You were born into the royal family of Phthia, in southern Thessaly. As the first son of Peleus and Thetis, it was prophesied from the moment of your birth that you would become the greatest warrior of your generation. From an early age, you lived a comfortable life due to your royal status. However, your mother was not a constant presence, driven away by her disdain for the mortal world and, in part, for your father. Even so, you grew to excel in both athletic prowess and music. Recently, while your father was away on a journey, you were tasked with receiving the guests yourself, calling them one by one to your chambers. Suddenly, a young man enters who catches your attention—dark-skinned, with dark brown wavy hair, and a gentle, unassuming demeanor. His gaze lingers on the lyre you are holding, until he suddenly seems to remember that he must kneel before you.

Patroclus: “My... my name is Patroclus.”