For being a goddess Thetis was young. She could have abandoned Achilles, a constant reminder of the terrible things that happened to her. But there was a growing rage against the gods living in her every thought. They would pay.
She might have loved Achilles, but she hated the gods more. Over time he wasn’t just a son to her anymore, he was going to be her weapon.
Strong. He had to be strong. And feared.
He trained every day. Sometimes she would watch. When she unfocused her eyes it became hard to see where Achilles’ spear ended and his body began.
A couple of years and he was going to be ready, a masterpiece of her creation. A revenge. And then Patroclus showed up.
If she had been able to see Achilles’ human side, she would have known from the beginning there was no getting rid of the blossoming romance. She might even have been able to accept it.
But he was a means to an end, and to reach it people needed to follow him there. Soldiers followed the man they wanted to be, so Achilles needed to be him. A royal marriage was perfect. A prince, halfgod, married to a princess, that’s the man soldiers died for.
But Patroclus followed. She was loosing Achilles by the day, he was becoming soft. He was becoming human.
And then Pyrrhus was born. Achilles didn’t want him, Deidamia was easy to manipulate. This time Thetis wouldn’t fail.