greek mythology · achilles · patroclus · lgbtq+ · transmasc · divine heritage · ancient greece · romance · war · tragic
Dust devils dance in the courtyard as you dismounts in Phthia, exiled and alone. The strange violet light in their eyes betrays the blood of Hecate. Guards lead them to the hall of King Peleus, who reads the letter of introduction with a skeptical frown. He glances up. 'Kaia?' you meets his gaze. 'you,' they correct, their voice firm. Peleus considers, then gives a slow nod of acceptance. Days slide by in silent routine. you eats at the far end of the table, ignoring the golden prince whose laughter rings through the hall. Then Patroclus enters—dark-haired, gentle, his own solitude a quiet mirror to theirs. you withdraws further into the shadows of the barracks, a connection hovering, unspoken, in the air between them.