Argives in height and broad shoulders' ; repeatedly called only second to Achilles in everything but looks. Dares: powerful. His voice was clear, his hair black and curly. He was perfectly single-minded and unrelenting in the onslaught of battle. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: brave, great, quick, with a nice nose and curly hair; He had a dark skin; he was well-bearded and grim-looking. He was more beautiful than everybody, except for Achilles.

Ajax, the son of Oileus The Iliad: lesser [than Ajax the great] by far, for he was a small man […] Dares: stocky, powerfully built, swarthy, a pleasant person, and brave. Philostratus, Heroicus: appeared less intelligent [than Diomedes and Sthenelus] […] looking fierce, and throwing his long hair back Malalas, Chronographia: tall, strong, tawny, squinting, good nose, curly hair, black hair, thick beard, long face, daring warrior, magnanimous, a womanizer. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: tall and had bright eyes. He was nice, had long face and dark curly hair.

Diomedes Dares: stocky, brave, dignified, and austere. No one was fiercer in battle. He was loud at the war-cry, hot-tempered, impatient, and daring. Philostratus, Heroicus: steadfast and having eyes that are blue-gray and not black at all and a straight nose; his hair was woolly and dirty. […] modest upon rebuke, checked the eruption of his anger, and refused to insult the troops or to be disheartened. He himself considered it appropriate for an army to appear unwashed, and he commended sleeping in any opportune place; his provisions consisted of what was available, and he did not take pleasure in wine unless troubles came upon him. Diomedes and Sthenelos were the same age. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: [he had a] body that was worth of four young men. He was in good shape with a flat nose, narrow neck and blond hair.

Sthenelos Philostratus, Heroicus: a good size and towering, gray-eyed, with an aquiline nose, fairly long-haired, ruddy, and hot-blooded. […] lacked Diomedes' insight, his power of speech, and his patient endurance which belong to both soul and body. He gave way to anger, was contemptuous of the throng of battle, was savage upon being rebuked, and was prepared for a more delicate lifestyle than was needed for a military camp.

Nestor Dares: large, broad and fair. His nose was long and hooked. He was a wise adviser. Philostratus, Heroicus: (statue, but also the real man?) with a beard that is majestic and well-proportioned; his ears display what he went through at wrestling school, and his neck is restored to its strength. In truth, Nestor stands upright, not defeated by old age, with black eyes and without a drooping nose. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: big, had a nose looking downwards and a fiercely glaring. He had a long face, flame-coloured skin, blond hair and he was wise.

Antilochos The Iliad: Younger than the rest. Philostratus, Heroicus: Because Antilokhos was still young and not mature enough for war when they assembled at Aulis, his father did not agree to his wish to serve as a soldier. (he arrives in the fifth year.) For Achilles' physique appeared startling and divine, but that of Antilokhos seemed to all to be pleasant and gentle. […] Antilokhos resembled Nestor, but that he was swifter, trim in physique, and paid no attention to his hair. He gave me the following details about Antilokhos: He was most fond of horses and hunting with dogs. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: younger than the other Achaeans. Almost a boy, he was white, with a beautiful neck and a big nose. He was storm-footed, provoked fear with his eyes and a beard just sprouting. He was blond with beautiful hair and grey eyes.

Neoptolemus Dares: large, robust, and easily irritated. He lisped slightly, and was good-looking, with hooked nose, round eyes, and shaggy eyebrows. Philostratus, Heroicus: he was good-looking and resembled his father, but was inferior to him in the same way that beautiful people are inferior to their statues. Malalas, Chronographia: of good stature, good chest, thin, white, good nose, ruddy hair, wooly hair, light-eyed, big-eyed, blond eyebrows, blond beginnings of a beard, round-faced, precipitate, daring, agile, a fierce fighter. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: red hair, that's why many had called him Pyrrhus. He was of young age, white or somewhat grey, the colour of the milk; He had beautiful nose and chest, hair curly and was daring; He hadn't ever been hurt, embittered, reckless and of a too wild temper; Thin tiny hair was growing from his beard.

Palamedes Dares: tall and slender, wise, magnanimous, and charming. Philostratus, Herocius: So then in height he was the same as the greater Ajax; in beauty, Protesilaos says, he vied with Achilles, Antilokhos, Protesilaos himself, and with the Trojan Euphorbus. His soft beard was springing up and with the promise of curls; his hair was cut close to his skin; his eyebrows were noble, straight, and came together above the nose, which was perfect as a square and stately. The resolve of his eyes appeared unshaken and fierce in battles, but when he was at rest their gaze was full of comradely affection and affable; he also is said to have possessed the most marvelous eyes among mortals. And in truth, Protesilaos also says that when he was naked, Palamedes weighed halfway between an athlete and a lithe person, and that he had a toughness about his face that was much more pleasant than the golden locks of Euphorbus. Tzetzes, Antehomerica: He was tall, white, with his hair blond and filthy; he was slim and had a long face; he was a servant of wisdom and of Ares. His hair was blond and visibly dirty, because he didn't trouble himself with stupidities like his hair.

Podalirius Dares: sturdy, strong, haughty, and moody.

Nireus The Iliad: the most beautiful man to come beneath Ilion of all the Danaans, after blameless Achilles. Iphigenia in Aulis: repeats the 'most beautiful after Achilles' description.

Machaon Dares: large and brave, dependable, prudent, patient, and merciful.

Idomeneus The Iliad: Older than most of the rest, gray-haired. Malalas, Chronographia: above average height, dark-skinned, good eyes, well set, strong, good nose, thick beard, good head, curly hair, a berserker when fighting. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: quick, had a dark skin, of middle age. He had a short curly hair, wide chin and beautiful nose.

Meriones Dares: auburn-haired, of moderate height, with a well-proportioned body. He was robust, swift, unmerciful, and easily angered. Malalas, Chronographia: shortish, wide, white, good beard, big eyes, black hair, curly hair, flat face, bent nose, quick-moving, magnanimous, a warrior. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: short; he had wide shoulders and beautiful curly hair. He was white; he had crooked nose, nice chin, wide face.

Philoctetes Philostratus, Heroicus: his hair was gray because of age (he was about sixty years old), he was more vigorous than many of the young men, his gaze was most fearsome among mortals, his words most brief Malalas, Chronographia: a good height, well set, dark skinned, eyebrows meeting, brave, good eyes, good nose, black hair, hairy, sensible, accurate archer, magnanimous. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: tall, beautiful, of dark skin and with meeting eyebrows

Protesilaos Dares: fair-skinned, and dignified. He was swift, self-confident, even rash. Philostratus, Heroicus: He is about twenty years old at most. Because he sailed to Troy at such a young age, he has a full, splendid beard and smells sweeter than autumn myrtles. Cheerful eyebrows frame his eyes, which gives him a pleasant, friendly manner. When he exerts himself, he looks intense and determined. But if we meet him at ease, ah, how lovely and friendly his eyes appear! He has blond hair of moderate length. It hangs a little over his forehead rather than covering it. The shape of his nose is perfect, like the statue's. His voice is more sonorous than trumpets and comes from a small mouth. It is most enjoyable to meet him naked, since he is well built and nimble, just like the herms set up in race courses. His height is easily ten cubits, and it seems to me that he would have exceeded this had he not died in his early twenties. Tzetzes, Antehomerica: a lovely face and courage in his eyes; his hair was blond and long; his skin was smooth and dark; he was bold, graceful, with beautiful body and beard; he was vigorous, although much younger than Antilochus.

Calchas Malalas, Chronographia: short, white, all grey, including the beard, hairy, a very fine seer and omen-reader. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: small, white, thin and shaggy-haired. He had his hair grey in the front and white the rest of it.

#greek mythology #the iliad #trojan war #helen of troy #helen of sparta #menelaus #agamemnon #achilles #patroclus #diomedes #sthenelus #ajax the greater #ajax the lesser #nestor #antilochus

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katerinaaqu · 10 days ago

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What makes the Heart Beat (An Achilles and Antilochus one-shot)

Somehow a sequel to this:

Antilochus was walking fast. His feet seemed to have grown wings even if he was trying to appear like walking casually. He had no idea what was making his heart beat so fast but he knew he had somehow to hurry up. He had received a note with one of Achilles’s slaves that Achilles requested his presence in his tent. They had grown pretty close recently, especially since the day they had shared their sad fates with each other. Antilochus was even afraid all the time that Achilles still wished for death; he could see it in his sad eyes quite often, however the fact that he gained life every time he saw him was filling him both with joy and relief. Perhaps, the Noblest of all the Greeks would find a reason to live after all. He had promised to protect him and Antilochus believed him. He already felt safer closer to him. As he reached the tent he took one breath. It didn’t matter how many times he had been summoned there or walked in there; Antilochus always felt a bit nervous. Achilles was the greatest of all heroes among them; his idol, and yet he was now so casual with him. It felt surreal and amazing at the same time. He rubbed his chilly hands together as a shiver ran down his spine. Winter as in for good at the foot of Troy. He was wearing his warmer clothes today and he noticed that he would need potentially to wear a coat or a mantle soon. He breathed in and out one last time before walking in. The tent was specious and comfortable as always. Slaves and servants were moving about; they seemed to be setting the benches and the pillows in place. The fire and the coals at the bronze braziers were already creaking friendly and emitting much needed warmth in the tent. His eyes immediately fell upon the central part of the tent and he met the beautiful features of Achilles who immediately gained some life and color to his cheeks upon seeing him. Antilochus shyly brushed a rebellious lock of hair behind his ear.

“You asked for my presence…my lord” he said

“Yes” Achilles replied

For one second Antilochus would swear he seemed almost as nervous as he was for one second!

“I…” the Best of the Achaeans stared, “I got some wine from Pthia today. I was wondering if you wanna share”

The younger man smiled without being able to stop himself. Achilles indeed seemed in need of company.

“Sure” Nestorides replied, “I would be happy to!”

“Then…come! Please come near the fire to get warm!”

Yes, Achilles often did that too. He was a good host, that much he remembered. Whoever got to his tent would eat and drink to their fill while Achilles would play his lyre or talk to them on stuff to keep them entertained. Antilochus took the offer gladly as he approached the bench right next to the man he admired as the servants were already mixing the wine to the crater. Antilochus noticed then the covered object to the other end of the room. He almost smiled again seeing how Achilles was trying to heed his advice and stop having the golden urn in plain sight. He quickly lowered his gaze, feeling Achilles looking at him; not wishing to share more of that thought with him. He didn’t want to rub salt in open wounds. The slaves brought plates with cooked eggs and fish and seasonal fruit as well as golden cups for them to drink from. Achilles had prepared a whole feast! Antilochus half-regretted having a good breakfast that morning so that he could honor his host by appreciating more of his hospitality!

“Please…” Achilles said, fixing a fur cover over his shoulder, “Help yourself. Don’t be shy…”

Antilochus obayed. How could he refuse such an offer? He took an egg and softly chewed on it, feeling also the spice that were sprinkled over it to his tongue. Achilles mimicked the move by cutting a flatbread in half, offering him one half and then lazily biting at the crust but he seemed as without appetite as he could be more. Antilochus noticed that he had barely made himself presentable and that was because of him and his visit. He did seem down as he was that day they firstly talked heart to heart and he felt privileged to sense that his presence might have had some positive effect on him. As the wine was poured in the jug, Achilles made a dismissive move with his hand.

“I won’t need you anymore!” he said almost too harshly even if he wasn’t yelling, “I believe I can pour my own wine. I will entertain my guest. Leave us alone!”

The women did not object as they bowed their heads and left. Antilochus noticed the last to leave stopping and looking with sad eyes towards Achilles, who was busy serving the wine to pay attention to her. She was a beauty of brown eyes and wavy hair to the color of pinewood; she smelt of a fine aromatic oil. Antilochus remembered her around. She was Briseis; Achilles’s most priced woman; his status prize and a woman he had expressed his feelings so strongly for a year before. Briseis sighed sadly, covered herself with her warm vail and exited the tent.

“She’s beautiful…” Antilochus whispered absentmindedly.

Achilles looked up for the first time towards the direction Briseis had left.

“She is…” he whispered honestly, “She means so much to me…but…I have to confess you these days I feel like I cannot stand the sight of her…”

“Why?” Antilochus asked as if on an impulse, taking the cup Achilles had offered him

“You know why…” Achilles whispered

His voice was suddenly husky; raspy even. It was the voice he had when anger was boiling inside him but this time the anger was different. It was self-directed.

“I love her…I care for her but…because of her I…I…”

His hands clenched at his cup.

“Because I…”

“Achilles!” Antilochus whispered pleadingly, “Stop blaming yourself!”

“And who’s there to blame?”

Suddenly Achilles looked at him. His blue eyes were liquid with fresh tears.

“At first I wanted to blame the gods…then Hector…then I had no idea anymore! And yet nothing would have happened if I had listened to him! If only I never sent him in my place!”

“What’s done, it’s done” Antilochus said, “The gods have a weird fate for all of us”

“I…” Achilles wiped his newly shed tears, “I never expected to lose him! I always knew he would bury me! I always expected that I would die first… When we left from Skyros he was almost tearful…”

Antilochus realized how he strategically avoided to speak his name; he felt as if uttering the very sound of his companion’s name would tear him apart.

“He thought he would bid me goodbye…and he tagged along. He knew that I would die…and then…I saw his body…at my feet… I…I had no idea that I…that he…”

The youth saw his idol jerk by some unspoken sob. He had to bring his fist to his mouth to stop the new moan from arising.

“Achilles…”

The man he loved and admired suddenly forced a smile to his face.

“I am such an idiot!” he said, “I am collapsing again! I am here to entertain you not get you all sadder with the same repetitive speech of mine!”

“My lord…please…don’t you think for a moment-…”

“Taste the wine!” Achilles interrupted with a forced cheerfulness, “See the wine from my homeland and let me know”

For one more time Antilochus obeyed and brought the goblet to his lips. He tasted the rich wine to his tongue; it was light, lighter than what he expected and had a juicy flavor that reminded him of summer. He felt the eyes of Achilles on him. He felt like he should say something.

“It is exquisite, my lord…” he managed to utter, “Truly can see how much your homeland means to you”

That seemed to have positive effect for his loved idol smiled, this time genuinely, and took a sip of his own. Antilochus observed the lines of his face; he had the beauty of a woman and the strength of a man. How was it possible, even if he was not taking the same good care of himself?

“I see you started growing your beard” Antilochus mentioned as a matter of fact.

“I do?” Achilles seemed shocked as he touched the light, blonde hair that had started to grow to his chin, “I…didn’t notice…”

Antilochus raised a brow. For one second he remembered that Achilles would be now old enough to grow and take care of his beard but now he seemed genuinely shocked to discover its existence. That also seemed, Antilochus realized, that for one more thing he had abandoned himself.

“I don’t like it. Can you help me?”

“My lord? You don’t feel like taking care of your beard?”

“No” Achilles’s reply left no room for doubt, “P-…he liked my face as it was… I did too. I don’t need beard to tell me that I managed to survive this long! Can you help me?”

“I…” Antilochus rubbed the back of his nape in thought, taking another sip of wine, “I would be delighted to be of assistance but surely you can do it yourself…or one of your slaves can…”

“Right now…I don’t trust my hands much with blades close to me…” Achilles confessed, “And I do not want any of my slaves close now! You are the only company I need! Please…”

Color climbed to Antilochus’s cheeks at that remark. Surely Achilles would have many people to rely on and yet he chose him! Once again his lips curled to a small smile.

“I…I am not sure if I am the best candidate to assist with this, my lord, but I will do my best”

Achilles seemed satisfied. He stood up from his seat and went to a wooden box at the corner and took a dagger out. It was one of his most priced possessions; a dagger made of the rare blue iron of the east. Not many people had such weapons to their disposal. As he came back instead of sitting to his bench he curled upon the sheep rug he would have around the heath of fire. He patted a spot next to him.

“Come nearer the fire…” were his cheekbones painted pink because of the heat of the fire or maybe…? “It’s easier to see here…”

Antilochus gulped and for one more time obeyed. He sat and took the knife before carefully approaching the older man’s face. He focused probably way too much. He almost felt the slightest miscalculation would hurt Achilles’s tender-looking skin. The youth felt almost laughing at himself. Achilles had the fame of being invulnerable to any kind of weapon and yet here he was wondering whether he would scratch him with a blade. And yet his skin looked almost sensitive; as if a drop of rain could damage it! His complexion was pale and rosy, slightly sprinkled with light freckles along the shoulders and arms. Being so close to his face let him see with more detail his blue orbs reflected in the fire; the lips of his that were so soft and expressive all the time. Hands shaking he placed his free hand to the chin of the Son of Peleus trying to focus at how he would shave him better.

“You’re very good at this…”

Antilochus blushed.

“Y-You’re very kind, my lord…”

“I might call you to do it next time too!” Achilles teased him

“D-Don’t tease me, Achilles!”

“I’m being serious!” Achilles chuckled in response

“Y-You don’t sound serious!” Antilochus complained, “Anyway…I think I am done”

Achilles felt across his chin. He made a hum of approval but he didn’t say anything. The corner of his eye followed Antilochus’s movement as he attempted to return the dagger.

“Keep it” Achilles said softly, pushing it towards him

“N-No! I can’t possibly…!”

“Keep it…” Achilles repeated, “So you can have something to remember me…when…when I…”

“Achilles! Please don’t! Don’t say that! I told you-…”

“Let’s be realistic here” Achilles finally said, “That is my fate. Whether I stop talking about it or not will make no difference. I will do my best to protect you, Antilochus!”

It was the first time Achilles had actually voiced his name that day and Antilochus felt a shiver down his spine, feeling the syllables that consisted it running to Achilles’s tongue.

“You won’t die in Troy while I live! I promised you that! But I know I will not leave Troy…so, please, I want you to have this…to remember me…perhaps my spirit will be with you the time when…when your fate is to strike you, maybe this dagger will stop it from appearing…”

Antilochus clenched the deadly weapon to his chest, feeling his heart increasing a beat. What made this man’s heart beat, he wondered? How could he find that so that he would gain more faith that perhaps his own fate was not irreversible? Somehow he knew he sounded like a naive child by thinking that but he wouldn’t bear the thought of losing him either; for once he understood his other half, the name avoided all evening; Patroclus. Patroclus; a man he so much envied and felt sorry for but mostly the envy was that he could influence the heart of this great man so effortlessly, even if he was so far away now while he, Antilochus, had to struggle to make himself adequate to the situation! He felt ashamed of his jealousy and yet he couldn’t help himself. Perhaps that was what kept him going now.

“Thank you, my dear…” he finally said, “I will treasure it always”

“It’s yours…” Achilles whispered

The silence that passed between them was both awkward and tensed. Neither of them stood up to go back to their seats. In fact they continued getting warmed up by the fire and each other’s presence. It was as if the benches were too far apart; and this closeness was warm. He thought he should say something to break the ice but, unexpectedly, it was Achilles the one to smile again and speak.

“Do you want me to play something for you?”

“If that would please you, my lord…”

“I am asking you!” Achilles said with a light laugh, “You are my guest. You shall tell me how you want to be entertained!”

Antilochus drew one more sip of wine and smiled back. It truly felt amazing that he had the impact on him that he could make him smile.

“Then…I would be delighted to hear you play, my lord.”

Once more, the man dear to his heart smiled and rose only to fetch his lyre from the hanger he kept it. He sat back down and placed the fur blanket over his shoulders anew. After taking a few minutes to tune his instrument, Achilles began to play a light melody. Antilochus realized he could hear him play for hours. He would only stop to sip some wine and ask him if there was something else he wanted to hear. Eventually he grew tired and he needed to fetch more wine from the crater. He placed the lyre on the bench he sat before and rose to fetch the newly filled jug. Antilochus smiled, watching him. Everything was so out of the heart with Achilles! Achilles eyed towards his head; his hair, seeing the hairpin that was holding it together. With one move he pulled that hairpin out and Antilochus felt his hair cascade down his shoulders.

“Achilles!” he almost shrieked, “Give that back!”

“Not on your life!” Achilles chuckled, then turning serious again he whispered, “You have very beautiful hair.”

Antilochus felt blood climbing to his head again.

“I-I do? Never thought of it”

“Let me braid it for you…” Achilles suggested, “To return the favor for the shave”

Antilochus felt he couldn’t blush more but apparently he could!

“I-If that would please you, my lord…”

“It would!” Achilles replied playfully.

The young son of Nestor gulped a bit and showed Achilles his back. The prince of Pthia softly pulled all the locks back and combed the wavy, dark brown hair with his fingers. Antilochus’s long hair cascaded almost all the way to his hips. He had fathomed he should trim it a bit to stop getting in his way. Feeling Achilles’s light fingers work on the several pieces of hair, carefully already arranging it in small braids made his heart beat faster. Once more he wondered what made Achilles’s own heart beat because his had a pretty obvious reason!

“Your hair seem as if made to be braided!” he heard Achilles whispering

“I…” he stammered back, “I never thought of doing that before…I usually thug it high in my helmet”

“Shame” Achilles commented, “It really suits you”

Feeling the care in those fingers, Antilochus wondered; did he use to do that to Patroclus as well? Or Patroclus used to do that for him? He heard him hum as if trying to surpass a laughter.

“What?”

“Nothing” Achilles dismissed it, “It is just…I remember the first day you came here…”

“Y-You still remember that!?” Antilochus blushed

“Of course. You rushed in this tent asking for my support to your decision to fight; to make your father understand, you said”

“And you helped me…like nothing…”

“How could I refuse such a brave offering? Although…”

His movements stopped for one second.

“...Hearing the fate you had in store…I regret it…”

“Don’t!”

Antilochus turned around all of the sudden and he held Achilles’s hands in his.

“Don’t you ever say you regret it! It was my decision back then! It was my decision to stay even if I overheard the conversation of my father’s! I am scared, yes, but you have nothing to be blamed for! And I know you said you will protect me. That is enough for me! You do not need to apologize all the time for the games of fate that befall others! Please don’t do that, dear to my heart! Please!”

There was some silence between them anew but Achilles smiled.

“Yes…you are right. Forgive me…”

Forgive you! Forgive you! How can I forgive you and your heart big enough to fit us all! Antilochus wanted to scream and yet he remained silent. He let Achilles finish.

“There! I believe I did a decent job!” he approached the bronze spectrum to his face

Antilochus faced himself as he never saw it before; his wavy hair was half-arranged at some small braids Achilles had tied together with some colorful strings he had cut off the edge of his shawl, while Antilochus had his back at him! He was at loss of words.

“I-Is that me…?” he whispered feeling like an idiot for saying this

“It is!” Achiles chuckled, “I told you, you have beautiful hair!”

Antilochus eyed Achilles as well. His hair was cut short for the funeral of Patroclus. Now it had started to grow again but barely touched his shoulders. He lowered his eyes. This man knew how to love; he had loved with a passion he never saw in any other mortal! Achilles seemed to him like the expert to the matters of the heart!

“Achilles…” Antilochus hesitated, “Don’t get me wrong but…I have a silly question.”

“Hm? Shoot” Achilles drank some more wine

“How…how did you realize…you know…”

“Realize what?”

“You know…” Antilochus blushed again, “That you…feel something for someone. I mean…” he looked down in his cup, “You tell me sometimes on your wife and child and all…”

“Oh. That…”

Was that disappointment in his voice? Fatigue? New sadness?

“It’s hard to tell…I mean…Diadeima is a very good woman; a strong and kind woman. She bore me a son but I barely could see his first steps happening before coming to Troy. I care deeply for both; their well-being and safety. I guess that is a sign enough…”

He was strategically avoiding the subject again. He knew that if he had asked this man about his most intense emotions he would probably break down, cry and be much more descriptive than that. However the explanation he gave was good enough on its own.

“My father got me married when I was 13 too…”

“He didn’t!” Achilles banged his hand down the fleece

That look on his face was a genuine childish happiness Antilochus hadn’t see before! He was genuinely shocked in the most positive way; especially that he heard something new about his new companion! That gave Antilochus the boost to continue.

“I suppose he wanted us all to be able to have a family as soon as possible. He had always a big family and he was already getting older back then. I guess he wanted to make sure that we could start our family soon to be with them for as long as possible… I think I left my wife pregnant before embarking for Troy!”

“No!” once again the same look of childish enthusiasm and disbelief emerged

Antilochus wondered if the wine they had both drunk so far made him more cheerful, finally letting go of some of his sadness. In fact for one second he thought he had something in common that he didn’t have with Patroclus! They had the same fate with their spouses!And this new connection made him so happy; more than what he could express!

“Well…” he started, “That’s what I think. I left for Troy soon after but I think that was what she was trying to tell me.”

“How are they?”

Antilochus shrugged.

“I don’t know, haven’t heard anything of them for five years ever since I came here…”

“Ah…good…” Achilles mumbled absentmindedly

Realizing what he said made him once more gasp and raise his hands in defense.

“No! I mean…not good! That is not good definitely!”

Antilochus chuckled lightly. Maybe he too was getting cheerful by the wine after all. But once more he realized how much better suited this smile to Achilles over sadness.

“No need to worry too much, Achilles.” he reassured him, “The reason I am asking is exactly because I am not sure of my feelings on them. I mean I barely knew them. Of course I care for their safety and all but if I am honest I still feel like a child now, yet alone back then. I was barely out of my childhood…and yet being prepared for a family…”

He turned the drink in his cup in thought.

“I am not sure how to feel about it…”

“I understand” Achilles said sincerely, “I know how that feels like…”

“Yes, you do, don’t you? I knew you would understand…”

“It will come with time, I suppose…” the prince of Pthia replied, “it is a matter of time till you can go back home and see them again and…catch up, you know…”

“Perhaps…”

For some reason that day seemed way too distant; almost unimportant compared to the present; to this closeness with the greatest of all heroes on earth. Achilles took a mischievous expression as he smiled.

“So…have you ever since…you know!”

Antilochus once more blushed. He had lost counting how many times he did!

“I-…of course I did…once or twice…here I mean. Some slaves my father gave me that is… Can’t say I am that much invested to it!”

He cleared his throat.

“What about you?”

“No…” the answer was again immediate, “Not ever since…”

“I understand!” Antilochus rushed to stop the train of his thoughts

The last he wanted was to let Achilles sink to melancholy anew; not now that he had experienced his happiness and laughter! Achilles seemed to take the cue and stop. However then he half-smirked again as if he was about to say some good gossip.

“And have you ever experienced…you know?”

It took him ten seconds to realize what the Noblest of all Greeks was implying and when he did, he swore all the liters of his blood had climbed to his face, almost making him explode. He had no idea why he reacted like that but the question resonated way too deep for his own good!

“N-No!” he replied, perhaps louder than what he intended, “Never…I mean I came here so…I never had… way too many experiences of that kind anyways!”

It was way too awkward for some reason; why was his heart hammering against his ribcage?

“Antilochus…” Achilles whispered drawing his attention

And he then felt the warm, slightly calloused from the sword palm against his cheek. His face slowly turned and then Achilles’s soft lips were against his own. He forgot how to breathe! It took him several seconds till his paralyzed brain realized it was the pair of lips massaging his softly. And then all his mind could think was; Achilles! Achilles is kissing me! His lips tasted of wine and spices, his body had a slight essence of sweat combined with the smoke of the fire…he was warm. Antilochus felt the warmth spread in him like a wave. Achilles was kissing him in a slow and methodical manner; like a person that knew what he was doing; a man far more experienced than what Antilochus was in affairs and intimacy…and Antilochus felt like flying; the touch against his lips and the ghost-touch of that thumb to his cheek…the magic of the moment had left him speechless and out of reality. The soft lip-locking lasted only a few seconds and those seconds seemed like eternity; like the Elysian Fields! All his contact with reality was lost for those few seconds! Achilles pulled back, massaging his cheek with his finger.

“That’s how it feels…” he whispered against his lips

He let him go and only then was the magic evaporating.

“Achilles!” Antilochus screeched, “Please stop playing with me!”

“I am not”

Was that sincerity in his look? Antilochus was way too embarrassed to speak!

“But…” the elder man smirked, “You make it irresistible not to tease you!”

His head seemed ready to explode. For one second he wondered what that proposal was all about and the second he felt like he was the one to misunderstand! Achilles was reserved as well. It was as if he was unprepared for the consequences of his own actions. He brushed some hair behind his ear.

“I-I..need to go…” Antilochus said standing up

“Of course. I understand. It’s late” Achilles replied numbly

“Y-yeah… Thank you very much for the wine…and the meal! It was great”

“Sure…” Achilles once more reply

For one second he seemed worried as he added;

“You will come over again, right?”

His eyes looked almost hurt; as if he was afraid his joke or not so much had ruined their relationship they built so far. Antilochus smiled a bit.

“Of course” that was said very easily. “I would be delighted…m-my lord”

“Good! Be careful on your way back!”

“I-I will!”

And he left the tent…

Antilochus was running like his feet had grown wings! He had no idea what had happened or why he felt so curious not to mention eager to see the next stage of this! All his accumulated emotions; admiration, sympathy, worry, fear, jealousy and now this weird new desire that arose made him feel ready to explode! He ignored several of the slaves that walked past him (daresay he must have bumped into several of them) or of several soldiers that tried to stop him or ask him what was wrong. Antilochus didn’t stop until his breath was cut off. He then halted and leaned against a wooden pike of a tent, breathing heavily; his breath coming in white clouds in the evening winter cold. He clasped the dagger to his chest; the dagger that touched the flesh of Achilles and now that was given to him as a gift or as memorial and he tried to put his thoughts in order; he couldn’t remember when was the last time someone kissed him like this! Was it is wife on their wedding night? He highly doubted it; they were both young, scared and unsure. It definitely was not one of the slaves he bedded at the camp; none of them had any reason to be passionate with him; for once he was not particularly experienced or daring as a lover and for second they were slaves; they were probably afraid of him deep down. Achilles was the first person to kiss him first! The first person to add so many emotions in one kiss and, by gods, it was just a soft and chaste touch!

“Oh gods…!” he mumbled, “Gods…!”

His heart was hammering against his chest at the memory; the lips against his; the hand on his cheek… His idol had kissed him…his hero had held him closer than ever before! He wondered what that meant; was it just a moment’s tease? A moment of weakness and loneliness…or was it maybe a promise? A potential promise for more? He shook his head violently at the thought, trying to pull his thoughts together.

“Focus!” he said to himself, “You have a war to fight! Achilles relies on you! Stop having weird thoughts like this! If Achilles means something like that…he will let you know!”

And yet his hand touched his hammering heart. And then he wondered maybe that was what made the heart beat after all and maybe that was the answer to his question; somehow he knew now…that he knew how it felt!

Achilles was left alone in his tent after Antilochus left. He couldn’t find his voice not even to call the slaves back in and gather the remains of their meal… The silence was chocking him and yet he couldn’t feel himself break it! He was shocked at himself; the reaction that started as a joke, potentially pushed by the wine they had consumed; a mutual teasing about their love life made him move fast and taste the boy’s lips! And that chaste touch had awoken something inside him he had thought frozen ever since he gathered the ashes of his other half from the funeral pyre! That young man who apparently could understand him in every shape or form had somehow awakened this new or rather the old and forgotten feeling inside him; had awakened his need to live, his will to protect and now this… He clenched the hair pin he had somehow forgotten to return to Antilochus. It still bore one or two of his brown hairs on it. He clenched it against his beating heart. And now there was another feeling he knew well; guilt… He eyed the cloth that was hanging like a silent ghost. He had not even the strength to stand. Only he crawled to the spot and grasped the piece of linen, pulling it down. The golden urn came back on sight. Achilles then felt his throat burn; tied in a knot.

“Forgive me…” he whispered

His trembling hand touched the cold, golden surface.

“F-Forgive me…heart of my heart…I can’t do this anymore!” he whispered

Tears arose from his eyes, streaming down his cheeks. The pin was clasped in his hand against his chest; like a sinful proof of a criminal action.

“I can’t bear this anymore…! The loneliness…the longing! Forgive me…! Please try to understand! I can’t keep pushing people away…f-for you…!”

He moaned in desperation.

“Oh gods…!” he mumbled, “Forgive me for my words! My beloved! Soul of my soul…dear as my own life and heart! Forgive me! But I cannot do this anymore! I am alive! I am not a corpse! I cannot keep going like this! Forgive me…forgive me! Please! Try to understand…”

He had no idea what made his heart beat more;

The past the present or the nonexistent future?

****

Soooo it has become colder around here so I got inspired for another fluffy thing after also a conversation with @ellilyre about these two and I just couldn't help but explore a bit more the possibility!

So yeah fluffy stuff!

Antilochus according to some versions of the myth he was too young at the beginning of the war but at the 5th year he arrived to Troy and asked for Achilles to support his decision to fight because Nestor had objections being terrified by the prophecy

Once again I wanted to create some more tragic climate for Achilles because I so agree with people who say he was not prepared to lose Patroclus but he loses him. Now he makes a promise that he will protect Antilochus but as we know Antilochus would die by the hands of Memnon

According some myths Antilochus was also married and left an heir behind so I wanted to include that here!

I based Antilochus's description on his depiction at a vase.

The detail with the iron dagger was inspired by a conversation I had with @captnbunnie Homer mentions Iron as anachronism in his poems however iron was not completely unknown (although not widely used) so yeah decided to sneak it in as well and make it a bit more "period accurate" by making it some luxury item.

And decided to add the emotional conflict here. What do you think? Let me know!

Once again special mention to @ellilyre and of course my dear friend @artsofmetamoor because most of my work reflects a lot stories we work together with!

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