Chapter Text
Achilles frowned as Zagreus offered him yet another bottle of nectar, pushing it away gently as he worked through a reply. “Look, lad, it's not that I don't appreciate such a kind offer-”
“But you don't view me that way,” Zagreus finished for him.
“No, I'm afraid not,” the warrior confirmed, guilt curling in his chest as he thought back to the Trojan War. “My heart belonged to another in life, and still does in death. I could not give it to you properly, even if I wanted to.”
Zagreus nodded, stowing the nectar away somewhere on his person once more. “I understand, sir. And… I think I had guessed that anyway. Do they work here in the house as well?”
“No, and I am glad they do not.”
The reply came out harsher than intended, watching Zagreus seem to shy in on himself slightly before the prince spoke up again.
“Are you aware of anything about the Champion or Elysium, sir?”
Achilles properly tensed at that, remembering the news he'd received. “Nothing of it, no. Why do you ask?”
“Ah, he defeated me during my latest escape attempt, that's all,” Zagreus explained, pointing at his chest. “Got me right here with his spear. Excellent form, mind you.”
Achilles let out a hum in response, watching as the boy started to walk off before turning back to him.
“You wouldn't happen to know about anyone who goes by the name of ‘Skelly’, perchance?”
A short huff of laughter escaped Achilles unbidden, amused by Zagreus' seemingly ever working mind. “Not in the slightest, lad.”
Zagreus shrugged, a grin beamed at his mentor. “Oh well, worth a try. Guess I'll ask Nyx then. Have a good day, sir! Or night, not particularly sure which one it is right now.”
Achilles nodded respectfully to the other as he ran back off out through the Main Hall, turning to glimpse his reflection once more in the mirror behind him.
Zagreus had been handing him plenty more nectar over his past few visits back here, and Achilles had drunk them all, curious to see the extent of how it could affect him, also aware it would be rude to not enjoy such a scarce and precious gift.
More scales had grown through his translucent flesh, mostly lining his neck and the angles of his face but a few had been scattered across the rest of his body.
His mother's blood made a resurgence the more he drank, willing his godly heritage to the surface even in death.
He should stop drinking… but he needed to be stronger to eventually escape the House of Hades and go find Patroclus.
And finally resolve what was going on.
[Meanwhile]
Patroclus stayed in the arena long after his fight had ended, slumped down onto the floor with his shield and spear resting in front of him.
Asterius sat beside him, a pale of water between them, gently cleaning the champion of dirt and blood.
“He was a strong challenger,” Asterius commented at one point, Patroclus flinching in his grip as a deep cut on his bicep was washed out.
Because although the stranger had gone down quickly, he had put up a tough fight.
“Please take a break now,” Asterius reminded gently as he then helped Patroclus to his feet, supporting the shorter man slightly as they began to limp back towards the chambers within the coliseum.
Patroclus turned wearily at the rhythmic thunk of the arena doors opening, gaze sliding reluctantly over the cloaked figure standing at the entrance to the battleground.
“No more challengers, no,” slipped past his lips as a weak protest, too fatigued from his previous back to back fights to stand another after having reconciled to taking a break. “Please, come back some other time if you still wish to fight.”
“I am not here to fight,” the cloaked figure called over, voice surprisingly less rugged than he would expect from anyone visiting his arena. “I merely wish to speak with you, Patroclus.”
“State your business then leave,” Asterius grunted, hand curling tighter around Patroclus in preparation to protect him if needed.
A sigh was followed by the hood lowering from the cloak, and if Patroclus still had a heartbeat it would have stopped.
“Briseis,” Patroclus breathed, ignoring his aches and pains as he ran to her, shuddering out a sob as her embrace wrapped around him. “I saw it, I saw you die, and I-”
“We'll have plenty of time to talk,” Briseis interrupted, but not unkindly. “For now, I believe your… friend was about to help you settle down and recover.”
~•~
It led to the three of them back in Patroclus' chambers, Briseis running a hand over the indented tallies on the wall while Asterius rummaged around for some bandages.
Patroclus was leaning heavily against her side while she thumbed at the marks for a moment longer before leading him to settle on his bed.
“I didn't think you'd-”
“What? Make it into Elysium? Assumed I'd be cast lower than that?” Briseis snapped before inhaling and levelling her voice out. “Sorry. I- it's been a long journey.”
Journey? Did that mean she wasn't here originally? Was that why she was being so defensive?
“No apologies are needed,” Patroclus assured, hissing as he tried to lower himself. “Damn.”
She glanced down at him as she leant back against the wall beside his bed. “You're going to want tight bandages for the injuries around your middle. That's not deep enough to kill but it's inconvenient nonetheless.”
“It's not as if death is permanent anymore, but yes, I agree,” Patroclus replied, bracing an arm against the wall to keep himself upright as Asterius came back over and started dutifully wrapping the wound. “Thank you, my friend.”
Asterius rumbled out a ‘no problem’ as Briseis said a short ‘it's fine’, her gaze flickering questioningly over the two of them after they overlapped.
“You have a lot of explaining to do after you've healed,” she said, voice numb and detached as one hand tightened its grip on the sword buckled to her waist.
Patroclus gritted his teeth, the disconnect between the woman he remembered and the one before him glaringly obvious and somewhat off-putting. “So do you.”