Chapter Text
Virgil jumped awake at the sudden angry chanting. He wasn’t quite sure when he went to sleep, or if the encounter with Roman was real or just a weird dream he had. But as he walked into the living room and saw the torn floorboards and curtain, the reality of it all came flooding back to him.
He couldn’t believe he had kicked an ex-demigod out of his home. If Patton were here, he’d be scolding him for his manners right about now. He could just hear his voice- ‘I can’t believe you denied him protection! He may have messed up, but he made a mistake! Surely he’s worthy of a second chance?”
Stop it, you idiot, He thought, starting to take away his barricade as he could see some people from the town outside his window. You’re gonna look pathetic in front of the villagers.
He pulled a chair down from in front of his door and sat at the kitchen window, watching as the villagers slowly made their way in his direction. He thought again about telling them all about his visit yesterday. It would be all too easy to let them know and be done with it. Suddenly, however, Patton’s voice came to his head again.
‘You’d really let him die after all he’s been through? That’s a little harsh, dontcha think?’ He held his head in his hands, trying to block out the voice.
“I don’t care, Patton, and besides, you’re not even here for me to-” he paused, looking out at the villagers as a sudden idea came to him.
The crowd reached his door and banged on it, causing him to instinctively flinch. Most of the barricade was gone; all he had to do was scoot a table or two out of the way before opening the door. “This is about Roman, isn’t it?” He asked, leaning against the doorframe. “What, are you guys planning to burn him alive?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of beheading,” a woman at the front of the crowd said. Virgil rubbed his throat and frowned. A bit too new-school for his taste. He supposed such were the hazards of living in a town like Artenae, where Logan was honored and thus villagers tended to admire novel innovations for doing the same thing a different way. Like giant head-cutting machines.
“Maybe… instead of beheading the son of a god…” he said slowly, like talking to a toddler. “We ask Roman to bring back the souls of those who died?”
“Like Pat-”
“Can we not speak about Patton?” He snapped.
The angry mob shrank back a little, and stared in silence at him. Virgil sighed.
“Look, all I’m saying is that instead of punishing him, we put him to good use? The gods have given us a demigod and, even though he’s not the best at what he does-” he gestured to the village, smoldering and broken- “clearly- he’s still a demigod, and he’s here. How many other towns could say the same?”
“...not many,” a man muttered. “But he’s mortal now! This task would be nearly impossible and... harrowing...” he stopped as realization hit him hard.
“Do you get what I’m saying?” Virgil nodded slowly. “He’s done his 12 labors. I think he can do one more.”
Slowly, the mob nodded their head in unison. Murmurs began to ripple around the crowd.
“He’d surely die in the process…”
“The gods will see it as another test for him…”
“Our hands would be clean…”
“Great,” he said sarcastically. “Glad you all came to your senses. Now we need to find him and bring him back alive.” He narrowed his eyes at one particular man with a moustache, who was busy sharpening a knife. Said man scowled at him and pocketed the weapon.
“But Virgil! He could be anywhere by now!”
Virgil looked around the crowd, then flicked his eyes over to where he’d last seen the demigod sneaking off.
“I’d bet you anything he’s still close by,” he said finally. The gods sent him here for a reason, so he’s not going to go far. Check the forests, I’m sure he’s hiding out somewhere.”
The crowd started off towards the forest, most of them still holding their pitchforks. “And uh... don’t scare him,” he adds. “He’s still got his super strength and he’s still...himself.”
Some people dropped their pitchforks, but most kept them close to their person. The crowd split up and started searching through the forest.
Virgil watched them go for a while, then stepped back and shut his door. He paused, took a deep breath, and headed back to his room. In the corner of his dresser, there was an old painting in a wooden frame hidden beneath other odds and ends that had collected over the years. He reached for it, hesitated, and picked it up. Patton and himself smiled at him from the frame.
He focused more than ever on Patton’s dimples, his curly blonde hair and the freckles that were dusted across his cheeks and nose. Patton’s sky blue eyes stared back at him, and he wished more than ever that he was actually here with him again. Virgil would give anything to hear one of his stupid dad jokes or get a hug attack one last time.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. “Soon,” he muttered, remembering a phrase Patton used to tell him all the time. “Just keep your head up, and things will all get better soon.”
He put the picture back on his dresser and fell onto his bed, pulling the covers up over his head. Tears began to leak out of his eyes and he rubbed them away hastily. When Patton had died, it took Virgil forever to accept the fact that he’d never see him again. Now, with Roman here, there was hope that that might not be the case.
He didn’t know which one was worse.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Roman had finally found a decent cave for the night; thought the bad news was it was too close to the village for comfort. In his defense, his toga made him stand out amongst all the shrubbery, and he was certain those villagers would hunt him down easily if he stayed out in the open for too long.
He was in the middle of dragging old dead branches and leaves to disguise his hideout when he heard footsteps. He froze.
Demigods have naturally good hearing, as well as all other senses. The people weren’t terribly close yet, but by the sounds of it they were approaching quickly. Roman looked around frantically, searching for a place to hide until they passed. He ducked behind a shrub just as a small group of people came into view.
“You search the cave,” the leader of this group said, “Anatole and I will search the rest of the area.”
Shit, Roman thought. He didn’t have his shapeshifting ability anymore, so he couldn’t disguise himself as a squirrel or poison ivy bush. He knew he’d have to think fast, but he wasn’t the best at thinking when he was under pressure.
Maybe he was faster than the villagers. His mortal body didn’t have nearly as much speed and strength as the one one used on Olympus, but some of that had to carry over, right? Perhaps, if he just got up and bolted, he could lose them behind a tree or something.
Nodding to himself, he got up on his toes, still squatting behind the shrub, counting to himself as the villagers’ footsteps grew closer. One… two… three! He sprang up, meaning to bolt for the denser forest cover, took three steps, and ran right into one of the villagers.
The villager fell back, looking a little stunned. “Hey, watch where you’re- oh. Oh wait! Guys, I found him!” He took hold of Roman’s wrist, in hopes of keeping him in place.
Roman, however, had other ideas. He squirmed out of the villager’s grasp and turned on him, puffing out his chest. “How DARE you try and capture a demigod like that. Honestly- I know you’re out for me, but grabbing me by the wrist? Where’s the respect, the chase I deserve-”
He was cut off as another villager took both his wrists from behind, held them against his back, and shoved a pitchfork to the back of his neck.
“Drop the attitude and walk, Roman.” The leader instructed. In all his years of living, Roman had never felt so humiliated. He really had no other choice but to follow directions, however, as the pitchfork was pressed against the back of his neck with more force. “Don’t try and start a conversation, either. We have no interest in talking with a scum like you.”
They walked in silence out of the woods, through the village, and toward a familiar looking house. Roman recognized it and his mouth flung open of its own accord. “Hold on, he did not-”
“We said shut up,” the villager behind him snarled, shoving him forward. Roman stumbled over his feet but caught himself, shaking his head as the villager led him to the house he’d tried to take refuge in just hours before.
One of the other villagers from the group knocked on the door again. There was a few minutes where nothing happened; those, of which, were a little awkward. The demigod could easily escape in all honesty, if he wanted too, but at the same time, it would make him look worse than he already was and the villagers probably could catch him now that he was out in the open.
He was, however, preparing a very angry rant in his head for the little man that sold him out with ease.
Virgil opened the door, finally, and couldn’t help but smile the tiniest bit at seeing the sight before him. “Oh, you’re back.”
“Yeah, against my will,” Roman spat back. “If I’d have known you were gonna rat me out like this I would’ve just killed you on the spot-”
“Save it, Princey,” Virgil cut in, turning around and walking further into his house. The guards followed, dragging Roman with them. Then he turned, nodded, and the villagers finally released their hold on the demigod and left the house, shutting the door behind them.
“Why would you do that, anyways? You said if I tried to stay in here again, you would rat me out, so I left you alone and yet-”
“Why do you think they brought you here?” He asked, staring up at the taller man.
“...to gloat at me before I die…?”
“No, you idiot, I told them to spare you. In case you didn’t know, they literally wanted your head on a silver platter. But I gave them a better idea.”
“...my entire body on a silver platter?”
Virgil rolled his eyes. “You flatter yourself.”
Roman gave him an incredulous look. “You’re saying you’re not going to kill me.”
“Yeah, that’s way too much work. And the consequences from the gods-” Virgil shuddered. “No, we’re going to put you to good use instead.”
“What, do you want me to rebuild the buildings that got destroyed? Ha! And here I thought you mortals would-”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Virgil said, his tone making the sudden hope fade from Roman’s mind. “I get that you’re not used to this whole ‘death’ thing, but your fire caused half the village to die that night. You really think we’d be that pissed because you burnt down a few buildings? Buildings can be rebuilt. Humans can’t.”
“Soooooo,” Roman said, drawing out the word as he tried to comprehend this little guy’s proposition. “You want me to rebuild… people. Do you know how this mortal stuff works-”
“No you-!” he appeared to want to just strangle Roman on the spot, having to take a few deep breaths in order to talk again. “You,” He said at last. “Are going to go down to the underworld, and get back all the souls of this village. Everyone who died that night went too soon. But if you can get them back, you will have our respect.”
For the first time since he’d been forced into the house against his own will, Roman looked nervous. He grasped at his hands and stared at the floor. “Uh- haha, yeah, I’d love to. Only… I don’t think you understand how the underworld works. See, once you’re over there, it’s very difficult to-”
“Are you saying you can’t do it?” Virgil challenged, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.
“Of course I can!” Roman shot back, drawing himself up to his full height again. “It’s just that… well, I’m going to need some time… and- and probably some serious help, supplies-wise…”
“I’m not saying you can’t get the help. But… to make this interesting… you have two months to get our souls back.”
“T-two months?!” Roman stuttered. “Wh-bu- I don’t even know the names of everyone who died!”
Virgil smirked. “Hadees does.”
“Wh- yeah, okay, I guess I could just stroll on into the Underworld and have a chat with the God of the Dead then.”
“Precisely.”
“I was being sarcastic. You say I don’t know death? You don’t know Hadees. The dude is possessive of all the new souls who enter. He has this whole thing where he won’t let a soul go unless you strike a deal or bet with him first. That kind of bitch.”
He shrugged. “Not my problem.”
Roman wanted to scream out of frustration.
“Well, getting your people back for you is not my problem, either.”
Virgl rolled his eyes. “We both know that’s not true. You’re not getting back up to Olympus until you earn our respect, and you’re not earning our respect until you’ve given back what you took. So what’s it gonna be? Two months to get back our lost souls, or ten minutes to run and hide while I go get the priest and tell him the hunt is back on for your head?”
He knew that, in the whole scheme of things, getting back the lost souls was fair trade. His pride and ego, however, were causing him to currently curse like a sailor before sticking out a hand. “Fine. Whatever. Two months.”
Virgil nodded. “Two months. We’ll give you whatever you need as long as you get those people back. And if you fail, you’re at the mercy of the angry mob out there.”
“And if I succeed, you put a statue of me in the middle of your town square?”
“In your dreams, Princey.”
Roman huffed. “Fine. Deal.”
Virgil shook his hand, feeling some weird kind of energy pass through him. “What was that?”
Roman took his own hand back, flexing it as though shaking out a cramp. “Making a deal with a demigod- or god, for that matter- is serious business. It’s more than legally binding, it’s… well, it’s mortally binding. If either of us fails, to hold up our end of the bargain, we- you know-” he mimed taking a knife to his own throat. “Been a while since I’ve made one, I forgot what it felt like.”
“...ah, okay. So you could potentially kill me, too?”
“You have no faith in me,” he accused. Hoping Virgil would at least try and deny it.
“None whatsoever.”
Roman sighed. “I guess that’s fair. Considering the circumstances.” He paused, thinking hard, then stood up straight again, a grin on his face that Virgil took as a bad sign.
“I guess I should get to work then. And since you’re obligated to give me everything I need-” Virgil glared at him- “I think, in order to go, I’m gonna need a couple dollars for the trip. And one large meal. You know what they say, heroes are what they eat and all.”
“I hate you.” Virgil growled, going into his room and coming back with thirty drachmas. He tossed them at Roman as if he were a stripper.
Roman collected them hurriedly as Virgil passed by, making his way out the door.
“Where are you going?” he called, still grinning.
“If you are what you eat,” Virgil muttered, “I’m going out to get the biggest pig I can find.”
“Sounds divine!” Roman hummed, much to the annoyance of the mortal.