Archive of Our Own

The House of Hades, once a place of business and bustle, has become a playground despite its master’s deepest intentions. When Achilles arrives, holding his boisterous daughter’s hand, Hades releases his regular aggrieved sigh. As the most reckless of the children that his queen was determined to support, Philia Patroclione brings her fair share of trouble, so he’s expecting her normal chipper greeting.

Hi, Grandpa Hades, she’ll call, smiling brightly. Where’s Grandma Nini? Nini, she calls his beloved wife, because ‘Persephone’ was just ‘too hard’ for a baby, he supposes! She’s even got the other one, the boy of the musician, doing it! He’d correct her crass address, except Persephone loves it! Look Hades, she always coos. I’m Grandma Nini! How charming! How it hasn’t worn out its welcome is beyond him.

Luckily, Zagreus isn’t here- he lacks patience to deal with ‘Uncle Zag’ and his shenanigans today. He isn’t stupid- he’s seen the boy mock him, pretending to be ‘Evil Overlord Hades’ while gleefully chasing them around. Really, they should all be grateful that this is what Persephone wants so badly, because if it were him, they’d all be banished to their respective realms to make as much noise as they desire!

When Achilles finally makes his way to the desk, he bows, and Philia bows behind him. She’s at his mid-thigh now, curls to her shoulder blades- grown a little more, then. He steels himself for the excessive positivity.

“Hello, Grandpa Hades.”

It’s quite… subdued. Hades is almost- almost- tempted to ask what is wrong with the child, that she’s not happy to see him. Has he somehow not honored the social agreement that calls for the excited greeting? Whatever. He grunts in reply, and watches Achilles give the child a hug and kiss before she runs back to the private garden that he kept for his wife and now it’s a nursery for children-

He takes a deep breath. It’s not his problem. Just focus on signing these forms.

“Next,” he barks, determined not to let anything else distract him. The child’s worries were for her fathers to deal with.

Sometimes, Kairos doesn’t want to play- he just wants to focus on his music. When this happens, he knows Phi will find something else to do. She might dance and sing along, swirling around really fast across the garden, or she’ll play to the adventures she makes in her head. Philia is really good at coming up with stories, and one day maybe she could act in the plays that Mommy told them about!

I can be anybody I wanna be in the plays? And everyone has to watch me? she’d asked Mommy, eyes wide with excitement, and Mommy nodded.

Uh-huh! His Mommy is so smart, she knows everything! I mean, in my day, they were only letting the men do it, but… I don’t see why we can’t change that!

Ever since then, she’s been hard at work. Kairos is even her musician now! Once, she gave him a piggyback ride all over the House to help fight monsters and travel the ‘seas’. Kairos was so inspired that he asked Papa to help him come up with a ‘duet’, so now they have what Papa calls a ‘theme song’!

Anyway, they share everything together- they’re best friends and they love each other very much!

So when Phi slowly sidles up to Kairos and flops on the ground with a big huff, something about it makes his tummy feel weird. Usually, Phi will tackle him, followed by asking about his latest music practice, or tell him about her newest stories. Next, they’ll run around the House until Grandpa Hades tells them to stop, and then they’ll keep going because Phi’s not afraid of anything!

This just isn’t right!

It makes him sad- he was excited to see her today. When she doesn’t move, just staring up at the ceiling full of Auntie Nyx’ stars, Kairos finally pokes her, sheepishly folding his hands when she slowly turns.

“Do you want to play?” he whispers.

“No. I’m sleepy today.”

“Oh.” Kairos wants to cry, it’s so disappointing. Is this how Phi feels when he doesn’t want to play? “I’m sorry. But you looked happy when your Daddy dropped you off- I saw you.”

“I’m thinking. I didn’t want Daddy to know what I was thinking about.”

“Is it a surprise?”

Philia sits up, pursing her lips. “I don’t think so. It’s not a lie, though, I don’t think! Lies are bad, Papa said so!”

This makes sense to Kairos- Mommy said the same thing about not telling the truth.

“Well, if it’s not a lie, I think it’s okay to think without telling, then. What are you thinking about?”

There’s a moment of pause, where Philia looks around herself, and leans closer to whisper to Kairos.

“I had a really scary dream, and I have to do something about it. It makes me not want to play today- I have to think!”

Philia has a sad look on her face- Kairos doesn’t like it. Phi would usually tell him what the dream was about, but she’s not saying anything!

“Mommy says bad dreams are just dreams,” he tries.

“But it’s not just a dream!”

“But you just said it was a dream!”

“But- it’s different!” Philia throws her hands to the ground, before folding them around herself in anger. “Never mind! I don’t wanna talk about it anymore!”

They sit there for a little while, side by side, unsure what to do. Kairos sniffles a little, but he wipes away his tears and grabs his lyre. Mommy and Daddy once told him that sometimes strong emotions can be good for music, and it makes him feel better to strum. He starts to pluck at the strings, adding more to the melody in his head. Phi doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t leave either. Eventually, Kairos tries again.

“I made up a new song. It’s about my Mommy’s cooking. She made a pom soup.”

Philia’s pout loosens, and she side eyes him. “Was it a good pom soup?”

“It was! Everything my Mommy makes is good!”

“I believe you!” Finally, Philia holds out her pinky. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. Are we friends still?”

Relieved, Kairos links his pinky with hers. “Yes!”

As he sings his ballad about the pom soup, Philia lays back down and closes her eyes. It would scare him, but she’s smiling- he hopes she figures out what’s making her sad so they can play again soon.

Philia’s eyes hurt. She’s so, so sleepy, and it’s making her angry. Stupid ‘not-dream’ dream! She just wants to figure out what she’s supposed to do so that she can go back to playing! Instead, her cheeks hurt from always pretending to be happy, because if she doesn’t everyone will ask what’s wrong, and if they tell Papa or Daddy they’re going to try to stop her. They get sad about her sometimes, she’s seen it, and she doesn’t want them to know, because she knows this will make them really sad. She can figure this out! With that, she closes her eyes and hums Daddy’s song until she falls asleep.

The same place. The big room with walls so tall that they become the ceiling. She’d once asked Papa why the River Styx was red, and he told her that it was blood. This room is so covered in blood that the river must flow through it, must splash in here, because what else is it from?

With a sigh, she pushes herself up. The first time this happened, she fell over her own body. She’s bigger in this dream, her legs and hair much longer than they are when she wakes up. She can see herself in the sea of red. Her curls flicker, sometimes deep brown, sometimes bright gold, and her eyes glow an eerie green like the butterflies. Her clothes and body are covered with blood, and when she licks her lips, they taste salty and gross.

Where is it, she wonders, looking around. It always appears… now. The sharp stick rises from a puddle. She doesn’t have a name for this- it’s not like the ones that Daddy and Papa have, where it’s a stick with a small pointy end. This one is longer, and it has a small handle just big enough for her hand.

This is where her stomach always falls, and she feels really sick. No matter how many times Philia tries not to be, even though Papa tells her it’s okay, Philia doesn’t like being afraid. Papa and Daddy need to be here, they need to make sure she’s not scared!

“Papa!” she cries, spinning around. “Daddy! Help- help me! Help me! Please!”

She knows they’re not coming, they never do, and yet she can’t help crying. When she wipes her face, it just gets more of the blood on it, and it just hurts her eyes, and she cries some more until the rumbling starts. It rumbles so hard that it overtakes her own shivering.  

It’s coming.

It has eaten everything. Otherwise, why would Philia be alone? There’s a loud, piercing shriek that hurts her ears, and she glances at the sharp stick. It must be what she has to use to defeat this being that has caused her so much pain. Something slimy and icky drips onto her face, its hot breath disgustingly close. Everything goes dark as she looks up.

Philia’s eyes shoot open, her chest heavy and her tummy feeling bad. It’s always like this, like she’s going to be sick. She slides out of bed and onto the floor. Maybe… maybe she should ask Papa and Daddy for help. If she could just figure out what to do with that stick, she could stop what’s coming the way she’s supposed to. If she doesn’t, it will eat everything. She can’t let that happen!

“Phi,” Papa calls. “Time for breakfast!”

With one heave-ho, she jumps up and runs to the table. She plops in front of her plate of eggs, bread, and pom jelly, waiting for her chance as she practically swallows her food whole.

“Phi,” Daddy warns. “Slow down. You might choke.”

Phi does not care right now- she’s still thinking. Ever since she can remember, Daddy has worked for Grandpa Hades, and he always has the thing with him. Papa has a matching one, but it’s always inside the case that he built. They’ve been extremely firm about it- Phi’s not allowed to touch them because they’re dangerous and only for adults.

“Hey Papa,” she starts, hoping she sounds normal. He turns to look at her, his ponytail swishing behind him. He and Daddy have their hair up today; she always likes this style on them, but she can’t let that distract her!

“Yes, Phi?” Papa is the best for asking these sorts of questions- he always has an answer.

“What’s the pointy stick that Daddy is always using called?”

“A spear,” Daddy answers instead, suspicious. “Why?”

Philia pouts, fidgeting. “Maybe I just had a question!”

Papa and Daddy look at each other for a moment, and then they both narrow their eyes at Phi.

“Philia,” Papa starts, voice stern. “What’s going on? I’m listening.”

Philia groans, kicking her feet in frustration. Why do they have to ask? Why can’t this be easier? Tired, she decides to risk it all.

“Can you teach me how to use the spear?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Achilles-”

Philia is furious- they are not listening, they didn’t even give her a chance to explain herself! But then again, what was she even going to say? Her mind is so tired that she can’t even remember what her plan was.

“You didn’t even let me say why!” she cries, slamming her hands down.

“Philia,” Papa soothes. “You know what we’ve said about not touching the spears.”

“But I thought if I asked-”

“I’m sorry Philia,” Daddy cuts her off again, “but the answer is no.”

This time, it’s Philia’s eyes that narrow wrathfully at her Daddy, who scowls in offense.

“Don’t give me that look! I invented that look! Philia!”

Before they can do anything, Philia stomps away from the table and out of sight. This is why she didn’t tell them anything before; this is what she gets for trying to tell the truth! Her steps slow as she passes the storage closet.

Fine. She’ll do it herself, then!

Many people have praised her for her swift-footedness and agility. Jumping high enough to reach the keyhole placed far out of her three-foot height should be easy enough. The front is made out of glass, the body made of wood. There’s a small lock on it, but Philia thinks if she pulls hard enough, she can yank the handle right off- lock and all. Then it’s just a matter of sneaking out her Papa’s spear and taking off into the glade. If she runs fast enough, she can find somewhere secret to figure the rest out!

She braces her feet, kneels low, and jumps up, up, up, gripping the handle. Success!

And then the entire case starts to tip backwards.

No, no, no, no-

Philia hits the floor, but her panic roots her to the spot as the gigantic case comes crashing down over her. Glass shatters everywhere around her as she screams.

It’s been a rough few days in their house. Philia has been irritable yet clingy, making everything a hassle. Still, her parents have been trying to give her the space to open up first. Every now and then they’ll ask her if she’s okay, how’s she feeling, and she only shakes her head.

Now that she’s older, they’ve really been working on the early steps of emotional regulation, and things seemed okay! Philia had been her bright, happy self, and when she wasn’t, they were teaching her to tell them how she felt, why, and what she needed to feel better. To see her suddenly clam up, unwilling to communicate despite her clear distress, Patroclus can’t but wonder if they’ve done something wrong, or if someone else is secretly hurting her.

He was beginning that conversation today when his jackass of a husband decided to be stubborn again.

“Achilles, you know we’ve been trying to get her to be forthcoming!” he hisses, pinching his bridge. “What was that about?”

Achilles, still scowling, crosses his arms. “She knows better by now- those weapons are off limits to her. Why should we entertain that thought?”

Patroclus has to pull his own hands back in from strangling his beloved, instead clenching them tight. “Because communication is the point!” he growls, teeth clenched.

“I just don’t want her to hurt herself! She’s only six, those weapons are three times her size! I… I suppose I could have compromised with something else, rather than just saying no.”

“That would have been smarter, yes! Goodness!” Exasperated, Patroclus stands from the table. “I’ll go talk to her.”

As he turns, they hear a loud crash, followed by a terrified scream.

“Philia!”

The moment Achilles sprints into sight, his phantom heart ceases to beat, flying into his throat. All he can see under the shattered case is a tiny, quaking leg surrounded by glass and two fallen spears. Strength inhuman, he hurtles the case into the other wall so hard it splinters into pieces, revealing a shivering Philia holding her arms up to protect her face from the glass. The moment the case is gone, she’s holding out her arms for her Papa, who is currently checking her for injuries.

“She’s not hurt,” he whispers, giving Achilles reason to breathe once more. And then, all logic leaves him- all he can see in his mind is Philia’s leg twitching, too reminiscent of the death rattle of too many dying men.

“What were you doing? I told you not to go in this case! You could have been injured or worse!”

Patroclus can hear the worry in his voice, can see how terrified Achilles is by the rising of his chest, the way his pupils shake. But all Philia can see, face covered in tears, is her Daddy yelling at her for doing something wrong.

“But I- I need it!” she sobs, shoulders shaking.

“Philia, why?” Patroclus desperately asks, lifting her from the glass and placing her near the door.

“Because I have to use it!”

Achilles lifts both spears from the floor mindlessly, sensing that his time to go to the House was arriving.

“I have to go soon,” he murmurs to Patroclus. “I’ll just take these with me for now.”

Philia’s eyes widen in terror. “No! I need it! Please!”

It doesn’t help that he’s in a rush, and he’s still agitated. Achilles decides to put his foot down once more, if only to end the argument temporarily.

“Enough, Philia. You will not touch these, and that’s final! We’ll talk about it when I get home.”

For a second, they think it works. Philia goes silent, her entire body going still. Then, the energy in the room changes, sparking like lightning. Her face twists into something horrifically vengeful, the gold bleeding into her curls. She releases a terrifying roar of frustration.

“Fine! Daddy is unyielding! He hates Philia, and I hate him! Forever! I hope you leave and get eaten and never come back!”

“Philia!”

She races away to her own bedroom, slamming the door before Patroclus can even think to grab her. Achilles is like a statue, expression blank. His eyes are far, as though what he’s just seen was not what was in front of him. Panicked, Patroclus rushes to comfort him.

“Achilles, she’s only a child, you know she didn’t mean it. I know she didn’t.”

Achilles’ pupils quake, heartbreak now evident in his eyes. Patroclus brings their foreheads together, gently thumbing at the blond hairs near his temple.

“I’ll see you later, okay? Go calm down, and I’ll clean up.”

Achilles nods stiffly, and he sweeps out of the house, leaving Patroclus behind with all of the damage. Sweeping up the splintered wood and broken glass, he gives himself a little time to be completely honest with himself- he’s frustrated and angry. He’s angry at Achilles for antagonizing their daughter, and he’s frustrated at Philia for refusing to listen to reason and putting herself in danger.

But he’s also growing incredibly worried. They’ve all been on edge due to her tantrums as of late, but what she’d screamed… it was too specific to just be the vengeful outburst of a little girl. ‘Eaten’? Who or what has gotten into Philia’s mind, that she could attack with such a cruel visual? When he’s done, he stands in front of her door, listening. Phi’s tantrums usually range from quiet and spiteful, to purposely dramatic. This… she’s never sounded so exhausted, so defeated before.

He knocks quietly before entering. Philia lays curled up on the bed, squeezed around her lion companion. When she stiffens, hair flashing dangerously, he sits on the floor to give her some space.

“Don’t worry, you’re safe, and you can stay on the bed. I’m just sitting down so we can talk.” Here goes. “Phi, I know that you’re feeling very upset right now. But what you said to Daddy was very cruel and it hurt his feelings.”

Philia furiously rises, nose red, eyes swollen with tears.

“Daddy hurt my feelings!” Her tiny fists clench and unclench. Patroclus raises his hands, slowly trying to de-escalate.

“I know he did, and I’m going to talk to Daddy too. But he was just worried that you’d get hurt, which is why we lock the case. We were both very scared for your safety. You were wrong to open it when we told you not to.”

Philia can be very volatile, but thanks to their teaching, she’s never been so unreasonable that they couldn’t calm down and talk things out. Normally, she’ll have a huffy explanation for her actions that they can come to a happy medium on. This time, she only glares at him.

“You’re on Daddy’s side!” she accuses, voice a malicious hiss, and Patroclus is nauseous as he realizes this might be the first time she’s shown true Achillean wrath.

You are truly your father’s daughter! “Philia, it’s not about sides, it’s-”

“No! I don’t wanna talk to you anymore! Get out, go away!”

Patroclus accepts it’s a losing battle when Philia covers her ears and starts to wail. Okay- something’s very wrong. He’s unsure what, but he needs to talk to someone, now. Perhaps Lady Nyx or the queen, because whatever they’re dealing with, he can’t help but feel that it’s larger than he and Achilles. He silently escapes, leaving the door slightly ajar. Eventually, Philia’s screams become small, pained hiccups, prompting him to return. She’s sprawled limply out on the bed with her companion, exhausted from her crying jag, so she’s easy to scoop up. Philia only sniffles, curling into his shoulder with a painfully tight grasp.

Charon, as always, is ambivalent to see them, waiting at his boat on the Lethe. Patroclus holds out two coins.

 “I need to go to the House. Quickly.”

Charon disdainfully looks down at the coins in his hand and looks back up at Patroclus.

“Aaaaarrrrrghhhhh!”

“What? Two obols are plenty!”

“Harghhhhhghhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

“It’s the discount. Yes, I’m utilizing my spousal benefits. He is officially my husband, now.”

“Haahhhh.”

“Fine, I’ll buy some snacks later; she’s not hungry right now.”

Conceding, Charon lets Patroclus enter the boat and pushes off, making his way up the rivers. Normally, Philia is delighted to take the long version of this adventure that is descending through all three levels of Hades. She’ll point at the fish, the different types of monsters, bother Charon with thousands of questions… Even the boatman notices her lethargy, huffing what sounds like concern.

“Papa,” she murmurs, and he turns. Her eyes are closed, expression pained. “My head hurts.”

He can only rock her gently, soothing her with the same temple rub. “I’m sorry, Phi. We’ll get you some help, soon.”

When he makes the couple steps up into the House, rising through that strange pool of blood, the first person to notice is a jovial Hypnos.

“Welcome to the House! We’re happy you died!” Hypnos blinks at Philia, still wrapped in Patroclus’ arm. “Oh- oh dear, somebody’s not been sleeping!”  

Uncomfortable greeting aside (this is why Thanatos is his favorite of the three), Patroclus stops anyway by the god’s perch.

“We were here to see the Queen and Lady Nyx… Not sleeping?”

Still smiling, Hypnos nods. “Yep! I can see the aura of nightmares lingering from a mile away; for sure she’s had some rough ones. I bet she’s been super cranky, too! She can sit over here with Uncle Hypnos- I’ll help!”

Uncle Hypnos isn’t Philia’s favorite uncle (he represents nap time), but she willingly slumps into his lap this time. One gentle finger to her forehead, and Philia’s expression clears with relief.

“I’ll be right back,” says Patroclus, already seeking out Achilles at his post. Achilles frowns when he sees him, moving a step forward.

“What’s wrong?” he frets, gently reaching for Patroclus. “Why are you here? Kairos and Eurydice aren’t here today.”

“You know, sometimes we come to see you, too. But no, that’s not it. Do you have a couple moments?”

Unsure, Achilles darts a look into the main room. Hades sits imperiously, working on his endless stack of paperwork. He hasn’t been given leave to take his break yet, and he’s about to regretfully decline when Hades sighs.

“Manage the girl’s issue,” he commands, voice rumbling. “Return to your post the moment you are done.”

Achilles smiles, bowing his direction. “Thank you, my Lord.”

He receives a dismissive grunt in response. They make their way to the lounge, Achilles pausing momentarily to see Philia unconscious in Hypnos’ lap. Patroclus pays the broker for a bottle of nectar, splitting it into two cups, and Achilles gratefully sips the velvety liquid.   

“Was all of… that earlier really from being tired?”

Patroclus shakes his head. “No. He says that she hasn’t been sleeping properly, which might explain her irritation. Nightmares.”

“Nightmares?” Achilles frowns. What could possibly scare her so much, the child that’s growing up in paradise?

“I don’t know. But I felt we needed to speak to someone, because I’m concerned about what she said, earlier.”

“The part about how I should be eaten.” It’s clear it’s been on his mind.

“Yes.” Patroclus takes a long sip, then places a comforting hand over Achilles’. “What about you? Are you feeling any better? She might have been lashing out, but she still said some awfully cruel things.”

Achilles chuckles painfully, eyes downcast.

“I’ll be okay. Some people might even say I deserved to hear that. Besides, I know what it’s like to lash out when you don’t mean it, even when you think you do. It’s just that-” He pauses, biting his lip, glancing at Patroclus.

“Go ahead.”

“When she got upset, I know you thought she looked like me, but in that moment- I thought she looked like you when I last saw you.”

Stunned, Patroclus jerks back a little. “Me?”

“The gray sea bore you, and the wild cliffs, since your mind is unbending,” Achilles wistfully replies. “Though, Philia isn’t so poetic as you, so ‘unyielding’ suffices. She looked just like you, furious and in tears, like she truly couldn’t believe nor bear the choice I was making. It- it shook me. I was so confident in myself back then, sure that I was making the right decisions, and I ended up losing everything. Now, I immediately felt like I was making a mistake. I don’t know what it is; I haven’t asked for anyone’s downfall again nor sent either of you into danger. But now I feel like I’ve done something wrong. Maybe that’s how she’s feeling right now.”

It’s embarrassing, but Patroclus had been in such upset that he can hardly remember the specifics of what he said, outside of begging Achilles to let him take his armor and reroute the Trojans. But sharp-nailed trauma will never let Achilles forget.

Sheepish, Patroclus cringes. “Sorry for… yelling at you like that. I didn’t think nor want those to be the last words you heard from me.”

This time, Achilles is shaking his head. “I deserved it. Every last word and more. That’s why, this time, I- I don’t-”

When Achilles falters, unsure how to finish his thoughts, Patroclus squeezes his hand again.

“This is not a high stakes battle moment in the middle of a Trojan field. This is a little girl, your little girl, frustrated and stressed. You didn’t do anything wrong in keeping the weapons away from her, nor by telling her no. But you’re grown- you can see what you and others are feeling. She can’t express that well yet, and you pushed her away by being so stubborn. I need you to apologize.”

“Of course.” It’s something Achilles will always value- the chance to say he’s sorry, that it’s never too late. The thought that Philia could truly think he hated her is soul-shattering to him.

“And as for hating you… I know she didn’t mean it. You know her Daddy is her favorite person in the world.” Patroclus smiles when Achilles rolls his eyes.

“I’m pretty sure that title belongs to Papa.”

“No, your favorite person is Papa.”

“Mm- arrogant. Second, next to my daughter. Besides, I remember all those broken kisses when she was a baby. Couldn’t even kiss my own husband without Phi slapping me! She never slapped you!”

“No, she just pulled my beard hair out at the roots multiple times with those herculean baby hands. Laughing, no less!”

They’re still fondly reminiscing when Persephone finally arrives in the lounge, followed by Nyx.

“Patroclus, Achilles.” After she receives her proper bows, they all take a seat at the table. “I hear you wanted to speak to us? Something about Phi?”

Patroclus explains in detail what happened that morning, what’s been going on, and what Hypnos suggested was the problem. Persephone and Nyx’ eyes thin at Philia’s threat, and they glance at one another. After a couple minutes of deep thought and what looks like telepathic communication, both ladies resplendently rise and leave, leaving Achilles and Patroclus baffled. Moments later, Persephone is walking past to her garden, Phi in her embrace. Nyx follows behind, holding a full basket.

She graciously stops by the lounge to address the confused fathers. Patroclus can see that her basket is full of toys, parchment, paint, and colorful sticks of wax.

“Uh, may we know what’s going on with our daughter?” Achilles asks, trying not to be defensive.

“Of course, now that we have Phi.” Nyx replies. “You see, Persephone was worried that, if you two were a threat to her, you’d put up a fight when we suggested talking to her ourselves. But, since you two seem to be calm, I know we have nothing to fear from either of you.”

It must be a moot point that both deities alone could eviscerate them, even if they did try to put up a fight. Small mercies.

“We want to talk to her, maybe see if there’s anything we can glean from her as two outside, trusted guardians. We ask that you both stay out here for right now, out of sight but within listening range.”

It’s terrifying to Achilles, that whatever they think is frightening his daughter is so potentially bad that this is how far they’re going, but he nods his consent. When Patroclus agrees, Nyx smiles and drifts out of the room, leaving the heavy doors only slightly ajar. Nervous, Achilles wraps his arms around Patroclus, trying to calm himself in the firm embrace.

A small couch and table have appeared in the garden, courtesy of the contractor, and Persephone sits Phi on it between herself and Nyx. After a short nap she’s a little less on edge, but still reticent, squeezing her companion and shoving her fingers into her mouth. It’s a nervous habit, and it’s not something she’s done since she started walking.

“Phi, darling,” Persephone starts, gently drawing her attention. “Grandma Nini and Auntie Nyx have a game we’d like to play, if that’s okay with you?”

Philia grumbles, tired, but she doesn’t want to upset them. “Okay.”

“Uncle Hypnos said you’ve been having some interesting dreams lately. We wondered if you could show us what you’ve been seeing.”

At mention of the dreams, Philia stiffens, her hair flashing. Nyx is quick to console her, gently caressing the vibrating locks.

“There’s no rush, Philia. If you don’t want to draw at all, that’s okay. We just thought that it might help to get it out. Is there someone telling you not to tell us?”

Philia squirms in her seat, hand still in her mouth, before she shakes her head.

“No. But it’s big and scary and it might make you sad. It would make Papa and Daddy sad.”

Persephone and Nyx glance at each other, flashing a look to the doors.

“What is big and scary?” Persephone asks.

“The monster!”

“The monster. Okay. Can you draw the monster for us so we can see it?”

After a couple seconds, Philia wipes her hand on her dress, and scoots off of the couch, finding all of the tools she needs. She grabs one of the wax sticks and looms over the paper, unsure where to begin. Finally, her eyes well up.

“It’s too small, I can’t fit it, I can’t do it!”

“It’s okay child,” Nyx placates, offering a larger sheet. “Here is a larger sheet of parchment.”

This is enough to soothe Philia, who suddenly knows exactly what she wants to see. For what seems like forever she scribbles, occasionally changing colors and running around the table to draw in different sections. Then, shocking Persephone and Nyx, she takes some water and some red paint, and she starts destructively splashing it across the picture.

“Phi,” Persephone cries, concerned, but Nyx holds her hand back.

“Let her do this. We will not see what she is seeing otherwise.”

Finally, Philia wipes a satisfied hand across her forehead.

“I’m done!”

As she makes her way back to the couch, Persephone and Nyx lean in- and are quickly disturbed.

There is a girl in the middle of the picture with long brown sticks for legs, clearly meant to be Philia, but older. Her back-length hair is in streaks of brown and gold- she’s growing upset. There’s something else- a grey stick with two lines sticking out at the poorly drawn hand- a sword, and it’s covered in blood. Her clothes are spattered with blood as well; in fact, now that they can see it, the entire picture looks like it was in the room of a brutally murdered man, covered in red. Weaving through all of that blood, all around the top of the picture, is a serpentine figure drawn in green, with innumerable eyes and a gaping mouth, giant, dripping teeth that loom over Philia’s head. Somehow, the hardest part to take is the blue lines of tears streaking down Philia’s face, the open-mouthed frown showing how terrified she is.

The graphic image is almost more terrifying for the childish art skill, the abstract nature of it leaving it hard to conceptualize and yet uncanny. Persephone and Nyx are silent, trying to suppress their heartbroken feelings.

“Philia,” asks Persephone, trying to control the waver in her voice. “How long have you been having this dream?”

Philia chews at her nail in thought, counting on her one hand. “More than ten times. It changes too sometimes. Though, it always ends with me getting eaten like everybody else.”

“Eaten? Everyone- including us- has been eaten?”

“Mhm. Nobody is there but me, so it must have gotten you.” Philia starts to sniffle, squeezing her hands tight around the lion. “It’s because of me! I don’t know how to use the tiny spear, and I call for Daddy and Papa and they never show up… I tried to get Daddy to teach me how to use his spear and he won’t! I can’t help anybody with the small spear! I don’t know how!”

Distraught, Philia flops back onto the couch, covering her eyes as she sobs.

“I’m scared! I need help! I don’t want Daddy and Papa to get eaten!”

Achilles can’t take it anymore; he rushes inside. Philia jumps, before realizing who it is and sprints into his arms.  

“Daddy! I’m sorry!”

Achilles soothes her despite his own tears, holding her tight as he rocks her back and forth.

“It’s okay, it’s going to be okay. Daddy’s sorry he didn’t listen; he didn’t make you feel safe. But I’m here now, and I’m always going to be here.”

As for Patroclus, he gazes down in horror at the macabre art.

What in the gods’ names is this? He gapes back up at the two goddesses, who are just as apprehensive. Finally, he brings himself to ask one of the many questions swirling in his mind.

“Is- is it prophetic? Should we be concerned about something coming for the House, coming for my child?”

Nyx shakes her head- it’s disconcerting seeing unsurety on the usually all-knowing deity’s expression.

“I don’t know. My children all had different skills, and my daughters see all as the Fates… but they’ve never once mentioned something like this. Perhaps this is symbolic of something coming, rather than a monster in the literal sense.”

That… does not make Patroclus feel any better. They’d been hoping that Philia could live her life (at least, as much as an inhuman in the afterlife could live) without struggle. If they couldn’t even die to escape…

“Perhaps it’s just a dream,” Persephone offers. “All children have nightmares, I’m sure of it. Maybe this just means that there’s something Philia has been feeling, and because she hasn’t been able to put a voice to it, it’s just been simmering inside her.”

That’s better, at least more manageable in the near future. Nyx sighs, only half-convinced.

“That may also be it. I must admit, out of the children I raised, only Thanatos and Zagreus ever had nightmares. It helped that Thanatos had his companion, and that Hypnos can control sleep. As for Zagreus, he was determined to will his bad dreams away.”

They continue to discuss their options, Nyx promising that she’ll be on firm lookout for any sort of threat in the near future. By the time they are ready to go home, Hypnos gifts them a small potion mixed in with milk, honey, and a drop of ambrosia.

“I made it myself, she’ll catch up on sleep in no time!”

Dusa brings him a small cup to pour the drink in, and Philia drinks it gratefully.

“How is it,” Achilles asks. Philia smiles, her first real smile for them in forever.

“It’s really sweet and warm. I like it!”

She immediately collapses onto Patroclus’ chest, snoring, and they all glare at Hypnos.

“What? I said she’d be asleep in no time! No time passed!”

Achilles trains, near soundless on the grass as he swiftly readjusts to the sword. Though Chiron’s spear was always his preferred weapon, this one glides in his hand as though it were always meant to be there. A blessing and a curse, really- the greatest warrior, the greatest weapon. Having lived his life and made many mistakes based in this power, it’s not something he would wish for anyone. But it’s unavoidable now, screaming as untapped potential in his daughter’s blood.

When he hears tiny feet patter on the side porch, voluminous curls with curious green eyes trying to hide behind the small wall, he tells himself that this is for her; that if he truly can’t fight fate for her, he’ll do his damnedest to help her prepare for it. He speeds up, body a blur, proud as he hears Philia gasp with awe. Finally, when he’s done, he sticks his sword into the ground, and lifts up a small, wooden sword. He flips it in his hand, holding out the hilt in her direction.

She is instantly present, tugging on the ends of her shirt with delight as she stomps her feet so swiftly the dust rises.

“I get to do it?” she asks, brimming with excitement but still unsure. It’s fair; Achilles has been immovable when it comes to her using weapons, so for him to change his mind today… He kneels low, pulling out a small ribbon to tie her hair up.

“Listen to me, Phi. I am going to teach you, but I want you to understand that it’s for self-defense. That means, to keep yourself safe from somebody that might harm you.” He can only pray that she never sees war or that terrifying titan in her drawing. He finishes with her hair, and points to his sword. “You can’t use this big sword, yet. But we can start with something small. Maybe we can even find out what works better for you.”

“Because you normally like your spear!”

“Yes.”

“Okay!” Philia smiles, so wide her cheeks close her eyes. “I’m so happy, Daddy! Thank you!”

Her smiles always fill him with so much delight, his chest warm with his own happiness. Philia turns to start swinging away, and he tugs her back by her shirt.

“Last thing, before we start.” He grips her hands, gaze serious. “You know Daddy loves you, right, Phi? There’s not a thing in this world that will change that- even if you get angry, or sad, or scared. Whether you choose to fight or not, I’ll be here to protect you.”

It’s a little pathetic, really- he’s supposed to be comforting her. In exchange for his efforts, he receives a big hug and kiss to the cheek.

“Mhm! I know! I love you and will protect everybody! Now, let’s do this!”

Later on, Patroclus comes outside to watch them, content. Philia is a quick, graceful learner, picking up the skills as naturally as a dance. It reminds him of the times they trained together, watching Achilles move on a level no mortal man could match. Despite Achilles’ misgivings, this is the perfect way for them to bond; he is a patient teacher, far kinder to her than perhaps anyone else (maybe other than Zagreus) he’d worked with. When Phi starts to slow, Patroclus walks out with some water and a small towel.

“Papa! Papa, did you see me!” she crows as he wipes her face.

“I saw! You’re doing a great job. How did you sleep?”

“Good! No bad dreams.”

“And you’re feeling okay?”

“Yes!” It’s clear that what had brought her days of agony is but a blip to Philia, as now the latest craze is training. “Daddy is a good teacher! He even manages to keep up with me!”

Patroclus bites his lip to not laugh; Achilles hides his laughter behind his hands.

“Oh, he keeps up with you? How impressive! You’re lucky. Daddy’s being so nice to you! He was so mean to me when I had to train with him.”

Jaw dropped, Achilles tugs Philia away. “I was not!”

Philia gasps dramatically, shocked. “He was?”

Patroclus nods, put-upon expression on his face. “A bully, he never let me hit him! But you have swift feet too, so you show him what for, just for me.”

“Okay!”

Having set his headstrong daughter with a brand-new goal, Patroclus wickedly releases her back to a pouting Achilles with a grin. Watching Philia joyfully chase Achilles around the yard serves as a well-needed distraction, as he tries to shove down his nerves. If this is what makes her feel safer, if this is what they can do for her while they wait and see what the future holds...