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Thetis had told him not to fidget. “Nerves are one thing, but your hands move so much it scares other people.”
Pelius had told him not to shuffle his feet. “No better way to make people think you want to run.”
Patroclus had said nothing, and that was enough to make him disobey both of his parents within the first thirty seconds.
Achilles stood restlessly at the altar, mindful of each pair of eyes boring holes into the back of his stiff suit jacket. He kept his hands clasped in front of him to hide the fact that he was wringing them incessantly, and resisted the urge to turn around. He hated that everyone could stare at him and he couldn’t stare right back. But the priest had been very clear; no looking back until Patroclus had joined him at the altar.
At the altar… Achilles’ mind still reeled at the thought. He was mere minutes away from lawfully wedding his childhood friend. His previous fiance’s brother. Achilles had known his parents would do anything in their power to make him happy. If that so happened to arrange a beneficial business deal at the same time, he was frankly shocked they hadn’t done this sooner. It was only a matter of optimising the time.
“It’s almost time,” the priest said, smiling in a kindly way. Achilles swallowed thickly and tried to smile back. God, he had to get ahold of himself! It was just Patroclus, if Patroclus could possibly be “just” anything. He was smart, and fun, and so handsome that Achilles couldn’t fathom how he could ever deny it. If his eight year old self hadn’t captured Achilles’ heart with his patience and kindness, his now twenty one year old self was the most incredible human being Achilles had ever met, and then some.
He was also straight.
Achilles clamped down on the thought before it could affect him and make him sprint out of the church as fast as he could. He gritted his teeth, forced his eyes shut, and breathed . This was a political marriage as far as their parents were concerned, but it wasn’t like he and Patroclus hated each other. To the contrary, Achilles had never been more in love. Patroclus, though not interested in him romantically, still enjoyed his company. They worked and played well together. The press ate up their-admittedly embellished- whirlwind relationship like hotcakes. They were very different, but rather than divide them, those differences helped them complement one another. It was the ideal marriage.
Except for the fact that Achilles had seen Briseis out of the corner of his eye, putting on a brave face to watch her lifelong crush get married to someone else. Except for the fact that Patroclus, as Achilles had seen over and over again, was attracted to women. Except for the fact that Achilles was essentially forcing Patroclus into marrying him based on his own need to stay by the other man’s side.
God, what was he doing?
The music started, and the chatter died down to nothing. Achilles, for once, went still as a marble statue. And he listened. Slow, sure footsteps were carefully muffled by the long carpet. Murmurs of appreciation and anticipation rose from the assembly. Achilles fought not to lock his knees to no avail. Otherwise he didn’t think he could stop himself from turning to look at Patroclus. Or running away. Whichever came first. His heart raced faster and faster as the footsteps drew nearer, but he did not turn. He was starting to lose feeling in his fingers from squeezing them so tight. Then he felt Patroclus step up to his left, and at the priest’s nod he slowly let himself turn.
Achilles had heard all of the speeches about how your spouse never looked better on the day you got married, but he decided right then that that was nonsense. There was nothing different about Patroclus. He was just as dazzling and beautiful as he had looked every day since Achilles first met him. Patroclus turned to him as well and gave him that nervous little half smile that he loved so much. Achilles forgot about the priest, about their families and friends around them, and about the sea of cameras no doubt waiting for them once they left the church. He only focused on Patroclus, searching for any sign that the man he loved was even a fraction as happy as Achilles himself felt at that moment.
Before long, the priest took each of their hands and brought them together for the vows. They had opted to repeat after the priest to keep the ceremony short. Achilles felt Patroclus’ fingers trembling, but for the life of him couldn’t tell if that was good or bad. “Patroclus, you will repeat after me. I, Patroclus do promise to-”
“Wait,” Patroclus blurted out, and Achilles’ heart stopped beating altogether.
A murmur rose among the assembled, washing over Achilles and bringing a staggering heat to his face and the back of his neck. Patroclus was calling it off. Achilles had thought- he had at least hoped that the prospect of marrying him hadn’t been all that terrifying to face.
“Yes?” the priest asked in the awkward half-silence.
Patroclus glanced at him, then back to Achilles, and then to their joined hands. Gently, with a tenderness that defied the action, he pried his hands loose and left Achilles holding empty air as he reached for his jacket pocket. He pulled out a heavily inkstained and multi creased sheet of paper and gulped. “I-I have something I’d like to say.”
Achilles could only nod.
Patroclus unfolded the paper and cleared his throat several times before starting to read. “Achilles, I have known you since we were very young. You- you were there for me when not many people were, and I can never repay you for that.”
Forcing himself to keep his eyes on Patroclus had never been a challenge, and had never before caused him such pain. But Achilles had nothing if not will, and he promised himself right then and there that whatever Patroclus had had to practice saying to reject him, he would meet his eyes as it happened.
“I cannot remember much of my life before we met. You chose me of all people to call your- your best-”
Unshed tears shone in his dark eyes, lending them a gleam Achilles seldom saw. Those eyes fixed on him at last, and Patroclus froze.
Come on, you had to rehearse rejecting me. Get it over with. Say it. Tell me so I can take my misery with me and try to make sense of it.
The church was now dead quiet, all ears waiting to see how things would unfold. Patroclus gripped the paper so tightly that the crinkle was deafening in the silence, and Achilles recognized the other man’s resolve as it returned.
This is it.
The sound of the paper tearing shattered the silence like gunfire. Achilles’ jaw dropped as Patroclus ripped through his well worn script and drew himself up to his full height. When he spoke again, it was confident and came straight from his very soul. “You saw me when I was invisible. You listened to me when my worries had fallen on deaf ears. Yours are the arms I want to turn to when I am frightened or angry or any number of things. I see us as we were, running and playing as boys, and wonder how I didn’t float away from the happiness of it all. I have lain awake at night loving you in silence and not knowing what to do about it- now I have an answer. I will follow you to the ends of the earth to stay by your side. I will be your support as you have been mine. And I will never stop loving you, not even when I die. This, and this, and this, I do swear.”
Achilles gaped. It was the opposite of what he had expected, yet somehow exactly like Patroclus to labor over his own vows in secret and then decide to throw them away. He caught Patroclus’ hands in his once more, unable to help the idiotic smile splitting his face. The priest cleared his throat, and motioned for the rings. Briseis, glowing with pride, brought them. Maybe Achilles had been wrong- it wasn’t a brave face, she was genuinely happy for them. Patroclus put a ring on Achilles finger, and Achilles did the same.
“Patroclus,” he whispered, unable to say anything else. It was all he needed to say. Patroclus had always had a better way with understanding then he. And when he kissed his husband, the love of his life (or, as the poets say, the other part of him) Achilles felt like he could take on an army all on his own, if only Patroclus was there to see him do it.