Work Text:
"Sing, O Goddess, of Achilles’ prize, fair Giuliana,
A mortal steeped in shadow, whose beauty bloomed like baneful belladonna;
A foreign maiden seized by Achaean hands, forsaken, trembling, alone,
Whose lone companion, steadfast Perseus, cut ten warriors to the bone.
Bound fast with iron threats, yet still she wore her dignity as a crown;
Fearing soldiers’ grasp, she cried for her mother, Lady Nyx o' so divine.
Then Night’s deep shades stretched forth to drag her captors down,
And Peleus’ son stood halted, snared by power and beauty entwined.
He claimed her, named her spoil, a mortal blessed by Nyx’s realm of night;
And sun-lit Perseus, Poseidon’s son, was cast from love and light.
Then noble Achilles offered terms for what he named his right:
“A fight for a life, such a contest shall be decided by fate.”
Besotted Perseus took the oath to free his love from chains,
And Dawn rose red with mortal blood beneath Eos’ stain.
Yet cunning Giuliana spun her snare with honeyed tongue,
And Patroclus, warm of heart, was in her cow-eyed gaze undone.
Secrets gathered, hoarded fast to spare her lover’s breath,
But how jealousy took root, a seed that ripened into death.
Upon the sands where pity died, Perseus struck without delay;
Thirty Achaean men he cut like cattle in the fray.
Swift was his arm, unsoftened steel, no mercy stayed his hand—
Poseidon’s blood roared in his veins; the sea refrained but ready for a command.
At dawn of the second day, they met, two half-divine in might,
Gold-armored Achilles faced sea-eyed Perseus for the fight.
For freedom’s breath or servile chains their fate upon them lay,
And Ithaca’s keen-witted king marked all that would betray.
Patroclus came, love-bright with hope, and led Achilles’ prize,
To witness blood that would decide beneath unpitying skies.
Steel rang on steel; even Ares leaned to watch the clash,
For hours, neither hero bent, nor victory could grasp.
Nike withheld her favored hand; their strength stood matched and true,
Till ruthless Perseus struck at once, his blade aimed low and sure.
Then Fear crept in Achilles’ heart, not pain, but something far worse,
The knowing that the sea-born man had known of his fated curse.
Yet Giuliana moved at last; her plotted snare took form,
For Night obeyed her whispered call and cloaked the sky in storm.
No faltering stayed Perseus then; he turned and ran with grace,
And leapt from stone to empty air at Fate’s appointed place.
A gasp rose from mortal throats, and gods alike looked on,
No lover’s hand, no savior’s wing, no promise to cling upon.
But shadow surged and gathered fast, a raven wrought of Night,
Which bore the lovers from the cliff and vanished out of sight.
With Aiolos’ winds beneath their flight, they fled from spear and snare,
Yet keen-eyed Odysseus marked what others could not bear:
Patroclus stood too calm in loss, too still for unbroken trust,
And spoke aloud suspicion sharp as truth refined by dust.
Achilles would not hear such a charge laid on his heart’s own flame,
Yet fear had found its root in him and whispered Patroclus’ name.
He swore to Thetis, silver-throned, to hunt them to the end,
And Patroclus fed himself with lies of who he dared to call a friend.
He told his heart that Giuliana’s love was meant for him alone,
That gold and force could bind her will and make her heart his throne.
So blind the greatest of the Greeks when want eclipses sight,
For three were bound, not two alone: the Sun, the Sea, the Night.
Apollo held them in his gaze, the god of light and doom,
For mortal, godling, god were knit within one braided loom.
Poseidon smiled upon his son and sanctioned love and blade,
But Nyx, dark mother, stirred the threads no daylight could invade.
She veiled her daughter’s fated soul in unrelenting shade,
Denied her form to godly sight, her truth from all betrayed.
So Phoebus turned to oracle he himself had bound,
To Cassandra, cursed to speak where belief was never found.
At Apollo’s shrine, where Troilus that day was doomed to die,
Achilles came with war in step and sacrilege nearby.
Alexikakos burned with wrath at blood upon his floor,
And chased the swift-footed son of Thetis into war.
Left on the steps stood Perseus, then with Giuliana near,
When jealous Patroclus emerged, consumed by rot and fear.
He mocked the sea-born man with claims of love and stolen breath—
Outraged, Perseus drew his blade and answered him with death.
Steel stormed on stone; Tyche bent fate for but a fleeting space,
A guiding slash cut Perseus’ accursed cheek — proof strength that could not be faced.
Raging, he called his soldiers forth to sack the sacred ground,
And Giuliana fled to where sanctuary should be found.
Perseus ran to shield his love, but Patroclus barred the way,
And cursed shafts flew, unblessed by the Lord who owned the day.
Then Perseus prayed to Phoebus, lover, lord, and light,
"Boedromius Apollo, hear me now! Come save what’s yours by right!"
Apollo turned, too late, too fast, toward his desecrated hall—
But Atropos waits for neither god nor mortal call.
A thread of cool, unyielding Night was cleanly, cruelly shorn,
And Giuliana fell to earth, where gods and men are torn.
The Sun screamed out; his chariot dimmed, the sky forgot its flame,
The earth shook hard, the sea rose wild to echo grief and blame.
Her body lay, blood-soaked and still, a child’s toy cast aside,
One soldier fled half-clothed in shame — Perseus struck him dead with shards of clay.
He knelt beside her cooling form, her dark hair spread like night,
Her cow-eyed gaze, now empty, was lost forever from his sight.
Apollo came in blood and ash and gently called her name,
He turned to Zeus and begged once more against the law of flame.
The Thunderer looked down and spoke, his word a seal of fate:
“To Hades go my son, to my dark brother’s gate.”
So Phoebus descended beneath the earth to plead against this doom,
Yet all was not as it seemed within the eternal Stygian gloom.
For Giuliana’s soul was gone, and could not be found where the dead reside,
Night seized her mortal child and would not loose her from her side.
No prayer nor price could sway her will, nor Death’s own lord could compel;
Nyx held fast to what she had borne and barred the Underworld to her reach.
Of this unbending tragedy did now golden Latoeus weep
So sing of Apollo Agraeus’s wrath, his blazing, broken cry,
That shook the halls of every god and split the vaulted sky.
Weep for vengeful Perseus’ roar as bodies choked Scamander’s shore,
For what was three was severed, now made two, to mend no more.
The sky rang out; the judgment fell; no mercy would be won.
Thus ended love of Night and Sea beneath the all-grieving Sun.
And you, daughter of Zeus, begin your tale where you will, even as I have said".