I stare out towards the battle, my stomach twisting itself into an anxious ball. Someone is dead, I'm sure of it.

Sure enough, a crowd is forming around a body, lying broken on the floor. They must be important. A king, perhaps?

It doesn't matter, Patroclus is there, he'll tell me. He'll come home, still carrying a spear in his hands, glad to be out of the battle, away from the blood. I can't see him from here, he's probably staying away from the heart of the battle, avoiding the blood and the violence he'd always hated so much.

The battle goes on for a while longer, though it seems to last days. It seems to take even longer for everyone to filter back into the camp.

Something has happened, I was right, someone important has died. Dejected men trudge slowly forwards, led by the kings. Patroclus is nowhere to be seen. An anger boils up inside of me.

Where is he? Who is guarding him?

I catch Odysseus' eye, but he just shakes his head, before glancing over to Menelaus, who is holding something in his arms.

That something is a someone.

That someone is barely more than a boy. He must be the fallen prince.

People are staring at me, pity in their eyes. I want to scream, where is Patroclus? Why isn't he here?

And then it all falls into place.

The body resting in Menelaus' arms, the hushed silence, baited breath. They've been waiting for me to realise, to lash out, and kill someone.

I'm hot with anger, I can feel the blood boiling in my veins, my brain is fizzing and the very edge of my vision is blurring.

Someone is screaming, maybe it's me. I think it's me.

And now I'm walking towards him, I'm running and I'm holding him in my arms.

People are trying to pry me away from him. I will kill them. They parted us once but it'll never happen again.

And now there are other people, familiar voices that I can't place.

"Who did this?"


I make a choking sound as I try to stand up. I'll kill him and seal my fate.

They're telling me 'Tomorrow' and 'Not yet.' but they don't know anything. They haven't lost anything today.

They're trying to guide me away again, but I refuse. I shake my head and ignore the world, focusing on Patroclus. His dead body is wet with blood, and my face is soaked with my own tears.

What has Hector ever done to me?

This is what he's done.

Author's Note: Well this is shit, haha. I wrote it for tsoa week a while ago, but never got round to doing any of the other challenges. I think this one was 'do a scene from another character's perspective'? I don't know, I'll just call it a standalone oneshot I guess.