Chapter Text
+*+*+*
"You believe I can hit that fig?"
Patroclus lifted his head from where it had been lying on Achilles's lap. The Sun sat high in the sky, warming the grass under his fingers as he twisted the stem of a flower between his fingers. Spring had reached Mount Pelion, bringing warmth with it. Patroclus thought back to the villages surrounding the palace of Achilles's father, how they would be worshiping the gods. The farmers would be praying to Demeter for a good harvest this year. She had to be pleased when Patroclus could go off the ripe fruits hanging from numerous trees around the mountain.
Chiron had let them have the day for themselves, busy with repairs around the cave that had to wait until the cold fingers of winter let go of the land. He had been slowly drifting off to sleep when Achilles spoke up. Blinking his tired eyes, he glanced over to where the other was pointing, awkwardly twisting his head until his neck hurt.
A few feet away stood a tall fig tree, its branches reaching over the slow flowing river. On a very tall branch, hanging the furthest over the waters hung a single fig. It was a perfect fruit, green at the top, and a deep purple everywhere else. Patroclus glanced up at Achilles, settling back down in his previous position. Achilles leaned over him, long blond hair falling like a halo, grinning down at him.
"How do you plan on hitting it? Throw a stone and waste a perfectly good fruit?" There was a slight tease to Patroclus's voice as he started up at Achilles, eyes tracing the light freckles covering his nose and cheeks.
Achilles laughed, shaking his head while his fingers danced across Patroclus's shoulders, following the folds of his chiton.
"I'll use a bow, give me one arrow, one try and the fig will be all yours," he replied matter-of-factly, the smile not leaving his face. Patroclus felt a smile of his own dance across his lips. His hands, which had continued twisting the stem of the flower this whole time, came up to grab Achilles's, still moving across his shoulders.
"You want to run up the mountain again to get a bow?"
Mischief twinkled in Achilles's eyes, lips quirking up into a knowing smirk. It took Patroclus only a moment to realize that the other had planned something like this. Entangling his hands from Patroclus's grip, he reached behind himself to bring forth a bow and exactly one arrow. How he had not noticed them before was beyond Patroclus, but he didn't have time to linger on the thought as Achilles moved his legs. Getting the clue, he moved off of the other's lap, sitting down cross-legged on the lush green grass. From here he had a great view of the fig tree.
Achilles stood, the warm sunlight illuminating him, giving him an otherworldly glow. In moments like these, it was hard to deny who Achilles's mother was and how her divinity flowed through his blood. Patroclus swallowed, watching as the other got into position, lifting the bow and drawing the string back, muscles moving with the effort.
Patroclus hadn't realized, but he was holding his breath, watching with eagle eyes the steady grip Achilles had on his weapon. He wasn't one for combat with the bow, and preferred his spear, but it was clear that he had been trained in every weapon that was available to King Peleus. Achilles took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let the arrow fly.
+*+*+*
Nico hit the target right in the middle. From the sideline, the younger demigods were clapping and cheering him on. He moved his eyes from the target, his arrow right in the red middle, and glanced up the hill to where Will was sitting with a few of his siblings. The son of Apollo caught his eyes, grinning at him from where he sat. Immediately Nico felt warmth spread through him despite the warm spring sun blazing above them, already making this day unbearably hot.
He looked back over to the young demigods who had been watching him. Biting the inside of his cheek, trying to hide the pride he was feeling for himself, he fully turned towards them, holding out his bow for one of them to take.
The son of Hades was great when it came to weapons. It didn't matter if he was fighting with a dagger, a spear, or his trusty Stygian Iron sword, but when it came to the bow he only managed to hit the target at all half of the time. The last few weeks his boyfriend had been giving him lessons, which had been quite the adventure in itself. As a son of Apollo Will was good, but his strength would always lie in healing. Still, the two of them had trained together for weeks until Nico had mastered the bow so well that even Kayla, Wills's sister, and daughter of some famous archer, had complimented him on his skill. He still made his mistakes from time to time, but apparently, he was so good by now that Chiron had asked him to teach an archery class for some of the newer demigods.
From the corner of his eyes he caught movement from up on the hills as he helped a son of Athena how to correctly angle his elbow. When he turned to see who was approaching he was not surprised to see Will, now only a few steps away. The bright sun above hit him from behind illuminating his blond curls, his skin glowing under the light.
Nico had met the god Apollo himself, as Lester Papadopoulos, as well as in his divine form. He would never dare to say this out aloud, less he wants to listen to one of Apollo's haikus about how he hurt his feelings, but Will Solace might be even more gorgeous than the god of poetry himself (but no one tell him he said that).
"Nice shot, Death Boy! Seems like someone's been giving you lessons," Will grinned, slinging an arm around his boyfriend, ignoring how he grumbled something about Will ruining his image.
"Yeah, so the next time you get carried away by Stymphalian birds, I can simply shoot them down." For a moment a shadow crossed over Will's face, but just as quickly as it had come it was gone. Their time in Tartarus two years ago was still a topic, Will didn't take easy. It had strengthened their relationship immensely and for Nico, it felt like a sort of ending to a very dark, very lonely chapter of his life, but for Will... Well, he wasn't quite sure.
"Will I'm sorry-"
"Want to take a walk along the beach tonight?"
Nico blinked, surprised at how quickly his boyfriend had changed the topic. Usually, it was Will who was always walking around, telling everyone that they had to talk about their problems, but Nico was not about to press him on the topic. Instead, he nodded, giving Will a soft smile before turning back to his students.
The son of Apollo settled down at the edge of the archery range, twisting the stem of a flower between his fingers.
+*+*+*
As night settled across the camp, a thick blanket of dark blue, a sense of calm settled over Chiron. Mr.D had long gone to do whatever it was the god of wine did when all demigods went to sleep, which left the old centaur with peace and quiet. It was a warm night, not unbearable, but just warm enough that he decided a walk along the beach would be a good idea.
As he stepped onto the patio which curled along the big house, he took in the scent of strawberries in the air, mixing with the smell of the forest. On nights like this, Chiron could almost imagine he was back on Mount Pelion, standing in the entrance of his cave as his newest trainee did their morning chores. In his long time on earth, Chiron had trained many heroes. He remembered them all, every single one.
There had been Asclepius, son of Apollo and Coronis, who had been brought to him by Apollo himself. That he would teach him all he knew was without question, a way of thanking the god of prophecies for taking him under his wing when he had been an orphan. And Jason, who he had been given to him by his mother to keep him safe from the rage of his uncle, later on, he also taught his son Medus.
But his most famous student, then one everyone associated with him was Achilles, always closely followed by Patroclus. Of all the heroes he had trained, those two had left the biggest impact on him, even after centuries of living.
In the wind he picked up the sound of laughter, coming from the beach. He turned and looked across the hills and onto the white sand. Illuminated by the moonlight sat two figures and for a moment Chiron thought his heart stopped.
Achilles and Patroclus, he thought, as for just a moment it looked like them, but when he looked again it was clearly Nico di Angelo and Will Solace. The old centaur swallowed.
Dionysus, Chiron knew, had a soft spot for these two. It was something he would never admit openly, but it was clear to Chiron, if to no one else. Chiron himself though had the horrible desire to never look at them directly. It was a shameful thing. He loved them like he loved every camper like he had loved every hero before them. They had been through too much, had suffered pain no child should ever experience.
Every hero he had ever trained had found his bitter ending. How could he not feel guilt looking upon them now, or at Percy Jackson or Annabeth Chase and all the others? One way or the other, they all would find their undeserved bitter ending. It was his curse, Chiron knew. And then he couldn't stop seeing Achilles and Patroclus in the sons of Hades and Apollo, comparing them to long-lost heroes. It wasn't fair of him.
With shame heavy on his shoulders, the old centaur turned, moving back into the big house, no longer in the mood to go on a midnight stroll.