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Zagreus has never understood people who can solve problems just by thinking about them. His father is like that, sitting behind his desk and stewing over something until it’s either resolved or no longer relevant. And judging by the sheer number of times Hades has scolded his son for acting on impulse, or urged him to just sit down and get things done, he does not understand how Zagreus could ever solve problems without thinking about them.
Hades is perhaps the only one who would say that Zagreus lacks intelligence; he is not witless by any reasonable measure, but solutions don’t tend to come to him just by mulling matters over. Thought without action is like a river without a current to him; the same waters stagnate in horrid little cesspools of his mind, directionless until he puts motion behind them. When he decided to abandon the House for the first time, he’d grabbed Stygius and leapt from the courtyard window with a sense of resolute clarity. At the time, it felt good to dive into Tartarus and bar any thoughts that weren’t concerned with his immediate survival. The consequences surged like a torrent behind the dam of his resolve, but as long as that resolve held, they would not be his problem.
At last, they have finally flooded every inch of his life.
Zagreus was surprised by the venom in Thanatos’s tone when he confronted him in Elysium, but in hindsight he really should’ve seen it coming. It was the first time Zagreus had seen him in ages, and his relief at his old friend’s sudden appearance outpaced the gravity of the present circumstances. It took Thanatos lashing out in a tone so sharp that he might as well have sunk the point of his scythe into Zagreus’s heart for the prince to grasp just how much he’d hurt him.
Atoning for his mistakes has been akin to handling delicate crystal, afraid that moving too suddenly will shatter something precious. Thanatos does not give out his trust easily, and once it’s wounded, repairing it is no small feat. But Zagreus doesn’t know how to fight with Thanatos -- really fight, with hurt feelings and raw words. In the ages they’ve known each other there have been countless spats and petty arguments, but never anything so severe that it left Zagreus unsure whether their relationship could survive it. Zagreus has never foreseen a future where he doesn’t have Thanatos to turn to, and the glimpse he got of such an irrevocable loss terrified him.
He thought Thanatos would need space, and sought to give him that even if Zagreus’s guilt ate at him, but Thanatos didn’t seem any more capable of letting things lie. He continued to seek Zagreus out during his escape attempts, and despite his insistence on his grudge, the risk he took in coming to his aid at all spoke to the influence of some deeper drive. Zagreus showed his gratitude with gifts that Thanatos derided but accepted nonetheless, and slowly, like a bat learning to fly again after healing its broken wing, things between them have once again approached some semblance of normalcy.
Except instead of returning to the familiar camaraderie it once was, their relationship has steered toward some adjacent destination on its way back to normal. The visceral pain at the prospect of abandonment that Thanatos expressed could not be rescinded, nor could Zagreus’s near-desperate eagerness to restore himself in his friend’s good graces. There is now some unspoken attachment lingering behind their interactions, obvious enough for its presence to be distracting, but darting out of sight when Zagreus tries to get a good look at it.
At least, it was unspoken until Thanatos spoke it.
What is one supposed to say when his closest friend asks, “what am I to you?” The very question knocked the wind out of Zagreus’s chest when Thanatos asked him this in the hall earlier. He barely remembers what he said in response, only that it frustrated Thanatos into shifting away abruptly, leaving his question to echo in Zagreus’s mind with no way to seek the answer but to think on it.
Zagreus slashes Skelly to dust for the eighth time in a row, hoping that one of his strikes will reveal the solution like a vision from the Fates. He’s tired of lying on his bed, searching the cavernous ceiling for clarity. If he’s going to agonize over the nature of his feelings, he’s at least going to get some training out of it.
“Hold a moment, lad.”
The soft voice of Achilles entering the courtyard behind him stops Zagreus from wailing on Skelly the second he rematerializes. He sighs and lowers his blade, turning to face his old mentor with a nonchalance he hopes is convincing. “What can I do for you, sir? It’s rare for you to seek me out back here, nowadays.”
Achilles shakes his head. “I came to ask if, perhaps, there’s anything I can do for you. Give the animated skeleton a moment of reprieve, and talk to me. What’s on your mind?”
“Is it really that obvious?” Zagreus says, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s suddenly humbled by a wash of shame, that his distress is worrying Achilles enough to infringe on the time he has off-duty. He’s waited so long for the chance to spend his scant free time with his beloved in Elysium, and now he’s concerning himself with Zagreus’s problems instead. He shrugs, waving a hand dismissively. “Really, it’s quite alright, Achilles. Nothing that won’t resolve itself.”
“Well, maybe airing it out with me will expedite that resolution,” Achilles says. When Zagreus still hesitates, he lowers his voice and softens his gaze. “Is it that...are things getting complicated, between you and Thanatos?”
Zagreus snaps his gaze up, feeling his face heating. He laughs to evaporate some of his tension, realizes that pretending in front of the House’s ever-perceptive guard is a futile endeavor, and then sinks into a heap on the ground. He spreads his arms out and lets the back of his head hit the sandstone floor. “It’s not supposed to be complicated, but yeah, it is.”
Achilles chuckles, and if it were anyone else Zagreus would take offense at being laughed at, but from him it sounds reassuring. He kneels down beside Zagreus’s head. “Relationships, or at least those that truly matter, are rarely simple and straightforward. Friends, family, lovers...I’ve found that the more you care for someone, the more complicated things tend to be between you. If you and Thanatos did not care for one another, you wouldn’t be going to the trouble of sorting things out now, would you?”
“I suppose not,” Zagreus concedes. “But it used to be so easy with him. We enjoyed each other’s company, were always there for each other, and we never thought much about it beyond that. But now...now there are all these confusing feelings muddling things. I think it’s really starting to weigh on Than, I can tell he doesn’t like existing in this undefined space. And I don’t want to play games with him and risk hurting him again, but...I don’t know what to tell him, Achilles. He looks to me for answers and I just don’t have them.”
Achilles hums, deliberating for a moment. “I see your predicament. Strong affection for a friend can be hard to discern from romantic devotion. When you consider your feelings for Thanatos, you truly cannot distinguish them?”
“I -- I care for him, obviously. A lot. I couldn’t imagine my life without him, and he’s always in my thoughts. But I can’t remember a time when that hasn’t been the case, and I don’t understand what’s changed,” Zagreus says, and then flings his arms up and groans. He looks at Achilles, at a loss. “You were friends with Patroclus first, too, right? When did you know that you were in love?”
Achilles’s eyes widen, and he blinks. He apparently wasn’t expecting the topic to turn to him, and Zagreus nearly regrets asking. Even though he’s been reunited with his fallen partner, sometimes Patroclus is still a sensitive subject. But after a pause, Achilles looks down and smiles in fond remembrance of his youth. “Ah, yes. A fair question, lad. I speak as though I am immune to folly, but if you ask Patroclus, he would say I was the greatest fool who ever walked the earth.”
“It’s nice to be in good company, then,” Zagreus laughs.
“Yes. Well. Like you and Thanatos, Pat and I grew up together. When he was a boy, his father had exiled him to Phthia, the land of my birthright. He lived among the other foster boys that my father took in, but he always interested me. I was always...drawn to him. It didn’t take long for me to choose him as my therapon, my companion. We became inseparable, after that.”
“That was when you knew?” Zagreus asks. He is propped up on his elbow now, listening to Achilles’s story with attention.
“No, lad, we were but boys at the time. But certainly, it was the beginning,” Achilles says. “I was very fond of him. He had this humor about him that the other boys lacked, this teasing quality that no one else would have dared to use against a spoiled prince like me. And I suppose that’s why I liked him. He was the only one who was never afraid of me, who saw who I was beyond the title and the divinity and the prophecy, and was himself with me in turn. I could have spent eternity in his company and never tired of him.
“But my mother viewed our bond with scorn. A sea-nymph, she always had a disdain for mortals, and believed that Patroclus was not worthy of my companionship. And so, she sought to separate us so that I would be stripped of any hindrance to my innate godhead. She took me away from Patroclus, sent me from Phthia to Mount Pelion to train with the centaur Chiron.”
“That must have been awful, Achilles,” Zagreus says softly. “And I thought my father was harsh…”
“My experiences do not diminish yours, now, lad. We each have had our struggles,” Achilles says, briefly resting his hand on Zagreus’s shoulder. “Regardless, that would not be the first time my mother tried to sever our bond, for Patroclus came after me. I hoped that he would, but I was not certain, and I waited for him on the foothills of the mountain before joining Master Chiron. But when I saw his face picking through the underbrush, streaked with dirt and sweat, the intensity of the joy and relief that filled my heart could have smote me there. I knew then, like a revelation, that he would always follow me, that we would always be together. I knew what I felt for him then could not be anything but love.”
Zagreus is quiet, letting Achilles’s words hang in the air. He thinks of Thanatos, and how he sought Zagreus out after being left behind. How he would have been well within his rights to scorn him for eternity, to withdraw his friendship the way someone more prideful, like Hades, might have. He thinks of his own assumption that Thanatos was there to punish him under orders when he finally encountered him again, and the confused realization that he had instead taken a great personal risk to offer his help.
Thanatos has always been there for him, yes, but there hadn’t been a threat to that loyalty until Zagreus turned their lives upside-down by leaving. Zagreus’s actions could have separated them forever, but...Thanatos followed him. Thanatos went after him, and now they’re working through this together, because Zagreus can’t lose him, because despite the difficulties Thanatos still wants him, because…
Zagreus stands up, heart thrashing in his chest and fists balled at his sides. He glances at Achilles, blinking up at him in surprise, and says, “Thanks, sir. I think I know what I have to do.”
Achilles stands, brushing his knees and offering an encouraging smile. “Off you go, then. Don’t waste time.”
Zagreus nods, and is gone.
--
The courtyard is like the land after a lightning storm, clear and still in the wake of cataclysmic energy. Achilles chuckles to himself, thinking that in all the time he’s spent training Zagreus to be quick, he’s never seen him move quite so fast.
There is still time to pay a quick visit to Patroclus before his next guard shift picks up. He’s going to want to hear about this, Achilles thinks, as he heads back inside to use the Elder Sigil. He can just imagine the mirth in Patroclus’s dark eyes, picturing the young prince subjected to the unique misery of new love. A lifetime ago, the two of them were the same close companions fumbling with a tension neither of them fully understood. The recollection of the terrifying moment just before he first kissed Patroclus wracks Achilles’s heart with nostalgia.
The Sigil lights up, glowing tendrils spiraling up from his feet, and soon the dingy darkness of the administrative chamber gives way to the pale, clear light of Elysium. Achilles’s sandals wick away the dew clinging to the long grass as he heads for the familiar glade where his love had made a sort of lonely home without him. When he crests the stone bridge over the misting Lethe, he sees Patroclus lying on his back with his hands folded over his stomach.
Achilles cannot help the fear that grips his heart in the moment before his mind makes sense of the sight. He knows that Patroclus cannot die twice, but Achilles will never forget the excruciating despair he felt every time he looked upon Patroclus’s still body in the days after he left him. He had hoped then that his own death would stifle that pain, but the weight of his guilt chased him even into the underworld. For so long, he bore it as the punishment he believed he deserved.
Achilles forces himself to breathe and steps closer. Patroclus’s eyelids flutter in his sleep as Achilles kneels down beside him, and Achilles knows that he will wake if he were to touch him. He takes a moment to look at him, to admire the fine features that are no longer worn down by strife. The ethereal glow of Elysium’s perpetual twilight casts the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, his proud forehead, in a tranquil blue. Achilles extends a hand to stroke his dark hair, his fingertips catching gently in the curls.
Patroclus stirs and blinks up at him, and Achilles can’t help smiling at the miracle. “Sorry to wake you, love,” Achilles says.
“You’re late,” Patroclus mumbles.
“My deepest apologies. There was a matter at the House that required my attention.”
Patroclus sits up, his brows drawn in a stern line. “What’s the matter?”
“Peace, Pat,” Achilles reassures him with a wave of his hand. “It’s nothing so serious. It was about Zagreus, I was worried and thought I would check up on him.”
“Ah, yes. I have noticed that an unusually melancholy air has been accompanying our friend of late. Is he all right?”
“I think he will be,” Achilles says. “Did you know he’s been struggling to navigate a courtship with lord Thanatos?”
Patroclus raises an eyebrow. “You were giving him relationship advice? I hardly think you’re the most qualified authority.”
“I suppose I deserve that,” Achilles chuckles, and leans in to press a kiss to his cheek. “But I do think I helped him. He wanted to know how I first realized the nature of my feelings for you.”
A smile softens Patroclus’s warm eyes. “And what did you say to that?”
“I told him the truth,” Achilles says, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. “That I was always quite fond of you, but when you followed me to Mount Pelion, I knew then that I loved you.”
Patroclus’s palm cups his cheek, still somehow so warm. “Really? That was the moment?” he breathes.
“I knew you would always come for me,” Achilles says, leaning into the touch. “That you would never leave me as long as I needed you. And you never did.” He pauses, closing his eyes. “At least, not until...”
Patroclus hushes him with a soft kiss to his lips. “Don’t torture yourself, Achilles. I am here now, and I will never leave you again.”
Achilles breathes out. “I love you.”
“And I, you,” Patroclus whispers against his cheek before sitting back, regarding him. “You know, you’ve never told me that before.”
“Told you what? About the first time I knew?”
Patroclus nods. “It is news to me. It didn’t feel like love when you tackled me to the ground. I thought I was about to be killed by bandits.”
Achilles rolls his eyes, playfully shoving his shoulder. “I was excited to see you, clearly.”
“Clearly.”
Achilles twines their fingers together and hums. “What about you? When did you name your feelings for me?”
“Such presumption. Who says I have feelings for you?”
“Pat.”
Patroclus laughs at his lover’s dead-eyed stare, then brings their joined hands to his lips to press kisses to Achilles’s knuckles. “When I first heard your singing voice,” he says at length.
“Liar,” Achilles accuses. “That was only weeks after we met. As children, mind you.”
“Maybe so. I have never claimed to be as sentimental as you, Achilles.”
“You’re really not going to tell me?” Achilles huffs.
“I don’t have an answer that would satisfy you. I loved you a little when I first saw you, and it grew the longer I knew you. Isn’t it enough that I love you now?”
Achilles smiles. “It has always been more than enough, Patroclus. My heart.”
Patroclus winds his arms around Achilles’s waist, pulling him close so he can kiss him deeply. After all the time Achilles spent believing he would never get to feel this again, he devotes his whole self to every caress, every embrace, every kiss with his beloved in this new eternity that they share.
The sound of a gate clanging open nearby distracts them from each other, and Achilles stands to look beyond the bridge for the interloper. He hears the shattering of urns and knows that it must be Zagreus.
“Hail, stranger,” Patroclus calls as Zagreus crosses over to the pair.
The prince hops from foot to flaming foot, rolling his shoulders and grinning widely. “Good to see you two,” he says, inclining his head to Achilles.
“You seem to be in rather good spirits,” Patroclus says, searching the satchel where he stashes the health supplements for the benefit of his occasional visitor.
“I am, sir,” Zagreus confirms. “I feel like Atlas, relieved of his burden.”
“I see my Achilles taught you to exaggerate,” Patroclus says, spreading out his offerings for Zagreus to choose from.
Zagreus picks up a fistful of cyclops jerky, tearing off a piece with his teeth. “Well, maybe. Achilles has taught me a lot,” he says when he swallows. Achilles’s eyes are drawn to the prince’s throat, where his gaze catches on —
His eyes snap to Patroclus, who refuses to look at him, and judging by that alone Achilles knows that he sees it too.
Zagreus strides off on his way to pummel Elysium’s champions, proudly displaying the answer that he’s finally found.