Chapter Text
Orpheus was running for his life.
Orpheus was running for his life alongside one of his least favorite people.
Orpheus was running for his life alongside Heracles.
Now, if you asked Orpheus exactly what they were running from, or why he was with Heracles, he couldn’t tell you. Orpheus’s mind was rarely free of the effect of the lotus, especially recently, it kept him from thinking too much.
Orpheus had failed. The Ulysses job had gone off perfectly, but still Orpheus had failed in a way he couldn’t express.
Orpheus knew exactly where his trouble began. The three Suits that had already finished their parts had been staring at Ariadne as she awkwardly explained that she was aromantic, and her affection for Theseus had been fake. No one had been watching Ulysses as they crawled towards the vault and punched in the code “ELYSIUM”.
And the vault swung open, Daedalus stepped out of the shadows, and the four Suits stared in awe.
None of them had much of an idea of what they were looking at. Orpheus had a vague idea, it seemed like the type of thing Eurydice or Narcissus would talk about for hours on end.
Daedalus had stuttered a shocked explanation as Orpheus tried to memorize every part of the meadow before him, he hadn’t been listening. He knew it was the last part of the natural world, and he knew that it was beautiful.
Ulysses had entered the vault and was lying under the largest tree in the center by this point. Next to them was a disturbed mound of dirt, just the right size for a body.
Something had to be done with the bodies of those who died a natural death, Orpheus realized, and he knew where Penelope had ended up.
‘Oh, gods dammit,’ Daedalus had cursed, ‘make sure that door stays open and I'll increase all of your pay.’
Daedalus had stormed off into the vault, grabbed Ulysses, and spent several minutes trying to drag them back out.
Meanwhile, the suits were very conscious of the door. But they were as fascinated by the vault’s contents as they were with being paid, and came to a silent agreement that three would watch the door as the fourth looked inside. Heracles had even stepped inside, although he quickly stepped back out as if touching a hot stove.
Eventually, Ulysses and Daedalus were out of the vault, and the door swung back closed.
With a bit of indignant muttering, especially concerning Ariadne, Daedalus had handed each of the suits their pay, and shooed them away.
The four had turned to go without their typical fight, leaving Daedalus and Ulysses outside the vault alone.
Orpheus went straight home, he’d planned to use the money to immediately get Eurydice back, but he just felt like he couldn’t. The vault was a natural thing, a natural state that promised a natural end. Everything the acheron didn’t offer. Bringing someone back was cold and against nature and he couldn’t do it. Would Eurydice even want this anyway? He loved her but could his love, the truest, most natural emotion, drive him to bring her back in such a cold way? Could he make her everything she had hated? And what about Narcissus? He was sure he loved Narcissus just as much, although he was also sure he loved Narcissus platonically, he was only right about one of those things. Narcissus was still alive but unnaturally and if he could just get him out of that place, he wouldn’t be. It seemed unfair to Narcissus if he were to prioritize his best friend’s life which had not yet ended after his dead lover.
Orpheus had cried himself to sleep that night.
And after he’d woken up, he came up with an (admittedly, drug addled) plan.
He forged a note from a mysterious patron who wanted to hire the suits to destroy Medea Asylum, freeing everyone inside it, and attached all the money he’d gotten from the Ulysses job.
Then he set about getting the other three back together (with Ulysses for good measure).
He was, admittedly, very high when the actual job went down, he remembered Oedipus acting weird about the whole thing, Heracles had been trying to antagonize a hungover Ulysses, and Ariadne had snuck into the building dressed as a nurse in order to short-circuit the building’s locks.
Last thing he remembered, they’d been running from a fire one of them had started, then Orpheus had blacked out for the rest of the night.
He woke up in Ariadne’s guest bedroom. He’d watched the news intently that day, so had Oedipus. Narcissus wasn’t among the identified dead — but he wasn’t among the identified survivors either. Whoever Oedipus was looking out for seemed to be a similar case.
It had been three weeks since that day. Three blurry, lotus-filled, weeks which he didn’t remember clearly.
Only that he’d spent a large chunk of them running for his life alongside Heracles, on a bunch of stupid (and illegal) errands for the city’s elite.
Orpheus really thought that it’d be just another one of those days as the two of them ran past an alleyway.
And a hand reached out and pulled Orpheus to it.
This must be the end, Orpheus had decided, he didn’t try to struggle, this seemed like a fitting way to go out.
Heracles had turned to realize Orpheus wasn’t there just as Orpheus found himself pressed up against the chest of whoever had pulled him close.
Orpheus looked up to see a familiar set of blue eyes, blonde hair and affectionate smile and his heart skipped a beat — Narcissus.