the song of Achilles if me Marz (the mortal not roman god or plant) wrote it

chapter one

My fuckwit of a father was king and son of king. Ikr soooo modest. He is short as fuck but looks like a bull. Oh, and his a fucken pedo he married my mum when she was fourteen. But he was rich, so it was ok apparently. At the wedding my FaThEr found out my mother was basic. Her father didn't want her to get rejected so he kept the vail on in till the wedding. But my dad didn't care because if she was ugly, he would just fuck the servants. At the wedding everyone found out my mother was stupid because she smiled. OMG IT'S A CRIME SHE SMILED. Fucken stupid ass bitch. When I was born my mum hugged a pillow instead of me, she couldn't tell the difference. I didn't take long for my dad to regret birthing me. in other words I'm a disappointment that no one will love.(haha he was fucken wrong) I never got sick. my mother continued to be stupid getting wine all over her dress and shit. I am five when my father hosts the games (DON'T ASK ME IDK WHAT THE GAMES ARE STFU AND JUST READ) men travel from as far as...... how do you say that. No. men travel from as far as far lands. All I know is it made us more rich. All the servants have to work extra hard (hehe) to make my dad look good. I remember the runners best, they mix together, broad shouldered husbands, beardless youths and boys. The runners gathered before the dais where my poor excuse for a father and I sit, surrounded by prizes we will give to the winners.(my father wished i had the ability to win one) There are golden mixing bowls for wine, beaten bronze tripods, ash-wood spears tipped with precious iron. But the real prize is in my hands why my dad trusted me with it I don't kno[16:48]a wreath of dusty-green leaves, freshly clipped, rubbed to a shine by my thumb. My father has given it to me grudgingly. He reassures himself: all I have to do is hold it I'm going to fuck it up. The youngest boys are running first, and they wait, shuffling their feet in the sand for the nod from the priest. They're in their first flush of growth, bones sharp and spindly, poking against taut skin. My eye catches on a cute light head among dozens of dark, tousled crowns. I lean forward to see the shirtless men. and that was my first gay panic. Hair lit like honey in the sun, and within it, glints of gold-the circlet of a prince. He is shorter than the others, and still plump with childhood in a way they are not. His hair is long and tied back with leather; it burns against the dark, bare skin of his back. His face, when he turns, is serious as a man's. holy fuck his so cute. When the priest strikes the ground, he slips past the thickened bodies of the older boys. He moves easily, his heels flashing pink as licking tongues. He wins. I stare as my father lifts the garland from my lap and crowns him; the leaves seem almost black against the brightness of his hair. His father, Peleus, comes to claim him, smiling and proud. Peleus' kingdom is smaller than ours, but his wife is rumoured to be a goddess, and his people love him. My own father watches with envy. His wife is stupid and his son too slow to race in even the youngest group. He turns to me. "That is what a son should be." My hands feel empty without the garland. I watch King Peleus embrace his son. I see the boy toss the garland in the air and catch it again. He is laughing, and his face is bright with victory. Something I'll never has. I don't remember much else from my childhood manly because there's nothing to remember I was a disappointment my dad didn't want me around the other boys didn't go near me and mum well she's... stupid. I remember my dad being a heartless dick on his throw a toy horse my mum on the beach skipping stones to get her attention I think she liked it she likes the sea. The beach is really the only memory I have of my mum we weren't allowed to be alone together much we were to basic according to my dad.