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“Tell me Athena, he who is consumed by hunger… who is he?” Patroclus asked rather tentatively, peeking an eye open to see Athena deep in meditation, her blind eyes closed. Even like this Patroclus knew she was watching him, could feel her presence all around him, watching his every move, his every word. It was rare that Athena didn’t answer his questions, but he always felt better gauging her mood; the last thing he wanted was her disapproval; another lecture, another cut. Such a fickle old woman.
“Ahh, a question you already know the answer to Patroclus.” She smiles weakly, her deep wounds still paining her, he can feel it through bond, despite how hard she’s trying to conceal it- She still doesn’t want him to think she’s weak. “He is another horror spawned by the Trojan Wars, consumed by a hunger so great he forgets his own flesh and body. You know in your heart who is he Patroclus. After all.” She pauses, opening her glassy grey eyes to look directly at him. “He was there with you on that fateful day wasn’t he?” Like a hawk.
“Quite like you, the Trojan Wars took everything from him; his friends, his family, his brother. He never wanted to fight a war but when his brother came to him, begging him and the rest of the Jedi masters to do something, anything to stop the conflict; so stuck in their ways, so far from the truth- who was he to refuse him.” Athena tries to conceal her emotions the best she can, but even Patroclus can hear her disdain. “After all, they were born knowing each other, a bond that transcends anything anyone of us could ever hope to understand. He could replace his wife, his children but who could ever replace his brother?” Athena speaks softly, a great pain in her voice; she knew the both of them very well, as did Patroclus. It hits him all at once.
Master Agamemnon was one of the very few Masters who dared to defile the councils orders, who dared to fight in a war on such a scale. Everyone knew his name, what he did, why he was there. Up until him, the vast majority of the so called Myrmidons were knights. He was a man larger than life, full of passion. He would of killed the galaxy to protect his brother, let it die for him to exist.
In the end it really didn't matter; none of it did. Nothing he could do would ever change the fact that the war took everything from him and for what? No one truly won the war, The so called 'Sith' are a distant memory, sad little creatures clinging to the darkness as their own hubris swallows them whole and the Republic- a hollow shell, drowning in vastness of a galaxy without the Jedi to protect them, to keep them afloat. Everyone lose the fight, everyone lost someone they loved more than the stars themselves, the cost of life far exceeded any outcome.
And like Patroclus, he was a wound in the force; something born of war and misery on such a scale- another sad echo that consumes everything he touches; more beast than man. Patroclus knew who he was, and he knew deep in his heart that one day there would come a time where he’d have to put him down, put him out of his misery. He just hopes he’ll have the strength for such a mercy- that whatever part of him still exists, clinging to life will forgive him for everything he's done.
“He’s a sad creature, but you already know this all Patroclus.” Athena stares at him again, her grey eyes searching his, she's looking for a reaction, anything to bite. “But we mustn’t speak any longer about this, about him. Even uttering his name could summoned him to us and until you’re ready, truly ready to face him we can’t risk seeking him out. If you fall, the galaxy falls too and a husk of a man consumed by war will be the least of our worries.”