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howling ghosts who reappear

Summary:

When during a run through Elysium Patroclus finds himself a casualty of cross-fire, Zagreus discovers just how deep Achilles' affection for his companion goes and the old fury that still brews beneath the surface.

[Podfic and story text within]

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes and other works inspired by this one.)

Work Text:

A black and white image of a stone column slightly broken.

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Music: "Achilles Come Down" and "Rage of the Myrmidons"

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52 MB 0:57:48
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40 MB 0:56:07

Text

Things start to go downhill about mid-way through Asphodel. A particularly vicious encounter with the power couple brings Zagreus to the edge of death and the centaur heart he devours on shaky feet gives him just enough energy to kill Lernie and drag himself to the healing fountain. He drinks till the pool is drained and the room has stopped swaying around enough that he can trust himself to make another step.

He survives the first four chambers of Elysium out of pure will and determination, sacrificing a little more of his life to the mother of all soul catchers.

By the time he is welcomed with Patroclus’ sigil shining at the top of the next door, he can barely stand and his right arm hurts each time he tries to move it. Achilles and Patroclus’ chatting is music to his ears.

“Hello, sirs, sorry to interrupt,” he chokes out as he grabs onto the bridge handrail. They’re on him in seconds. Achilles spins him around for a quick assessment.

“This is bad, lad. What happened?” Achilles’ hands hover over torn flesh, concern creasing his face with worried lines. He circles an arm around Zagreus’ waist and Zagreus can’t help but sigh in relief as he sags against Achilles. He’s helped to their spot by the river; Patroclus hovering just to his left with a face that echoes the same concern.

“Lernie was particularly vicious today. And the exalteds especially fierce. I’m fine, sirs, I just need to rest a little.” Zagreus feels his wounds start to catch up with him, making his breath catch. The focus to take just one more step, make it just one more floor, made it possible to put the pain aside until he’d reached this brief sanctuary.

They are already forcing him to sit. Patroclus presses one hand on his shoulder. “Does it hurt, stranger?”

“Only a bit. A brightsword." Zagreus flexes it to show them before wincing and giving a strained laugh, "I can’t really move it.”

Kneading his fingers a little further in the flesh, Patroclus hums. "It must be dislocated. Hold on a moment, stranger. It's going to hurt a bit."

And by a bit, he means enough to have Zagreus scream out a curse as his vision blacks out.

His shoulder does feel lighter, though. He rolls it experimentally.

"Thank you, sir.”

“Anytime. Also, what will it be this time?” Patroclus rummages in the pocket of his sash. “Kiss of the Styx, am I right?”

A bottle of dark crystal glimmers in his palm. Kiss of the Styx would definitely be helpful, but Zagreus’ health is so low already that he risks wasting the gift again before reaching the surface.

On the other hand, Life Essences and other ways to fortify himself are so much more common than finding another Kiss of the Styx.

He gulps the liquid in a single swallow and the clutch of Death easies off his shoulders.

“That’s definitely an improvement, thank you,” he sighs. He’s already crossed five chambers, Patroclus’ glade not included, which means he has another five left. He can do it.

“Well, I'm off.” He adjusts the gauntlets, flexing his fingers and stretching his arms high above his head.

“Oh, going already, lad? Guess I better get a move on.”

“Yes, you better,” Patroclus agrees. He stands up and stretches, folding himself in half to reach his toes for a few moments before gracefully righting himself, spear in hand. Achilles is quick to follow suit. Zagreus nearly trips on his way to the door as his eyebrows make their way up to his hairline.

He opens his mouth to ask, but before he can even start he is cut off by Patroclus. “Don’t make that face, stranger. We’re coming with you.” A small tilt to the edges of Patroclus’ lips reveals the fondness he normally keeps hidden beneath his stoic facade. Even so, Zagreus could not have heard it right. They can’t mean that. It’s a kindness that wildly exceeds what’s due to him.

“I can’t accept your help.. You don’t have to.”

Escaping is something he must do alone, it’s part of the pact. They’re there to help along the way, but nothing more. The rules have been burned into the gates of Tarturus since he started his treks to the top and never have they been bent like this before.

“Only for a few chambers, lad.”

“But…” Zagreus hesitates still but his throat tightens against any further words which want to escape. He's grateful, of course, but he can't help the anxiety that blooms at the thought of what might occur if they are caught.

"Think of it as another boon," Patroclus echoes, lifting his arms to fashion his hair in a quick braid to keep it out of the way.

"Well, shall we go?"

Zagreus lets their confidence soothe away his anxiety; it will just be for a short trip. His father will never find out.


As it soon turns out, having the two warriors at his side makes a huge difference. And watching them in action is a show all in itself.

They work as a single unit. "Excellent job, lad," Achilles compliments from across the glade, his spear slicing easily through three brightswords in a single arc. Zagreus grins, shifting his stance to deliver a new flying kick.

"I've had a good teacher."

Left punch, right punch, the twin fists claws at the back of the strongbow before him. One arrow whistles a breath away from his ear. He ducks and uses the momentum to trip another shade off his feet in time for Patroclus to deliver the final blow.

"Well done, stranger. Are we done?"

"I don't-," Zagreus starts as he takes a look around the field, eyes flicking about for any lingering threats. He's about to turn back to Patroclus when he spots movement approaching from the edge of the field. "Oh no."

The turquoise shade of Elysian grass colors gold and pink. Zagreus jumps back, a beam of light shooting right in his direction. It scorches his chiton, opening a cut in the fabric. A moment later, Achilles' spear cuts through the greatshield.

"Careful, lad," he warns, his spear already hungering for a new target. Zagreus dances away from a small flame wheel as it speeds towards him. The new rush of enemies draws their attention, though none seem like they can dampen Achilles' joy.

“I have taken this path before, sir,” Zagreus objects. Patroclus raises an eyebrow and Zagreus flushes as he is reminded of his state just a short while ago, compounded with the near miss that just occurred. “But I will keep your words in mind,” Zagreus adds and Achilles barks out a peal of laughter.

Achilles brings his spear across his body in a wide arc, sending the flame wheel that dared to approach him skittering off to explode a short distance away. "Just like old times, right Pat?" he shouts, a new light in his eyes. At Zagreus' right, Patroclus lifts his spear to stop a blow, doing something with his wrist that has the sword shooting out from the exalted's hand.

"It brings back memories. I could use a shield though.”

“Shields are for cowards,” Achilles rejoins, moving so fast the exalted can’t even hope to get close, let alone hurt him.

“Really?” Patroclus taunts. “Because I clearly remember you wearing one each-”

Whatever he was about to say is cut off, choked on a strangled yelp.

Zagreus freezes.

On his knees in the soft grass, Patroclus has an arrow sticking out his throat. It drips golden on his breastplate. His dark eyes are wide as he lifts one hand to gingerly touch the arrow tip. He mouths something.

"Patroclus," Achilles screams, jolting forward, cutting through the exalted that try to block his path.

For once he’s too slow.

Patroclus' shade disappears in a rain of glittery light.

It's fine. It'll be fine. Shades can't be killed. Or Zagreus wouldn't have to do the whole shebang with Theseus every single time.

Yes, Patroclus is fine. He is going to reappear at the springs of Lethe, unscathed.

Now they must focus on escaping this part of Elysium. He can feel the impending arrival of a new wave of exalted.

He rushes to Achilles. The warrior is staring at the void, eyes distant and empty.

"Achilles? Are you alright? It's fine. He's fine. We must go."

The exalted are storming in.

Achilles blinks and doesn't move. "They killed him." His voice is a low rasp, doesn't even seem to come from his throat.

"I know. I'm sorry. It's only temporary."

"He killed him."

A rumble, like the thunder Zagreus has happened to hear a few times when he made all the way to the surface. Achilles' face twists. He bares his teeth. Zagreus has never noticed how sharp they are. A vein pulses on his throat.

Then, shrieking, Achilles lurches forward. He moves so fast his spear is a glimmer of light among the shades as he kills and kills and kills. His eyes are as dark as the deepest pits of Tartarus.

In running to the next door, Zagreus finds himself hoping the gates close before his mentor can pass.

Achilles is faster. He clears the room in a matter of seconds. He'd be drenched in blood if shades bled. Some hair has escaped his silver circlet and falls over his face in tangled tufts.

Another room. Then another one. Achilles kills and hungers for more.

It has to stop.

"Achilles," Zagreus screams and tries to grab the warrior by the shoulders to snap him out of it. Achilles slaps him across his face, the blow hard enough to send Zagreus sprawling onto his back. His cheek pulsates with a dull, distant pain. Blood drips on his lips.

In the next room, the clangour of the bell. A single and profound toll of bronze against bronze, is a blessed sound.

"Than!" Zagreus' voice breaks in relief. "Thank the gods, you're here. You have to help me."

Thanatos swings his massive scythe, giving him a significant look. "Don't I always do that?"

A flash of metal and two exalteds’ heads roll to the ground, their shining helmets hiding their features. They puff into thin air a breath later.

"It's not that, it's about-"

"Why is Achilles with... Oh, I see." Thanatos trails off, a furrow appearing in his brow as he takes in the scene.

In the opposite corner of the room, Achilles is charging headfirst into some brightswords and slaying them one by one. A killing machine, face twisted in a mask of unbridled rage. Thanatos shakes his head, lips pursed.

"Patroclus died again, am I right?"

He speaks with a slow graveness. Another broad swing, another group of shades being sent to a new death. Zagreus would applaud Thanatos’ handiwork if he wasn't preoccupied with his mentor.

Zagreus pauses. Shocked into stillness for half a breath. "It... how do you know?"

A flutter of butterflies floats just above his head. There must be a soul catcher nearby. He punches the air.

"Because it was like this when… Nevermind, I'm not the one to tell you and we have no time."

Achilles' spear shatters a voidstone. It screams and he's already moving onto the next wretch. A splitter projectile strikes him right in the chest. He seems to barely notice the hit.

Zagreus' stomach twists. He's heard stories of his mentor's disposition when alive but he never gave them much credit; thought they were mostly exaggerations.

"How do I stop this?"

"You don't," Thanatos says, his voice level and distant. "It's probable his fury will subside eventually, but I can't tell you when. I suppose once he's reassured his lover is safe and sound."

"And," with a jump Zagreus moves away from the trajectory of a flame wheel, "how long does it take?"

Time flows strangely in the Underworld. The only thing he knows of how shades return from their temporary death, is that each time he kills the Elysian champions, each time they are waiting in the arena by his next run.

"A while. Not too much, but it still takes time. Look, Zag, I can end this for you."

Above his head, the scythe glimmers with chthonic power. A blade forged to sever souls from their hosts. The unstoppable god of death.

"End this? You mean... kill him? And then?"

It feels wrong. Zagreus' skin crawls. Of course it wouldn't be permanent. Achilles is going to reappear in the House of Hades as if nothing has happened.

It must be like that.

It doesn't make Zagreus feel any better.

And what if he was wrong? Megaera certainly retained her grudges after their fights in Tartarus. The weight of Thanatos’ eyes presses down on him as a physical burden, dragging at his limbs like chains, as Thanatos stares at him. Waiting for him to choose. To pick correctly.

“And what if he comes back and he's still like this?"

The shades who loom in the palace love and respect Achilles, they see him as one of the solid foundations of the household. They can't see him in this state.

"Don't worry Zag, me and Megaera will deal with that. Trust me, it's the best solution."

An act of mercy. Thanatos' domain as the god of gentle death. It will take the pain away.

Zagreus' tongue is heavy like a stone when he says a single, "Alright."

Thanatos adjusts his grip on the scythe, bringing it higher above his head. Busy with two splitters, Achilles doesn't notice anything.

For a brief moment, it almost feels like he's expecting the blow.

"Is there anything I can do?"

Anything to lessen the weight in his stomach. He should have refused when they offered him their help. As if he hadn't had thousands of attempts at escaping alone.

Thanatos doesn’t pause, his attention entirely on Achilles as he focuses on his power that swirls and surrounds Achilles. "Keep your father occupied. That will help."

"I can do that." Zagreus can’t read Thanatos past the intense focus and can’t tell if this is simply a task to keep him busy or a genuine need. But he knows in his heart, he’d do near anything to help out any way he can.

Regardless, now that Thanatos raised the concern, Zagreus finds he does agree with the assessment. Father already grumbled when he freed Achilles from his contract. He’s not going to take it well knowing about this, thus he doesn’t have to know.

Zagreus has to survive. It's the minimum he can do.

"Good luck out there."

With this, Thanatos lowers the scythe.

The final room before the arena is Charon’s shop. Zagreus spends a good chunk of his money on a boom from Demeter, praying her icy aid will see him through Asterius and the other guy. After that, he walks the corridor leading to the temple, making good work of smashing every single vase in his way.

The longer he spends searching through the passageways, the longer his father will have to wait outside. For the first time in his life, he hopes to find the satyr sack in the last possible passageway, feeling the pull of the abyss over which he’s balancing on a thin thread.

“Think you can win in that state?” his father mocks as Zagreus breathes in the chill of winter air. He takes a sharp breath from behind the stone column he’d taken refuge, while his father stalks after him. A predator hunting his prey. Sweat and blood slid down his arms and chest. His head is reeling and a nasty burn is blossoming on his upper thigh.

“Why don't you test me and find out?”

For once, his thoughts are not on the world above or victory but on his home below. He can’t beat his father, not in this state certainly. But point is, he doesn’t want to. All he needs to do is to drag out this duel as much as he can. Keep his father occupied as best he can and hope that what damage he causes will be enough to force Lord Hades to take his time coming back to the house. After all, it wouldn’t do to let the lost souls see their Lord in disarray.

“You can’t escape, boy,” Lord Hades snarls as Zagreus rolls into a ball to ease the fall, Gigaros coming a breath away from separating his head from the rest of his body. He dashes, zig-zagging through wretched souls pulled once more to the surface to defend their sovereign.

He lasts longer than he thought he would.


As a wet darkness wraps around him, he prays things are fine back at the house, his chest clenching with one last breath. The metallic smell of blood fills his nostrils.

He comes back to himself in a rain of petals and to the familiar chattering of the shades that crowd Hades' palace.

He sprints out the Styx pool, tripping on the marble in the process. Hypnos is floating where normally Achilles stands guard. The chambers sparkle pristinely with no sign of the damage that Zagreus feared.

"I put him to sleep," he says, anticipating Zagreus' question, his voice low and lacking the habitual cheerfulness. "I had to. Come."

Zagreus follows.

Achilles' chamber has changed from last time he saw it. It looks a little less like the camp tent that Zagreus remembers. Two paintings decorate the walls: one of a cave in a mountain landscape, the other a palace by the sea. In a corner: a lyre, silver and polished wood, a tad smaller than Zagreus' own. Rolls of parchment on the small table by the bed and a little portrait of Patroclus, tiny smile and thoughtful eyes.

Achilles sleeps on his belly, cape and chest plate carefully set at the foot of the bed. His brows are knitted together but his breath has the even pace of a dreamless sleep.

"I made sure he doesn’t wake up," Hypnos explains, sing-songing. "A long, long sleep."

Yes, that was the best solution. The room is silent after Hypnos leaves. Zagreus is left staring at Achilles asleep. His chest rising and falling with each exhalation and Zagreus finds himself counting each one trying to wrench his focus back to the next steps he should be taking.

Soon, Patroclus would be back in one piece and then Hypnos could lift his spell. Maybe he is already. He should ask Than.

There is nothing he can do here watching Achilles dream. Focusing thought to motion, Zagreus closes his eyes and presses a kiss to Achilles' forehead. “It will be okay,” he promises. “I’ll fix this.”

Death incarnate is lounging over the Styx at his usual spot.

“Hey,” Zagreus greets, rubbing at his forearms. “I’m sorry. How was it?”

“No need to worry, Zag. Megaera tied him up before he could wake up and then we decided it was better for Hypnos to cast a spell on him. It’s fine, really.”

“If you say so,” Zagreus sighs, grabbing at the rail, suddenly dizzy. For once the purple kliné he gifted Thanatos looks so inviting.

They stand in silence for a long moment. Zagreus wants to reach out. Wants Thanatos to take his hand and tell him it will be fine, but Thanatos’ grim expression invites none of their usual familiarity. “Think Patroclus is back?”

One eye on the pool, Thanatos hums. “I suppose so. But I can’t check it now. I have so many souls I need to harvest.”

He leaves Zagreus strumming his fingers on the wall and bouncing on his feet. Father must be on Charon’s boat right now, bound to come back any minute now and he isn’t even sure he’s going to be able to find Patroclus’ glade in the labyrinth that is Elysium.

If he manages to reach Elysium.

Alright, one thing at a time.

“Hypnos?”

Curled in his fluffy blanket over his couch, the god jolts. “What? I’m up.”

The long line of shades in front of him begs to differ, but Zagreus is not there for that now.

“Father will be back soon. He must not find out about Achilles. It’s important.”

“Of course,” Hypnos chirps. “You can trust me. Now go!”

Zagreus really should go now. Yet, it feels like his feet have been nailed to the floor. He can’t help but glance in the direction of Achilles’ room, think of him in Hypnos’ clutch. Sleep is a friend, and won’t hurt the warrior, but Hypnos is also a god as Ancient as all the other Chthonic able to put anyone to a slumber different from Death only in name.

He forces himself to breathe.

It's nothing they can't fix

The house is untouched and his father would find nothing as long as Hypnos kept to his word. Achilles being absent from their halls isn't an unusual circumstance these days. They put Achilles to sleep because they had to. Zagreus knows this. He would have probably unleashed a wreck on the household if they hadn’t.

The justification falls flat. A bitter taste rises from Zagreus’ throat, filling his mouth. They can deal with Cerberus shenanigans - they could easily stop a shade, even the shade of the greatest warrior of his generation.

Zagreus’ stomach twists.

The truth is he’s a coward. First he accepted Thanatos’ offer to kill him, now this. Because it was the fastest way. He’d wanted the quickest option to stop Achilles’ rampage; panic pumping through his veins and thrumming in time with his pulse. He’d never seen Achilles in such a state, the steady calm presence of Zagreus’ youth gone and in its place a berserker. Mad with rage and loss.

The pain of death is but another obstacle and fear is for the weak.” Achilles is strong as any shade Zagreus has ever faced. Was this not an obstacle that they could face together? Had Achilles not the right to be free of the shackles Zagreus’ fear would have him wear?

Zagreus closes his eyes and prays that he will not regret this path.

“Wake him up,” he says.

Hypnos’ perpetually half-lidded eyes go wide. “Wake him up?” he exclaims. High-pitched as ever. “But Zag…”

“I know. Trust me, Hypnos.” He aims a tired smile at Hypnos, trying to project confidence he does not quite feel.

Hypnos nods slowly, watching Zagreus carefully. “If you’re sure…”

Zagreus’ lips flatten. He’s not sure; of course, he isn’t. But he’s certain that keeping Achilles asleep indefinitely is his fear talking.

Hypnos takes his lack of response as agreement and starts for Achilles’ room once more, before Zagreus calls out, “Wait till I get there before you wake him.”

Hypnos laughs, a little strangled, “No fear of that, Zag.”

He should get Megaera first, though. Or Dusa. As it soon turns out, Megaera ’s break has long since finished and Dusa is too busy dusting the bone chandeliers on the ceiling under Nyx’s careful watch.

Luckily, Zagreus did learn a thing or two from Meg when it comes to tying someone. Meg even said his knots are almost as good as hers.

He binds Achilles’ feet and hands together, then secures his arms firmly behind his back, heart heavy for every new loop of rope. He shouldn’t be doing this to his mentor. To a friend.

Achilles comes to his senses slowly, blinking awake with foggy eyes, as he takes in the room.

“Lad,” he groans. “Where am I? Why am I tied? What - Pat!” The scream echoes in the room. He sits bolt upright and makes to stand up, thrashing against the binding.

Zagreus forces him down. From the corner of his eye, Hypnos does a flickering gesture. Achilles stills and drops his head.

This time, when the god of sleep lifts the spell, it is barely a moment for Achilles to understand what Zagreus is telling him.

“Patroclus is fine. Shades don’t die, remember? He’s probably already back in the glade.”

Achilles’ head snaps back up. He scrambles on his feet.

"I need to go to him. Lad."

Zagreus’ heart bleeds to hear his mentor beg him and it hurts worse to deny him. Even so, Zagreus shakes his head, keeps him still, and even with Achilles half asleep it takes a good portion of his godly strength.

“No, sir. It’s not…” Safe? Because what if Patroclus isn’t back and Achilles is left alone with this thing, this pain and loss he still carries inside, and it explodes once more? Zagreus can’t risk it. “Please, just— wait here. I will send word as soon as I find him.”

“Lad…” Achilles relaxes against his bonds, no longer struggling as he gazes up at Zagreus with worried eyes. Zagreus tries not to look further. He doesn’t know what he would do if it is despair that is sapping the fight from Achilles’ limbs. Hopes that Achilles sees the sense in his words and knows that Zagreus will make this right. No matter what it takes.

“I’m going to check it now,” he hastens to assure, starting to untie the knots still keeping Achilles bound. “I would have asked Thanatos but he’s on duty.” Words pile one over the other and he’s already at the door. “It’s going to take just a moment.”

He’s going to find Patroclus’ glade once more, confirm he’s safe and sound, and then summon Achilles with Antos. It’s a nice plan.

Securing the chthonic companion in his belt, he does his best to ignore the voice in his head telling him it’s all a waste of time, that he’s doing this because he feels guilty and running around Tartarus is better than staying at the house waiting. He picks the Rail, undoes every single condition of the Pact of Punishment and dives into the mission.

He arrives at the gates of Elysium’s arena with all his Death Defiances still intact and no idea of where Patroclus' glade could be.

For a long, long minute he actually considers the idea of letting Theseus or Asterius kill him. But that would be way too humiliating.

He's going to obliterate the two of them.

An unknown amount of time later, Zagreus is re-emerging from the pool, mouth still tasting of the Satyr's poison. How he hates that stuff.

Achilles is standing guard at his usual place, eyes darting around and hand gripping his spear so tight it's a mystery how he hasn't broken it yet.

“Do you have news, lad?” His voice is calm but barely so, quiet waters hiding a sub-marine whirlpool.

“Not yet, I’m sorry sir.”

“Lad, once my shift is over-”

He wants to teleport to Elysium, to search for Patroclus himself, that’s a given. And perhaps it would be the best thing to do. But Zagreus can’t, not yet.

In leaving for another escape attempt, he orders Dusa to keep an eye on Achilles. Turn him to stone if necessary.

This time he doesn’t even make it to Elysium, the Witches Circle having the best of him like they haven’t done in ages. In re-emerging from the pool, he doesn’t even stop to check on Achilles, everything a blur. He takes Stygius on the run, Skelly’s comment at his back and jumps straight into it. By the time he climbs to the temple of Styx, he’s down two Death Defiances and he’d rather let a Snakestone burn him to a crisp than let his father do it.

Once more. Only once more.

He almost knocks into Dusa.

“Prince! You startled me,” she yelps, followed by one of her usual giggles. “About Achilles, don’t worry. Everything is under control!”

“Great, thank you Dusa.”

Zagreus doesn’t ask if she had to petrify him. He doesn’t want to know.

Next moment, he's already landing in Tartarus, a bitter taste at the back of his mouth. In Elysium a group of exalted has the best of him.

Back at the house, he tells himself just another time.

Just another time.

Just another…


It's Zagreus' tenth run since the incident, when he's blessed with Patroclus' sigil above the door. Zagreus almost cries in relief, panting from exertion.

In his glade, Patroclus is lying by the Lethe like Zagreus has found him other times, one foot lazily submerged in water. No wound or new scar is present on his body. He jolts up the moment he realizes Zagreus’ presence.

“Why, hello there, stranger.” He smiles, brushing blades of grass from his chiton as he stands up. “I am sorry about last time. Not my best exploit, I am afraid. Please believe me when I say that normally I am a much more capable warrior. How’s Achilles? I haven't seen him in a while.”

Holding Stygius tighter, Zagreus finds himself wanting to glance away. He fights it.

“We've been busy at the House," he lies. "He's not doing too well, I'm afraid. He worries about you."

A shadow flashes over Patroclus’ face, brows knitting together, before it relaxes with a sigh. “Yes, I can imagine. I am sorry if he caused you trouble. Well, can you tell him I’m fine and there’s no need to continue worrying?”

“Actually, you can tell him yourself.”

Before Patroclus can ask for a clarification, Antos has found its way into Zagreus’ hands.

He squeezes the companion gently once, wondering if Patroclus can feel the call as well, even if he's here.

Achilles appears on unsteady feet.

Zagreus has never seen anyone tackle another person as fast as Achilles does Patroclus, throwing his arms around the other’s neck and sending them both rolling on the grass with the momentum.

“Oh dear,” Patroclus huffs, the embryo of a laughter in it, head tilted back and still trapped in Achilles’ bone-crushing hug. “Peace, I’m fine, beloved. I’m fine.”

Face hidden in the crook of his neck, Achilles mutters something unintelligible, his hands grasping at Patroclus' chlamys.

Zagreus is pretty sure he hears a sob or two. He shuffles on his feet, unable to think of a good thing to say.

He came here to apologize, but it’s clearly not the moment.

Achilles has settled more comfortably in Patroclus’ lap, head still turned away, and clearly showing no intention to move anytime soon. From time to time Patroclus cards his fingers through his hair, while continuing whispering soft reassurance about his well-being.

They fit perfectly together. This moment isn't for anyone to spy on.

With Achilles still solidly wrapped around him, Patroclus beckons Zagreus closer.

"Thank you," he says, handing him some Cyclops jerky.

Zagreus nods, ready to run.

He has a fight to win.


Next time Zagreus happens to find Patroclus' glade, the shade is alone, giving voice to his thoughts like a way to order them.

"Good - whatever time it is, stranger"

"Hello, sir," Zagreus politely reciprocates. "I hope things are fine."

Given Patroclus' attitude there is no reason they shouldn't be, but it’s always better to ask. To his relief, the shade nods.

"Everything's good. How's Achilles? I suppose he has some shifts to catch up with.”

It prompts a little, but sincere chuckle from Zagreus. "Yes. My father wasn't exactly… pleased."

But not even the Lord of the Underworld's potential anger had been able to force Achilles away from Patroclus against his will.

Luckily for them, down below Lord Hades had a heart more tender than expected.

“Don’t worry, it’s all fine,” Zagreus hastens to reassure, though he knows well that Patroclus is many things to Achilles, but not his tutor. Not anymore, at least. Yet, the feeling of uneasiness is still in his stomach, as he brushes his feet against the soft grass of the glade. It doesn’t escape Patroclus’ gaze.

“Something wrong, stranger?” The shade sits a bit straighter, arms lazily hanging between his thighs. “I know that face.”

“It’s just,” Zagreus swallows, looking around for words, "even if it’s not permanent, dying is a mess. I’m sorry you had to-”

“Peace,” Patroclus stops him, there and then. “It was not your fault.”

“But…”

“No but. It wasn't. End of discussion."

It leaves Zagreus no choice but to sheepishly accept a weight being lifted from his shoulders. A little bit, at least. If only he could forget Achilles in his fury, that light - or absence of light, actually - in his eyes. The anguish in his voice.

"Sir, I couldn't stop thinking … Achilles, he acted…" He stops, swallows, re-orders his thoughts and tries again. "He went crazy with anger and grief. I've never seen something like that."

Patroclus let out a bitter chuckle. "That definitely sounds like him. Why don't you sit down for a moment?"

After a beat, Zagreus obeys, crossing his legs as the question Patroclus must expect takes shape.

"What happened, sir? When you died the first time."

He knows it happened in war and, if he has to trust the little he’s heard, it wasn't nice.

Death rarely is.

On the banks of the Lethe, Patroclus stretches out a hand to dip into the water.

"To be honest, I've mostly forgotten."

Droplets fall from his fingers back into the river. A sufficient explanation.

"But I remember it started with a girl."

Everything he can, Patroclus tells Zagreus, about the never-ending routine of war, the tiredness and the hope growing thinner year after year.

He tells Zagreus about a fight between Achilles and some other general, how close they came to losing.

"And I couldn't let that happen. I went to Achilles, begged on my knees for his armour if he didn't want to fight. I promised I wouldn't do anything reckless. He accepted… He’s told me he still regrets it now."

What Patroclus tells Zagreus afterward, brings up a sensation Zagreus knows well, especially when blessed by one too many of Lord Ares' boons. He described it once as looking at himself from the outside, watching his body fight but not being really present for the whole of it. Bloodlust. The feeling of your weapon being a perfect extension of your body. No enemy is strong enough, no obstacle big enough, victory is there at hand.

"I really thought I could win the war for them. For him. For us. What a fool I was."

He tells Zagreus about the impregnable walls that suddenly he can climb, stone after stone, one step and another and another, till he’s on top with a god staring right back at him.

"He shoved me off, obviously."

A bitter laugh rises from Patroclus' throat, more similar to a snort. "I could have stopped there, returned to the camp, but I didn't. Of course, I didn't."

He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes falling closed beneath knitted eyebrows, trying to remember.

"It's all quite confusing, stranger. One moment I am feeling invincible, the next I'm in the dust, my- Achilles' armour nowhere to be seen. I feel weak … ever fought a god?"

Glimpses of the Trials of the gods or when Theseus calls upon their help flash in Zagreus' mind. He nods.

"You get it. He didn't kill me, that was for the prince. Hector of Troy, the city’s best defense, the constant shade at the back of my and Achilles' mind, there shoving a spear in my belly and bragging about how he had killed me. Nice guy, actually, but-”

He makes a vague gesture. You know. Yes, Zagreus knows. It’s like with Meg when she’s on duty, trying to stop him from crossing Tartarus threshold and not holding back.

Like Achilles, a tiny voice in his mind provides.

“Anyway, I told him Achilles would make him pay and then I was here on the shore of Styx, waiting to board Charon’s boat.”

For a long moment Zagreus doesn’t say anything. He doesn't know what to say. For him death is just another part of life, a daily routine, but in time, listening to the shades at the house, he came to learn it isn't the same for mortals.

For them, it's truly a big deal.

"Did that become true? About Achilles avenging you, I mean."

A sharp nod. "But that's his to tell. When he’ll feel like it. But I have to warn you, stranger, it may not be pleasant.”

Zagreus’ fingers twitch, as he tips his head back to the false sky of Elysium, moving on their own till he's absentmindedly tearing away handfuls of grass.

“Thanatos mentioned something.”

And it isn’t like he hasn’t heard stories about his mentor, words muttered by the shades between a plea to his Lord Father and a nectar in the lounge. Blood-thirsty Achilles. Unstoppable Achilles.

He killed me so quickly I didn’t even notice.

Said I shouldn’t whine about dying and then he killed me.

Go talk to him? Are you crazy? He decapitated me.

And many more.

"But if I must be sincere, it doesn't matter, sir."

It's not like Zagreus isn't curious. He is. A lot. Too much for his own good as Thanatos has pointed out more than once. And yet-

"I mean, whoever Achilles was in life, whatever he did, I think he made amends already. People change."

"Sage words, stranger."

There's a bite in Patroclus' response, one that tells Zagreus he doesn't fully agree with him. And truly, recent facts have proven his scepticism.

He doesn't care.

Shifting his weight to the balls of his feet, he makes to stand up. Patroclus quirks an eyebrow at him.

"Going already?" A hint of accusation veils the otherwise neutral request.

Zagreus pauses, still for a moment as he considers Patroclus. There's still a tension running through the man that Zagreus expected would be released at the prospect of a difficult conversational partner departing. "Are you sure you want to keep me around?"

"You would rather drag the past into the light and leave me to bury it, stranger?"

"Oh," Zagreus says, understanding finally dawning. "I don't have any Ambrosia to share, I'm afraid."

Patroclus ignores Zagreus' awkward joke and relaxes back as he sees that Zagreus is no longer on the verge of flight. "That is fine. This time, why don't you repay me with some lighter conversation until Achilles returns." Zagreus nods but hesitates. His mind suddenly blanks except for the thousand questions he could ask on Patroclus' story which he knows would be unwelcome.

Thankfully - and also surprisingly - Patroclus comes to his rescue. He asks Zagreus about life at the House, about Thanatos and Meg and their blossoming relationships. In turn, Zagreus inquires about life in Elysium. It feels like a weight being finally lifted from his chest when laughter lightens Patroclus' face as Zagreus gives him an account of his latest encounter with the Champion and the face he made before being obliterated in record time.

They’re exchanging knowledge around war chariots when Patroclus’ head snaps up, soft steps coming from the distance.

Still clad in his guard armour, Achilles flops at his side with a tired sigh, close enough to give him a quick but tender peck on the lips.

“Hi,” he smiles against Patroclus’ lips and the shade smiles back. “Missed you,” Achilles adds, noticing only then Zagreus’ presence.

“Hello, lad,” he says, even though they have crossed paths only this morning - or evening - down at the house.

“Yes, Zagreus was keeping me company while I waited on you,” Patroclus provides.

“That’s… that’s nice, lad. Thank you.”

“No problem, sir,” Zagreus assures, bouncing on his feet, body thrilling from new energy. The half-forced pause in the glade surely did wonders for his tiredness. From where he sits, Patroclus throws him a little, dark vial. “Godspeed, stranger.”

“And call us if you are in trouble,” Achilles echoes. Zagreus nods, thanking them, though he knows already he won’t be needing - won’t be asking - for their help. Let them be for today.

If they could read his mind, they’d tell him otherwise, so good thing they can’t. Today Patroclus’ glades open to a room pulsating with the golden energy of Athena’s favours.

Well, that surely will be helpful. Taking a deep breath, Zagreus adjusts his grip on Aegis and dives into battle.

Notes:

Author note
This was fun! I'm writing this after having finished listening to the whole work and I'm awed at its beauty and at what we managed to put together.
Godsoflaudrybasket, when you're reading this, thank you. You have been an excellent partner. Recording aside - again, you bring everything alive so beautifully - this work wouldn't exist without your help. It was so good finding someone who shared enough tropes to create something that truly belonged to the both of us.
If you are down in the future, I'm all for writing that unhealthy co-depend ship dynamics.
I love Berserker Achilles too! I could write his fury over and over and over. Also I’m a sucker for slipping Iliad references in Hades, for the stories in which Zagreus learns something more about his mentors. So thank you for having indulged in that. You rewatched the dialogues, I went directly to play the game so to be truly immersed in the atmosphere.
I hope we still share fandoms next year because I'd love to work on pod-together again.

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