The King Hercules: A Love Story Of Hercules

Title:
Summary: literally,,, the song of achilles

He was told days ago by his father, the king, that another boy, a prince like him, would be joining the band of misfits they housed. Prince had not fit the description of the person he had conjured up, using the gossip and whispers thrown tossed back and forth from the servants. While he had imagined a boy, regal yet brutish, and capable of murdering someone in cold blood over a dice game, the boy before him was a weak knobby-kneed babe who, from what he could tell from his position on his back, barely went up to his shoulder. His deep umber brown eyes had yet to focus on one spot in the room and he looked as if a mere breeze could knock him over.

Overall Lafayette was just unimpressed. So he continued to lay back on his wide, pillowed

He had heard of stories of how the voices of the dead were enough to cause the living to go mad with insanity. The force of the impact of his own head to the floor caused his own small frame to constrict and before anyone in the room could call for help, Hercules had stopped moving.

He woke in a panic, flailing on his bed and kicking at the sheets. Hercules quickly hushed himself when he realized that all the other boys had been sleeping, and he peeled the sweat soaked sheets off his body before silently tip toeing over to the window in hopes of cooling off. He hopped up onto the ledge and admired the pinprick of stars spattering the dark moonless sky as much as he could, while his lungs were still pounding against his rib cage.

His breathing was the only thing that could be heard in the room aside from the lull of the ocean from the beach down below. While the presence of the other boys in the room did nothing to comfort him, the sound of the sea and the moon slowly creeping across the sky soothed Hercules enough to where his eyes slid shut on their own