Once more I find myself in this Cauldron while my story is elsewhere being written at this Camp NaNoWriMo. I am Troile, Prince of Troy. As long as I live, Troy will survive in some shape of form if you belief my mad siblings. They are gifted with the Sight, but they are not the only ones who see things.
I had a vision of my own in a cup held by my kinsman and Zeus’s cupbearer. I saw the face of a youth whose destiny was entwined with mine. Indeed, he had the power to cut it short for he was Achille, mightiest of the Achaens.
This didn’t make me adverse to crossing paths with him however perilous. My desire, or perhaps the will of the gods transported me to Achille’s side. Only he was called Aissa at the time, wearing skirts, and playing at being the companion of the Princess of Scyros. I recognized the fire in his eyes, which I’d first seen in the vision in the cup.
He knows who I am, too, and he’s coming for me. He’s coming for Troy, my home. I still wish to see him again, even though I’m courting destruction by letting him court me.
I’ll meet him with a sword in my hand or dressed in skirts, whatever part I need to play to make our paths cross once more. This is more than just destiny or desire. Perhaps a boy shouldn’t show so much eagerness for a potential lover, especially when he threatens my home. I’ll still stand my ground. If Achille wishes to take Troy, he’ll have to take me first.
I have no intention of making it easy for him even if part of me is eager for him to do.
We shall resolve this passion burning between us, Achille and I. One way or the other.