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It never got old, it never stung any less than before, it never got easier; you just learnt to bear it, bear through the pain and try not to cry.
Today was another day where this cycle continued. He didn’t even know what he did wrong, well, he had to know according to his father. So what did he do wrong this time? He wasn’t good enough, he wasn’t as good as all the other sons, who can actually make their fathers proud, unlike him. He could never compare to that boy. To the boy with hair that looked like gold, the one who ran faster than anyone else, the one who got praise from his father, unlike him where his father compared the two.
And he could see why, the boy was everything he wasn’t. Athletic, brave, fast, loved. He wasn’t any of that, just a pathetic excuse of a living and breathing human, yet he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad at anyone, but himself. This was just what he deserves, no? He couldn’t fulfill expectations, so he got punished for that, a lot. More times than he’d like to admit, didn’t want to admit as to not seem weak.
“Father, I’m truly sorry, I promise I’ll be better.” He said, giving a little bow, one that would hide his face which was tearing up. He just needed to compose himself, quickly.
Apologies came easy, especially with knowing how to adjust his voice to seem sincere when he wasn’t, how to talk so that he couldn’t be yelled at for talking back, but also so that he wouldn’t be accused of staying silent, not defending himself. It was easy, especially after years of practice.
“And how can I be sure you will try?” His father demanded, not asked. Looking him up and down, as if looking for dishonesty, uncertainty, weakness.
Patroclus stood up straight, as straight as he could with his nerves, keeping himself from shaking, he couldn’t shake now, he had time to do so later. In the presence of his mother who was always so close, yet so far away. The poor woman was crazy, and still was the only one who seemed to care about him.
“I promise you, fa-“
Slap.
His head snapped to the side from the sudden impact, it hurt. His father was anything but weak so logically his slaps hurt, a lot. He didn’t seem to care though, he never did. This was just a normal day for him, it was too normal almost. Yet, no matter how normal it was, it never stopped hurting, the pain never lessened, you just learnt to ignore it, deal with it.
“Don’t talk back to me, boy!” He barked at him, as if Patroclus had offended his whole bloodline which he might have with how weak and unworthy he was.
Despite the years of practice, one can still mess up in various ways, today was one of those unfortunate days. He needed to get better, he couldn't let such careless slip ups happen again.
Patroclus simply gave his father a little bow in apology, he didn't trust himself not to stutter while speaking and it was probably best not to speak as his father was getting angrier by the second. It wasn't obvious to those who didn't know where to look. You could see it in the way his fists clenched, the way he narrowed his eyes as if you were just the mere dirt under his shoe, as if you were lesser. Those were the biggest giveaways about such stuff, the easiest ways to confirm your suspicions.
“You are not to talk to me that way. Do you understand?” Do you understand? The adults always said that, it was cruel, truly. He did not understand why they say it, just that it was something they would say, the purpose it served was something unknown to the brunette, though.
He nodded his head, not looking up to meet his fathers unrelenting gaze that he was sure wasn’t pleasant at all. Maybe it was an angry one? It could also be disgust, both were top contenders.
“Go to your room.” He said coldly, walking out of the room before even waiting for an answer—not like Patroclus was even going to answer.
He just stood there for a few more seconds before picking himself up and making his way, not to his room, but the music room. He took small tentative steps, being as quiet as possible, he'd be done for if his father found out he disobeyed a direct and very clear order.
He walked up to the door before knocking a tune his mother had invented for them, their little secret, a secret he would tell no one, absolutely no one.
“Come in!” She cheerily exclaimed, her voice carrying warmth, it was sweet, sweet like honey, the honey snacks he was able to take without anyone noticing, the ones his mother would sneak him after dinner.
The brown haired boy walked in, taking in his mother's appearance for a second before looking down shamefully, he didn't want her to see the slap mark that has surely formed by now.
Even though she was crazy as he has heard the adults say, she wasn’t stupid enough to not know why Patroclus would duck his head, she wasn’t as stupid as everyone made her out to be.
“Patroclus, sweetie, show me your face, please?” She said it in an authoritative, but soft voice. She never spoke the way Menoetius had with Patroclus, she was much gentler than him. She was the parent he preferred over the two.
He just shook his head—something he wouldn’t allow himself to do with his father—tearing up slightly, she spoke with so much care, guess her loving him was what made her crazy, no normal being would ever love and care for him in such a manner.
“Patroclus.” She said it syllable by syllable, not in a hurried voice like everyone else, saying his name as fast as possible.
That was what broke him and hesitantly he looked up, seeing his mothers worried expression. He felt sorry for her having to see him like this. He had of course come to bother her in the middle of her playing the lyre; the lyre lay forgotten in her lap as she focused her attention on her son.
She immediately noticed the bruise and went to cup his cheeks, slowly caressing them as if to get rid of all the unpleasant memories that still haunted him so often.
“Did your father do this to you?” What a dumb question, both of them knew the answer to it. The answer would most likely never change, it wouldn’t change till he became better.
“My dearest boy, how about you sit and I strum you a tune. It has been quite long since the last time we have done this, don’t you think so?” She exhaled, her voice barely louder than a whisper, as if this was something sacred. It was sacred. The best thing that would happen to him in this hellhole.
“It has, mom.” He said, rubbing at his eyes, trying not to cry, trying to not show how much this affects him.
He goes to sit down in front of her, just like he did when he was younger. The boy positioned himself in a comfortable position, looking up at the only person here for him, the only constant in his life.
Once she saw her son sitting, looking up at her with those innocent eyes only one of his age could show; she smiled. It wasn’t a smirk or grin, it was simply a soft smile, as if she was happy. As if she was happy he was here. Maybe she really is crazy, no one has ever been happy for his presence.
The long haired lady then picked her lyre back up before starting to strum the ever familiar melody of what they called, the birds call. Bird because she would always call him by such a nickname.
“Say, little birdie, anything interesting happen at the games?” She asked, never stopping the tune she was playing, only slightly humming along to it as she leans back against the chair.
“Nothing much, there was this… golden-haired boy who won.” He admitted, although rather hesitantly, the fear from his father hadn’t completely faded yet, he felt bad for his dear mother having to see him like this in front of her.
He waited a moment before quickly adding something else.
“His father praised him, why doesn’t father also praise me..?”
It was a foolish question, a question he asked regardless since he didn’t know any better, since he was just nine.
His mother never stopped strumming that tune, it would always play for such moments, letting them cool down and talk honestly to each other. It was a way to calm down away from prying gazes who demanded too much from them.
The woman opened her eyes, smiling at him although it didn’t reach her eyes before going into her thoughtful position which was her just closing her eyes, leaning back and strumming the tune a tad bit slower than usual.
“Birdie-“ that nickname again, it never got old. “I can’t answer you that I’m afraid, your father works in mysterious ways, but that doesn’t mean you’re not worthy of praise. Quite the opposite actually, you truly deserve praise, yet he doesn’t seem willing to give it, maybe one day you’ll find someone who appreciates you for yourself.” She said finally, returning back to her normal position, the position of absolute peace and calmness, one could confuse her for dead weren’t her chest rising.
“Like you?” Patroclus didn’t know anyone else who was anything like her in how she treated him, like he mattered.
She laughed, it being a nice and soothing sound, much different from all the sadistic laughs his father would spare him next to all the disapproving glares and reminders of how much of a failure his own son is.
She looked down at him, her amber eyes were filled with so much warmth. Many said he had his mothers eyes, he doubted that he could ever look at someone with that much gentleness and it to not be for show, for it to be sincere and genuine. He didn’t take himself as such a guy.
“No, birdie, someone more your age. Someone who would understand you and your games better, your imagination.” She commented, her eyes lighting up with a mischievous spark before dimming again, she was too of age to be able to play such childish stuff.
“No one wants to play with me though..” He whispered, mostly to himself, but of course his mother just had to hear him like always.
“Little one, have you tried talking to them? Just because you are a prince doesn’t mean you don’t have to work for it, you have to work for everything, even for friends.”
Well, he hasn’t ever tried, shouldn’t they want to be his friend because he’s the prince? That’s just how it went, wasn’t it? Maybe he’d listen to his mother for once despite the crazy allegations, she has only ever wanted the best for him, no?
“I guess I could try that..” He admitted, looking to the side. This was quite awkward right now, no sound except the light strum of the lyre.
“Your father doesn’t know you’re in here, does he, birdie?” She asked, a bit of worry creeping into her voice as she studied him for a bit.
Was he really that obvious? Well, he was pretty tense right now and him looking at the door every so often probably made him seem even more guilty which he was; that did make him duck his head, shame burning in his cheeks as he refused to make eye contact.
Patroclus didn’t have to say anything else, his body language betrayed it all, betrayed how he wasn’t supposed to be here at all in the first place.
His mother wasn’t mad though, she just hummed thoughtfully before gesturing for him to get up from the ground. He quickly did, standing up and taking a small, tentative step closer to her, closing their distance by just a tiny bit.
“Come, dear, let me teach you how to play the lyre.” She said, patting her leg as to tell him to come and sit, and he obeyed.
He manoeuvred himself into her lap, making himself comfy and then waiting for further instructions, if there was something he could do, that was follow orders.. to the most part!
She put his hands in her, positioning his dark hands which contrasted with her pale ones on the lyre, showing him exactly how to strum it to make the desired sound. It was much easier than the brunette had imagined, a nice, simple little melody that was still pleasant to the ears to everyone who has ever heard it.
“You think you can manage alone, little one?” She asked, smiling down at him, her smile reaching her eyes as she looked totally content with spending time with him, here, just sitting together.
“I think so, mom!” He exclaimed, he could do this! It wasn’t too complicated and he’s always had a natural gift in music which was both a good and bad thing, right now it was a good thing believe it or not.
Once his mother had let go of his hands, Patroclus hesitantly started strumming the lyre. It wasn’t perfect, but for the first time it was good. The melody was recognisable, Patroclus would take that as a win!
For a few moments she just let him play the tune, get familiar with the melody and understand how it roughly works.
“Birdie, how about we do this again tomorrow, you seem to be good at it-“ And adding in a whisper like this was some big secret only they could know. “Maybe you can even add your own little twist to it, make it better.” She suggested grinning like a kid who just thought of a sinister idea.
“Can I?” He asked, looking up at her with hopeful eyes, adding something to this sacred melody felt like such a big honor.
She laughed at seeing his expression, ruffling his hair, messing it up a bit before smoothing it back down, only the gods themselves know what would happen if Menoetius saw him looking even the slightest bit disheveled.
“Why of course, my dearest boy, make it even uniquer, better than ever before.” She encouraged him on with this answer, putting some light back into those amber eyes which would barely show their true childish spark, only in the presence of his mother, the only person who accepted him for himself and didn’t demand more over and over again.
“I don’t think it would be better..” He admitted silently to his mom, looking down.
It was pathetic, he wouldn’t be able to make it better, better than what his mother had made, he would never outbeat her original melody, but he could make it his, something that is finally his. Something that is fully his for the first time, not for his father to brag about, purely his.
“Don’t speak like that, sweetie, you still don’t know how it’ll turn out. Give it till tomorrow to find out.” She said, her tone becoming firmer than it ever was as she went to move a strand out of his face, softly kissing his hair as a way to comfort him. It was actually soothing even if he didn’t want to admit how much it helped.
He sighed, leaning back against his only support, wiping furiously at his eyes, he wouldn’t cry just because of a few nice words, yet they felt so genuine and he out of everyone would know when someone is being genuine or not.
After a few moments of comfortable silence which wasn’t tense like at dinner today, she spoke up to her son.
“Birdie, you should go back to your room before your father discovers you’re out, that wouldn’t serve any of us any good and you know that.” She said, her tone tense this time, she knew what would happen if Menoetius found out, it wouldn’t go well for any of them.
Patroclus seemed hesitant, he didn’t want to leave his mothers side, and yet knew what would happen if he didn’t, even she could do nothing against his fathers wrath, not like she ever did anything but stand by and watch with a sullen expression, she couldn’t afford herself anything else as the infamous crazy wife.
“Okay, mom..” he hesitated before speaking up again. “Can we do this again tomorrow, you said I could try out and add my own tune.?” He asked, looking down at the lyre that he was still holding with one hand and then looked back up at his mother with the best puppy dog eyes he could manage which always got her to crack.
She looked at him, surprised for a moment before softly laughing, patting his head once she stopped; hugging him tightly before letting go so he could climb down from her lap.
“Of course we can, dearest, just come by here again.” She told her son while he was getting off, handing her the lyre back, looking at her with a small smile, one of those rare genuine smiles.
He gave her one last hug before rushing away, back to his room as he was supposed to be an hour ago and gently closing the door so as to not make a sound.
Okay good, his father was nowhere in sight and he didn't make any loud noises as he has trained himself not to make since a very long time, looks like it's finally paying off.
He went and collapsed on to his bed, just laying there—not moving—for a few seconds before rolling onto his back, just staring up into the ceiling, his expression blank now that he wasn't in his mother's presence.
He felt himself becoming teary eyed again at which he rubbed at his eyes, becoming angry at himself for being like this, he should just deal with this. But no, of course he couldn't do something as simple as that, he never could, could he?
Well, no use of thinking about it now, it would only make himself feel even worse than he already is, which admittedly was a lot, but it felt a bit better after talking to mom and also having the promise of being able to create his own little melody tomorrow.
Maybe one day he'd share it with someone, someone who wasn't his mother, yet that day still hasn't come.
Who knows, maybe it will come, for that he'll need to find someone who actually likes him and doesn't just tolerate him because of his status.
Maybe one day…