tangledorangeweb
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“Patroclus, look at me.” The king commanded, and I would be a fool not to obey. I tilted my chin to gaze up at him, the picture of a weak and humble servant. It would have been convincing if we were not both aware of the boy I killed, and the boy I had beaten. Accident or not, reputation persevered. “There are rumours that on the northern coast of Boeotia, a boy was born with golden eyes.”
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A rewrite of the Song of Achilles, in which Patroclus is a demigod.