It did not weaken him, but he tired of it.
The war was routine, but Achilles no longer welcomed it. He wished only to be done with it, to flee-- not out of cowardice, but of boredom.
The war could not kill him, but neither would it grant him life.
*
"Of all things that this war may cost you, I do not think the girl is the most important."
"It is not the girl who matters," said Achilles. His back was straight and stiff. Outside were the muffled noises of picketed horses, and the men who owned them. Patroclus could hear the rise and fall of a story, sung haltingly as though the singer could not remember all of the words. It seemed a long way away from this, where Achilles' sentences were short and terse, and carried neither intonation nor even inflection. But this loss should not have affected him as much as it had.
"You should not allow your pride to rule your head," said Patroclus. "Just as you would not allow it to rule your heart." He turned back to Achilles. "Agamemnon has only done what was asked of him."
"Indeed," said Achilles, shortly. "But it was not also asked of me. And he has no right to take what is mine."
"It is for the good of the Achaeans," said Patroclus. He did not sound convinced himself, but he was not reasoning with Achilles.
"Agamemnon does not speak for us all."
Patroclus bowed his head. This he knew, and this they all knew, for they had sworn no oaths but to defeat Troy. Agamemnon did not speak for them all, but Patroclus did not think Achilles could speak even for himself. He was in no place to be making decisions, even as leader of the Myrmidons.
Patroclus said nothing. Achilles would not listen, even if he heard.
*
Ten years ago they might never have had such a conversation.
Ten years ago, Achilles had come to these shores with war on his mind and glory in his heart, knowing that he would die, and accepting his fate to be worth the reward.
But these ten years had passed, and Achilles' resolve had changed. Patroclus had joined him here, but no longer could he keep him: their threads had diverged, and fate had drawn Achilles away.
Patroclus could not ask him to do what his heart could not; but neither could he abandon his oath.
It seemed that Achilles could very easily do both.
*
"If even my allies seek to undermine my position, how am I to fight alongside them?"
"You are not without friends."
Achilles looked at him. "But I am without allies, if even you refuse to side with me."
"I am bound here by oath," said Patroclus, and sat back. Achilles never tired of this argument, it seemed: when everyone else had grown weary of it, even Patroclus could not deny him the release. "It is not my choice to withdraw, though you know I would follow wherever you might lead, were I not constrained."
"And yet you would have me stay, though you know I will lose my life for it."
Patroclus looked at his hands. "I no more wish to see you dead than I would break my oath. But some things cannot be changed, and you know as well as I that you will die on these shores."
"Or else I will leave, and I will die alone and in peace, away from those who would control me."
Patroclus looked at him, and knew that Achilles meant it: Achilles would, could only see it as such, as though Patroclus too would work against him. "But I do not need to remind you that you will die forgotten, out of sight and mind of those who would recall your name."
"And yet already they seek to forget me. My deeds are already forgotten: my honour is no match for Agamemnon's, though I have produced victories where he has failed. Should I then be slighted and cast aside, my deeds forgotten in a fit of rage? Am I so low that he can take what is rightfully mine, as though I owe him more than what was freely given?-- My army! What right has he to forget what I have given?"
"He is a king," Patroclus said quietly, though he knew the statement was meaningless.
Achilles looked at him, his brow lowered and his eyes dark. "Agamemnon is a king," he said. "But he is not my king."
"Indeed not," said Patroclus. "But I am bound to him, and so I thought you were to me."
It was a trick, and an unkind one at that, but Achilles would have none of it: he merely shook his head.
"It is not the same. Even now, you put your oath to him before mine-- as though he has given you what I have not!" Achilles looked away, his breath snorting out in disgust. "But I will not ask you again," he said, and lay down as though to sleep.
"Perhaps not," said Patroclus, "but I will not change my answer."
*
Twenty years ago they would never have thought to find themselves here, on the shores of Troy, on the verge of death.
Twenty years ago, they were but boys, young and immortal-- undefeated and unconquerable, except by one another. Twenty years ago they knew nothing of death, and cared nothing for it: they were destined for it, perhaps, but it could not touch them.
But twenty years had passed, and Achilles had not grown. He knew he might die, but never would he be killed. He had the blood of the gods and the protection of fate: it seemed not to him that either would ever run dry.
Patroclus may have known better, but Achilles could not be taught.
*
"Honour is not all that you will lose, if you cannot put this behind you," Patroclus said. He leaned over Achilles, and Achilles flinched back, turning his face from Patroclus'. He would not meet Patroclus' eyes as Patroclus lowered his mouth to Achilles', not touching, but close enough to catch Achilles' breath on his lips.
"You will lose your name," Patroclus whispered. "Your rank. Your rights." He touched his lips to the corner of Achilles' mouth, and kept them there, though his voice became muffled. "Your fame. Your--. You will lose me."
Achilles started, and pushed Patroclus away. Patroclus did not resist, and sat up as he drew away. Achilles stared at him.
"I will not lose you," Achilles said, his voice flat.
Patroclus laughed, though the sound was without humour. "You seem very certain of that."
Achilles' eyes were wild, as wild as they were in battle. His certainty had cost him before, had cost him dearly; but yet he doubted its danger. "You are mine," he said, as though in saying he made the truth permanent.
Patroclus laughed, and climbed atop Achilles, thighs straddling thighs. "Even you can lose what you leave behind," he said, and pressed down against Achilles. "If you do not mind carefully enough."
Achilles stared up at him, unthinking, and unblinking, but Patroclus closed his eyes against the fury.
Achilles would look away before their time was spent.