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[chink-in-armor.insanejournal.com]

Who: Achilles and Neoptolemus
What: Father and son meet for the first time...
When: Tuesday afternoon
Where: New York streets/passing by? (I'm very uncreative right now...)
Warnings: Hard to say...

Achilles had not been in the limelight for a year, but there were times he was still recognized in the street. He had decided to take a break from directing and acting to focus on himself (true to the nature of a worthy hero). The script he had been writing on and off for years finally took a different turn towards a novel which felt more comfortable. It was the right spear in hand to drive forward.

He still couldn't shake that feeling that something else was looming in the air. It agitated him greatly. There was an unseen confrontation coming because he felt his blood boil. He felt the need to seek it out as he left the quiet corner of the coffee shop outside to the streets.It was when he was shoved into by a passerby, grabbing the boy's arm in reaction that he felt that uneasiness come to rest. He didn't know the boy, but something struck him, an arrow hitting its target the moment they made contact.

"Excuse yourself," Achilles said roughly as if the youth today should have more manners than they did. It bothered him they had no respect for anyone including themselves.

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[chink-in-armor.insanejournal.com]

He could sense a warrior out of this one as well. It brought out the harshness on even the softest of men. He was one from his time, he felt older than the youthful face. Far more cut off from humanity than himself, this one was disconnected.

"From one warrior to another, my name is more than a name." It was one that men would never forget. "Achilles."

[phonomania.insanejournal.com]

Achilles. The father he never knew. A reunion had never been out of the question, but this seemed so abrupt. So random. If Neoptolemus believed in coincidence, he'd confess to this being more than just an accident. Now, however, all he could feel was indifference. His father had always been a tale to him, someone he was meant to look up to and idolize and not be angry with over having left him so early in life, leaving him with an overbearing mother who loved him more than was deserved.

Something indistinguishable flickered in those blue eyes. "You were never more than just a name to me." He licked his lips. "Father."

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Those were words he'd never heard uttered to him in any fashion. Stories of Neoptolemus had been nothing more than stories, but the son was not like the father. Neoptolemus had no compassion for his fellow man. He supposed in many ways that had been his own doing. What he had sought had been glory, he had been too young to give a second thought to being a figure in an unborn child's life. Achilles' own father had been absent, but instead of playing the blame game he had secured his fate to be a proud relic of the world.

His grip loosened around Neoptolemus' arm, but he did not let it go. "Have you no respect at all?" Son or not, he would not be talked down to by flesh and blood.

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The younger man tongued the back of his teeth, taking in all of the details of this man he never had the chance to know. All his father had been was a tale, a story of triumph, of all that he'd accomplished-- but Neoptolemus didn't know him at all. The only pieces he'd had of this man was the blood running through his veins, and the armor he'd once donned.

Achilles might as well have been a stranger to him after all.

"Does the truth hurt, father?" A step forward was taken, until only a few inches remained between them, the pair a statue in the midst of a throng of moving people. "You were never a part of my life, except from when you gave it to me. Why should I give respect to someone who was never there?"

Why give respect at all to anyone?

[chink-in-armor.insanejournal.com]

"I had no choice." He had but he chose war over a simple life. Odysseus had persuaded him well. "Was the image of your father such a hateful one?" Had he none of his ambition and humanity? Or had his deeds wiped all of that clean? He was almost disgusted to call him of the line of Peleus. Achilles would deck him right there if he continued in such a way. "You speak to me with such a heavy tongue. I do not like it."

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If Neoptolemus felt at all ashamed of his behavior, it didn't show on his face, and he most certainly didn't feel it inside. He shifted his captive arm, still disliking how his father kept a hold on it, as if he was someone who couldn't stay still. Like a coward who would dash away after hearing some hurtful words.

"I don't hate you." The words sounded hollow, but they were true.

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Achilles released his arm, giving him an stern face. Unlike his son he was perturbed. "That's a start." He didn't expect the boy to idolize him, but he may have wanted him to. He had hoped in one day seeing him it would quell any dislike he'd felt over reading his stories. It didn't because face to face he could see the deadness in his eyes. There was no brightness. As if Achilles had left out any life in this kid. "I regret I never did see you. It was because of you the name of Achilles brought down Troy." But had it really been a defeat? He wanted to show Neoptolemus there was some pride in who he was.

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Regrets: those things that Neoptolemus didn't have. Though, if one wanted to be technical, he did have one particular regret-- that he hadn't taken down more of the Trojan royal family. It wasn't because he hated them, or even found them remotely interesting, but it was for the greater glory. The chance to snatch all of those precious lives. To him, the fall of Troy had been a defeat. A beautiful defeat that should have ended with more split blood.

He crossed his arms, leather crunching with the movement. "I'm the one who dealt the killing blow. And I would do it all over again just to watch Priam crawl on his hands and knees like a dog, pleading for his life, as if I'd spare him like I never spared the son I cut open in front of him."

Oh, how sweet bloodlust was.

[chink-in-armor.insanejournal.com]

Achilles' face turned sour. This child (and he was an arrogant child!) held no remorse for the lives he'd taken. He unlike Achilles had no argument for killing other than he enjoyed it. Achilles had compassion on Priam when he had come into the enemy lines to beg for his son's body. Achilles had been through many wars, but in the end he would feel guilty. Here he continuously struggled with needing to be a soldier and putting it into a healthier outlet.

It was sad to see what had become of his own son. "Did you enjoy that? Ruthlessly taking life just for entertainment?" He could see now Neoptolemus was a the monster inside him.

[phonomania.insanejournal.com]

Neoptolemus barely, just barely, resisted a sneer, out of what remained of his respect for this man he barely knew. His arms fell to his sides. "I did what needed to be done." It was no mantra to delude himself from what was real-- just the truth. Killing had never been for necessity. Killing, to him, had always been an act of release, something to get the adrenaline going, not unlike hunting animals. The Trojans had made it so easy to ruin them. Achilles might have taken Hector, but it was he who broke them. He took their king, who had, in the end, been nothing but a feeble old man. A useless coward.

The boy titled his chin up. "If I enjoyed it along the way, who can blame me? If I liked how warm their blood ran between my fingers, how loud they screamed, how they begged for mercy, would you tell me I was wrong?" His eyes flashed with what could've been irritation.

"They needed me. So I delivered them Priam's corpse, and the corpses of his children."

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"Killing never accomplishes anything other than despair on both sides." Losing the ones you loved was the worst tragedy any man could face when the outcome could have been different. His son was a brat, he didn't like the words coming out of his mouth.

"I enjoyed at one time as well, but years of war break a man." It was not the only war he had fought.

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"Despair?" An emotion like that was foreign to Neoptolemus, but he knew that he'd caused it in others, and would continue to do so until the end of his days. He angled his head slightly.

"I knew my duty and who I had to cut down. I don't know who you think you're talking to, father, but I never knew despair from taking a life. Not fear, not guilt. Not regret. Do you want to know what I felt from every life I destroyed?"

The boy gave him a smile devoid of any mirth. His answer was obvious.

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"Showing compassion for your fellow man is not a weakness, Neoptolemus." This child agitated him greatly. He had no qualms in using his fist to make a point because his temper was boiling over.

"I am gravely disappointed that you respect nothing. Life may be an immortal one for you and I, but it was not to all those you cut down with such disgrace. You are a disgrace as a warrior to me."

[phonomania.insanejournal.com]

Hearing those words from his father of all people-- it didn't sting, but it left a bad taste in his mouth. He'd eliminated members of the Trojan royal family to end the war, he'd taken Polyxena's life as commanded. And when he'd succeeded in the war, he'd taken his trophies home and mounted them, even become a king. Could his father claim such triumphs? Hardly.

Not nearly as quick to anger as Achilles, he eyed the other man evenly. "And who are you to talk about disgrace? Did you already forget how you died? I haven't, if you need reminding."

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Achilles refused to hear him speak any longer. It was as if he were talking to a stranger. He was a stranger to him, but he'd expected so much more than the hollow being that stood before him. Every word from his mouth was disheartening.

Achilles had plenty to hold as trophies for his deeds in this life. Possessions did not prove that. He had spent his entire life from Troy to Vietnam in war fighting. He was a soldier through and through and no upstart brat (his son or not) would continue to disrespect him. Him. The mighty Achilles.

Without a word he cocked back his fist and knocked Neoptolemus in the face with enough force to knock him to the ground. "Do you wish to keep trying my patience," he shook his head, "because I will not stand for your mouth no matter who you are."

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Those passing by who witnessed the strike were probably more shocked than Neoptolemus. The boy himself didn't quite crumple to the ground, but the force of the punch nearly had his knees buckling. A hand slowly drifted up to press against the blood welling up at his mouth, from where his teeth cut into his lower lip. It'd been a while since he'd tasted his own blood.

And instead of being angry, instead of lashing back, he laughed.

"Don't you want to hit me again?" He straightened, scarlet smearing along the back of his hand as he wiped it away. "You know you want to, so go ahead."

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Achilles wanted to pummel his face into the ground until he saw some sort of reason, but he knew from experience that that didn't work. His own son was taunting him, he wouldn't give him the satisfaction just yet. Until Achilles saw blood red. Sometimes he had little control of his emotions.

"Don't," he said simply pointing a finger as he stood like a statue over him. "Do not goad me like that."

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Neoptolemus spat red at the ground. "Do you think just because you walk back into my life, you can tell me what to do because we share some blood?" He just barely resisted the urge to grab that finger and twist it, but he had no desire to further incite his father's violent wrath. He knew the limits, and he wasn't going to test them to see how much further both could go. One punch a day was good enough.

"You and I are world's apart. Accept it and move on." He took a step forward. "Daddy."

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"I didn't have the chance to be in your life before, not because I didn't want to. Don't throw that kind of mouth around when you know better." Achilles may have no clue about how to be a father, but he was going to show Neoptolemus discipline. If the kid had made a move Achilles would not hesitate to spill more blood.

"That we may be, but it does not mean you treat me as someone under your shoe. If you wish to make an enemy out of me, keep it up."

idk why i wrote worlds with an apostrophe, oops

[phonomania.insanejournal.com]

Despite his arrogance and the monster inside of him, Neoptolemus had no intention of becoming his father's enemy. Not out of respect, not out of some deep-seated love for him-- he honestly couldn't say why, but it wasn't out of fear of him, either.

"You're the one who threw the first punch," he pointed out, tonguing the wound at his lip. "If anyone is making enemies here, it's you, father. You know what I am. You know what I've done. Trust me--" The boy leaned in. "I'm the last person you want as an enemy."

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It was a starting point when the boy didn't make a move and kept his cool. Achilles however was still reeling. His glare was a heavy one showing little emotion towards Neoptolemus that wasn't pure rage.

"I do not wish to make an enemy of you, Neoptolemus." If his son thought he was greater than his own father he was gravely mistaken. "You have no idea what you're asking for by threatening me. Continue talking down to me and you will see my wrath."

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Nothing in Neoptolemus' face even remotely suggested he felt guilty about his words, but there was rarely a thing he did feel guilty about. His father had a lot of pride, as did he, and when two prides clashed, evidently someone had to bleed. He'd done the bleeding this time, but the next time his father struck him, he wouldn't resist a flying fist of his own.

Arrogance flashed in his eyes. "Will I?"

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If this was a test as to who would come out of this alive, Achilles was seriously debating on wiping the floor with his own son's blood. It wouldn't show the greater good of his character, but it would make him feel better. He didn't like arrogance flashed in his face like that. Not when he demanded more respect than this.

Achilles didn't say a word, his own eyes flashing a warning.

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For some moments, not a word was uttered, the tension simmering between them all that needed to be said. All those promises and threats-- they were written in each other's eyes, the unspoken challenge reflecting there. I dare you. The tension was enough to blow up half of the city, but rather than allowing it to linger (as this had gone on much too long), Neoptolemus snorted.

"We'll see." With one last swipe of his bloodied mouth with his tongue, the boy shifted to move past Achilles. "Always a pleasure, father."

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"Next time I will not be so kind." He made sure at the shove he stood as solid rock, a wall for Neoptolemus to get past. This was not an easy reunion in many ways. The future between them was uncertain.

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Kind. His father thought he was being kind. Neoptolemus supposed not beating him into the asphalt was kind enough. Better to say that he was withholding himself with a great amount of willpower. The thought could've been amusing, but he'd long accepted the stories of Achilles. If there was anyone in this world who could break him, it was his father.

He didn't smile, but oh, how those eyes glittered with a challenge. "I look forward to it," he offered in return as he angled himself out of the way, moving beyond the other man and away from the tension that had built up between them.

Maybe it hadn't been the most joyous of reunions, but somehow, Neoptolemus knew, the next one would be just as grisly, possibly with a side of blood and teeth on the floor.

Really, he did look forward to it.