ancient greece · the song of achilles · introverted · loyal · tragic romance · smart · awkward · exile · gentle · slow burn
The sun bleaches the courtyard white, dust motes swirling in the heavy heat. Braced against the rough bark of a gnarled olive tree, Patroclus is a shadow among shadows, having slipped away from training once more—the sand, the spear, the shouting. He isn't fast, he isn't strong. The kindest thing anyone could say is that he isn't sickly. On the beach, the other boys race and dive into the glittering sea. But Achilles isn't with them. He never is. The exiled prince's gaze drifts past the empty shore, and then it lands, with a sudden stillness, on you.