The Spartans Arrived

Achilles and I stood beside King Peleus in the dining hall, the atmosphere heavy with anticipation. The lively feast had come to a halt, and a palpable silence enveloped the attendees who eagerly awaited the unfolding events.

Before us stood the formidable Kings of Sparta, their presence commanding respect and attention. It was clear that they carried a weighty and solemn message.

"You heard correctly, King of Myrmidon," King Agamemnon's voice resonated throughout the room, its authoritative tone capturing everyone's attention. "My brother's cherished wife has been cruelly seized by those filthy Trojans!" As his words echoed through the hall, a wave of murmurs rippled among the guests.

"Helen has been taken?" King Peleus exclaimed, his voice laced with shock. "How did this happen?"

"Just yesterday, we had a peace treaty," King Menelaus revealed, his tone filled with bitterness. "They deceitfully signed it, only to brazenly steal my beloved wife from right under our noses! This affront to me and our kingdom shall not go unanswered! It is a declaration of war, and we beseech your kingdom's aid!" Menelaus spoke with a fiery mix of fury and fervor, his words seething like molten lava, his hands trembling as he gestured emphatically.

The murmurs swelled in response to the mention of war. It had been years since the last one, despite the perpetual hostility between Sparta and Troy. And now, after the hard-fought peace treaty that countless individuals had striven for, it seemed that everything would descend into violence and carnage, all because of one woman.

"When do you intend to commence this war?" King Peleus inquired.

"It has already begun," King Agamemnon answered tersely.

"Tomorrow, we shall set sail for Troy," King Menelaus declared, his voice brimming with determination. "With your airships, we anticipate no issues with travel. And as for you, dear Athenians," he turned towards them, "we understand that war is not your forte, but if you provide us with 500 of your impeccable ships, we shall reward you with half of the treasures within Troy." The guests gasped in astonishment. Troy was the wealthiest kingdom outside of Greece, and earning half of its riches would make Athens immensely powerful, perhaps even more so than our own kingdom.

Menestheus, the King of Athens, gulped the piece of turkey he was eating and responded with a simple. "Done."

As a kingdom that governed through democracy, he did not have the authority to make such a decision on his own. However, no one would fault him for accepting the offer. It would be sheer folly to decline.

"And what do you require from me, Kings?" King Peleus inquired.

Myrmidon had alliances with every kingdom within Greece, which meant that if any of them were attacked or went to war, they would have to come to their aid, and vice versa.

"Your unstoppable army of Myrmidons, as many as you can spare, of course." King Agamemnon stated. "And the same goes for your airships. With those on our side, victory will be swift and certain!"

King Peleus contemplated the demands for a moment before finally agreeing. "I will provide you with 500 of my finest warriors and 300 airships. I believe that should be sufficient resources for you to secure victory in this war."

"Excellent," King Agamemnon responded, bowing theatrically.

"But let me pose this question," King Peleus continued. "How do you plan to breach their defenses? The shield has been blessed by Apollo himself."

He raised a valid concern. That impenetrable shield had never faltered, serving as the very reason why they were the most formidable kingdom.

"That is indeed a challenge," King Menelaus acknowledged, only for Agamemnon to interject. "But with your son's spear, we will surely find a way."

All eyes immediately turned to Achilles and then back to the King, awaiting his response.

"You want my son to join you?" King Peleus asked, his voice filled with grave concern. "He is simply too young to fight in a war alongside you."

"I will go," Achilles interjected. "I'll aid you in your war."

"Achilles!" King Peleus exclaimed in frustration. The weight of the decision hung heavily in the air, and I could sense the tension between father and son.

"Very well. It is decided then. I'll send you the meeting coordinates. We'll be seeing you tomorrow." King Agamemnon declared with an exaggerated wave, before he and King Menelaus exited the hall.

I observed King Peleus conversing with Achilles, but the words exchanged were inaudible to me. My thoughts were consumed by the realization that Achilles had agreed to go to war, and I would be compelled to join him as well.

In King Peleus's private office, Achilles and his father continued their heated argument, their voices filled with frustration, echoing through the room.

"You are too young to go and fight in a war, Achilles!" King Peleus yelled, his concern evident.

"If I refuse, it would bring shame upon our Kingdom. As its future King, I cannot allow that to happen," Achilles stood his ground with determination.

"If you go to this war, you won't return as the future King, but as a dead Prince," King Peleus spoke with a deep mix of anger and melancholy.

"Then what was all the training for, Father!? I am more than capable of fighting in this war and bringing glory to both our kingdom and my name. If you were so certain we would lose, why did you readily send away 500 of our men? Are you willing to sacrifice Myrmidon sons to uphold a pact, but not your own?" Achilles questioned, his voice filled with frustration.

"I would sacrifice my entire kingdom to save you!" The King yelled, defending his stance. "Both of you." He turned his gaze towards me, bringing me into the conversation.

"No!" Achilles burst out suddenly. "Don't involve him in this. I have made up my mind, and I am going. I won't allow your paternal emotions to destroy everything you have worked so hard for." Achilles stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

King Peleus sighed, rubbing his face and beard wearily. "Everything I have worked for has been for you..." He spoke solemnly, hunched over the desk.

His eyes met mine, and I could see the tears he desperately held back, glistening in his eyes.

"You have to stop him, Patroklos. You are the only one he will listen to," he pleaded.

"He won't listen to me. He has already made up his mind," I replied, my voice filled with resignation.

"The Spartans believe they can win because they have support from all of Greece. But they won't," the King explained. "Troy's shield will not fall. It never has and it never will. This war will only lead to pointless slaughter. It's not that I don't believe in Achilles's skills, but this war is unwinnable."

"King Agamemnon said that the spear could help defeat the shield. Don't you think so?" I asked, searching for a glimmer of hope within his sparkling eyes.

"Both the spear and the shield were created by the Gods. If there is anything that can bring it down, it would be the spear. But the issue is that none of us know how, and neither does Achilles. The entire plan is based on hope and luck." King Peleus explained, his voice laced with uncertainty.

I took a moment to lower my gaze, contemplating the weight of King Peleus's words. He was right - venturing into battle without a clear strategy would be a perilous endeavor, driven solely by blind hope. It felt like a suicide mission, and perhaps I could find a way to convince Achilles to reconsider his decision to join the war.

"I'll talk to him." I declared. The King's eyes sparked with a glimmer of hope, and a grateful smile graced his face as he placed his hand gently on my shoulder, expressing his gratitude.

Achilles lay on his bed, his muscular frame relaxed but his mind clearly preoccupied. His eyes were closed, but the tension in his brow betrayed his restless thoughts.

"Have you come to dissuade me?" he spoke softly, his voice tinged with a mix of weariness and anticipation.

"Maybe I did, or maybe I just came to sleep since we share the same room," I joked, and a sweet grin appeared on his lips. I fell onto the bed beside him, placing my head on his chest as his arm wrapped around me. "Your father told me that Agamemnon has no plan, and he's right. It all hinges on hoping that your spear might do something, but if it doesn't, then that's it. We lose, and we die."

"My spear will work," he said with certainty. "We didn't spend all that time training just to doubt my skills. I now know how to control the spear to its fullest potential. We will win this war with ease."

"It's still too big of a risk. I mean, what if you don't bring down the shield? What if you die? What will happen to Myrmidon then?" I questioned him, ensuring he considered all the possible outcomes.

With a playful tone, he asked, "Do you seriously doubt my judgment this much?"

"You didn't answer me." My response was stern, and he abruptly rose to his feet, turning his back to me. The weight of his thoughts seemed to hang heavily in the air, and after a brief pause and a heavy sigh, he finally spoke.

"Death. The answer to all of them is death," he said, his voice low and grave. "If the shield stands, then we die. And if we die there will be no future for Myrmidon. Unless I leave an heir to rule..." Silence fell between us. If we were to embark on war the following day, tonight was his sole opportunity to conceive a child.

Achilles turned around slowly to face me, and I couldn't bring myself to meet his gaze. The weight of the impending decision hung heavily in the air, and my voice came out as barely a whisper.

"You are going to do it tonight?" I asked, my words filled with a mix of disbelief and resignation.

"Yes," he replied simply, his voice tinged with a hint of awkwardness. "I already told Deidamia. I just had to tell you before...we did it."

The gravity of his words hit me like a punch to the gut and a surge of frustration welled up within me.

"So...you did think of everything then. You're truly not going change your mind about this?"

There was a small pause before he answered, his voice filled with determination. "No."

A wave of anger washed over me, the frustration bubbling to the surface. "So your solution to this is to go to war and if you die, leave a baby behind for a mother to raise on her own, instead of just staying here and living a happy life?"

"Why are you making this so much more difficult!" Achilles raised his voice, a hint of exasperation creeping in. "You always knew that this was the life I wanted. That this is what makes me happy."

He was right, and I knew it. This was the path he had chosen, the path that brought him joy. But the thought of him leaving a child behind without a father because of his own selfish desires was something I never expected from him.

"You're right!" I snapped, my anger boiling over. "But I would have never expected you to leave a baby behind with no father because of your selfishness!"

His face registered shock, his body frozen in place. My words had struck a nerve, and I could see the hurt in his eyes.

"I-" he began, attempting to find the right words, but I cut him off, unable to bear the weight of the conversation any longer.

"Don't bother! Just go to her and do what you have to do." My voice dripped with contempt as I turned abruptly, slamming the door behind me as I stormed away.

My father had left me all alone when he died, consumed by his own pursuit of glory and honor. Seeing Achilles make the same choice, abandoning his own child for the sake of his ambitions, was a betrayal that cut deep. I couldn't stop him from having that baby, nor could I prevent him from going to war. But I would make sure he understood the grave consequences of his choices, consequences that would haunt him for the rest of his days.