Consider a goddess. Consider her dishonored. Consider her hurt. Consider her brought low by one so much lesser than herself
Consider her standing in the surf, mouth pressed into a thin line of red, eyes brimming with utter loathing, as she gazed upon the mortal, who claims to love her still, despite the pain he foisted upon her
There is a child in her arms, one born after weeks of agonizing labor, soaked through with the golden blood of gods, so different from the Ruby blood that pulsed through his own veins
For a moment, she considers dashing him against the gnashing rocks of Phthia’s coast. Considers killing him, hurting him, all for the sake of hurting this beast of a man who had hurt her so
But she does not. Because Achilles is her son, and she could not bring herself to kill him, to spill her own blood into the tides
Perhaps she should have. It would have been a kinder fate
Consider a goddess, standing in the surf once more, regarding a son with cool eyes. They no longer brim with the loathing of one hurt so terribly, but nonetheless, they are not kind
Achilles has grown to resemble her, her god-eyes and bright skin and goodly face, she notes with some pleasure, this is good
Her lips part, and words flow forth - threats she does not mean, not truly, curses she would come to regret.
Honor is why you were born. Honor is why I suffered. Make it worth it, Achilles. Bring me Honor
A boy lurks in the grasses, right at the boundary where Phthia’s dark soil turns to beach-sand. Her eyes meet his, and she nods - take care of him for me
Consider a goddess, comforting her son in a tent made for two, that now housed only one. His eyes are wide, staring at nothing
He has never seemed more human than this moment
The thought should disgust her.
It doesn’t. It makes her sorrowful. Her son is dead, she feels, it is only a matter of time before his body follows
Consider a goddess, staring at a funeral pyre from afar. No tears spill from her glass-shard eyes.
Why would they ? Achilles was dead long before Paris’ arrow found him. At least this way, he will finally be with his lover
At least this way, he will be happy. Thetis is a mother . That is all she desires for him now - it was foolish of her to demand anything more
Consider a goddess, standing in a surf. The tides lap at her feet, and her eyes are fixed on the sandy beachhead
But there is no answering gaze, loving or defiant or submissive. There is no one
Pyrrhus had fallen and so had Peleus, and so has Achilles
And Thetis ? She remained. Alone. Unhappy.
Consider a goddess, standing in the surf. She turns and walks down the slippery sands, down into the murky green
No one notices her leave, as no one noticed her coming. There is no one in the world for her now
