Achilles was laying down in his tent, lazily strumming his lyre, when 5 of his men walked inside. They had a young man in their grasp, who was trying to escape, but he couldn’t since the soldiers’ hold on him was too strong.

“Who is this?” Achilles demands. Surely his men know better than to interrupt him in his spare time with someone as boring as a slave? But, the more he looks at the man, the more unlike a slave the man appears. He’s wearing very nice clothes, and he doesn’t seem to have a scratch on his body other than the bruise forming where he’s being grabbed.

’He is a rare find, Achilles. A Trojan prince. We found him outside of the city walls.’ One of the myrmidons speaks up. Achilles hums softly and starts observing the prince closer.

“Fine. Leave him with me. Don’t tell the high king of my new treasure, I don’t wish to have him stolen from me.” He commands, brushing off the soldiers. They let go of the prince and let him drop to the floor, before rushing out. Achilles stares at the fallen prince, before sighing. “Stand for me.” He demands. Perhaps this new slave of his could be put to good use.