I promised I’d post a teaser from ‘Aissa and Polyxena’ here, my m/m mythical tale of cross dressing. Here I pair up Achille, mightiest of the Achaens, not with Patrocles, but Troile. You might also know him as Troilus. You might know Achille as Achilles, or Achilleus. Yes, Troile is the boy Achille ravaged and murdered, according to many a myth. This is a different story. Why? Because the gods got involved. This time, it’s Ganymede. After all, he was a Trojan prince himself, before Zeus stole him away. 🙂
My truth has remained unspoken for too long, but I can no longer remain silent. Not after all the tales of how Achille violated me, decapitated me, visited all kinds of horrors upon me. In truth, he was at the mercy of a passion, which began with Ganymede’s cup.
How did I come to drink from that cup? In a dream. I haven’t the gift of prophecy. Not as my siblings, Cassandra and Helenus did. The boy appeared in my dream, though. Not theirs.
Beautiful he was, with hair too lustrous, eyes too luminous, and limbs too finely made to be mortal. An all too mortal sorrow cast shadows under his gleaming eyes, as he offered me a cup.
“Troile, child of Troy,” the boy said. His rosebud of a mouth trembled, as if my name tasted painful. My own mouth trembled in response. “Would you share my fate, as well as my heritage?”