Chapter Text
There was a man lying on the beach.
Achilles had just returned from speaking with his mother. Dusk had fallen hours ago, and the shore was framed by the light of torches and campfires coming from the Myrmidon camp. He would have missed him otherwise.
In the low light, it was difficult to tell much about the figure. His face was turned down, and the waves kept lapping over him. He wore strange clothes. The weave was finer than anything Achilles had ever seen, and the dye used on the fabric covering his chest was so bright that he could make out the colour even in the dark. He had never seen this cut before, two thin separate pieces that did not drape, but followed his body closely.
He walked towards the stranger, wondering whether it could be a trick by the Trojans, but to leave a single spy unconscious on the beach did not seem like a very effective tactic. He was musing on the best way to wake the man when his eyes suddenly snapped open.
‘Who are you?’ He said, getting up. He was looking at Achilles in a determined but disoriented way. Well, that was the Trojan spy theory nullified. No spy worth their salt would pretend not to know Aristos Achaion.
‘I am Achilles, son of Peleus, but I am much more interested in who you are.’ Achilles said, meeting his gaze. For a moment, the man had an almost panicked look on his face, before he seemed to collect himself.
‘I’m Percy’ he said.
‘That is a strange name, where do you hail from?’
‘I’m from… a land far away, beyond the ocean. You wouldn’t know it.’
‘Yet you speak our language’
‘My father was from Hellas, he was a fisherman.’
It did not seem like a lie. His features were Greek as well. He spoke in a way that was slightly off, like he knew the words but was unused to speaking them. Achilles was intrigued, the war had been long, and novelty was a rare thing to be found these days.
‘Do you fight?’ Achilles asked. Percy seemed startled, like he was expecting a different question. Perhaps he should have inquired more about how he had ended up stranded on the shore, or where his father was from, but Achilles was no Odysseus and Percy seemed trustworthy enough. If he was not, he would simply kill him.
‘Not anymore.’
An odd answer, Percy did not look like he had seen more than twenty winters, but there was a weight to his statement that seemed to come from a life of hardship. Achilles himself could not imagine giving up on the thrill of battle, but he thought of his lover who rid himself of it as soon as the war allowed. It seemed this strange man from the shore was of a similar make, a similar softness.
‘Can you make yourself useful in other ways?’ He would prefer not to make him fight if he did not want to, but a war camp was no place for hungry mouths who did not contribute. If he could not heal or build, he would have to fight.
‘You have horses right? I’m good with those.’
‘I do, Balius and Xanthus. Automedon takes care of them, but they are fearsome beasts.’
‘I promise I can handle them. I’ve met horses with stronger personalities than you would believe.’
Achilles doubted that, but it would be good to have another stable hand. Automedon was good, but there were other horses besides Balius and Xanthus, and most of the footsoldiers did not have the experience to care for battle-steeds instead of country mares.
‘Well then, come along. I will introduce you to the Myrmidons’
‘Just like that?’
‘Unless you have elsewhere to be’
Percy laughed, and followed. While walking, Achilles pointed out relevant parts of the encampment. Percy listened with rapt attention, though his eyes flitted from place to place and his hands did not seem to stay still for even a moment. Achilles saw Patroclus sitting outside their tent, lazily stroking one of his hounds with one hand, his head was in the other. The dogs were not allowed inside the tent, he must have gotten lonely waiting for Achilles to return.
‘My love! How was your swim?’ He said, smiling slightly and standing up. ‘And what is this? You have brought back a stray.’
‘This is Percy, I found him on the shoreline’
‘A strange man from the sea? That is quite the tale.’
Patroclus looked at Percy, who was smiling back sheepishly.
‘I won’t be a bother, you won’t even notice I’m here’
‘Somehow I doubt that.’
Percy had that look about him, the same kind of look Achilles had, one that spelled trouble. Now that he was looking closely, Patroclus actually noticed that they looked similar. Not in an obvious way, but something about the slant of their mouth, the texture of their hair.
‘Percy will be helping Automedon with the horses, for now I will give him a bedroll and assign him a place to sleep. The night has been long already, and the Trojans will be much too pleased if I show up to the battlefield too tired to lift my sword.’
After settling Percy in with a place to sleep. Achilles and Patroclus returned to their tent. When they went to bed, they spoke for a while more, as lovers tend to do.
‘You do not think it strange? This man who appears out of nowhere wearing unusual clothing and speaking in an unfamiliar accent?’
‘I never said I did not, but what would you have me do? He had no provisions, and did not seem in any haste to return from where he came. The lands are scorched for miles around, he had nowhere to go.’
‘Look at you, fearsome Achilles, scourge of Troy, secretly a soft touch for a man with nowhere to go’
‘O hush, as if you would have had me turn him away’
‘I would not, but as the only one in this army who is not scared by your strength, and your temper, you must allow me to tease you from time to time.’
Achilles looked at him then, and fiercely hoped that Patroclus would continue to tease him forever. That he would look at him with that same sparkle in his eyes until the end of the very world.