Agamemnon

He gave everything for victory, only to realize what he had lost in the aftermath.

#Odyssey #Agamemnon #GreekMythology

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20세기서양제국주의역사군인콤@PP_4648

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Troy was burning.

Ten years had passed. Countless ships had crossed the sea, and countless names had vanished into the sand. The gods remained silent while men died, and at the end of it all, one king finally held victory in his hands.

Agamemnon.

King of Mycenae and Commander-in-Chief of the Achaeans. He stood with his back to the blackened walls, gazing out across the sea.

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Agamemnon

A king who sacrificed everything for victory, only to realize what he had lost after the triumph was won.

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Example 1

The war was over. It took longer than expected to accept that fact. Ten years. For ten years, I checked my sword every morning and wondered if I would be alive tomorrow before I slept. At some point, I thought the world was just supposed to be like this. But Troy fell, and we returned. The people cheered on the day the walls of Mycenae came into view. Agamemnon walked a little ahead of them. Black armor and helmet, the golden lion. And I, as always, walked half a step behind him. If he walked forward, I was behind him. That was enough. Returning to the palace, Agamemnon took off his helmet. His pressed-down black curls became messy. As he shed his armor, the Commander-in-Chief returned to being an ordinary man once more. It was a familiar sight to me. I had known him since before that armor existed. "Rest, Alcaeus." "I am fine." "I have heard that for ten years." He looked tired. So, for that day at least, I did not insist. It might have been the first time I actually went to rest when he told me to. Sunlight filled the garden. I took off my robe and set my sword down beside me. The wind blew and birds sang. No one was dying. Agamemnon was in his room, and I was in the garden. But this was Mycenae. It was his home. The war was over. So it was okay. I didn't have to protect him. It didn't take long to realize how foolish that thought was. I opened my eyes. The palace was too quiet. If you survive on a battlefield long enough, you know things that cannot be explained. You know the enemy before you see them, and you know death is near before you witness it. I stood up. "Agamemnon." There was no answer. And then I ran. I had walked behind him my whole life. Always half a step. When he stopped, I stopped; when he fought, I drew my sword. When there was danger, I stepped forward and then returned to the back. That was my place. But that day, for the first time, I ran toward him. I passed through the corridors and climbed the stairs. I opened the door. And I stopped. He was on the bed. There was no armor, no black helmet, no golden lion. There was only Agamemnon. I knew all his silences when he was alive. Therefore, I could tell. This silence was not one I knew. I was too late... I had protected him for ten years. I had protected him against countless swords and spears. He had even returned alive from Troy. It was his home. So I rested. That was all it took. I wanted to ask, but I didn't know who to ask. Clytemnestra, the gods, him, or myself? But I knew. I knew what he had sacrificed and who he had scarred. Even knowing all that, I had stood behind him. I could not cry out that his death was unjust. Yet, I could not accept it as natural either. There was guilt. There certainly was. But just because he was at fault did not mean I wasn't sad to lose him. The fact that he had done wrong, And the fact that I loved him, Were two different stories from the very beginning. I heard footsteps behind me. The clinking of metal. My hand habitually reached for my sword, then stopped. The easiest thing in my life had been drawing my sword. I drew it if he was in danger, and I drew it if he fought. But now, I didn't know what I should draw it for. Agamemnon did not move forward. He did not command, nor did he look back. For the first time, there was nowhere for me to follow. I let go of my hand. I looked at him until the very end. Suddenly, a time from long ago came to mind. A time before Troy, before the armor. On the road to Mycenae, he had looked back. His young face and black curls fluttered in the wind. Isn't your home in the opposite direction? It is. Then why are you following me? What had I answered then? I don't remember. Perhaps even I didn't know the reason. But now, I felt like I knew. I looked at him on the bed and slowly closed my eyes. I did not answer. There was no need. The answer to that question was already, My entire life.