Chapter Text
+*+*+*
He laid awake in their tent, though the goddess Artemis had already almost finished her journey across the night sky. His side felt cold, the puzzle piece, which fit perfectly against him, missing. In the darkness Achilles could just make out the silhouette of Patroclus, where he laid in a heap of pillows.
When he had come back from a day's worth of pillaging the villages closest to their camp, he had already found him like this. The pillows laid close to the tent's entrance, where they would eat and drink if it was not for the busy life they lived during war. Some days Achilles woke up and imagined they were still on Mount Pelion, far away from prying eyes. Reality was harsh and always came crashing down on him just moments later. For all the glory, when he laid awake at night he could not even feel the divinity flowing through his veins.
His eyes settled back onto the sleeping body, right there, yet so far away. There was a streak of mud on Patroclus cheek, as well as caked under his fingernails. At least it looked like mud in the black of night. Achilles knew better, for it was blood. Not his own, but those from fellow soldiers. Not won in a fight for death, but in a fight for life.
Achilles was a warrior, a man who saw death on the battlefield countless of times, most caused by his own hands. Sometimes he wondered if Patroclus did not see more death, worst death, when he spent his days helping in the medical tent. If it was true, he did not seem scared of it. Disappointed when another life was wasted, yes, but not scared.
Patroclus wasn't a warrior in the same sense that Achilles was. He looked awkward in heavy armor, the wind from the chariot brought him off balance and did not help him guide his spear. The few times Patroclus had come onto the battleground with them, out of pressure or the own need to see it for himself, Achilles had always made sure to keep him safe, keep him far away from harms way for this were not the battles Patroclus fought.
He was still a fighter, a man capable of killing. Achilles had seen it first hand, gods it was the whole reason they had even met. Patroclus was strongest if he could use his fists, his feet, his entire body to fight. He did not always come out on top, not in fights in the most literal way, where one fought for his life, his honor or simply to show he was not one to belittle, but also not in those fight which left blood under his fingernails from pressing down on wounds.
He thought back to a time long before share beds and whispers in the dark, back to when all there was between them were disdained snarls and harsh glares.
+*+*+*
How could a single person be so irritating? Patroclus grit his teeth as he scooted just a little further down the bench, towards the end of the table. Anything to get some distance between himself and the prince.
He couldn't keep the scowl from his face as his eyes traced the other boys. If the moved just a little closer they would sit in prince Achilles's lap. Patroclus' teeth sank into another grape. To his disapointment it was just as bland as those before it.
There wasn't much he missed from his old life, the life before all of this. The things he did miss, those were the ones most dear to him.
One was restful sleep. He must have been cursed by Hypnos for he could not remember the last time he slept peacefully. No matter how tired he was the moment his eyes fell shut the same images started to flash before him, of bloody dice, a smashed in face, almost unrecognizable where it laid motionless, blood thick under his fingernails. When he awoke in the middle of the night he always expected to still find traces of it glued to his fingers.
He also missed his mother, not matter how distant she could become. There were fond memories, which he tried to grasp in those sleepless hours. As the days passed in the palace of Phthia Patroclus could feel those memories becoming fuzzier around the edges, losing the sharpness they once held in his mind. The tasteless grapes were another indicator of how much life was different here than it had been back home.
Home. A funny word now. Patroclus wasn't even sure where that was anymore. Not in Opus. Not here, in the cold walls of king Peleus palace. Maybe there was no home for him anymore, maybe this was the cruelest way for the gods to punish him. Not ignore him and all his prayers, but keep away even the most gentle goddess of them all. If Hestia had ever kept an eye on him, he was now too far away from any hearth Patroclus might call comforting for her to ever show him a home again.
"What is it, Menotius? Are the grapes not sweet enough?"
Achilles voice rang through the hall, echoing of its walls. The other boys snorted, staring up at the prince, waiting for him to notice them. Patroclus could just roll his eyes at their stupidity. It was clear as day that prince Achilles only had eyes for himself.
"I think he believes himself to deserve better." One boy giggled, his accent clearly from further south. It was almost with satisfaction that Patroclus saw how Achilles flared his nose in irritation at the boys comment.
"If he believes, so I should remind him that he is no longer a prince."
"What do you know about it."
"Nothing, but just know the blood flowing through your veins has no status anymore."
But the blood under your nails does. A tiny voice at the back of Patroclus head whispered.
+*+*+*
He did not register the clattering of his sword against the pavement until Nico was already kneeling in front of Will. He couldn't even remember letting go of it at one point. The words of Pasiphaë still loudly rang in Nico's ears as he lifted his shaking hands to touch the pulse point on the other's wrist.
With a sigh of relief, he noted that it was going normal. There was a silent rage bubbling under his skin, waiting to boil over. Gritting his teeth, trying to keep himself calm, Nico reluctantly left Will's side for just a moment to retrieve his sword.
The heavy pounding in his ears echoed his fast heart beat. Like war drums calling for battle. As his fingers tightened around the handle of his sword Nico thought for a moment to summon a group of skeletons, order them to find the witch for him. Never before had someone escaped him like this, so effortlessly, without him even putting up a fight. The feeling of failure tried to claw its way up his throat. Nico swallowed the sour feeling in his throat. There was no time to feel guilty when Will needed him.
He kneeled down in front of his boyfriend again, scanning him for any other injuries. There was dirt stuck under his nails, the same dusty color that covered the whole abandoned town. The sound of Will's voice calling out to him reappeared in his head. Nico could almost picture how Pasiphaë had surprised him from behind, hidden by her magic fog. She had bewitched him, it was the only possible explanation. Some sort of sleep draught. Nico wished for his sister Hazel to be here. She was a lot better with all things magic than he was.
When the sleepiness had set in, Will had lost his balance, stumbled to their car, maybe to find something he could help with, but he must have passed out before. In Nico's mind he had scrambeled over the dirty ground with his hands, trying to find a grip on reality before passing out. He might even have called out to him again, but he hadn't heard.
Nico didn't even realize he had maneuvered Will into the passenger seat until he himself set down behind the wheel, libs heavy and exhaustion pulling at his brain. The heavy feeling of guilt clung to his every move. Suddenly his sword felt heavy again, pulling at his hip.
Under his eyelids, Will's eyes were twitching. Back and forth, back and forth. By now the sun had gone down, long shadows stretched over the empty street. Nico needed to find them a place to stay. Fast. He drove for two hours before he finally could make out the glittering lights of a bigger city in the distance.
Next to him Will groaned. Immidietly Nico's eyes were on him, shadows and lights alternatingly flashing over his sun kissed features. Even in winter, his boyfriend managed to look like they came fresh from Spain.
"Will! Can you hear me? Are you ok?" He desperately wanted to reach over, shake him, do something. He knew better, keeping his hands on the wheel, eyes fixed on the street. Another groan. From the corner of his eyes, he could make out Will blinking open his eyes, carefully moving to sit up right.
"Slow down, will you," Nico exclaimed, worry lacing his voice. His heart jumped with relief when Will chuckled at him, eyes fully trained on him as if nothing had ever happened.
"How are you feeling?"
Will hadn't said a word yet, and Nico was starting to worry if Pasiphaë's spell might have sight effects. Maybe Will lost his voice, or memory, or something else was wrong.
"Like a truck drove over him, so pretty much like every normal work day. Where are we exactly?"
A sigh of relief and exhaustion Nico couldn't keep in passed his lips. If Will could still joke around it couldn't be all to bad.
"No clue. After Pasiphaë left I didn't know what to do, kind of panicked to be honest. I just thought that I should perhaps find us a place to sleep.. I wasn't sure if you would wake up-"
"Hey, I get it." Will claimed. "So what? Pasiphaë just left after she knocked me out? Seems like a waste of time, don't you think?"
Interesting. It seems there are souls that always find their way back to each other.'
Everyone always talks about the calm before the storm, but I want you to think about the deafening silence that follows after the storm has passed. When it comes, it will swallow you whole.
Those had been the witches last words. They seemed important, like something bigger was hidden behind them. So why couldn't Nico get himself to tell Will about them?
"Uh- yeah...she just...left, I don't remember much, was too worried about you." If Nico saw the skeptical look Will was giving him, he pointedly ignored it.
"Where you dreaming under the spell? Your eyes were twitching."
Will furrowed his eyebrows in concentration, fingers tapping the outer side of his thighs. His eyes were fixed on the road ahead. By now they had reached the city. Nico hadn't even realized they had passed into Maryland until he read the road sign welcoming them into Baltimore.
"I dreamed about something, a fight between two boys... It's all fuzzy..." Will looked lost, clearly trying to remember but comming up blank. Nico just nodded, staying quiet for now.
"Over there." Nico turned his head to see where Will was pointing. It was a tiny hotel, built in between two tall skyscrapers. It looked almost laughable with how short it was compared. The front was painted a warm shade of green. Over the door it said Hotel Of Plenty in golden letters. Underneath stood a phrase in Latin: Fortuna caeca est.
"You think they might still have a bed for us?" Will asked, while Nico parked the car.
There was a weird feeling in his stomach, but it was late, and his guard was already fragile from today's events, so Nico chose to trust the fates that not everything was out to get them.
"It won't hurt to ask, will it?"