i thought i'd make you another seashell necklace.
don't you like them anymore? achilles spots a good shell. he hands it to his mother.
oh, that's a pretty one. she surveys the beach for more pretty shells.
yes, my sweet. another war.
patroclus has never seen war.
if you stay here, with me, with your family, you'll have a long, peaceful life. you'll marry, you'll have children, and your children will have children. they'll love you, and when you're gone they'll remember you. but when your children are dead, and their children after them, your name will be lost. thetis reaches up to touch her son's cheek. her eyes are clear, her voice steady. she speaks these lines with no hesitation, no doubt.
if you go to troy, no one will earn more glory than you. men will tell stories of your victories for thousands of years. the world will remember your name. achilles stares at her, his eyes burning. these are words he's wanted to hear since the day he was born. his mother waits a moment before speaking again. the words hurt her.
but if you go to troy, you'll never come home. you'll die there.
i know it. achilles looks out to the sea. thetis, tears in her eyes, smiles bravely.
whenever your father came home from war, he'd stare at the sea, just like that. he never stayed for long. in the distance achilles sees a white sail. he fixates on the lonely spot of white on the endless expanse of dark water.