#Hector prince of troy my beloved

[beauteousthings]

THAT deleted scene from Troy (2004) featuring Hector, the OG man…and Paris, the OG Himbo

#nah paris I’m sorry I still love you #despite your stupidity #hector my beloved #Paris you idiot #poor Hector #eric bana #orlando bloom #troy movie #troy 2004 #homer’s iliad #the iliad #Youtube #prince hector #Hector #hector of troy

[infp-denofdreams]

everyday i wake up and fall in love with hektor all over again,,, my man just deserves the world and more

#yes i am talking hector of troy #my man deserves everything #im so in love with him #my love my man my prince #hektor my beloved <3333

[adriles]

in a show of contempt towards the myrmidon troops , the honorable and beloved hector prince of troy has stripped patroclus’ corpse of my father’s armor , in a move that is sure to piss me off

#book 16 #hector #peleus #patroclus #greatest hits

[tsoa-incorrect-quotes]

Okay so, I kept on thinking about it and I wonder how Achilles would be treated by his mother and how he would react to Patroclus.

Lemme just...

The blond prince woke up in the middle of the night, and saw the goddess looming over him. His lover didn't seem to notice, still fast asleep next to him. "What are you doing here mother, and how did you get in" Achilles asked.

"I am here under the permission of Zeus" The woman said with a raspy voice. "I will make sure, you do not disgrace yourself in front of the Gods" and with that statement, she pulled him by his arm, and whisked him away, out the cave, and into the darkness...

"Patroclus! No!" Achilles would wail."Mother, why would you do this, where are you taking me?"

"To a place where mortals cannot reach, where you will be free of that exiled prince, where you may never see him again."

"No! Mother! Please let me go! His cries were meaningless.

She dove into the dark sea, beneath the light of the moon, she took him down to the caves under the water."Do not worry my child, I will teach you, how to be strong, I will train you, better than Chiron, I will make you a God..."

Achilles spent months away from his beloved Patroclus, the only thing to keep him company, were his mother's training lessons, and her servants. She had a home of her own, under the water, a palace with magic that allowed him to breath. It was cold and dark, this was a place where the sunlight could not see, and where his heart would suffer.

In there, she would teach him cruel lessons. "Mortals are disgusting creatures!" "They are nothing more than playthings for immature Gods!" "They are not meant to be adored, they are meant to be looked down upon by higher beings, such as yourself!" She would scream at him while he, would work tirelessly to throw his spears, to grow his muscles, to strengthen his speed. "Forget that lonely mortal!" "I will give you a wife worthy of your blood and name!"

Achilles could not forget his dear Patroclus. The more time he spent without the him, the more the dark haired boy consumed his thoughts. His mother would not be able to rip Patroclus' smile from his mind. Because hidden in her palace is Achilles most prized possession, a golden lyre. This was the only thing his mother had failed to take away from him. Everything else was gone...

His armor was no longer mad of copper, now it was black onyx, and dark iron, his spear was no longer gold, but now it had a an iron handle and a black diamond tip. His food was no longer, the meat fit for a prince, it was ambrosia, the food of the Gods. With every bit he took, he could feel a part of him burning, he mortal half. The only thing keep him grounded to the mortal world was the thought of Patroclus...

"You are ready for Troy"his mother told him one day. "You will find and kill the Trojan prince Hector" "That will solidify, your immortality". With those final words, she allowed him to leave for the war against of Troy...

Little did he know, he would meet the boy who consumed his thoughts like a plague.

Little did he know, he would meet the boy who consumed his thoughts like a plague.

He severed his way through the Trojan army, ripping out a thousand heads in under a second, he devoured their armies under his brute strength, he was feared for his speed, he heralded the darkest armor, and the Trojans would forever rue the day they met Achilles. Those who cath his eye will never see the light of day again.

But the prince himself could not care less about his reputation in Troy, nor could he celebrate his honor in the Spartan armies. He was depressed. He spent countless months under the darkness of the under water palace, thinking of his lover. Attempting to fill his empty heart with Trojan blood and Spartan praises would not work. He was surrounded by grief and anger. He begged to see his Patroclus, he wanted to go back to Thaia or Mt.Pelion. Now that he finally escaped the sea, he wanted to glance at Patroclus once more.

Until he heard of rumors circulating around the Spartan soldiers. There was a boy in the Myrmidon camp. Dark haired and dark skinned, and he would hold a golden spear...

#achilles #the song of achilles #patrochilles #patroclus #patrocilles #patrochilles angst #the shattered au #tsoa au #the song of Achilles au

[sotwk]

hey! i know you've probably answered some of this before, but which of your OCs is your favorite- whether your favorite to write, or to imagine headcanons for, or which has the character design/background you're most proud of or most looking forward to writing more of in the future?

Hello Anon! (Whether you're the same Anon who has asked me the other questions about my OCs or a new Anon altogether--I love you!)

I did answer a somewhat similar ask a while back where I babbled on about how I wish I had more courage to write and post stuff about Queen Maereth, my Elvenqueen, beloved Mother of the awesome Princes. She has a TON of history I meticulously interwove with Tolkien canon that I have written down only in notes. Alas, I am so terribly gun-shy about sharing them and I hope that, with a bit more encouragement from Readers (like you!), this will change soon.

But below the cut I will answer YOUR awesome question:

Favorite to write, or to imagine headcanons for: I genuinely cannot choose amongst the four OC princes which one I enjoy creating for because I can honestly say they inspire and excite me equally. What's so fun is that they're all different from each other, with their one common quality being they're all such GOOD GUYS. When I think of ideas for the 5 brothers (favorite food? hobbies? kissing style??), I go across the board, so they all have equal amounts of HC information in my notes.

Character design/background you're most proud of: Character design-wise, not necessarily most proud of, but I will admit Crown Prince Mirion is my favorite, purely as a matter of personal taste. I subconsciously based a lot of his characteristics on Hector of Troy, who is for me THE ultimate hero prince. Plus I gave him Henry Cavill (most beautiful man alive imho) for his face claim, so yeah--I kind of just created my ideal blorbo in this character.

Most looking forward to writing more of: AH! So the funny thing I was just telling my friend @achromaticerebus earlier is, some Readers have commented on which of the OC Thranduilions they like best, and no one has yet chosen Prince Turhir as their favorite. I am not at all offended by this (neither would Turhir really; he could care less about being popular), but I do find it amusing since Turhir is the most like Thranduil in both personality and interests. Everything I have written so far about Turhir shows him as a hardened warrior who's colder than his brothers, so I look forward to showing the softer (in)side that's actually pretty sexy. I think he's the type of person you just need to get to know before you fall head-over-heels for them. Did I mention his face claim is Sam Heughan, Jamie from Outlander?

Bonus writer secret!

I have been toying around with ideas for a possible (possible only, cannot stress that enough, I am afraid to promise anything, lol!) multi-chapter story that places a female OC or Reader in "Golden Age" Woodland Realm, where the lucky lady gets to hang out with the entire Royal Family and their household. Turhir is my top choice to be the leading prince in this story and the potential romantic interest.

Interested in SotWK content?

Introduction to SotWK

My Headcanon Masterlist 

My Fanfiction Masterlist

#sotwk headcanon #thranduil #thranduil headcanon #legolas #mirkwood #mirkwood elves #the elvenking #lord of the rings #tolkien #tolkien headcanons #tolkien elves #sotwk ocs #thranduilion #mirion thranduilion #turhir thranduilion #gelir thranduilion #arvellas thranduilion

[ct-2345]

An Eternal Duel.

THAT COWAAARD!!!

Paris is the name of that unworthy prince, striking my heel, he couldn't have done it by himself, him of all people should've been the last person who could DARE kill ME, he couldn't even fight Menelaus, but WHO could've helped him?

Aphrodite? No. Ares? Maybe, but he never really hated me or fought me, on the battlefield of the fields of Troy. Wait, it was Apollo, yeah, he even tried to stop me from going inside the walls. HE guided Paris' arrow, so it would hit my ankle, my ONE and ONLY WEAKNESS.

But now I don't have to worry about the war anymore, what I had to worry about is getting into the fields of Elysium, the region of the underworld for the worthy, as I face Charon, I reached for the coin imside my mouth and gave it to him, so I can enter the boat, travelling the river styx.

After some time, the boat stoped with fast halt so Charon says: " We're here. " in a raspy threatning voice, and well I left and looked foward, finaly I faced the beautifull, marvelous and imense fields, a part of elysium, and I starde walking and realised my clothes changed from battle hardend armour to light silky robes, one was white with golden accents on the edges and a cape dashed withe colours blue merging with light green just like the waters of my mother.

I spent hours walking around meeting other great people and warriors, until I noticed a mob wrapping around a place,as I went closer I heard sounds of metal clashing so I ran pushing people around to get to the middle, then I saw my beloved, Patroclus, swatting and hopping gracefully in shiny golden armour against a tall dark skinned man also with shiny armour, Memnom. I was confused, then a voice called out away from the mob: " ACHILLEEEEESSS!!!! " Someone had spotted me, and it seemed the crowd noticed the call too so I got out of the crowd and found a man with trojan like armour, so I remembered, Hector, and I responded: " So, are you ready to continue our duel? ". Hector smiled, around me battle armour formed, a spear and shield in my hands, so we both sprinted towards eachother to continue our duel,to compare our strengths.

As the Fates had written with both of our threads.

I hope you enjoyed this retelling. :)

#TeamTrojans

#achilles x hector #greek myth retellings #one shot

[philippaed]

𝐭𝐨    . . .    edmund    percy    (    @edmcndd    )    .

bearing  his  name  and  very  little  to  hint  towards  the  author  of  such  carefully  penned  instructions,  the  letter  had  been  inconspicuously  smuggled  into  the  satchel  that  hunt  from  the  side  of  the  horse  as  one  of  her  maids  disguised  the  motion  by  stretching  to  hand  over  two  other  letters  from  the  duchess  of  suffolk  ─  one  to  her  cousin,  mary  of  spain,  and  another  to  her  husband.  unlike  those  letters,  the  one  that  will  arrive  upon  the  desk  of  edmund  percy  could  be  easily  dismissed  for  the  lack  of  heraldry  that  it  bore  though  the  scent  of  her  lavender  oils  dotted  the  parchment  with  her  affection.

beloved  orpheus,

    i  pray  that  this  letter  finds  you  in  good  health.  fate  is  cruel  to  see  us  separated  though  i  take  great  comfort  in  the  knowledge  that  though  the  distance  between  us  is  great,  our  hearts  still  beat  as  one.  in  your  absence,  i  have  endeavored  to  pray  for  the  soul  of  your  dear  aunt  on  your  behalf  and  on  behalf  of  your  sister,  who  must  mourn  for  her  still  ─  the  quiet  of  court  allows  me  to  share  my  thoughts  with  god  and  now,  with  you.

    i  write  to  you  with  a  burning  purpose  that  rivals  only  my  love  and  regard  for  you  so  that  i  might  challenge  the  king's  messengers  to  bring  you  the  news  that  edward  seymour  has  been  discovered,  in  florence  of  all  places.  whether  this  man  is  truly  the  missing  prince  or  a  pretender,  i  cannot  say,  but  the  hope  that  he  brings  to  those  trampled  by  the  boot  of  oppression,  like  you  and  i,  has  driven  me  to  beseech  your  help  once  again.  you  did  not  return  to  my  side  after  our  conversation  and  i  fear  that  i  might  have  frightened  you  away  with  my  impassioned  support  ─  please,  my  dearest  perseus,  say  it  is  not  so.  there  has  never  been  such  divide  between  us  before  that  we  saw  need  to  keep  secrets  from  each  other  and  in  my  desperation  to  return  to  the  days  of  our  youth,  i  have  pushed  upon  you  the  burdens  of  which  my  great  and  terrible  bloodline  have  cursed  me  with  bearing.

    did  i  err  in  whispering  such  words  to  your  ears  ?  will  i  find  in  you  not  a  confidant  as  once  before  but  a  coward  ?  am  i  surrounded  by  yellow - bellied  men  with  no  hero  to  champion  my  cause  ?  say  it  is  not  so,  my  dearest  hector,  for  i  await  for  you  as  andromache  awaited  at  the  gates  of  troy.  do  not  allow  gods  or  kings  or  other  men  to  come  between  our  united  hearts.  write  to  me,  return  to  me,  i  command  it.  

    the  conditions  at  court  glisten  with  a  veneer  of  falsehoods.  noticeably  absent  are  walsingham,  cecil  and  de  vere,  as  well  as  your  sister  ─  is  she  safe  ?  say  the  word  and  i  will  ride  to  her  rescue.  i  would  not  trust  a  dog  in  the  care  of  these  men  and  your  sister  is  more  dear  to  me  than  all  the  jewels  in  my  trousseau  if  only  for  the  blood  that  she  shares  with  you.  will  you  tell  me  if  it  is  the  same  in  dover  ?  how  fares  our  king  and  his  mother  ?  will  you  help  me  ?  will  you  write  to  me  of  anything  of  importance  ?  

    i  demand  much,  this  i  know,  but  i  cannot  sleep  for  fear  of  my  life.  the  ghost  of  edward  seymour  has  returned  and  with  him,  all  the  hopes  and  fears  of  our  great  cause.  without  your  assuring  words,  i  am  left  adrift.  do  not  leave  me  alone  in  this.

your  eurydice,  who  wilts  in  the  absence  of  your  honeyed  tongue.

#𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐀 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐘 ♔ ˚ · . [ letters ] . #edmcndd #im --- #the amount of gaslighting she is doing in this one letter has me SICK ... girlie !!!! to the tower !!!!

[classics-cassandra]

Me: All of the characters in the Iliad have flaws and aren’t perfect heroes

#this is a Hector stan account #Hector prince of troy my beloved #classics memes #ancient literature memes #ancient greek #tagamemnon #ancient greek memes #the iliad #homer’s iliad #iliad #the Trojan war #song of achilles #the song of achilles

[beauteousthings]

Think…Eric Bana’s Hector…as Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth 🧐🫣🤌🏻❤️‍🔥

Hector but make it Medieval.

Expect some kind of art on this theme in the near-ish future, via my @g-m-kaye account 🫠 I am thinking…about this.

Context? I am simultaneously knee deep in a Troy (2004) Hector jag, re-reading the Iliad and re-reading TROTK: just got to the part where Prince Imrahil not only leads Gondor’s forces against the enemy at Pelennor because the House of the Stewards is in disarray (aka Denethor is a twat) … but he also saves Eowyn’s life by being the only badass in the room to actually notice she’s still breathing when they cart her and Theoden off on biers.

My Lord Imrahil has that honourable-Prince-who-gets-shit-done-and-is-unreasonably-handsome vibe going on. Just like a certain Trojan Prince I happen to adore with all my heart 😭

Just saying.

#Hector my beloved #Prince Imrahil #tolkien #jrr tolkien #hector of troy #lotr #troy 2004 #Eric Bana #the lord of the rings #the return of the king #the iliad #homeric epics

[voidstilesplease]

yo if we ever get a 'the song of achilles' movie adaptation, i'm going to freaking die.

imagine all of your favorite scenes from the book adapted on-screen; all your favorite lines delivered by perfectly-casted actors? the sweet innocence of so many scenes like: "name one hero who was happy? you can't. they never let you be famous and happy. i'll tell you a secret: i'm going to be the first. swear it." "why me?" "because you're the reason." and those beautiful narrations by patroclus, what if he actually says them out loud, you know? "had she really thought i would not know you? i could recognize you by touch alone, by smell; i would know you blind, by the way your breaths came and your feet struck the earth. i would know you in death, at the end of the world." and, god, the pain of the foreshadowing of this scene alone: "you must not kill hector." "well, why should i kill him? he's done nothing to me." and the lamentation of achilles when the prelude to the prophecy comes to pass. the proper one. the one where we see achilles grieving the lost of patroclus that even thetis underwater hears his wailing; where we see achilles attempting to kill himself there and then because what was the point of him now that patroclus was gone? and christ, imagine achilles's blinding rage that comes after. "there are no bargains between lion and men. i will kill you and eat you raw." and they give us achilles without mercy, the aristos achaion who defeats a deity in his wrath, the demigod who disgraces the body of troy's prince because all he knows is revenge. and the vulnerability when achilles corrects priam "philtatos. my most beloved." because he finally knows what it feels like when someone takes away someone you love; because in the end, he knows ultimately that patroclus's death is not hector's fault but his. when he accepts his fate and welcomes the arrow to his chest because all along his heart was his strength and weakness, and patroclus holds it in his hands even after he's gone. he will follow to the other side, and a montage of the past flashes, a flashback to when they both swore achilles would be the first hero who was happy, and patroclus was his reason. the movie closes with achilles making that promise come true.

tl;dr. imagine a movie as good as the book that it hurts from start to finish.

#patrochilles #the song of achilles #tsoa #patroclus #achilles #patroclus x achilles #i dont know why im having feelings again #but i am #and yall have to suffer this wall of text with me

[highladyofink]

A while ago, for  my creative writing class, we were given an assignment of explaining memes (yes, I know it’s unbelievable to the point of being surreal but very boomer-ish, and I had a similar reaction when I found out about it).

So I spent a couple of hours scouring the internet for memes about content I adore, because I write best when it’s about something that makes my heart go ka-thunk or has had a deep impact on me. But partly because I’ve too many NSFW memes of a nature that will have me locked up in a nunnery, lobotomized.

Finally, I found two and wrote a long ass explanation as opposed to the paragraph we had been asked to because moderation is for losers.

Here goes nothing:

The phrase "When in Rome, do as the Romans do" means that it is advisable to follow the conventions of the area in which one is residing or visiting. This Tumblr text post takes quite a literal meaning to the saying and alludes to the long morally ambiguous history of assassinating one's opponents, political or otherwise.

It particularly refers to the assassination of Julius Caesar, the celebrated Roman general and military veteran, statesman, praetor (the second highest of the Republic's elected magistracies), Pontifex Maximus (the priest of the highest order presiding above all in the Roman religion), and dictator of Rome. Understandably, such an impressive and extensive military and political portfolio led to Caesar having numerous enemies, especially with some of his political allies turning into conspirators of his assassination.

Hence, the meme talks about eliminating one's opposition in what is now considered a historically accurate and hilarious Roman characteristic.

So that was the first meme. Caesar should be the patron saint of victims of backstabbing. Lame? Okay, moving on to the second meme.

This one is about Patrochilles. The meme talks about Horatio and Hamlet too but it's been over a decade since I read Hamlet so I just wrote about my favourite mythical gay babies instead.

If you get easily offended, stop reading beyond this point. Also, no offense intended to any of the parties I accuse in the following text.

Due to retrograde notions of purity and chastity imposed in Europe by the Church, anything that differed in the slightest from the draconian claustrophobic moulds of cisgender heterosexuality, many allusions and canonical content regarding the spectrum of gender and sexuality were obliterated for millennia.

For instance, the Greek hero Achilles from Homer's Illiad, famed as Aristos Achaion ("the best of the Greeks") and one of the finest warriors to the west of the Aegean Sea, is noted for his role in the destruction of the impenetrable city of Troy by killing the eldest Trojan prince, Hector. This is the aftermath of the accidental killing of Achilles' philatos ("most beloved"), childhood companion and closest friend, Patroclus, by Hector who mistakes him for Achilles.

Upon discovering the murder of his beloved, Achilles sinks into a spiralling abyss of grief, refusing to move a muscle or do anything other than weep over the body of Patroclus for over a week. His heartbroken sobs could be heard over the clashes of battle and the deafening din of an army ten thousand strong, right down to the bottom of the ocean.

He laments his bereavement in words very much similar to the ones Hector's wife Andromache later uses at the death of her husband. Achilles collects Patroclus' ashes (traditionally considered a woman's job) after the latter appears to him in a dream begging for his funerary rights to be conducted so he can traverse down to Erebos for a peaceful afterlife.

He also cuts off locks of his golden hair to place over Patroclus' body as a sign of respect and love along with many other of his fellow soldiers. In a most touching act of love, he requests the army to mingle his ashes upon his own death with those of Patroclus' in the same funerary urn so that they can be one spiritually and physically for eternity.

Secondly, Achilles vows to avenge Patroclus' death before following his beloved down to the afterlife. This is the renowned "Rage of Achilles" which is referred to in the very opening lines of the Illiad ("Sing, goddess, sing of the rage of Achilles, son of Peleus"). He overpowers and kills Hector, who was the finest Trojan warrior, as revenge for snuffing out the life of the one Achilles loved the most.

He does not consider death as retribution enough and drags Hector's corpse tied behind his chariot around the walls of Troy thrice, and proceeds to deny him funerary rights. The gods had to restrain Achilles from destroying Troy before the appointed timing which is proof that his rage could defy even the Fates.

Achilles' brutal actions arise from a place of overwhelming grief and understandably righteous rage. They originate not from hubris and cruelty but from heartbreak which shreds his humanity to pieces. Achilles was the offspring of a mortal king and a sea goddess; he was a god because his mother was one, he was human because Patroclus made him so. Once he lost his philatos, he lost hold of his humanity.

To anybody with a basic reading comprehension, this is an extremely touching story about a lifelong love, a story so central to the plot of the Illiad that the climax would not have existed had Achilles and Patroclus not loved each other as legendarily and devastatingly as they did. However, many vacuous scholars and historians refused to see it that way and decided to relegate it to simple platonic love.

This tragic young couple, dubbed Patrochilles as a portmanteau of their names by adoring fans, is emblematic of how LGBTQ history is strategically ignored and even rewritten. Patrochilles has regrettably been cast as sharing filial or storgic affection in order to deviously deceive the audience that their all-consuming love never crossed the bounds of 'decency' and strict dichotomous gender norms.

So... that's it. I got told off for making it too long but I simply told the lecturer that what I wrote is no compensation for how Patrochilles were rewritten as everything but the lovers they so clearly are.

Edit: Yes, I know that Thetis was more sea nymph than goddess (one of Poseidon's Nereids, I think) but calling her a goddess is far more dramatic which is precisely the effect I was going for.

#patrochilles #patroclus #achilles #patroclus and achilles #the song of achilles #tsoa #achilles and patroclus #the illiad #homer's iliad #homer #greek mythology #trojan war #trojan horse #helen of troy #happy pride 🌈 #Pride #Pride month

[petrichortrees]

the ghost of patroclus speaks to menoetius

Are you proud of me father

From the moment I was born you looked at me

With only disgrace in your eyes

I was an unsightly inconvenience

An irritant born from a pitiful marriage

You longed for a mighty son

And when you were given one you sent him away

You cherished your kingdom and your glib nobles more than you did your own blood

Did they tell you I fled to find Achilles

When he left to train with Chiron

I don't know why I humour myself with the thought

I am an exiled prince with no father or kingdom

Instead I have one boy

And he has me

And I would follow him to the ends of the earth

To the mouth of Hades

I would bring him the lyre of Apollo if he so desired

Just to see his emerald eyes light up

And for the soft curves of glee to carve his pink lips

Did they tell you of my travels

From Phthia to Scyros

From Scyros to Aulis

From Aulis to Troy

Wherever Achilles went I would follow

Because I know what it's like to be alone

And there is nothing worse than the thought of the life in his verdant eyes dying out

Or for the joy of youth to be ripped from his face

So no matter how much it pained me

I went with him

And I loved him

And I tried to preserve the boy who used to whisper to me in the centaur's cave

Did they tell you of what Troy was like

Of what it did to Achilles

Of what it did to me

I was ordered to guard his honour

For that is what will be left of men

So I did as best as I could

But nobody warned me of what pride does to men

Nobody speaks of how it twists and contorts the mind

And my demigod had submitted to his hubris

Letting it consume him

I fought Trojans

But I also fought death in the tent flooded with our wounded

Thanatos lingered outside the door

And I did my best to keep him at bay

But my best, as always, was hardly enough

Did they tell you of how the men cried to me

And of how I cried to Achilles

I kneeled at his feet and I wept before him and I held his hands close to my face as the tears streamed down

I pleaded and I sobbed and I begged

He was conflicted

And I hoped his love would prevail

I wanted the boy who used to juggle figs and craft songs by the beach to resurface

But the Fates care not for fruits and melodies

No matter how sweet they are

Did they tell you of my final moments outside Troy

Of how I killed so many

And let my hubris consume me

Apollo knocked my wits from me and Achilles' armour fell with them

There was nothing I could do when Hector plunged his spear into my stomach

And it still hurts

Because I had been the one to seal Achilles' fate

Did you mourn for me father

The men did

Achilles did

He let his grief cradle him in place of me

His vanity had fled

Replaced now by a heavy guilt

I could do nothing but watch as he unleashed his wrath on Hector

I heard the Gods selfishly fear for themselves

His fury could've brought down Troy

Maybe even Olympus

That is how he will be remembered

A tragedy composed of rage and arrogance

They do not know of the sweet boy

And a lilting voice sweeter than Orpheus'

They do not know of his smile

Delight sharpened by the childish hints of mischief

Will you remember me father

Will you tell others of how I found love in a boy doomed to fame

Will you tell others of how my pining heart fought for him

My father

Menoetius

Doomed might

Your son

Patroclus

Glory of the father

I have your might and have made it my own

My tenderness drove me to battle and gave me strength

And it doomed so many

I am called many things now

Beloved

Gallant

Philatos

But to you I will always be Patroclus

Slow, stumbling, stuttering

I will be the son you traded for the brief guarantee of a reign free from the stain of disgrace

To Achilles I will always be worth his life

He cannot be without me and I cannot without him

He is half my soul and my very own

Are you proud of me father

Your answer does not matter

I have been taught pride has no worth

And if you did not love me in life, your affection holds no sincerity in death

#writeblr #my poetry #the song of achilles #patroclus #achilles #menoetius #the iliad #patrochilles #patroclus x achilles #achilles x patroclus #poetry

[vinatintasupernovita]

Cassandra sighed sourly as she swirled her drink in one hand, passively watching the party. It was supposed to be a grand celebration. Her brother had returned home after being lost to the vast Grecian world- how happy everyone was to see him, alive and well.

Well, everyone except her, that is.

Cassandra had liked it better when Troy was quiet- when she didn’t have to foresee so much. She always got the worst brunt of visions before one of her siblings went off on adventures, especially her damned brother Paris. She knew where he had been all along, canoodling with priestesses and angering farmers- but no one listened to her. No one ever listened to her when it came to her prophecies.

She stood at the walls of the palace hall, sipping on her first glass of alcohol in what would undoubtedly be the longest night in the last several moons. She listened to the loud revelry and almost wished she could be as blind as the rest of them had been in order to celebrate. But, that wasn’t the case now was it?

Her eyes wandered across the room, recognizing very few faces there. Mostly they were friends of Paris- the cheeky ass was the most beloved prince next to Hector. Half the city had to be there.

However, there was one figure in the crowd that caught Cassandra’s interest. A tall, muscular figure. Tanned and rugged in the way a warrior was, but with bright orange hair that fell just above their ears. Their eyes were dark yet shiny even across the room it was apparent how they glistened. They were quite a sight.

Suddenly, the room got blurry- the kind of blurry that Cassandra knew all too well.

In an instant, Cassandra saw their entire future together unfold right before her eyes. She saw the way that person- that stranger- would look at her during the first rays of morning light, their hands wrapped in one another’s gentle touch. She saw the way Troy toppled in the distance as they escaped on horseback. She saw fire and blood and flowers curling awake under the summer sun in a land far away from the only home she had ever known. She saw confessions of love and of.. other things. Things that were not for mere mortals to know.

Cassandra knew her prophecy was true, pure and undeniable. This, though? This was unlike any series of prophecies she had ever had. Maybe it was the shock of it all coming to her at once, but without even realizing it, she moved across the dance floor to meet her at the center.

Conquest was, to say the very least, surprised when a beautiful woman with honey-blond hair, freckled skin, and the most piercing black eyes she had ever seen took her hands and pulled her to the side.

“I know what you are.” When the words left Cassandra’s mouth, Conquest could feel her gut drop. “And you may not know me yet, but I’m your future.”

“Wh- Who are you?” Conquest asked, the tinge of surprise audible in her question. Cassandra squeezed her hands- and as if clockwork, Conquest felt her heart start to thump in her chest.

“My name is Cassandra.” She said, “I am the princess of these lands. I was blessed with the gift of prophecy. I can tell you are not a mortal, not like me nor my people. What you are is a mystery, though. One I cannot work out- yet, at least.”

That was a first.

“You were in my visions.” Cassandra explained, “I saw my entire life unfold the instant you walked into the room- in each scene, you were there. You.. you will become my everything.”

As if the gears in her brain started to slow to a manageable speed, Cassandra became more and more aware of how deeply intimate many of those scenes were. She could practically feel how Conquest would hold her- cherish her, even- in the times to come- and yet here she was, meeting her for the first time and probably scaring her- nice job, ever astute princess Cassandra.

“I..” She swallowed thickly as the embarrassment set in. “I’m sorry- the excitement of my visions overtakes me sometimes. That was so rude of me.”

Conquest was dumbfounded- she had heard of psychics before, of course, but never met one until now. And to think this Cassandra could tell that she wasn't a human so quickly? That was surprising. But what really stuck out to her was the fact that, apparently, she and Cassandra would get very close. Closer than close, from the sounds of it.

The idea didn’t surprise her- Conquest knew all of her siblings had their taste for humans- hell, that’s how she came to be after all, with War running off with her lady-love Helen of Sparta- but, until then, Conquest hadn’t considered the possibility that she too might take up a lover of her own.

She found humans attractive, sure, both men and women, and Cassandra was definitely attractive- but she hadn’t considered how to court a human, nor how it would intersect with her work.

But from the sounds of it, Cassandra was saying they would be together in every regard. It was.. a lot to consider, especially since they just met.

Cassandra’s building nerves were getting the better of her as she released Conquest from her grip, anxiously rubbing her own arm as she waited for a response of any kind.

“I am Sienna,” She said, following the only examples she knew by slowly taking Cassandra’s hand again and placing it to her lips, “It is a pleasure to meet you, my future.”

Oh, so being smooth was hereditary then, alright.

“..The pleasure is all mine, my everything.” There was a smile creeping its way onto Cassandra’s face, and Conquest decided right away that she liked this courting thing.

#im being gay and thinking abt them #conquest x cassandra #fresa is talking about their ocs #im not tagging GO rn cus it’s an oc of an au w a greek mythos princess. but y’all get it #fresa’s fics

[littlesparklight]

(2) Talking is overrated (choking) / (4) Trust fall (taken hostage)

"You two know each other?" Scraggly-Beard - apparently having appointed himself, or been silently appointed by unanimous support - said, a sharp-toothed grin growing on his face.

Hector drew breath, and Paris hurried to speak before him - if he could keep control of the situation, it might still be salvageable, and he didn't want to give Hektor a hook. Didn't want to give him an opportunity. What sort of opportunity that would be, Paris was no longer sure, memories of his older brother's voice from the other day echoing sharply in his head.

"Never se---ehk." Choked off into a squeak and then just choking, a flush not from embarrassment or arousal rising to his head with the blood now trapped there by Scraggly-Beard's sooty, ragged-nailed and blood-spattered hand around his throat. Fighting against his heaving chest and getting nowhere, creeping, cold tension stiffening his lips and cheeks, Paris shoved himself backwards. Grunting as he smacked into Scraggly-Beard's chest since anywhere else would've taken him into the sword, Paris found nothing but vertigo for having moved and darkness teasing the edges of his vision; the hand around his throat hadn't eased up, only tightened. Hektor's face twisted up - Paris was honestly a little surprised to see it - and didn't heed his attempt at shaking his head.

"He's my brother," Hektor snapped, and Paris despaired. "Let him go."

His head was full of noise, only half of it actual sounds from outside; he could feel, hear, his blood banging through his body, stoppered up between torso and head like a child damming up a little stream with sticks and stoned, watching the thickening flow of water be unable to pass by. Breathing - attempting to - too deep hurt, still, and yet it didn't matter, but he couldn't stop.

"Seems to me we have no reason at all to do that, really," Scraggly-Beard said with a chuckle, easing up his grip by the faintest touch, allowing Paris to steal a couple sips of air before he tightened his grip, nails digging into the graceful throat. "And you look like you'd fight us, rather than be smart, so be smart and drop the sword and I'll ease up on your brother's pretty neck. No one need to get hurt, do they? We just want ransom, and with two of you, there would be more of it."

Hektor wasn't going to do that. Why would he, considering what he'd said, yesterday? Paris' chuckle fought against his diminishing lack of air, more a vibration than a full sound, and Scraggly-Beard shook him by the grip he had on him. Paris wheezed, vision briefly going black on a strange little side-eye from Hektor. He tried to smile, just because that was what it felt like he should do, but his lips were cold, and didn't really want to obey him.

"--ather would give you ransom enough, but I have men nearby," Hektor said with a growl, and Paris wondered why he was dragging this out. Aside from how it might just kill him in the most terrifying and kindest fashion possible, maybe, by dragging this out. Maybe that was the reason.

"A couple heads of cattle enough to risk your beloved little brother's life?" Scraggly-Beard sneered, and Paris rolled his eyes and almost lost consciousness again. Hektor didn't---

"Hey, I recognize him!" Someone, further back, shouted. "That's the crown-prince of Troy! Wouldn't the commanders, or their father, pay much more than a couple cattle for them?"

A pause.

Paris was pretty sure he lost more than just a moment or two, his head ringing, for suddenly he had air again, his chest, head, throat, throbbing with his hitching attempts to breathe and four men were gathered around Hektor, tying him up. Why the fuck had he done that, when he'd said... When yesterday--- Coughing, Paris managed a full breath finally while Scraggly-Beard gripped him by the chin - and throat, but not enough to fully choke him again. Still, he flinched, wriggling against the ropes. His wrists hurt.

"And if that's Hektor, something pretty like this must be the guilty party, the reason why we're here at all."

Hektor cursed. Paris stared into brown eyes far sharper than the drawling accent to Scraggly-beard's Achaean had given an impression of, and faintness threatened for another reason entirely than a lack of air.

"I'm sure Lords Menelaos and Agamemnon would be really interested in your company, so we'll keep you until they can get here," Scraggly-Beard said, smiling toothily again.

#greek myth thoughts #paris of troy #hector of troy #lightart #second day for whumptober!

[pyrrhiccomedy]

Let's get back to it.

I can't even hate on Eric Bana's Hector too much, because it just feels mean. Eric Bana is an awful casting decision. Like, he has the right look, I guess, but - Americans might not be aware that Eric Bana was a douchey Australian comedian. Imagine Carrot Top getting cast as King Lear. That was the vibe. A real effort was made in the aughts to Make Eric Bana Happen, and it failed, because Eric Bana isn't good at anything. But that's not his fault. It's not his fault he can't act, and it's not his fault he was cast as Hector in Troy. It was a mean joke on the part of the casting director, like nominating the ugliest girl in school to be homecoming queen. Sure it's high profile, but not in the way you want to be.

Hector has the best part in Troy, at least (and arguably in the Illiad as well). It's hard to fuck up "noble prince is made by his own love to defend his unscrupulous brother despite his deep misgivings, leads his armies bravely, and then knowingly goes to his death following a terrible accident, knowing his beloved wife and child will be bereft and his city will burn without him," and Troy manages to stagger through the necessary beats without tripping on itself too often. Nearly any other living man could probably have imbued Hector with more power and pathos, but you can see Eric Bana straining to live up to the part in every scene, and to his credit, he seems to be one of the only actors in the movie who understands his own character's motivations.

The weirdest thing about Hector in Troy, to me, is that - like, the Illiad doesn't have a lot of human moments? It's not that kind of story, you don't see many intimate moments between the characters. One of the only ones, in fact, is when Hector goes out to die: he's getting dressed for battle in the family rooms, and his infant son doesn't recognize him in his helmet, and starts to cry. So Hector takes off his helmet to soothe him and kisses him goodbye. It's a small, painful, precious moment, a symbolic laying aside of his duty to grasp one last second as a man who loves his family and doesn't want to leave them, and they just

don't put it in the movie

Instead they have Andromache bring the baby out to meet him (so, not in an intimate setting anymore), Hector doesn't even have his helmet, he kisses his son, and the baby starts to cry out of nowhere, like the fucking baby knows he's going to die. Instead of Hector soothing him, he walks off, and Andromache takes the crying infant away.

Like...come on. You get why that's less effective in every possible way, right?

Hector also knows that Achilles is going to desecrate his body because he had a ~prophetic dream~ about it, but it feels totally bizarre in Troy because up to that point literally not a single portent or premonition is taken seriously or even experienced by a named character. So when he walks out like "hey Achilles, apropos of nothing, you're not gonna desecrate my body, right?" It just comes off like he read ahead in the script.

Whatever, at least he tried

#this is a troy blog

[lostcybertronian]

Here in His Place

I reimagined Patroclus’s death scene from Song of Achilles into futuristic, spacey science fiction. Instead of wearing Achilles’s armor, Patroclus pilots his ship, the Hokumoros (swift-fated). I’m really proud of how this turned out.

Also posted on my A03.

Edit: the sequel is here: can you hear me, achilles?

---

I was never a fighter. I was never a particularly good tactician, either; nor was I a pilot, a soldier, a leader. But as I maneuver the Hokumoros into position at the head of my fleet, buried to the elbow in the pilot’s controls, head buzzing from the massive amount of input required to operate a vessel of this size, I realize in this moment I have become all these things. In all ways but one, I have become him; weapon and god, both. No longer subject to entropy but remaking it how I choose. 

    Something chimes behind me: a hailing from the Agamemnon. I know not its purpose, but it doesn’t matter. To answer would be to give me away.

    Instead I face the helm, face the assembling of Troy, its enormous flagship all but engulfed with smaller fighter craft. Flanking it are smaller ships of every denomination; allies offering aid, or mercenaries, seeking reward. From all around the galaxy, they have come to defend what they believe is theirs. What is actually ours.

    As Achilles would, I launch first, twin jets of flame searing open the cold, black void of space as I surge forward with the smooth click-whir of well-oiled machinery. My vessel is smaller than one would expect of a prince, allowing it greater speed and maneuverability, yet it is still far larger than the crafts my soldiers pilot. I close faster on the approaching forces than anyone, unleashing a round of blazing torpedoes that tear into metal and fuselage as a sword would into the soft flesh of men. I am gone before they offer retribution, diving with a flash of Phoenix-emblazoned gold-- despite Achilles’s adamant protests to stay at the fringes-- into the midst of my enemies, mouth gaping into a silent scream.

They become nothing but so much debris in my wake as I punch through them, volleying round after round of plasma shots into carapaces, fuel tanks, engines. Behind me echoes muffled explosions, but I do not look back even as shock waves shudder through me, even as the broadcast frequencies fizz out with a thousand voices— some orders, some the screams of dying men. 

I do not take orders; Achilles fights for himself. I will not be among the dying; my aim is true, my resolve absolute. To my port side is the Odyssey, smashing through Trojan craft as if they didn’t exist, occasionally blotted out on my screen by the dying star of a destroyed ship. Moments later I jet away, narrowly missing the torpedo that sets my systems alight, and the Odyssey disappears into the fray. 

The proximity alarm chimes, flooding my vision, and I nearly lose my newfound divinity in my scramble to avoid collision, shifting to the right just in time for the shot to race wide and strike a smaller Myrmidon ship. The man’s panicked cry— cut off suddenly— echoed over the general channel before dropping to static.

The Glory of Troy looms before me, a behemoth of a ship that seems to engulf my entire screen, the entire sky, even. Twenty, fifty, a hundred times the size of my craft it acts as the flagship for the entire army of Troy. I act fast, blood pounding in my ears, fingers dancing nimble over the controls to bring Hokumoros into a steep upward climb that drops my stomach to my feet and steals my breath from my slightly parted lips.

The thrill is still shivering down my spine when I come level with Glory’s flight deck; it is fully manned and its captain—Prince Hector himself— sits calm in the captain’s chair. Even from this distance his utter serenity is evident; he does not shake his fist, nor does he jab meaty fingers at the Hokumoros, demanding to know why I am not already dead. His head is, instead, tilted slightly upward, as if in silent prayer.

This sight lasts only moments before I pass over the ship, rocketing away from it. Already I am urging the ship into an about-face, a savage smirk pulling at my mouth. This too lasts seconds before it is falling from my face like it had never been.

Voices on the channel now, urging me to attack. To fight. But to breach the Glory would be to endanger Hector; to endanger Hector would be to doom my beloved Achilles. 

I wrestle with the controls, suddenly overwhelmed by the tidal wave of data surging through the interface and into my head. Shots ping off the hull, and the monotone voice of the AI within Hokumoro’s software informs me that my shields have failed.

I’m barely pulling away when the ship goes dead. Systems fall silent. My mind stutters to a halt as, suddenly, there is no more data. I am floating.

With a cry I jerk, begin pressing buttons, slam the broadcast button in my haste, at the same time Hokumoros sputters a halfhearted rebirth. Divinity is wrested from my fluttering hands as my utter lack thereof is sent across the channel for all to hear.

I am not Achilles. I am merely Patroclus, here in his place.

My proximity alarm chimes, and I look up. The Glory of Troy has spun, and is facing me, blocking my view of the battle still raging just beyond. Its weapons turrets have opened, and I see a trio of flame-wreathed torpedoes racing toward me. In mere seconds, they will destroy the Hokumoros with me inside.

They are strangely beautiful. I watch as they approach, rapid, like frightened rabbits. I watch as they strike, and my surroundings begin to bloom white.

Achilles, I think, and succumb. 

#patrochilles #achilles #patroclus #the song of achilles #tsoa #lostandwandering #my writing #lost writing tag #horror #angst #tw death