The Immortal Gazette: The Tale of Achilles
The warm fire crackled in the background as the immortals gathered for another evening of storytelling. Loki, ever the enigmatic one, lounged back, his gaze flicking between Rumplestiltskin and Alice, who were clearly both in a mood tonight. Alice, unusually quiet, had her chin resting on her hand, clearly pondering something far too deep for anyone’s taste. Loki gave her a knowing smirk. “You’re awfully quiet tonight, Alice. Planning something devious?”
Alice grinned, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Maybe. But first, you’re going to listen to a story.”
Loki raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sure this will be a fascinating adventure.”
Alice turned to Rumplestiltskin, who had a gleam in his eyes, already knowing what she was going to ask. “So, Rumple... tell us the tale of Achilles—the Greek hero with the legendary heel.”
Rumplestiltskin’s smile widened. “Ah, you mean the Achilles. A tale of glory, rage, and an almost tragic vulnerability.” He paused, watching the flames dance for a moment before beginning.
“Achilles,” Rumplestiltskin began, his voice rich with dramatic flair, “was the son of the mortal king Peleus and the sea goddess Thetis—quite the lineage, if I do say so. But unlike most heroes born of mortal blood, Achilles had an almost divine edge to him. His mother, desperate to make him invincible, dipped him in the River Styx—you know, the river that takes you straight to the underworld?—to make him immortal.”
Loki snorted. “Wait... he got dipped in a river and came out invincible? That sounds... convenient.”
Rumplestiltskin ignored him, continuing with his story. “But there was one tiny detail. While his mother dipped him in the river, she held him by his heel, so that part of him—his heel—remained untouched. And so, Achilles became a living legend, an unstoppable force, save for that one small weakness—his heel.”
Alice’s lips curled into a sly grin. “Ah, so Achilles wasn’t quite as invincible as everyone thought. The hero with the weak spot.”
“Exactly,” Rumplestiltskin replied. “Now, Achilles became a mighty warrior, the hero of the Trojan War, famous for his rage, his valor, and his incredible feats in battle. But—and this is the key part—his pride and temper often led him into conflict, both on and off the battlefield.”
Loki leaned forward, clearly intrigued. “Ah, yes. Pride. The downfall of many a hero.”
Rumplestiltskin nodded. “And Achilles was no exception. You see, Achilles was honored and revered by his comrades. But his pride got the better of him when he was slighted by Agamemnon, the leader of the Greek forces. Agamemnon took a war prize that belonged to Achilles—his concubine, Briseis—and Achilles, angered beyond reason, withdrew from the battle in a fit of rage, refusing to fight for the Greeks.”
Alice raised an eyebrow. “So, the mighty hero throws a tantrum over a... concubine?”
“Indeed,” Rumplestiltskin said, a hint of dry amusement in his voice. “It wasn’t just any concubine, mind you. It was a symbol of his honor. But regardless, his pride cost the Greeks dearly. The Trojans gained ground, and soon, Achilles’ beloved companion, Patroclus, was killed in battle while trying to take his place on the front lines.”
Alice’s face softened, a flicker of empathy crossing her expression. “That’s... tragic.”
Loki, ever the cynic, tilted his head. “And so, Achilles finally returns to battle after his friend dies. A little late, don’t you think?”
Rumplestiltskin raised a finger. “But here’s where it gets interesting—Achilles, in his grief and rage, slays Hector, the greatest warrior of Troy. But while Hector’s death should have been his moment of triumph, Achilles’ rage led him to dishonor Hector’s body, dragging it behind his chariot, desecrating it in front of the Trojans.”
Alice’s eyes widened. “Now that’s going too far.”
“Ah, but it’s Achilles’ pride and rage that define him, isn’t it?” Rumplestiltskin said with a grin. “Now, after Hector’s death, Achilles becomes untouchable—legendary, even. But as fate would have it, it’s that very pride, that very weakness—his heel—that led to his end.”
Loki’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Wait, he dies from his heel?”
“Yes,” Rumplestiltskin said. “The Trojan prince Paris, with the help of the god Apollo, shoots an arrow at Achilles’ heel, the one part of him that remained vulnerable. The arrow strikes true, and Achilles dies from his wound.”
Alice shook her head. “Oh, come on. After all that glory, all that rage, all that power—he goes down from a little arrow to the heel?”
Rumplestiltskin smiled sadly. “Yes. It’s a cruel twist of fate, isn’t it? But that’s what makes his story so tragic. The greatest of heroes brought low by a single weakness.”
Loki chuckled darkly. “A hero with a fatal flaw. Classic.”
Rumplestiltskin’s smile faded, and he turned his attention back to Alice. “You see, Achilles’ tale is a warning to all of us—pride, unchecked, can be a hero’s undoing. No matter how strong or invincible you may seem, your weakness will always find its way to the surface.”
Alice’s expression grew thoughtful. “So, the moral of the story is...?”
“Don’t let your ego blind you to your vulnerabilities,” Rumplestiltskin said with a knowing glance. “You might think you’re invincible, but in the end, you’re only as strong as your weakest link.”
Alice nodded slowly. “I guess Achilles’ real downfall wasn’t the arrow—it was that he couldn’t let go of his pride long enough to protect his heel.”
Loki looked over at Rumplestiltskin with a smirk. “And what about you, Rumple? Got any weaknesses I should know about?”
Rumplestiltskin scowled. “Let’s not go there, Loki. Some things are best left untouched.”
Alice chuckled. “Yeah, like your ego.”
Rumplestiltskin shot her a look but didn’t respond. Instead, he turned back to the fire, the flickering light casting shadows over his features.
“Achilles,” he murmured, “was a great hero, but his tale is a cautionary one.”
Loki raised his glass. “To Achilles—the hero who was only as strong as his heel.”
Alice smirked. “And to pride—the silent killer.”
With that, the fire crackled on, and the immortals sat in thoughtful silence, the weight of Achilles’ story settling over them like the quiet after a storm.
🖋️✨📜🖤
