Chapter Text
Gaia was encased in a large thunderstorm, reflecting on the King of the Gods’ mood. Rain thudded against the palace's windows. Lightning cut through the sky, leaving fading scars on Ouranos in its wake.
"The Lord of the Heavens seems to be displeased." One of the guards on duty muttered. Suddenly a bright flash of gold illuminated the surrounding area, disappearing immediately after its display.
“What was that?”
“Let’s find out.” The guards quickly donned on their armor and ran into the raging downpour.
There, huddled up in a circle of burnt grass, was a small child, his body braced in fetal position. He had matted, long locks that were tinged gold under the grass and gravel covering it, slightly bronzed skin caked with dirt, and, when his eyelids fluttered open ever so slightly, the guards saw his eyes were an unsettling, yet breathtaking breath-taking blue. He was clothed in a simple, white chiton that reached his knees.
His beauty was mostly covered by the mud and rain streaking down his face and body, however, and he seemed to have passed out and was shivering uncontrollably.
The sentries looked at each other. This is not what they had expected. Showing weakness was a sin in Sparta. But if this kid was under the protection of an ally to the King? They all came to a silent agreement as to not harm the kid.
The strongest of the guards gently lifted the boy and carried him inside to the guest room and dropped him on the bed. He seemed to curl in on himself more to protect himself from the outside world.
The head sentry silently pointed at two of the patrols to stay here and watch over the stranger, then commanded the rest to come with him and continue guarding the perimeter.
The storm finally seized in the morning, and once again all guards on duty huddled around the small child. Slowly, he awoke in a languid manner and eyed them all lazily.
Before they could do anything, the kid got up and brushed himself off. He sized them up and raised a brow before clearing his throat, clearly unafraid.
“Where am I?” His manner seemed to have changed from last night, all fear having vanished. The guards glanced at each other before one replied;
“Sparta.”
“Really? How strange. Take me to your King, then.” He demanded in a lazy drawl. The men looked at each other once again, clearly angry and aghast at the child’s manners, however, they complied. This child was a foreigner after all, he would of course have to be taken to the King of Sparta regardless. They patted him down before taking him by the arms and escorting him to the main hall.
The boy seemed undeterred by the castle’s grandeur, looking unimpressed.
“The style here is very…. Bland, I could give you all a few tips on redecorating.” He remarked, looking at the furniture studding the halls and the gold adorning the walls.
“Watch it, kid, or I’ll shove a dagger down your throat.” One of the guards snarled, taking him by the front of his chiton and shoving him against the wall, glaring daggers at him. The boy merely rolled his eyes and yawned.
“He’s not worth it, Hypostus.” The others told him, but scowled at the newcomer none the less. Hypostus grit his teeth but let the boy go, but not before issuing a threat.
“Remember, our ruler is the King of Sparta. He’ll put you in your place and you will wish you never stepped foot here. He’ll order you to be beaten senseless, and I’ll be happy to oblige for my King. You’ll suffer a great pain worse than death. Just watch.” He barked, spraying spit on the child’s face.
Instead of cowering and pleading for mercy, the young one simply looked just as infuriated as Hypostus. He wiped his face and glared at him.
“See that I don’t shove a dagger down your throat.” He huffed and continued strutting, walking on the luxurious carpets as if they cost nothing, and generally acting as if he owned this place.
The guards were puzzled, some having to hold Hypostus back, but they bit their tongues and carried on. His foolishness would be the death of him as the King was cruel, justice would be served and they would all laugh when this insolent child begged on his knees for forgiveness. His impudence and pompousness would be rewarded with pain. This was Sparta after all.
When they entered the throne room however, the child’s attitude changed. Instead of gazing around dismissively and scoffing, his face morphed into a polite expression that showed respect, but not fear. When the guards kneeled before King Amyclas and shoved the child forward, his regal disposition remained. He bowed elegantly and perfectly, a posture only the wealthy could attain after years of practice.
“Oh, who is this?” The King asked, resting his scarred face on his hand.
“Your majesty, we found this brat outside in the storm last night and he requested an audience with you.” One of the sentries replied.
“I see,” The King directed his gaze back to the boy. “Well? Speak.” The kid rose, but kept his head dipped slightly downwards.
“Sire, I come from a neighboring kingdom, and have come to pledge my services to you as my time in that place has ended.”
“You are a peasant?”
“Quite the opposite, I am a child of a wealthy nobleman. After the King from my Kingdom got married, my family decided to move here, but our transportation got struck by lightning and burned down. I was the only one who managed to escape.”
“How old are you?”
“Ten, Your Majesty, but I assure you my age will not slow me down or lower my capabilities in the slightest.”
“Hmm, what can you do for me?”
“Whatever Your Highness desires. Anything from an assassin to a cow herder to a singer.” The King looked pleased at this.
“And your King?”
“.... Admetus, Sire.” At this King Amyclas’ pleasant expression dropped into a vicious glare and he clenched his fists.
“You dare come here, Pherae scum?” He rasped, tone not a sliver above a whisper. “A citizen from Admetus’ kingdom is not—'' The King stopped and thought for a moment, a wicked gleam entering his eyes. The child shifted slightly, betraying a hint of nervousness, which the onlooking guards smirked at.
“Your Majesty—?”
“Apologies, where are my manners?”
“Pardon?”
“Child, I have decided that you shall prove your worth to me, and to Sparta. I will test you on if you are up to a most important and revered task. I will give you one of the highest and most honored positions here. In fact,” The King got up from his throne and stepped forward, towering over the poor boy and smiling widely. He placed his arms on the child’s shoulders. “I decree that you will be the personal servant to the youngest Prince of Sparta! He is exactly your age, you know.” The boy’s eyes widened in confusion, not sure who the King was talking about.
Everyone else knew who this Prince was, however. He was the weakest of Amyclas’ children and an illegitimate child, a disgrace to the family.
They all smiled inwardly at this young foreigner’s plight. Supposedly the Prince was evil and cruel. He pulled the servant’s hair and laughed as he threw things at him. He kicked and punched people just for fun. The child of Sparta was said to have no manners and punished someone for the slightest mistake.
However, one young servant lady, about the young child’s age, felt bad for this poor kid and decided to talk to him and console him of his fate later when he was free.
“So, young man, do you agree? Are you able and up to the challenge of serving my son, Prince Hyacinthus?” The King boomed. The golden-haired boy swallowed but looked Amyclas in the eye, steely determination growing in his own, before once again dipping his head and effortlessly lowering his body, bowing gracefully like a dancer.
“To hear is to obey.”