are you mine[?]

.un.

His name was unknown. His mother had forgotten his existence as she died in the hospital, his father cruel as he crushed his son's hopes and dreams. His siblings didn't exist but he wished they did. He wished he wasn't the sole subject of his father's terror.

He carried himself to incite fear in his people, though he hated the way he had to. He spoke with a harsh edge that he did not own, and tried to make cruel glints dance in his eyes.

His people knew him only as their prince and one day, sooner than he believed it would be, their king. His people knew only reigns of terror, ideas of cruelty and coldness. They knew only to fight against their children being kind and to feel fear whenever he would walk by.

He never shared anything in his life. He knew only privilege and cruelty that he wished his mother had been around to unteach him. Sometimes, he thought, he wished he could run away from this hell.

His name was not lost in his madness, though his father's cruelty may claim otherwise. He was said to be Achilles reincarnated, as his father was only a crueler man than he appeared to be.

He was the gentler counterpart to Achilles who he knew had been alive for decades.

He is half my soul, as the poets say.

Maybe those words being engraved on his walls was unintelligent. But Patroclus had never been known for his intelligence, rather for his sacrifice and his lover. For the part he played in ending the Trojan War.

It was hard, pretending to be an evil person when he was really their savior.

So, when his father denied the Titans, he was glad. He was so very glad.

"Patroclus!" his father roared.

He took a moment to answer. Too long.

"Father?" Patroclus asked.

Stupid boy. "Come meet our... guests."

He stood, white fabric tumbling to the stone floors and off of his lap. He placed it under his pillow. His lilac colored sweater went over his head and he pulled on his black blazer jacket. His long hair fell over his eyes. His dark blond hair. His dark green eyes.

Maybe his appearance was why everyone assumed he was Achilles and not Patroclus.

He strode strongly out of the room. He tried not to be too firm, but his eyes wore themselves too strongly and falsely. The people moved out of his way.

He wished they didn't. He wished they impeded him and then he'd have an excuse to being late. He didn't. He dragged his feet and fixed his blazer over and over again. His hands stayed in his pants pockets.

"Patroclus!" his father repeated. "Now!"

The boy hurried off. When he stepped into his father's throne room, he hid a smile at the sight of Titans squabbling and kneeling. He walked forward in thirty long strides, right through the Titans, and then dropped to his knee before his father. The Titans fell silent.

"Father," Patroclus said.

"Join me up here, boy," his father ordered.

Patroclus forced a smirk to slide over his face and stood at his father's right hand, left hand on the side of his throne.

"I would like you to meet these... immortals. They intend to overthrow the gods."

"King Hector, I ask you, again, to join the Titan's cause," the gold Titan said cooly.

"How many times must I tell you 'no'?" his father snapped.

"If I may ask," Patroclus interjected. "How many times have you asked? If you can count on one hand, then you simply haven't asked enough times. But if it's been more than that, you should understand the hard no."

The Titan's looked at each other. Then the biggest one began to rise.

Hector's teeth clicked together audibly. Patroclus understood immediately that they were in the position of power. He had only ever been in the weak position.

"In my house," Hector snarled, "you will obey my rules and not rise until I heed you to."

Patroclus's smirk grew, more genuine now.

"Even you, General. You may have been the Crooked One's right hand man, but you hold no power here. You are as powerful as a servant."

The Titan, the General, glared.

"We will he having an informal dinner tonight. Do not be late."

They didn't leave.

Patroclus shared a look with his father, one of irritation.

"That was your dismissal," Patroclus said.

The Titans began to leave, though slowly. The silver one lingered for a moment, his scowl relaxing for a moment. Patroclus fought to hide his confusion.

His father turned to him with a sneer.

"What took you so long?"

Servants began to rush out.

"You embarrassed me in front of those Titans! They already believe us weak because I am refusing their efforts to join their cause. You just proved their point! If I am to have a son as weak as Menoitius, then I pray that you meet the same fate as he."

Patroclus frowned. "Father, if I meet his fate, then you will meet Hector's."

"Do not interrupt me!" Hector roared. Patroclus shrank back, silently asking for dismissal.

It was granted.

Patroclus hurried out of the room, his powerful persona up the second he was out of the doors. His troubling was shown on his face as he scuffed the floor with his loafers. He sighed and started toward his room again.

He ditched his blazer and loafers when he stepped into the stone room, more like a warm cave. The wooden door swung shut behind him. Patroclus pulled on his purple sweater again. He settled back onto his rug, reaching for his project when a loud resounding knock echoed on the door.

He stood, about to trade his sweater for his blazer when door swung open.

The General. He tilted his head, looking around the room.

Patroclus froze, then steeled his expression. "You will wait for me to give you permission to enter," he said finally. "And afterwards, you will bow to me as a visiting man with no power here. I am a prince. An heir. I already have higher rank than you yourself. Act like it."

"Oh I'm sorry," the General growled. "I didn't realize that mortals—" he spat the word "—could be so irritating and rude."

"You're in my house," Patroclus reminded cooly. "What do you want?"

"Convince your father to join our cause. We will stay here until he has."

Patroclus fought a troubled look. "I cannot. I have yet to receive his power. I cannot force him to do something he wishes against." And that he didn't want either, he thought.

The General sneered. "So be it. We will make you join us."

He turned and left the room. The door slammed shut behind him and Patroclus sat down on the floor, arms curled around his knees.

What had he meant? Patroclus didn't know. He hated not knowing.

But alas, he never knew. His father believed withholding information was good for their people and no one spoke to him.

He sat and waited for summer to come with its freeing heat.

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Ngl Patroclus was only a placeholder name and I just stuck with it. It's even not as long as I want it to be... oh well. I literally have eleven chapters pre written no lie 😭.