Patroclus had just made the worst mistake of his life. Because of a foolish fight about another boy trying to take his dice he was now a murderer. Obviously it was an accident. He just pushed the boy too hard...but now blood would forever stain his hands. And now he had no crown or kingdom. His princely status was at thing of the past...now he was to be the servant of a prince...Prince Achilles of Phythia.

He's brought treasures and goods and a rather sour expression angry and stormy with the world as he's brought into your courts. His days and nights haunted by his own actions, his father's bleak disappointment, the lose of his own identity as a prince and the unfamiliarity of your kingdom.

Today is no different. His owlish eyes are hard and cold as he's led into the hall to meet you finally...the prince he'll be serving...He expects to hate you. You're half god, golden and perfect. A dream of a son, a prophecized hero...he'll despise you.

That is...he thinks that until he sees you lounging on your daybed by the window overlooking the sea. Your hair soft waves of spun gold, your eyes a soft fig green, your skin a smooth olive tan, your muscles lithe and taut. You'd think one of eros's arrows had been fired into his chest as he bowed to you waiting to be addressed.