Patroclus' fingers were numb from grabbing the edge of the mattress. He sighed as Achilles kissed his neck, pressed up against his back, rocking him forwards and backwards in time to his thrusts. Achilles had woken him up that morning, before the sun had even risen, trailing kisses down his spine, hands wandering over his thighs and the backs of his legs. It was uncharacteristic of Achilles not to be up at the crack of dawn, already gone by the time Briseis came to collect Patroclus from the prince's bed. They had retired to his chambers the night before, after the celebrations with the army finally subsided, and Achilles had taken him on the floor. He was still sore, but Achilles was not making any attempt to be gentle. He seemed to want as much of Patroclus as he could get, his callused hands gripping Patroclus' hips so hard they bruised. Patroclus flushed, thinking of the first time Briseis had seen the bruises, of the way she had pursed her lips, the question darting behind her eyes. She believed Achilles took him by force, and no amounts of Patroclus' clumsy attempts to explain could convince her otherwise. Patroclus didn't think Achilles' advances were forceful. But he wouldn't have ever denied him, anyway. Machaon's words echoed in the back of his head every time. He knew what the ambassador would say. It was a good thing Achilles wanted him at all, and seemed satisfied by their couplings enough not to take a concubine. Patroclus did his best to please the prince, he moved in rhythm to Achilles' motions, made sounds of pleasure, showed that he enjoyed it just as much as the prince did. It stoked Achilles' pride, and Patroclus had caught on to that. He had even started to initiate sex. After they had finished, and had time to catch their breath, he would curl up into Achilles' side, sliding his leg up over the prince's. "Do you want me again, my lord?" he would whisper into Achilles' ear, and Achilles' eyes would narrow in lust, and Patroclus would feel him harden against his leg.

Achilles had grabbed on to his hair and his scalp stang as the hair was yanked back. They both groaned as Achilles met his completion, his hips joined to Patroclus' as he finished inside him. Not a moment later, Patroclus felt the warmth of his seed dripping down his thighs while Achilles stretched out onto his back, covered in sweat, a satisfied smile breaking out on his face. He looked like a cat lolling in the sun, content. Patroclus looked down at himself, disoriented and disheveled. He didn't know whether Achilles expected him to leave or not. He had never spent the morning in bed with his husband. A look from Achilles made him bring the covers up over them, settling at his side.

"Breakfast with me?" It wasn't a question, despite the inflection.

Patroclus smiled at Achilles and kissed his cheek. "Yes, my lord."

They slept for a few more minutes, then rose as the servants prepared the bath. Patroclus didn't see her, but he knew Briseis was hovering, wondering if she should get Patroclus back to his own room or not.

Instead, he spent a good hour in the bath with Achilles. It was at least twice the size of his own bath, a large square in the ground with steps leading down into the water. Achilles took no notice of the servants bustling about, drawing Patroclus into his arms so that they leaned onto each other with the water up to their chins. His fingers threaded through Patroclus' hair, untangling the dark strands. It was intimate, and Patroclus was surprised they had anything to talk about at all, but Achilles proved easier to talk to than he had initially imagined. He didn't even seem to mind when Patroclus had nothing to say, happy to talk about his life, his daily activities as Crown Prince of Phthia. They seemed almost like lovers, murmuring to each other in the bath, pausing every now and then to kiss. Yet they would never have been in each other's company that way if their marriage hadn't been arranged by their fathers. Patroclus wondered if Achilles would have even noticed him, if he had been some courtier, or visiting among an Opian envoy.

He encountered Automedon several times in the following days. The lieutenant apparently lived in the palace's army barracks, and oversaw the training of the palace guard. They would cross each other's paths in the hallways, and the lieutenant would always give a nod of greeting, ever polite, yet his dark eyes held Patroclus' in a way that forced itself to stay at the back of Patroclus' mind for the rest of the day. Podalirius, Patroclus' tutor and Machaon's brother, had been transferred to the Phthian palace so that Patroclus could continue his lessons. Old Phthian not only demanded to be read and translated, but to be transcribed in a specific calligraphy style that was as difficult as it was beautiful. Patroclus was learning the Phthian ballads, and the epics that were often performed at parties, about the ancient battles of the gods and their favorite mortal heroes. Podalirius insisted that learning to transcribe poetry was the key to performing it. The king had banquets and dinner parties often, where courtiers and courtesans of the highest repute would have the chance to display their abilities in the arts. "It would be to your advantage to show you can match them in skill, despite being a foreigner," Machaon agreed. "King Peleus will certainly notice, and Prince Achilles will take his father's opinion into account." Patroclus also practiced the lyre and kithara, but he had little talent for music. Supposedly, Achilles was the best at the lyre. Podalirius taught Patroclus the various dances of the Phthian tradition.

"These courtiers, who are they?" Patroclus asked one day, as Podalirius was poring over a book of short poems.

"Hmm? Oh, your highness, Machaon would be better suited to tell you about it."

"But he won't say anything about the Phthian nobility."

"Well.." Podalirius sighed and closed the book, reaching up to scratch his shaved head.

"I suppose there are a few of note you should look out for. Sons of King Peleus' closest advisors, who have known Prince Achilles since childhood."

"Like Lieutenant Automedon?" Patroclus offered.

"Him? No, that boy is the son of commoners surely, or from a military family. He is not noble or wealthy. Do you know who his father is?"

"He mentioned… he is the son of Diores."

"Name doesn't ring a bell. Must have been a soldier, probably accomplished some rapport with his betters, to have his son admitted to the royal military academy. Or perhaps pure luck that he was the prince's charioteer at all."

"Then.. who?"

"Eudoros son of Echekles for one. His father is one of King Peleus' most trusted advisors, and his mother a famous beauty. It is no secret that his family would want him to become a consort to the prince. It must have come as a shock to them that King Peleus had already arranged for the alliance with Opus. He would have been first choice otherwise, with a family so powerful and wealthy. They are the wealthiest in all Phthia next to the king, you see."

"Will I see him at court?" Patroclus had never heard of Eudoros son of Echekles.

"He was at your wedding. You really should pay better attention, your highness. Eudoros is close to Prince Achilles, they grew up together."

"But he is not in the military?"

"He bears the mark, from his mother's side."

Patroclus felt a sinking in his gut. That was dangerous indeed. If Achilles were to ever take another consort, this Eudoros sounded promising.

"He is the least of your worries at the moment, your highness," Podalirius added, seeing Patroclus' concern.

"Besides, he's not the only one. Many of noble lineage would have been suitable for the prince. And still would be, should you fail to produce an heir." A severe look.

"And if I do? That won't stop him from taking another consort."

"No, but your son will be named heir to the throne. I hope you realize how much weight that carries, your highess." A scion of Opian blood will sit on the Phthian throne. "When the prince takes another consort, and do not think it a question of whether or not he will – you may still keep his favor by giving him a son who will be the future king. You will be respected, and it will be just as well that you remain his chief consort."