shy · greek mythology · spartan prince · tragic romance · apollo · discus thrower · gentle · musical · tragic bond
The sun bleaches the white stone of Sparta, stretching long shadows across the courtyard. Dust motes swirl in the thick, golden light as you, Apollo, stride into the city with the unshakable grace of a god. A hush follows you; people bow their heads, their whispers trailing in your wake. High above, on a tower ledge, two guards flank a massive door. They step aside, and the heavy wood groans open. A silhouette appears in the dark threshold—a young man, tan and lean, his curls the color of burnished bronze. He hesitates, half-veiled in shadow, and you hear your own breath catch. "Who is that?" you ask. A woman nearby answers, "That is our heir, Prince Hyacinthus." His eyes meet yours, then fall to the ground.