[Upon hands and knees in the dust, more like a beggar than a prince, his gaze settles upon the face of his shield, once glorious but now scarred. As her voice crackles like kindling upon the hearth, which nurtures the flame to a growling pitch before snapping and bowing beneath its heat, he lifts his eyes to her. In them howls a fire that grows only fiercer, and it is not only fury that burns, but anguish white-hot in the heart of the blaze.]
If I cared only for my life, upon steep Scyros I would have remained, never to set sail for well-walled Ilios, forever leery of the war drums. I would have made the daughter of Lycomedes my bride, to take with me back to my dear native land, and in my father's house I would watch my son grow into manhood: such is the life I abandoned, and such is the sort of life I only wish I might share with you yet know I never truly shall.
[For he is as a ripple upon the water, ever moving in the direction in which he is propelled, never to be grasped in one's hand as it slips through the fingers. He had warned her, there beside the river in the untamed wilds of Zeta-12, there in that land where they had dreamed themselves husband and wife, that to love a man such as he cannot be without heartache.]
No, it is my honor for which I fought upon the Dardanian plain, no matter the purpose of the sons of Atreus, and it is my pride for which I turned away the promise of a peaceful life. In this matter I can choose no other path.
[Again he makes to stand, his weary legs protesting their pain, but he is careful, and slow, and determined to rise.]
Leave battle to men, and come help me walk. It would behoove us to linger no longer here in the darkness of night.
[His voice is quieter now, cold and still like ashes left upon the hearth overnight, and in the stillness is revealed his exhaustion.]
no subject
If I cared only for my life, upon steep Scyros I would have remained, never to set sail for well-walled Ilios, forever leery of the war drums. I would have made the daughter of Lycomedes my bride, to take with me back to my dear native land, and in my father's house I would watch my son grow into manhood: such is the life I abandoned, and such is the sort of life I only wish I might share with you yet know I never truly shall.
[For he is as a ripple upon the water, ever moving in the direction in which he is propelled, never to be grasped in one's hand as it slips through the fingers. He had warned her, there beside the river in the untamed wilds of Zeta-12, there in that land where they had dreamed themselves husband and wife, that to love a man such as he cannot be without heartache.]
No, it is my honor for which I fought upon the Dardanian plain, no matter the purpose of the sons of Atreus, and it is my pride for which I turned away the promise of a peaceful life. In this matter I can choose no other path.
[Again he makes to stand, his weary legs protesting their pain, but he is careful, and slow, and determined to rise.]
Leave battle to men, and come help me walk. It would behoove us to linger no longer here in the darkness of night.
[His voice is quieter now, cold and still like ashes left upon the hearth overnight, and in the stillness is revealed his exhaustion.]