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Once upon a strange night or day in the underworld, there was a worm. He was only a little one, bright pink and glistening with slime, wriggling around where the ever diligent guard of the House of Hades was meant to stand. Without a voice, there was no way for him to warn anyone of his presence, and he was terrified to remain unseen, especially among gods with a propensity for dashing around without looking on fire-hot feet. Hopelessly, the little worm wriggled as well as he could towards the wall, hoping at least pressed against it he might have a chance to be spotted before he was run over.
He spent hours there, huddled beneath the overhanging mirror, wishing his odd curse would lift before someone had a chance to stand on him. He was close to giving up entirely when his bleary little eyes noticed a pair of familiar feet dart across to his post.
"Achilles?" called the Prince. "Strange, I could've sworn he'd be at his post by now."
Cursing his lack of a voice, the worm wriggled away from the wall, hoping all his desperate movements would catch Prince Zagreus’s attention.
"Oh, hello, what are you doing here?" Zagreus asked, stooping to gently scoop up the little worm in his cupped hands. "Father will throw a fit if he finds we've got bugs infesting the House. Shall I put you in the garden? I think you'll be happier there."
Were he truly a worm, he might've been comforted by that idea, but the man inside the worm was horrified. The garden would only be more space for him to get lost in, and then perhaps, he'd never be found. He would be missing forever.
This fear taking hold of his mind, the worm wriggled and writhed its way to the edge of the Prince's hand, hoping to throw itself off the edge. At least in the House, he could hang on to who he was. Outside of it, who was he but a worm? No, he would not allow it to happen.
"Blood and darkness," the Prince cursed, trying to keep hold of his new friend. "Alright, alright, not the garden! But I can't well leave you here!"
Again, the worm wriggled desperately away, heaving its little body over Zagreus’s fingers.
"Fine! You're incredibly stubborn for a worm. How did you manage to squirm your way in here anyway?"
Well, I walked, actually, thought the worm wryly, only now I have no legs and can do nothing but fruitlessly squirm .
Not being able to read minds, this sentiment went over Prince Zagreus's head. Hopelessly, the worm twirled around and around in the Prince's cupped hands, wondering fruitlessly how he could make his plight clear. The Prince sighed. "I'll take you into my room. You'll be left alone in there, at least. How's that?"
The worm didn't throw itself off his hands at this suggestion, so Zagreus assumed it agreed. They made their way across the House, the Prince holding the worm close to his chest to keep it hidden from view, darting across the hall in quick bursts that left streaks of charred rock in his wake. Once within the relative safety of his bedroom, he plopped the little invertebrate on his desk, swiping the scrolls and pens scattered across the top of it aside to make room.
"There! Will you be happy here?" asked the Prince to the worm, who immediately began squirming with determination in long even lines. And as the Prince watched it work, he realized, slowly, that the pattern left in its slime trail looked an awful lot like… "Achilles?"
The worm would've jumped with joy had it been able. As it was, it raised what it best assumed was its head and nodded as the Prince collapsed with surprise into the desk chair.
"How- what happened? You're a worm?"
The worm bowed its little pink head. Truth be told, it had no underworldly idea how this had happened to it, either. It had only just returned from a mostly lovely visit to Elysium when in a flash of pink light that smelled strongly of roses, it plummeted suddenly towards the ground with no limbs with which to catch itself.
The Prince fretted. "We'll have to find a way to turn you back into a man! Do you remember anything about… well, all of this?"
The worm took a second to think, and contorted itself into a little heart.
"That looks like- wait, you think Aphrodite had something to do with this?"
The worm nodded its little head.
"Why in earth would she turn you into a worm of all things?"
And the worm couldn't respond, but was glad that worms were unable to blush as it recalled the petty argument it had had with its beloved just mere minutes before it had returned to the House. Oh, what had it been thinking? Doubting the love of his one and only! Perhaps it deserved this, then, to be reduced to a dirt eater, unable to care for itself.
The Prince sat in thought for a while, staring past the little worm as he deliberated, before snapping his fingers and sitting up straight. "I have an idea! I'll take you with me on my next run and we can ask Lady Aphrodite ourselves!"
The worm stilled.
"I'll take care of you! Here, you can hide in my pauldron. You should be safe," the Prince reassured, though the worm was not convinced. Regardless of what protestations it might've made, Zagreus scooped its little pink body up and slid it into one of the skulls of his pauldron, taking off at a run towards the courtyard.
In his pauldron, the worm trembled. It was dark in there, illuminated briefly by the light thrown around by the Prince's fighting. The worm pressed itself to the furthest corner possible, in the darkest most stable part of the skull, curling up on itself as it waited and waited for the Prince's plan to work.
Within the shade of the skull, the worm felt the change in temperature as they moved from the dusty hot air of Tartarus to the overbearing heat of Asphodel. He listened to the grunts of the wretched shades of Tartarus, the yelled taunts of the Furies, the hisses of Asphodel's more aggressive residents. When the Hydra screeched its last, the worm poked its little pink head out of the pauldron.
The Prince was covered in soot and grime and sweat, but seemed relatively unharmed, grinning as he walked towards Asphodel's exit. "Apologies for the delay, little worm, but Aphrodite seems keen to avoid me."
The worm drooped. Oh, it was hopeless . Aphrodite had cursed him for his inability to trust his beloved, and he would have to suffer as a worm for the rest of eternity. There was nothing anyone, even the well-meaning Prince, could do to help him! Had he had tear ducts, he would've wept! Had he not been blessed in life, only to throw it away for glory? Was this not a cruel irony, that all the blessings he had been granted in the afterlife would be taken away due once more to his own stupid pride?
So absorbed in his thoughts was he that he failed to notice that Zagreus had been asking him something until he was plucked from the skull he’d been hidden within. "Achilles? Are you alright? Please respond, wiggle or something, I thought I'd been careful!"
The worm gave a pathetic wiggle, still distracted, though the wiggling grew fervent and nervous when he noticed the boon floating in the air in front of the Prince. It smelled strongly of roses, glowed glittery and pink, and in the light of its power the worm felt small and insignificant. Smaller and more insignificant than it had ever felt before.
The Prince was blind to the worm's fear and awe, and assured he hadn't killed his charge, he thrust his hand into the orb. "Lady Aphrodite! I call upon your favor!"
The orb burst open in a blaze of rose-tinged light and an airy giggle filled the air. "Hello dearest, I see you've brought a friend with you! What do you think of his new look? I think it rather suits him, don't you?"
"Actually, I was hoping you could help us turn him back?" Zagreus replied, swallowing his unease. "As cute as he is, he makes for a poor companion like this."
"Well, that's hardly my problem. Your dear Achilles saw it fit to doubt the gift I'd given him. I’ll offer you a condition, dearest, but only because I like you so much! One kiss of love, trusted and true, will break the curse. If he can’t manage even that, then Achilles will remain a worm forever."
With that, the Goddess vanished, leaving worm and Prince stood awkwardly in the empty chamber. “She forgot to give me a boon,” the Prince noted, an afterthought.
The worm did not hear him; it was consumed in its own thoughts. How could it beg Patroclus’ forgiveness? It had no voice to plead with honeyed words, no hands with which to hold him, no mouth to kiss pleas against his throat, his wrists. It could do naught but crawl and burrow, and even those it did quite terribly. And what reason would Patroclus have to forgive him anyhow? Achilles had been stupid and insecure and Patroclus, dear Patroclus, sweet Patroclus, had been victim to it once more.
It had been such a silly question. “You’d love me even if I were a worm,” Patroclus had teased, and Achilles nodded so vigorously his head could’ve popped off.
“If you were a worm,” he’d replied, voice full of pride and affection, “I would build you the finest garden and stock it with all the plants and fruits and vegetables you could want. I’d fight the birds off for you, I’d chase off any rats or snakes or lizards looking to make a lunch out of you, I swear to you, my most beloved, I would love you in any form.”
Patroclus had laughed, a blush darkening his cheeks. “You, my heart, you are a ridiculous man.”
And Achilles, as though to prove his point, asked sincerely, earnestly, “and you? Would you love me if I were a worm?”
Patroclus laughed again, shaking his head. “No,” he’d teased, “I’d use you for bait to catch myself dinner.”
Achilles, who had until this point reclined comfortably on the grass, his head pillowed on his beloved’s lap, sat up straight, pouting. “You would throw me away so easily?”
“What use have I for a worm?” Patroclus joked. “They make for terrible company.”
And Achilles had turned away, still pouting. “How right you are,” he’d moaned, staring dejectedly at the dirt. “I’d have nothing to give you, were I a worm. No words, no touches, no kisses. I could not love you as you deserve to be loved.”
“Oh, Achilles, come now-” Patroclus had tried to interrupt, leaning forward to hold him gently in his arms, but he’d shrugged out of his hold.
“No, my love, my heart, you are right. You would be right to toss me aside if I were a worm! Why would you love me, if I had nothing to offer you! At least as bait, I could feed you. But what if I failed even at that?”
“ Achilles ,” Patroclus had said, exasperated.
But then the call of the House came and Achilles had responded immediately, abandoning his love in a flash of light.
Oh, how the worm regretted it now. Over something so stupid. Patroclus would be right not to forgive him, it cried, how right he would be to rid himself of Achilles forever. Now Achilles looked as slimy and pathetic as he had always been inside, and Patroclus would see him for what he was. He would be stuck a worm forever.
And the worm thought, perhaps he deserved it.
Hidden back within the Prince’s pauldron, it plotted. Perhaps, to save them all the trouble, it could sneak its way out of the pauldron, and perhaps, it would be trodden on and forgotten, and perhaps, it would live there, in the dirt where it belonged, and perhaps it would become nothing, and perhaps that would be right. Perhaps Patroclus would finally find a man deserving of his affection. Perhaps-
Oh no.
The sound of Patroclus’s glade was unmistakable. Quiet but for the bubbling of the Lethe and the Elysian breeze kicking up leaves and ruffling the bushes and trees. Patroclus had begun to decorate his little corner, and the trinkets he strung across the statues and foliage tinkled lightly in the wind. And then his voice, rough and deep and warm, called out, “hail, stranger, what brings you here today?”
“Patroclus, sir, you’re just the shade I was looking for!” Zagreus responded, bubbly and glad. The worm, hidden in the shadow of the Prince’s pauldron, debated its options. Perhaps it could fling itself out of the pauldron and burrow underground and it would neither have to face the shame of Patroclus seeing it this way, nor the fear of his response.
And just as this thought had occurred to the worm, a hand slid in under the pauldron to pick it gently up.
“We have a little bit of an issue. Um, you see, Achilles had some kind of run in with Aphrodite back at the House,” Zagreus began, opening his hand to show Patroclus the little worm he held within it, and then Patroclus’ deep brown eyes were fixed on its squirming, pink, disgusting slimy body, and he was reaching a finger down- to squish him, perhaps, though- no, the touch was too soft, only a delicate stroke.
“She turned him into a worm. And here I thought the Gods had finally decided to leave us alone,” Patroclus sighed. “Poor thing.”
Oh, and he thought Achilles was pathetic, too. Wonderful , thought the worm, he will most definitely not kiss me now.
“And she won’t turn him back until you kiss him,” said the Prince sheepishly. “Of course, I can keep looking for other ways to help him, because there must be something we can do-”
But Patroclus had already scooped the worm up and was bringing it up to his lips to press a kiss on its little head and-
And.
Nothing.
"Well, then," said Patroclus, and the worm wanted to die so badly. Patroclus had kissed it, despite how disgusting and horrible it was, and it hadn't even been for anything. "Were there any other conditions?"
"Not that I can think of," Zagreus hummed, frowning. "She said… ‘one kiss of love, trusted and true,’ whatever that might mean.”
“And surely you trust that I love you truly, don’t you, my heart?” Patroclus asked the pink little worm cradled in his hand.
To that, the worm squirmed and wriggled off the edge of his palm, only to be caught and scooped up.
“Oh, no, come here, you little bastard,” Patroclus scolded. “Now I know it is definitely you.”
"Did you think I would lie, sir?" Zagreus pouted. "I wouldn't trick you like that. Achilles, perhaps, but not you."
"Hah, thank you, Prince," Patroclus chuckled. "And you," he said, addressing the worm. "Try that again and I will use you as bait."
The worm gave an indignant wriggle.
"What do you think went wrong?" the Prince asked, eyeing the worm with a great deal of worry.
"Our Achilles here has become painfully insecure in death. Perhaps Aphrodite thought he doubted my affection for him," Patroclus muses, stroking his beard with his free hand. "What we can do about that, I am… unsure."
"We can't just let him stay a worm forever, though, surely!"
"And we won't, stranger, but unfortunate as it is, I believe it is up to Achilles whether kissing him will work at all."
Would that it could speak, the worm thought, would that it could do anything but wriggle. The Gods were being cruel and unfair once more and the worm could do nothing at all about it, regardless of what Patroclus claimed. Surely he wouldn't deign to kiss the worm again . Once must've been disgusting enough! Oh, the worm, it sulked. Its situation was clearly hopeless.
"What if we helped… remind him of how deeply you care for him? If we showed him, perhaps?" the Prince suggested, and the worm wished its eyes could roll.
It did not doubt that Patroclus thought he loved it very dearly. Patroclus, however, hadn't had much time to get to know this new far sadder, far more pathetic Achilles. As soon as he realized exactly how much the worm had changed from the man it was in life, Patroclus would surely leave him. It was simply inevitable.
"You make a good point, stranger. Here, sit down," and Patroclus lowered himself gingerly down too, taking care not to jostle his worm. Once seated, he gently allowed the worm to squirm off his hand onto the grass. With dirt under it, the worm realized it rather missed the warmth of Patroclus's palm. "My dear, my heart, my love," Patroclus said softly, stroking a finger along the worm's side. "Do you think I do not love you because you have changed?"
Of course you don't, the worm wanted to cry. What have I to offer? I have nothing left but my pride, and even that has suffered. The man you knew, the man you loved, is dead, and I am not him.
"Has he really changed so severely?" Zagreus asked, cocking his head. "What was he like in life? He never says, and what little I've read only describes him as prideful and wrathful, but surely he was more."
No, I wasn't, the worm sighed.
"Yes, he was," said Patroclus, smiling a little. "He was skilled with the lyre and had the loveliest voice, but he never performed for anyone but me. He'd write songs for me from time to time."
"Did he?" Zagreus exclaimed, leaning forward with a grin. "I never knew! Orpheus would be thrilled. What else, then? Perhaps something from when you were younger?"
"I'm beginning to suspect you have an ulterior motive with all these questions, stranger," Patroclus quipped, cocking an eyebrow at his overeager audience. The Prince smiled sheepishly, shrugging.
"I will confess I'm curious. As I said, Achilles always kept most of it to himself, and I didn't want to pry." Glancing quickly down at the worm between them, he added, "if you don't mind of course, sir!"
The worm had no real way to respond, so waved its tail (or head? Was there a difference?) in acquiescence. Already, it felt uneasy. It could see no positive outcome for this conversation. Patroclus and Zagreus would quickly come across one of Achilles's many flaws, and then perhaps they would realize as the worm had, that it was best left as a stupid little bug.
"What was he like with you?" Patroclus asked, cocking his head. "He speaks quite fondly of you, you know."
"Hah, does he?" Zagreus exclaims, his cheeks flushing red. "Well, it's all due to his training. He's always been… patient with me. More patient than anyone else in the House, despite how much trouble I gave him."
"Never in life would I describe Achilles as patient ," Patroclus quipped, leaning back with a sigh. "He has mellowed, quite significantly, I think."
The worm cringed, certain that Patroclus missed the Achilles of their youths, certain that the broken, insecure shell of a man he had become in his death and isolation was everything Patroclus had despised, or else- why would he have loved Achilles at all, in life? Why would he have put up with all that he had? Why would he have died for him?
"Is that a good thing?" Zagreus asked, voicing the worm's own thoughts.
"Undoubtedly," Patroclus responded warmly.
No , thought the worm. Surely not . Patroclus must've been lying. He'd always loved Achilles' impulsive nature, back when they were young, before the war. He'd told Achilles as much back then, how he'd been glad Achilles acted without hesitation, as it balanced Patroclus's careful consideration out quite nicely. They'd always been that way; opposites, balanced, each trait matched by its equal pair, two halves of one whole. If that wasn't true anymore… the worm shuddered to think.
"Part of me wishes I had known him before," Zagreus confesses, thoughtful and quiet. "Knowing so much of his nature was and is down to melancholy, I… wish I had noticed sooner, how upset he was."
"Peace, stranger, you couldn't have known. That much has remained consistent; Achilles has always been terrible at confessing when he was upset. In life, that manifested as anger. Quite frankly, I am glad to see that he has let that anger go."
That gave the worm pause. Sure, many had commented on his anger then, on the harm it caused, on the damage he'd wreak, on the lack of care he had for anyone or anything when he was upset. But he'd never thought Patroclus had agreed. His lover had always kept those opinions to himself, it seemed, never letting Achilles in on his criticisms, his more negative thoughts.
"You know," Patroclus added, a small smile coming to his face, like something secret. "Before the war, I had hoped one day we might start a family. Ridiculous, I know, and near impossible too, but I thought of it often. In all the hunger for glory and the rage over petty squabbles, I learned to let go of those fantasies. But now- well, hearing how he was with you, knowing how he'd grown , I think there might've been a chance."
"All sorts of things happen in the Underworld, sir, you might still have a chance," Zagreus said with a shrug, grinning good-naturedly. "What do you think then, Achilles?" A blush came to his cheeks as his grin turned more sheepish. "You're definitely cut out for it. You've been more of a father to me than my Lord Father ever has."
The worm wiggled, not uncomfortable, but- flattered? Put on the spot. It wasn't sure what to think. Zagreus thought of him as a father . Patroclus wanted a family with him. Still, a part of his mind wanted to fight, wanted to argue, no, he wasn't worth anything. It wanted to beg them for reasons they could love him, after what pain he wrought in life, after all the changes he went through in death. He wanted to plead for some kind of explanation, some kind of rational for all their affection for him.
And yet, in his heart of heart's, he found he couldn't deny they did love him.
Warm hands, rough with callouses, scooped him up yet again, and he allowed it, shifting only to settle more comfortably in Patroclus' grip. "I didn't think I could love you more," he breathed, "and here you are, reshaped into a new man I have fallen for all over again."
And tenderly, he brushed another kiss on the worm's little head.
Achilles was crying. He hadn't had eyes to do it with as a worm, but with the rosy light of Aphrodite's magic still fading and his mostly human form returned to him, he found he could do naught but cry, throwing his arms around Patroclus's shoulders and sobbing against his chest. Patroclus did not seem thrown off by the full grown man suddenly appearing in his lap and stroked his fingers through Achilles's hair, murmuring soft reassurances against his head.
"Um," said the Prince, feeling a little out of place. "I'll… leave the two of you alone."
Achilles threw an arm out, grabbing roughly onto the fabric of Zagreus' chiton and tugging him near. "You," he blubbered. "Everything you've done for us," he tried again. The third time, he decided against words, and pulled the Prince into a firm hug instead, clutching his head tight to his shoulder, pressing kisses to his hair. "Thank you," he said finally.
"Of course, sir," Zagreus responded, muffled against his mentor's shoulder.
"You're suffocating him, love," Patroclus teased, and Achilles finally released the Prince with a final squeeze of his shoulder.
"I really should go, though. I'll see you at the House, Achilles!" And with that the Prince rose quickly to his feet, rubbing at his hot and embarrassed cheeks as he sprinted towards the exit.
Achilles allowed himself long enough for the door to shut behind Zagreus to collect himself before he raised his head to look Patroclus in the eye, holding his face in both hands. "I love you. You know I love you, don't you?" he pleaded, voice still wet with emotion.
Patroclus merely smiled, brushing a tear off Achilles' cheek with the pad of his thumb. "I love you too, my heart. I always have."
Elsewhere in the Underworld, as the lovers held each other, Prince Zagreus stopped to help a worm off the battlefield and into the relative safety of the underside of a bush. Distracted, he missed the arrow loosed in his direction, but his new friend remained unharmed as he fell into the Styx.
The end