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The Trojan War ended with a ceasefire treaty.
Pyrrhos was brought into this mortal world as a result of Achilles being forced by his mother, Thetis, to have sexual relations with another woman; thus, Thetis caused the birth of another mortal.
Because Achilles refused to give his own child into Thetis’s hands, he took Pyrrhos away from her the moment he was born and decided to raise him with his own means. Raising a baby was not as easy as everyone thought, yes—but there were two people who could handle this decision: Achilles and Patroclus.
Otherwise, Achilles’s mother Thetis would have raised the child without an ounce of mercy, filling him with hatred and resentment toward mortals.
“What if he doesn’t accept me?”
Patroclus spoke with slight anxiety as he examined the pale-skinned, golden-haired baby lying in Achilles’s arms.
“Why wouldn’t he accept you?”
The corners of Achilles’s mouth lifted, and he began to smile with his bright white teeth beneath the golden sun. Facing Achilles’s smile, Patroclus felt an involuntary sense of relief inside him. Whenever he believed that Achilles would take care of everything and put things in order, Achilles did just that—and now he would do it again. Patroclus believed in him.
“Come on, take him in your arms.”
“No. I can’t hold him—”
Without letting Patroclus finish his sentence, Achilles placed the small baby into Patroclus’s arms. Patroclus lowered his chin, watching the baby sleeping peacefully in his arms with eyes full of astonishment, and his eyes sparkled even more. He turned his head toward Achilles, who was watching him as if savoring the joy of having a family, and spoke with a trembling voice.
“He’s so light.”
Amused by Patroclus’s surprised expression, Achilles stepped forward without letting his smile fade and pressed his lips to Patroclus’s. After a brief kiss, he pulled back.
“You’ll be a very good father, I’m sure of it.”
Peleus had closed his eyes for the last time in this mortal life, lying in his palace, in a room bathed in sunlight, and never opened them again. Therefore, Achilles had taken his place on the throne as the new king of Phthia.
Nearly three years had passed, and the small baby Pyrrus was exactly three and a half years old. He had begun to slowly take steps toward four. Like Achilles, his pale blond, wavy hair dazzled everyone with its brightness; his lush green eyes, like leaves, made trees jealous. Moreover, contrary to summer, his skin was as white as snow, highlighting his beauty even more. He was a complete copy of Achilles. There was not even the slightest trace of his biological mother’s genes—nor did he know his biological mother at all.
As Pyrrus grew, Patroclus lived every moment with the fear of “not being accepted,” but contrary to his worries, no matter how much Pyrrus grew, he continued to look at Patroclus with those same bright, large green eyes full of love and trust. After a while, Patroclus shed all his fears and continued on his path to becoming a true parent with all his effort…
As the sun shone directly overhead, with the rhythmic chirping of birds and the beauty of bushes swaying in the gentle breeze among the trees, summer greeted Phthia.
With his small steps, Pyrrus had cried and begged Patroclus intensely to go for a walk in the meadow early in the morning. Unable to withstand his crying, Patroclus had reluctantly gotten out of bed and agreed to the little child’s request.
The moment Pyrrus stepped outside, he began running around the meadow with a cheerful laugh. Pink and yellow butterflies seemed to follow Pyrrus as if chasing him. This made the little child laugh even more and grow more excited.
As Pyrrus continued to run wildly around, playing with the butterflies, Patroclus followed him to make sure he wouldn’t get lost. He hadn’t fully woken up yet. His curly hair was tangled and messy, clearly showing he had just gotten out of bed.
Because of Pyrrus’s impatience to go outside, Patroclus hadn’t even had time to fix his hair.
“Be careful. Don’t get too close to the river.”
Patroclus spoke calmly but firmly as he continued to watch Pyrrus. He went to rest in the shade of a large, thick-trunked tree beyond the river and leaned his back against the massive trunk, letting out a deep sigh.
Pyrrus picked one of the small daisies that had just begun to bloom and ran eagerly toward Patroclus. When Patroclus noticed him, he fixed his brown eyes on the little child’s face and smiled gently.
“What is it?”
“I brought you something…”
Patroclus ran his hand through his disheveled curly hair and looked at the child’s hands hidden behind his back, letting out a small sigh.
“What did you bring?”
As Patroclus looked at Pyrrus with curiosity, Pyrrus held out the daisies he had been hiding behind his back and smiled sweetly, puckering his lips as he spoke in the same gentle tone.
“Can I put daisies in your hair? Please.”
To be even cuter, Pyrrus continued to look at Patroclus with puckered lips. He was waiting for approval, and it was clear that he would be truly upset if Patroclus refused. Patroclus’s smile widened further, and he held Pyrrus’s cheeks tightly with both hands, pulling him closer and kissing his nose. Pyrrus began to giggle sweetly from having his nose kissed.
“Alright, go ahead.”
“Yay!”
As Pyrrus immediately began placing the daisies into Patroclus’s hair, Patroclus lowered his head to make it easier for the child to reach, surrendering himself to him.
Murmuring sweetly in a sing-song rhythm, mumbling words inside his mouth, Pyrrus continued placing the white daisies among the ends of Patroclus’s hair. When Patroclus’s dark brown curly hair was completely filled with daisies, Pyrrus stepped back and clapped his hands while laughing. A little boy was not usually this adorable, but Pyrrus was truly a bundle of love.
From another direction of the meadow, the sound of two pairs of feet stepping on grass filled both their ears, and it wasn’t difficult to guess who was coming. Achilles often wandered the meadow until noon since he went out early in the mornings to gather blackberries. Seeing Achilles, Pyrrus immediately ran toward him and shouted joyfully.
“Daddy!”
Achilles narrowed his lush green eyes and smiled broadly, then bent down and took his son into his arms, lifted him, spun around, and pressed him tightly against his chest. As he did so, Pyrrus’s cheerful laughter filled the entire meadow.
“Why are you outside this early, my baby?”
Achilles asked in an extremely affectionate and loving tone rather than an angry one. Achilles was not a father who could easily get angry with his son.
“Daddy, I woke up early when I heard the birds. The sun was shining so beautifully, so I insisted to Papa Patroclus and we came outside.”
Hearing the child’s lively voice felt like a healing balm to Achilles. As he listened while holding the child in his arms, he walked slowly toward the tree where Patroclus was leaning.
“Hm, I see.”
Achilles slowly nodded, and his green eyes briefly drifted to Patroclus. When he noticed the daisies in Patroclus’s hair, he smiled even more warmly, carefully crouched down, and leaned his back against the large tree trunk just like Patroclus.
Achilles gently pressed his lips to Patroclus’s, savoring the pleasure of receiving a morning kiss, then pulled back. When his eyes drifted again to the daisies in Patroclus’s hair, Patroclus silenced him before he could speak.
“Don’t even ask. Phyrrus chose my new style.”
In contrast to Patroclus’s serious face, Achilles let out a sweet laugh, and Patroclus couldn’t help but laugh along with him.
“It suits you quite well.”
As Achilles continued teasing with a grin, Patroclus elbowed him, but that only made Achilles laugh even more.
The two grown men were actually only twenty-two years old. Because the Trojan War had ended early, they had been given long lives. Wars were terrible—you know that…
If that war had continued, neither of them would probably be alive, and Phyrrus would have been raised by Thetis using the worst methods.
“So? You came out to the meadow this early, but won’t Mr. Phyrrus get sleepy?”
Achilles asked in a soft tone as he leaned his face closer to Phyrrus and played with strands of his wavy blond hair, wrapping them around his finger. Phyrrus, meanwhile, continued sitting in Achilles’s lap, pouting.
“But Daddy… I wanted to go outside because the weather is nice.”
Achilles was truly a very good and disciplined father. Fathers like this were extremely rare in those times—perhaps Achilles was the only one. Therefore, Achilles was very attentive to his son’s sleep schedule and chose to be quite strict about it. If Phyrrus didn’t sleep eight to nine hours, he wouldn’t grow properly. After all, he was still a baby, not even a child yet.
“I allowed it this time,”
Achilles leaned his nose closer to his son’s. His voice no longer sounded as gentle as before; this was because he was maintaining his boundaries.
“But it won’t happen again. Okay?”
Still pouting sweetly, the little child nodded his head up and down to show his agreement. Unable to resist Phyrrus’s cuteness, Achilles launched a small kissing attack—planting very quick kisses all over his son’s face, on his cheeks, nose, forehead, and chin—causing Phyrrus to burst into loud laughter.
Villagers, nobles, kings, or gods would certainly disapprove of this scene, yes—but Achilles had always been someone who wanted to stand apart.
He pitied other people’s ways of life. Life was already full of suffering, and while happiness was this easy, he didn’t want to push it away like everyone else.
He was with the man he loved, and he was the happiest father in the world. That was enough for him.
As the hour approached noon, Achilles’s personal messenger hurried through the palace, calling out to Achilles and Patroclus as they headed toward the dining hall.
“My lord! My lord!”
When both men stopped and turned around, the curious gaze of Phyrrus—sitting in Achilles’s arms, sucking on his finger—shifted toward the man.
The messenger cleared his throat, pulling his gaze away from Phyrrus, and looked seriously at Patroclus.
“My lord, a young woman has come to see you.”
Briseis.
At the man’s words, the softness on Achilles’s face vanished. He frowned slightly, narrowed his eyes, and fixed the clear hardness in his lush green gaze on Patroclus’s surprised face.
Briseis was the first girl they had rescued from other men’s assaults during the Trojan War. While Achilles was away fighting, Patroclus and Briseis had spent a great deal of time together. Briseis had openly confessed her love to Patroclus, and it had been the first time Patroclus felt interest in a woman. Achilles, meanwhile, had tried to soften the jealousy he felt about the two of them in his chest and had never spoken about it.
But now Achilles and Patroclus were married and had a child. Briseis’s arrival in Phthia now greatly disturbed the atmosphere.
Why had she come?
“Oh… Alright. Take me to her.”
As Patroclus nodded seriously, the messenger quickly walked ahead of him, guiding the way. Patroclus turned and looked at Achilles.
"Aren’t you coming?"
Achilles parted his lips but then closed them again. He had no intention of arguing with Patroclus at that moment. Whether it was because he had grown accustomed to softening this jealousy in his chest over the years or not was unclear, but he swallowed his poisonous words and remained silent, walking alongside Patroclus.
Phyrrus, meanwhile, shifted his curious gaze between Achilles and Patroclus. The little child must have sensed the tension in the air, because he, too, fell silent.
Briseis stood inside the palace’s grand hall with her hands clasped in front of her, observing her surroundings. Just then, the palace doors opened, and the first thing Briseis saw was a pair of brown eyes.
Upon seeing Briseis, Patroclus’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, and he stepped forward to look at her.
But Briseis immediately shuffled her feet quickly and ran toward Patroclus, wrapping her arms tightly around him as if throwing herself at him. Patroclus staggered back a step, wrapping his hands around Briseis’s waist. As they barely managed to steady themselves, small sobs—almost like crying—spilled from Briseis’s pink lips.
“Briseis, are you alright?”
Patroclus pulled his head back with concern, gently placing his hands on Briseis’s cheeks to help her pull away, and looked into her eyes. A few sorrowful tears streamed down from Briseis’s eyes.
“I missed you so much. I tried every way to come to Phthia, but I couldn’t reach you for years.”
Briseis raised her fingers to wipe the fresh tears flowing from her eyes, but her crying didn’t stop. New tears replaced the ones she wiped away.
Patroclus swallowed. He slid his hands from Briseis’s waist up to her back and hugged her tightly, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder. Perhaps to calm her, he began gently stroking her back in small rhythms.
“Shh… I’m here.”
As Patroclus’s soothing words flowed from Briseis’s ear into her soul, Achilles stood off to the side watching them, jealousy burning vividly in his gaze like a living flame. Achilles’s eyes were locked on them; he seemed not to blink. The little boy in his arms could feel the anger burning inside him.
“Daddy.”
When Phyrrus’s tearful voice reached Achilles’s ears, Achilles snapped back to himself and turned his gaze to the little child in his arms. Seeing Phyrrus’s frightened state, he began gently rocking him and rested his forehead against his son’s.
“I’m not angry, my angel. I was just a little tense, that’s all.”
Phyrrus looked carefully into his father’s eyes as if he didn’t quite believe him. Then he timidly ran his hands over Achilles’s newly growing blond stubble and spoke in a hesitant voice.
“Who was that woman, Daddy?”
As the small green eyes turned toward Achilles’s lush green eyes, Achilles’s face remained the same, but his smile slowly faded.
Now that he thought about it, could Achilles still trust Patroclus? It was unclear. Because somewhere inside him, that feeling of being betrayed still hadn’t faded. Achilles felt as though he had no right to interfere in Patroclus’s actions, since he had been the first to betray him. His remorse was eating him alive, and he couldn’t interfere with Patroclus’s choices.
After all, Achilles had been forced by Thetis to have sexual relations with a woman—but Patroclus had willingly been with two women.
“A friend.”
Achilles said it more in a tone as if reminding himself, and slowly smiled. It was as though he himself didn’t believe what he was saying.
“They’re friends.”