Wars Of Love

Wounds

As I slowly regained consciousness, the gentle symphony of crickets filled the air, their melodious chirping acting as a soothing lullaby. My eyes fluttered open, and as I took in my surroundings, I found myself in the infirmary. The room exuded a sense of calm, with its sterile white walls and neatly arranged medical equipment.

As my gaze wandered, I couldn't help but be captivated by the scene outside the window. The night sky stretched out before me, its vast expanse painted in a velvety black hue. Countless stars adorned the celestial canvas, twinkling like tiny diamonds, illuminating the darkness with their ethereal glow.

Suddenly, a familiar voice resonated beside me, causing me to startle. It was King Peleus, standing by my bedside. The unexpected presence of another person in the room initially jolted me, but as I recognized the regal figure before me, a sense of relief washed over me. His warm and caring demeanor immediately put me at ease.

"Patroklos," he spoke with a tender tone, his voice carrying the weight of a concerned father. "How are you feeling, my son?"

"I'm-" A sharp pang of agony shot through my body as I attempted to rise from the softness of my pillow. Gritting my teeth, I fought against the searing pain that radiated from my side. 

"Don't move, Patroklos! You might reopen your wound." King Peleus warned me with concern.

In that moment, a sinking feeling overwhelmed me as I realized that he was the sole presence in the room. My gaze darted around, desperately searching for Achilles, but he was nowhere to be found.

Before I could even voice my question, the King interrupted me abruptly, as if he had anticipated my inquiry. "He's left. Lord Chiron took him away an hour ago."

The words struck me like a blow, and I struggled to form a coherent sentence amidst the chaos of my racing thoughts. "What... No... I must..." My words faltered, unable to convey the urgency and desperation that coursed through me. "I... I must..."

"You must sit and allow yourself to heal," the King's voice commanded with a firm tone. "Your injury is severe, and it is simply not feasible for you to embark on a journey in your current state, Patroklos."

"But I am his loyal companion! I am meant to be by his side, no matter the circumstances!"

Acknowledging my loyalty, the King's expression softened. "Indeed, you are his steadfast companion," he affirmed. "However, it was Achilles himself who ordered that you remain here and focus on your recovery. If you truly wish to honor your bond, you must heed his wishes. Now, rest. I shall instruct the servants to bring you food." 

Although I understood that King Peleus was genuinely concerned for my well-being and felt obliged to ensure I followed Achilles' orders, I knew deep down that I could not simply remain idle and confined within the walls of the palace.

With a determined resolve, I pushed the sheets off me and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The sharp pain that shot through my body caused me to gasp, and I struggled to control my breathing.

Grimacing, I reached for my spear, which lay on the nearby table, and unsheathed it, using it as a makeshift crutch to support my weight as I hobbled towards the door.

Despite the agony that wracked my body, I managed to dress myself hastily, albeit sloppily, and made my way towards the stables, my mind set on finding a way to reach Achilles.

With great effort, I climbed onto my trusty mare, her white coat shining in the moonlight. The simple act of mounting her was a feat in itself, and I winced as my injured side protested at the movement. But I gritted my teeth and urged her forward, my eyes fixed on the distant mountains.