Archive of Our Own

Dawn’s warm light crested over the mountain tops of Pelion, bringing forth with it the chattering of birds and insects who have awakened to greet Helios’ chariot bright and early. Chiron sat quietly in his cave, breakfast already eaten and hands busy carving away at Pelian ash which would one day become a spear. Two bowls laid beside him, waiting to be emptied of the dried fruit and nuts he had prepared for the boys. The boys in question could be heard giggling deeper in the cavern; his peaceful morning was going to be interrupted with limitless energy soon enough.

As expected, Achilles came bounding in first. Behind the little firebrand trailed Patroclus, shining in his own quiet way— like Polaris guiding a traveller at night.

“Good morning master Chiron!”

“Good morning master Chiron.” The two said in unison.

“Good morning Achilles, Patroclus.” He greeted with a small grin, gesturing towards the bowls that awaited them.

Achilles nearly dove for the food, his growing body and lengthening limbs demanding more sustenance by the day. His calmer companion folded his legs beneath himself and quietly bit into a fig.

“What are we going to learn today, Chiron sir?” Patroclus asked. He repeated the question every day, and every day Chiron gave him the same answer.

“Whichever lessons the world decides to teach us.” He turned his gentle gaze towards the boy. His hair was growing longer, soon the ebony curls would rest on his shoulders, though Patroclus did not seem to mind. “But today we are going to forage. I am curious to know how much you have retained from my instruction.”

Patroclus nodded, perking up when an unceremonious “Catch!” was directed his way, along with a stray olive that just managed to land in his open palms.

“Achilles, lad, did you hear what I said?”

The blond ceased his antics and faced the centaur. “Yes, sir. You said we were foraging today.”

Chiron nodded with an affirmative hum, his ear twitching. “When you two are finished we will pack a lunch to bring with us.”

“Will we be able to play in the river?” Achilles’ eyes lit up with hope.

Chiron was no stranger to the liveliness of adolescent boys; Achilles was no exception, restlessness quickly set in when not provided an outlet for all the excited fire that burned within him.

“If we have enough sunlight, I don’t see why not.”

At that notion, Achilles wolfed down the rest of his breakfast and impatiently— though quietly— waited for Patroclus to finish.

The late morning sun shined kindly upon them, warming their backs as they set out into the forest. A thousand shades of green surrounded them, light trickling through leaves in a glittering rain of gold. A makeshift pathway formed from years of use, carved by the dozens of apprentices before them and no doubt will be used by dozens more. Thick brambles and brush were trampled by eager feet that ran ahead, accompanied by laughter. Chiron kept a close eye on his boys, allowing them their fun before setting their tasks for the day. He adjusted the bow across his body, making sure he could easily access the quiver full of arrows if needed.

Giving a loud, quick whistle, Chiron summoned the pair from whichever depths of the woods they wandered off to. He took the empty bag in his hand and slung it around Patroclus’ shoulders, the boy’s posture stiffened with the new weight of responsibility.

“Now, we have several medicinal herbs we need to gather. Yarrow, oregano, sideritis, sage and lemon balm. If you find anything else that intrigues you, bring it to me and we will examine it together.” His tail flicked away flies that started to bite, the clear day was only going to last so long if a storm was brewing. He tucked knives into each of their belts. “I pray you do not need to use these. Be safe, do not lose each other, and I am never far away if you seek my assistance.”

Achilles and Patroclus nodded, taking each other’s hands and running off in a random direction once they were dismissed. Chiron sighed quietly, smiling to himself before setting out traps that would hopefully catch them dinner for tonight.

Patroclus crouched by every rock and root trying to identify the right herbs, evaluating stems, leaves and flowers attempting to decode each plant. He gently picked the leaves of what he hoped was either lemon balm or mint and tucked it neatly in his bag. A slight tickling crawling up his leg caught his attention, looking down he found an ant that was rather determined to trek up his shin to his knee.

“Oh, hello.” He whispered, smiling. “I don’t think you belong there, friend.” Patroclus placed his finger in front of the ant, watching it climb on without a second thought. Steadily he shifted and rested his finger on a rock. The ant, seemingly unbothered by the location change, marched off of his finger without a fuss.

“There you go, back onto the nice warm rock.” He continued to observe the insect. It found some kind of speck that it discerned was edible, and picked it up in its jaws. “Rather lucky I placed you there, you found something!”

“Patroclus?” There it was, Pa-tro-clus. He turned his head towards the heavenly sound. “Who are you talking to?” Achilles rounded from behind a tree, lips down turned with concern.

“An ant.” He said a matter-of-factly, pointing at the rock.

“Oh, okay. I got you these!” He outstretched an arm, almost hitting Patroclus with the bundle of lavender he collected. A bright smile illuminated his face, pride beaming off of him.

Patroclus couldn’t help the blush that crept onto his cheeks, heart beginning to thud in his chest as his stomach swooped. “I-I… uhm, thank you.” Words tumbled over each other when he tried to speak, instead he held out the bag wide open. “Put them in here, master Chiron would like to dry them, I think.”

Achilles’ expression fell at the suggestion. “They aren’t for Chiron, they’re for you! Here…” He took a few of the fragrant flowers and tucked them behind Patroclus’ ear, adding a complimentary pop of purple to his dark complexion. Patroclus flushed deeper.

“There you go! It looks quite pretty.”

“T-Thank you…” The older boy averted his gaze, finding the soft grass that tickled his ankles much more interesting than usual.

“I think I found some mushrooms back there, we can ask Chiron about them later.” Taking his hand again, Achilles led them in the direction he came from.

They found the mushrooms and several other unidentified plants that seemed important.

“How do you know it’s not just a weed?” Achilles asked, tilting his head to watch Patroclus pick another plant that looked like all the rest.

“I don’t. There’s only one way to learn.”

“Alright then.” Achilles shrugged. He began to wander once he realised Patroclus would be exploring that little corner of the forest for longer than he would have liked. Still, he was never one to stray too far from his friend.

He returned to Patroclus with a spring in his step. A stick was held aloft triumphantly in his hand. “Look what I found! Doesn’t it look like a sword?”

“It does, I guess.” Patroclus straightened up, trying to prevent the heavy bag from falling off his shoulder. A slight gasp of wonder left his lips. “Achilles look! Behind you, on that branch over there!”

Craning his neck to where Patroclus was looking, Achilles squinted to find a slight fluttering amongst the leaves. A golden butterfly suddenly floated down from its perch, landing on a bush nearby. It opened and closed its wings, showing off its aureate colouring and small brown dot on either wing. The underside of its wings were a pale green.

“It’s a Cleopatra.” Patroclus said, in a fascinated trance as he slowly edged closer to the butterfly. “A male, I think.” Unfortunately he startled the poor thing, watching in disappointment when it flew away as swift as a soul into the Underworld.

“It was so beautiful.” Achilles breathed, trapped in just as much awe. “Maybe we’ll see it again?”

“Maybe…” The other boy slouched, trying to hide his disheartened state.

As the butterfly fluttered away, so did the sun as thick grey clouds rolled in above them. Northern winds cascaded down from the mountain tops, harbingers of the summer storm that no longer lingered on the horizon. Patroclus could smell a slight hint of rain in the air, earthy and damp on his senses. The atmosphere grew heavy with moisture.

“We ought to get back to Chiron now.” Achilles said, also sensing the sudden shift in weather. Patroclus nodded in agreement.

Achilles tossed his sword-stick aside, watching it disappear amongst the dense foliage. Before they could properly turn to leave, a sudden rustling ahead of them caught their attention. Not a heartbeat later a beast emerged from the brush. Its large, hulking form was covered in dark fur— thick and bristling at its hackles. The wolf snarled at the helpless boys; snapping knife-like fangs while sizing up its new prey that huddled together like lambs ripe for the slaughter. Their blood ran cold at the sight, the world around them shrunk until only the gaping maw and piercing eyes of the creature remained. Its growl reverberated through the ground and shook them to their core.

“Was it stalking us?” Patroclus whispered, air drained from his lungs.

Achilles did not answer, instead positioning himself between Patroclus and the wolf. He did not tear away his sharp sea-green glare from the animal as he reached for the knife at his side. He spread himself into a wide, defensive stance. Behind him, Patroclus scrambled to grab hold of his own blade.

“I’ll take care of it Pat, don’t worry.” Patroclus wished he could believe him, but he could clearly see Achilles’ trembling hands that held the weapon with a white-knuckle grip.

The beast’s muscles twitched, preparing to lunge with ravenous might. Achilles brandished his blade while Patroclus curled in on himself behind him, fearing the worst. He’d seen a mangled corpse before, been the cause of it, and he prayed that he would not see Achilles end up the same way.

A swift breeze whooshed passed him, followed by a surprised yelp. Daring to look up, Patroclus saw an arrow jutting out from the wolf’s shoulder. Shining scarlet blood trickled from the wound.

At once Chiron burst forth, seemingly from the heavens, to stand in front of them. He reared up onto his hind legs; a magnificent sight as he towered above everything around them, rivalling the sturdy oak trees themselves. A booming yell exploded from his throat, roiling like thunder over the countryside. The frightened wolf retreated slightly, but did not back down. He drew back another arrow and let it fly. It hit the animal’s side, though that only served to infuriate it more.

Chiron spared a quick glance at his boys behind him. “Run! Both of you!”

Wasting no time, Patroclus sprinted away as fast as his feet could carry him, clutching onto the bag of precious herbs they’d collected. But something was missing, he thought. Achilles should have been ahead of him. Turning his head, he saw his friend stalling behind Chiron.

The wolf pounced at the centaur, who kicked it away before skillfully gaining distance between them. Achilles whimpered, narrowly avoiding Chiron’s frantic hooves. He desperately clutched the lavender that had fallen from Patroclus’ hair, as if its sweetness could save him. Tossed amidst the battle like driftwood on a stormy sea, Achilles stumbled backwards. Fear coursed through him like never before. Chiron stood above him, a fierce look in his normally gentle eyes.

“I told you to run, lad!” He ordered before knocking another arrow.

A split second later Achilles dashed out of the fray, easily catching up to Patroclus who was still running ahead of him. A series of ‘why did you do that?’ and ‘are you stupid, you could’ve been killed!’ and ‘don’t ever leave my side again!’ swirled through Patroclus’ mind, but he had not the senses to voice them. His breaths came ragged and uneven, burning lungs accompanied by the taste of blood in his mouth aggravated his panicked state. He tried to focus on Achilles’ flowing hair in front of him, windswept fields of wheat guiding his way. Their traipse in the woods seemed so short when they entered— now the green inferno appeared to stretch on for miles and miles with no end in sight.

The blur around him stopped suddenly when something caught on his foot, sending a sharp, shooting pain from his ankle up his leg. Patroclus cried out, feeling the harsh impact as he tumbled to the ground. Quickly, he flipped himself around, finding that his foot had gotten caught on a stray root.

Hearing his sudden outcry, Achilles was at his side in an instant. “Patroclus? What’s wrong? What happened?” Panic nipped at the edge of his words.

“I… ow! I fell.” Patroclus bit his trembling lower lip, afflicted with pain and embarrassment.

Achilles viciously cut through the root that dared to hurt his Patroclus. He examined the rapidly swelling ankle, kissing his teeth with concern.

“Can you stand up?” He asked while trying to help Patroclus to his feet. The other boy attempted to put weight on his foot, but collapsed under the throbbing pain with another cry.

“I… I’m going to pick you up, okay?” Now Achilles’ voice was also shaking, he swallowed down tears that threatened to spill.

Patroclus nodded, allowing Achilles’ arms to cradle his back and legs as he lifted him up to full height. Patroclus wrapped his arms around his neck and leaned his head into Achilles’ shoulder. The fresh scent of oil used in his hair earlier that day still lingered, bringing a wave of comfort.

When he thought the other couldn’t see him, Achilles began openly crying. A waterfall of salty tears rolled down his cheeks while he carried Patroclus to a nearby clearing. Distraught hiccups escaped his constricting throat; his whole body quivered, struggling to not shatter like glass under the weight of Patroclus’ pain.
Carefully laying him down onto the soft grass, Achilles tucked the lavender back behind Patroclus’ ear where it belonged.

“You were a fool for retrieving them.” Patroclus mumbled, guilt coursing through his body like blood.

“Maybe, but I don’t regret it. Those flowers were a gift, they should be with you.”

Like all good things, the bunch of lavender would eventually wither away and die. Perhaps if he dried them, held them gently in his hands they would not crumble to dust; but that would require parting from the blossoms, and Patroclus could never bring himself to do such a thing.

It was not too long before Chiron showed up, along with him came the first droplets of rain. Though he was relatively unharmed, only baring a few scratches and bruises, his tail still swished back and forth anxiously.

Their mentor carried all the comfort in the world with him, relief washing over the boys when they saw him through the thicket. Achilles approached with red-rimmed eyes, words already moving a mile a minute. “Chiron! I-It’s Patroclus he, we were running and then suddenly I heard him yell and then when I saw him he was on the ground and then—” He was halted by a raised hand and stern look. Chiron said nothing and knelt before Patroclus, examining him.

“I’m sorry Chiron, sir… I didn’t mean to fall.” Patroclus muttered, looking away ashamedly. His Opuntian accent allowed the R’s to roll smoothly off his tongue.

“There is no need to apologise, Patroclus, for this is not your fault. It is no one’s fault. Accidents will happen, the best we can do is try to resolve them.” Chiron continued to poke and prod at the wound, hearing the boy’s stifled whimpers. Raising his head, warm amber eyes met the boy’s voidlike brown. He had always equated Patroclus’ eyes to that of a calf— wide, innocent and full of wonder. It broke his heart to see them harbour so much pain. “Tears are not so precious that they need to be kept. There is no shame in crying.”

At that, Patroclus burst into tears, overflowing like a chalice of sour wine. Quiet sobs left his lips while Achilles crouched beside him, rubbing soothing circles into his back. He too continued to weep silently.

“You have sprained your ankle.” Chiron finally said. “Achilles, would you come here for a moment?” His tone was taught as a rope. Achilles reluctantly shuffled forward.

“Yes, master Chiron?” He asked timidly.

Chiron sighed, choosing his next words carefully. “When in a dangerous situation, such as the one we were previously in, I urge you not to act so recklessly again. You are young and inexperienced, I do not wish to see you hurt under such dire circumstances, do you understand my reasoning?”

Achilles scuffed his sandal against the ground, kicking up a bit of dirt. A pout grew on his face. “But it was a gift for Patroclus! I couldn’t leave it behind! I was being careful, I promise.”

Oh, bless that boy’s soul, Chiron thought. He crossed his arms lightly, ear twitching. “I understand, but I nearly trampled you, or the wolf could have focused its attention on snatching you away. Now tell me, which do you think Patroclus would rather have: you or the gift?”

The lad shifted from one foot to another, glancing at Patroclus with pleading eyes. Patroclus only nodded in return.

“Me…” He murmured, pouting further.

“Hm, and Patroclus? Is his assumption correct?”

“Yes. There will always be more gifts.” Patroclus did not want to even entertain the idea of losing Achilles.

“Precisely. Achilles, your actions were very kind and very brave, but there is a line between bravery and foolishness that you must learn. I am not upset with you, I only feared for your safety. Have we reached an understanding?”

Achilles nodded, hiding his shame behind a curtain of blond hair. “Yes, we’ve reached an understanding. I’m sorry Chiron, sir.”

Chiron outstretched his arms, which Achilles eagerly met into a hug. His muscular arms wrapped around Achilles like a blanket protecting him from the world, radiating warmth.

“All is forgiven, lad. I am relieved that both of you are safe.” They unravelled from the hug, Chiron still holding onto Achilles’ shoulders. “Could you please help Patroclus onto my back? We can treat his ankle properly once we have returned home.”

Achilles swiftly obliged, picking up his friend once more and sliding him onto Chiron’s back, adjusting him accordingly. His mentor’s fur was sleek, almost slippery beneath him. Patroclus wrapped his arms around Chiron’s torso, seeking balance. Gently, he rested his head on the centaur’s shoulder. Soft, brown hair brushed against his cheek, tickling him.

“Are you comfortable, stranger?” Chiron asked, slowly standing up without jostling the boy.

“Mhm.” Patroclus looked at Achilles beside him, who offered a small smile.

Chiron took a moment to reorient themselves, feeling the wind against his skin and gauging the direction. Wordlessly he headed west, Achilles followed beside them while trying to commit the direction to memory. The sooner he could map out this forest the better.

The chosen path was rocky and unsteady, although being a shortcut meant that they could weather the continual pouring rain and arrive home before the real storm would pass over. Patroclus held on tight, gripping Chiron’s sides with his knees while minding the way he pressed into him.

“Did you discover anything else while you were exploring?” Chiron asked, he helped Achilles over a particularly high ledge.

“We saw a butterfly.” A shy smile spread across Patroclus’ cheeks, still slightly plump with boyhood. “It was a Cleopatra! I think it was a male, it was gold with little brown dots. It flew away before I could get a closer look.”

“Hm, seems rather likely. They migrate up to the mountains in spring and stay over the summer. We will see less of them when autumn arrives, they will return to their plains then.”

Patroclus gave a small hum, holding the new fact in his heart. He repeated it under his breath.

“I found some interesting mushrooms.” Achilles chimed in. “I hope they didn’t fall out of the bag, I want to know if we can eat them.”

Chiron hummed softly, Patroclus could feel the mirth vibrating in his chest. “Identifying fungi can be difficult, as many poisonous ones tend to look harmless. We will see what we can do with them.”

The rest of the journey back was uneasy. Patroclus was on edge, glancing around at every movement he thought he saw. Achilles still held the knife in his hand, following Patroclus’ anxious gaze wherever it landed. Chiron’s ears pricked, picking up on every sound that could pose a threat. The rest of him was relaxed, bow and quiver limp in his hands as if to remind his boys that there was nothing to be afraid of.

Fog began to settle over the mountainside. All the vibrant greens that shone just a few hours ago were shrouded in grey and seemed to be washed away by the rain. Anything in the distance became clouded and blurry, though Chiron seemed unbothered by the lack of visibility. Patroclus admired the way he was so in tune with the world around him. Instinctively guided by Gaia’s invisible hand that led him through the blind forest. He once asked his mentor how he knew so much, if it was because of his immortality.

“I have lived a long life, and I am to live for much longer. My knowledge does not come from age but from the wealth of experience I have gained. There will always be more to learn as the world keeps changing.”

Perhaps if Patroclus could live to age with experience he could become just as knowledgeable as Chiron. He would not mind if decades from now people sought his assistance. Being able to help any and all with their troubles while living a quiet life tucked away in the woods.

A twig cracked somewhere in the distance, snapping him out of his reverie. His breath hitched, entire body tensing as visions of what terrible creature could be lurking ahead of them. Had Chiron killed the wolf? Or was it licking its wounds and waiting for vengeance?
Achilles halted in his tracks, almost fluffing up like a cat at the hypothetical threat. Chiron paused to look at Achilles, who was taut as a bowstring and ready to pounce.

Patroclus buried his face into the crook of Chiron’s neck, closing his eyes. “Are we almost home?” He whined, sounding more childish than he would have liked.

“Yes, it is not much further.” Chiron held out his hand towards Achilles. Scanning his surroundings one more time, the lad took his hand and entwined their fingers. His mentor protectively pulled him closer, squeezing his hand in a show of comfort as they continued forward.

Finally, graciously, their rose quartz cave came into view. Welcoming them home after a tumultuous day. Home had always been a pleasant sight, but none more pleasant than now.

“Patroclus, do not put any weight on your ankle. You may use Achilles as a crutch in the coming weeks.”

Patroclus nodded, but was scooped up into Achilles’ arms before he could properly dismount. The lad beamed at him.

“It’s alright! I can carry you!”

Now, without being distracted by terror and tears, Patroclus realised how close they were. Their cheeks almost touched as they breathed in each other’s air. Heat prickled up the back of his neck.

“You don’t have to, I can walk on my own.”

Achilles shook his head. “I like carrying you, it’s fun! And… I don’t want you to get more hurt.” His voice quieted, not wishing to speak such a thing into existence.

Thus Patroclus was ceremoniously delivered to the downy furs inside. Achilles placed him down as if he were a rose, delicate and all too precious to ruin. Once he had finished starting the fire, Chiron took a look at his ankle again. It was still swollen and a dark bruise had begun to form. At his instruction, Patroclus tried to move it— wincing in pain as he did. The range of movement was limited.

“Lie back,” he said, helping Patroclus ease into the covers. “Achilles, I have several large tomes beneath those shelves to your right. May you please bring three or four over here?”

Achilles did as he was told, retrieving a few large books and placing them where Chiron had directed, in front of Patroclus. Carefully, the centaur placed his foot on the stack of books.

“The injury must remain elevated during sleep, and for several hours a day.” He explained. “It will help reduce pain and swelling, along with improving blood circulation. You will heal faster that way.”

Chiron handed off bandages to Achilles. “Wrap his ankle, make sure it is tight. The compression will once again reduce swelling. We will sort through the herbs you collected together and find out which ones will help the healing process.”

Taking the bag that hung limp around Patroclus’ shoulder, he placed the herbs in a line where they could all see. From left to right, he began describing each plant. Their colour, texture, smell, the shape of their leaves. Often Chiron would ask specifically where they found it and what other plants were growing around the area. He pointed at a small purple flower with a burst of yellow in the middle.

“That’s saffron.” Patroclus said, having picked it himself.

“Very good, and what is it used for?”

He paused, trying to jog his memory. “It aids in digestion and helps prevent sickness. It can also reduce melancholy.”

Chiron nodded, then turned to Achilles. Placing two nearly identical stems in front of him, each bearing leaves with serrated edges. “Some herbs look similar, as you can see. Could you tell me the difference between these two, Achilles? Remember to use all of your senses.”

The lad leaned in closer, the shape of the leaves were slightly different— one heart-shaped and the other more oblong. When he sniffed each of the leaves, the answer became clear to him.

“This one is lemon balm.” He said, raising the stem with heart-shaped leaves. “And this one is mint.”

“Mhm, and how could you tell?”

“One smells like lemon and the other smells like mint.” He said bluntly, Chiron chuckled at his tone.

“Alright, can you tell me their benefits?”

Achilles looked towards Patroclus, who only shrugged at him. Betrayal. They had spent long nights reciting countless flora and their uses, now in his time of need, Achilles was left high and dry.

“Uhm…” He shook his head, willing himself to focus. “They’re both used to help with insomnia.” Looking towards Chiron, he was met with a small nod of approval. “Mint cures bad breath and stomach issues. And… lemon balm eases anxiety.” A small part of his brain told him he was forgetting something, but Chiron seemed satisfied with the answer.

“Yes, lemon balm may also prevent illness.”

The rain outside continued to pick up as Chiron continued his lesson, reviewing familiar herbs and teaching about the new ones. It was a lot to take in, but there was no doubt that their lessons in herbalism would continue through the years they will spend on Pelion. More bright days spent frolicking through the forest were ahead of them, hopefully they would be less eventful than today’s venture.

“That is enough for now.” Chiron finally said. “Can you two please tie the herbs in bunches and hang them up? Patroclus, I shall make tea for you.”

So the three set out on their tasks, making light conversation as they did so.

“What are you putting in my tea, master Chiron?” Patroclus asked, tying off a bunch of parsley.

“I am brewing mountain tea with oregano and a hint of lemon balm. I will also boil a small amount of poppy seeds with added honey.”

“Oh, thank you. Will it help with my ankle?”

“Perhaps. The poppy seed will ease the pain and oregano will prevent inflammation. The rest is to calm your nerves, as today was rather hectic. I felt you shaking while we were walking home and the anxiety still hangs over you.”

Patroclus hummed. That much was true, yet he did not wish to dwell on it, already feeling like a burden on the other two. He pushed those thoughts aside and continued sorting the herbs.
The work was easy and went by quickly, before long Achilles was up and hanging the bunches along the wall. Patroclus blew on his tea and took a sip, finding it sweet with a little bit of a bitter aftertaste. Still, it accomplished his task of making him relax further.

Chiron suddenly stood up, wrapping a chlamys around himself and solemnly taking his bow from where it laid next to several other weapons. Both Achilles and Patroclus eyed him suspiciously, the former speaking first.

“Where are you going?”

An apologetic look veiled Chiron’s expression as he turned to look at them. “The wolf is not dead. It is not right to leave a wounded animal to live its life in pain, I must finish what I have started. I shall find it before its tracks are washed away by the rain.”

Horror and concern flashed on the boy’s faces. Patroclus made a pained noise at the prospect.

“You’re going out alone in the rain?” His eyes were wide and pleading. “What if you get hurt? We don’t know the woods well enough to find you.”

Achilles nodded beside him, already tying the pouch with his knife to his belt. “I am coming with you.”

Chiron shook his head resolutely. “No, lad. It is safer for you two to stay here, I will alright on my own. Do you not think I am able to survive in the forest on my own?”

Achilles’ brows furrowed, the telltale pout returning. “But what about the wolf? What if it attacks you?”

“Now you are so concerned with danger?” The lad shrunk back at the comment. Chiron sighed and knelt before the two of them, hands resting on either of their shoulders. “Achilles, I need you to tend to Patroclus while I am away— we cannot leave him alone, can we?” Achilles shook his head. “Right. If hunger urges you so, eat the lunch we packed earlier. I will not be gone for long, a few hours should suffice.”

“Do you promise?” Patroclus asked, anxiously tapping the rim of his cup.

“I promise I will return shortly.”

The boys brought him into another hug, reluctantly letting go and watching as he disappeared into the foggy rain without looking back. Their once cosy cave now held the same anxieties as the forest clearing. The crushing millstone of the unknown haunted every corner; false stars that glittered above them now stared down like the wolf’s vile eyes, observing their every move.

Patroclus downed the rest of his tea, licking the very last dregs of it. “I… I might need more of this stuff.” His flat attempt of a joke fell on deaf ears. Achilles kept staring outside, rumbling thunder indicating the current conditions away from their warm cave. All the excited chirping and buzzing from outside was drained and replaced with harsh roaring winds and the rush of rain. The weather had become its own beast.

“Achilles, you will not.” Patroclus said sternly, an echo of desperation in his voice.

“I’m not going to leave! I’m just looking.”

“You can look from over here.” He beckoned. Achilles retreated to his friend’s side, laying his head on his lap.

Patroclus ran his hands through Achilles’ hair, feeling his relaxation deepen at every touch. The repetitive movement lulled his own nerves.

“He will be alright, he has to be.” The blond said to himself more than anything. Patroclus took a few strands of hair in his hands and began braiding them together.

“He has gone out alone plenty of times before. This time will be no different.” Patroclus added.

“I know. It’s just that… today was… I have never felt so much fear before.” Achilles mumbled. His words carried an air of shame, yet more fear he did not express. He turned his head to face the roof of the cave, Patroclus losing track of the unfinished braids that would inevitably untangle. Staring up at his companion, Achilles was met with the softest gaze. He was lost in the depths of Patroclus’ eyes, counting the flecks of brown that sparkled in the firelight, twinkling like stars. They stilled, soaking in the full sight of one another. Silently conveying the words they were too afraid to utter.

Suddenly Achilles looked away, a bright pink blush on his face as he abruptly sat up. He faced the fire rather than Patroclus. “I was afraid for myself, yes. But I was even more afraid for you. When I saw that you fell I… I thought the worst would happen.”

Patroclus hummed, restarting his work. “I am not so fragile.”

Achilles laughed, much to the other’s chagrin. “Do not lie to me, Patroclus. You are like a thread in a loom, you should be handled with care.”

The boy huffed, lightly slapping his shoulder in response. “And can a thread not hold the weight of an ox? Just wait until Chiron starts our martial training, then we’ll see.”

Achilles shifted, knocking Patroclus back a bit. “I am already the best spearman. I am called the greatest of the Greeks for a reason.” He laughed when Patroclus shoved him.

“You’re also the greatest of the fools! Now stop moving, I'm trying to braid your hair.”

“You started it!” He said, though he stilled his movements.

“And I shall end it.”

The mood lightened slightly, Achilles watched the crackling embers in the fire while sitting patiently. Patroclus did not twist anything fancy, only a simple plait that fell down the other’s back. Achilles’ hair was like silk between his fingers, smooth and softer than anything he had ever felt before. Patroclus wanted to lean in and bury his face in the flaxen waves, inhaling the sweet scent it always seemed to carry. Instead he tied off the end of the braid, examining his work.

“Done.” He said. Achilles turned with a bright smile, which Patroclus returned in full.

“Now it's your turn!”

“But my hair is not long enough yet.” Self-consciously, he twirled a lock around his finger.

“Then I’ll braid a small one here in the front.”

Invading his personal space again— though that was never unwanted— Achilles separated a few curls and began the same process of overlapping them. Patroclus tried avoiding eye contact, though his gaze wandered elsewhere on Achilles’ face. His cupid’s bow lips, plush and pink like rose petals, pressed together acutely as he focused on his task. The perfect slope of his nose and the nostrils that flared occasionally. The slight red tint on the apples of his cheeks did not go unnoticed, though Patroclus did not dare dwell on it for too long.

This close to Achilles, almost all of his fears melted away. Everything was reduced to only the two of them, the rumblings of a mutual desire sparked in the space between yet neither were brave enough to close that gap. Patroclus was nearly dizzy with want when Achilles finally pulled away, wearing a proud smile.

“Do you want me to brush the rest of your hair?” He asked.

Patroclus nodded. “Though, could you please bring me that bowl of olives? We can share if you would like.”

“Of course!”

Achilles swiftly grabbed the bowl, already popping one olive into his mouth. He then crossed the room to retrieve a comb and a vial of scented oil. While he was up, Patroclus managed to slightly shift his position, allowing Achilles free range to brush out his hair. The bowl was placed next to them along with the comb, and Achilles began rubbing the oil into his scalp.

Patroclus resisted the urge to close his eyes, choosing to munch on a handful of olives instead.

“Wanna see how far I can spit the pit?” Achilles asked, already knowing he was going to challenge himself anyway.

“You will have to clean it up afterwards.” He mused.

“Just once, then?”

“I cannot stop you.” Patroclus smirked. “See if you can hit that amphora over there.”

Measuring the distance between them and the pot on the other side of the cave, Achilles took his chances and spat out the olive pit. It flew across the room like a tiny missile, managing to clink against the side.

“I did it!” He exclaimed, springing to his feet to pick up the pit and toss it into the fire. He settled back behind Patroclus, taking the wooden comb in hand. “Pat, can you say amphora again?”

“...Amphora?”

Achilles’ cheeks dimpled with a smile. “I like the way you say it. Amphora.” He said, trying a rather poor imitation of Patroclus’ accent.

The boy’s face scrunched in disgust. “I do not sound like that! I am much more elegant, you sound like a toddler who does not know his own tongue.”

“Say it again and then maybe I will be able to pick it up.”

“Amphora.”

“Again.”

“Amphora.” Patroclus rolled his eyes.

“Hm, again.”

“Am-phor-a.”

“One more time.” The lad’s smile morphed into a wicked grin.

“Achilles.”

“Close, but not exactly.” Achilles laughed when Patroclus finally turned around and shot him a deadly, if playful glare.

“The greatest of the fools.” He uttered under his breath.

A flash of lightning and roaring thunder quieted their antics. Achilles resolutely combed through soft, dark curls. Meanwhile, Patroclus kept his eyes locked on the horizon. Dread was in high tide again, crawling like waves up the seashore.

“Do you think he’ll be back soon? How long has it been?” Patroclus whispered, afraid to raise his voice any higher.

“I don’t know.” Achilles replied simply. “It is summer, if there was no storm there would still be light out.”

“Hm.”

Everything around them dimmed; the gap between each loud crack of burning wood grew longer and longer, the rain’s white noise became an annoying drone and the rest of the olives were left uneaten. Their stomachs twisting at the very thought of food.
The unseen sun continued to dip below the mountain range. Though the fog had cleared for some time, Patroclus could no longer see the edge of the forest— shrouded in darkness as it was. He kept his ears alert for the familiar sound of hooves against the grass, but it was to no avail.

Achilles idly stoked the fire, a blank expression dulling his features. An unfinished carving sat limp in Patroclus’ lap. The constant state of liminality ate away at them, anxiety blurring the edges of the cave. Patroclus’ attention drifted to Achilles who stood up and started pacing. He watched him move to each side of the cave; back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

His foot stopped sharply, head whipping around like a whirlwind to look out at the dreary weather. Achilles’ keen senses picked up on one slight change.

“He’s coming, I can hear him!”

No sweeter words could have been said. Patroclus let out a breath he did not know he was holding. He rested against Achilles who now sat next to him, eating another olive.

At last Patroclus could hear the squelching of wet ground under hooves. Lightning outlined Chiron’s silhouette as he trotted closer and closer, he slowed once he reached the entrance.

Achilles rushed over to him, excitement buzzing through his limbs. “Chiron, your back! We missed you!”

“Not too much, I should hope.” He greeted as he hung up his drenched chlamys to dry. A wolf skin was draped across his back, dark and heavy like night across the sky. It was hung up along with the chlamys; in his other hand were two limp rabbits. “We will be preparing a stew for dinner tonight.”

“Alright, can I help skin the rabbit this time?”

“Of course. Do you remember how I showed you?” Achilles nodded, taking one of the rabbits from his hand. Chiron’s tail flicked off remaining droplets of water. “Good. Patroclus, would you please crush the boiled lentils?”

“Yes, sir.”

Light slowly trickled back into the world. All previous troubles were swept to the side by the sound of Chiron’s warm voice that gently instructed Achilles. Patroclus listened silently while he focused on grinding the lentils into mush, allowing his shoulders to relax and his jaw unclench. Perhaps the tea was working now, or perhaps it was something more.

They sat around the fire to eat their supper. The hardy stew warmed Patroclus from the inside, making him feel like a flower blooming in the sunlight. The food had a mouthwatering smell and was rich and savoury on his tongue. Complex layers of flavour from various vegetables and herbs mixed into what Patroclus could only describe as home.
While they ate, Chiron began telling the story of Heracles and the Lernean Hydra.

“But we’ve already heard this one before! Everyone knows about it.” Achilles whined, shoving his overfilled spoon in his mouth for emphasis.

“That may be so,” Chiron replied patiently. “Yet many do not know of Iolaus, now do they?”

That managed to quiet any complaints the lad fostered, Chiron continued.

“Iolaus was Heracles’ dearest and most loyal companion, he accompanied him on many of the hero’s labours.”

And so Chiron weaved a tale of gods and monsters. Vividly retelling the grand battle between the two combatants. Patroclus could nearly feel the hot, poisonous breath of the serpent prickling on the back of his neck— its snapping jaws and gleaming fangs dripping with venom potent enough to fell a thousand men. He could sense Heracles’ heartbeat as he swiftly avoided a painful death with a skilful slash of his sword, beheading the beast only to watch in horror as two more heads grew in its place. Then there was the demigod’s brave comrade; noble Iolaus dashing from one neck stump to another, cauterising them to prevent more heads from sprouting.

Chiron’s words halted, moving his affectionate gaze towards Patroclus who sat by his rump. “What are you doing there, stranger?”

Patroclus’ head shot up suddenly, hands falling from his mentor’s tail. A deep blush followed. “I’m sorry sir, I was braiding your tail. I should have asked before starting, I can always undo it.”

Chiron shook his head, letting out a quiet chuckle. “Nonsense. It is healthy to indulge in one’s appearance from time to time, you may continue.”

A small smile made Patroclus glow as he carried on twisting hairs between his fingers while the centaur resumed his story. He wove a more intricate braid than the one he gave Achilles, managing to find a stray strip of coloured fabric that he tied into a little bow at the end.

“Thus, Heracles could not defeat the Hydra alone with brute strength. Rather, he needed to use his wit and the assistance of another to overcome such an obstacle. We may encounter such occurrences in life, and we can follow his example to overcome our own challenges.” Chiron concluded.

Both boys were quiet, still enraptured and hanging onto the final threads of the myth. Achilles’ bright eyes were wide with wonder. Beside him, Patroclus’ features were stern, deep in thought.

“Now, it is time for us to clean up. Night is nearly upon us and soon we will retire for the day. Patroclus, you may lower your leg now, though it should be raised again when you go to sleep.”

Patroclus moved his leg off of the pile of books, only now realising how numb it had become— pins and needles were sure to follow. Achilles picked up all of their dishes and placed them in a neat pile near the entrance, ready to be washed in the river the coming morning.
The thunderstorm outside ceased; the heady smell of petrichor permeated throughout the cave, earthen and laying over them like a thick blanket. The world remained quiet with the exception of crickets, their shrill calls signalling the end of the day and the beginning of the night.

“Chiron, can we play music before we go to bed? I am not tired yet.” Achilles asked, gesturing towards several instruments the centaur had collected over the many years.

“If you so wish, lad. I would like to play my kithara, are you going to play your lyre?”

Achilles shook his head, scanning the selection. “No, I want to play something new today.”

Chiron nodded. “Patroclus? Would you like an instrument?”

He glanced over at the assortment, some he recognised and others he did not. He wanted to play something simple, and one instrument in particular caught his eye. “I would like the tambourine, please.”

Achilles retrieved each of them their respective instruments before returning to pick out his own. He took his time looking, picking each one up and scrutinising it before deciding it did not meet the arbitrary standard he had set. Curiously, he took two pairs of pale shells in his hands. One piece of string was thread through two shells, connecting them together. Another formed two loops on the outside for the instrument to be held.

“What are these?” Achilles asked, displaying them.

“Those are krotala, they are clappers played while dancing. I made those out of shells, though they can be carved out of wood or made of brass.” Chiron answered, tuning his kithara to his liking.

“Can you please show me how to play them?”

“Of course, it is rather easy.” He beckoned Achilles over with a flick of his now decorated tail. “Put your thumb and middle finger through the loops and hold it like so.” He slightly adjusted the lad’s grip. “Now clap your fingers together.”

The shells came together with a sharp clap, Achilles grinned. “I like them!”

“Typically they are only played by women, but I do not believe music should be held to such restrictions. You are free to use them as you please.”

Achilles took centre stage between the two of them. He bounced on the balls of his feet, waiting for Chiron’s cue to begin.

“Patroclus, start with a beat, if you will. On the count of three I shall accompany you, and then Achilles.”

Patroclus steadily tapped the tambourine against his thigh, occasionally shaking it to make the sound more dynamic. The pleasant jingle was joined by Chiron’s melodic playing, his fingers deftly strumming his kithara in a show of skilful improvisation. Achilles started moving to the beat; only his feet at first, but as he started his rhythmic clapping his whole body danced with the music.
They performed a lively tune, allowing Achilles to sway like a tree in the wind— heels barely touching the ground as he twirled around in circles. Patroclus admired the way his golden hair flowed smooth as ambrosia at every turn. It was incandescent in the firelight, like a phoenix’s blazing tail trailing behind him. Achilles’ beaming smile only served to illuminate him more, he was their own little sun shining in the night.

Merriment brought the room to life, shaking off the last remnants of worry and embracing the joy that came with their small celebration. Bouts of revelry such as this were not uncommon, but the sense of relief that came with it was new and thoroughly deserved. Patroclus nodded along to the music— longing to dance with Achilles like they would on other occasions— but he pushed aside his want in favour of enjoying the laughter that fell from his own lips. The beat thrummed in his chest and he could feel the melody surge through his bones, lighting up every part of him.

Their symphony lasted until the moon glowed pale and bright in the sky. Chiron brought them into a rousing crescendo; to which Achilles danced faster and faster, spinning himself into a dizzying knot. When their collective sound reached its peak they stopped abruptly. Achilles nearly fell over from his constant twists and turns.

Chiron steadied him with a laugh, ruffling his hair. “I think it is time we rest now, we have had an eventful day. Achilles, may you please put the instruments away while I help Patroclus into bed?”

“But I want to carry him! I have already been gentle, I promise I will continue to be careful.”

Chiron considered this, flicking his ears. “Alright. Do not forget to keep his ankle raised.”

“I won’t!” Achilles said, kneeling before Patroclus who instinctively climbed into his arms.

Patroclus quietly bid him farewell. “Goodnight, master Chiron.”

“Goodnight, Patroclus. If you need anything during the night, do not hesitate to wake me or Achilles.”

“Okay.” He replied, already thinking of ways to not be a nuisance.

The two headed towards their pallet while Chiron put away the instruments, organising them as they were before. The night was still, everything quiet as if the world stopped turning. All the commotion of the day finally knew peace.

Achilles returned to pick up the tomes, he paused momentarily.

“Chiron?”

His ears perked at the sound of his name. “Hm? Yes, Achilles?”

“Thank you for everything today, I don’t know what would have happened if you were not there. I… I was so scared, I just couldn’t—” He let out a small whine of frustration, trying to gather his words. “We would be lost without you. So… thank you.”

Chiron’s heart melted. This boy standing in front of him now was the best of the Greeks. Green eyes wide and watery, cheeks rosy and youthful, stumbling over his tongue as he confessed to being scared. He looked so small against the wide world that he would one day hold in his hands.

“Come here, lad.” Chiron knelt down, meeting Achilles at eye-level. “You do not need to thank me, I will always look after you two. The love I bear for you both is not a burden and does not need to be met with gratitude. As long as you are under my care, I will not allow anything to bring either of you harm. Do you understand?”

Achilles nodded silently.

“Furthermore; I have trained the greatest heroes in all of Greece, all of whom I have seen scared more than once. Do not hold yourself to impossible expectations. It is only natural to be scared, fear is one of the many things that drives us in life. You cannot have courage without feeling fear first, always remember that.”

Achilles surged forward and brought him into a tight embrace. Chiron returned the hug, wrapping his arms around the lad like vines around a tree— unwilling to let go.

“We love you too.” Achilles said, pulling away to wipe a stray tear from his eye. “Goodnight, Chiron. We will see you in the morning.”

“I am looking forward to it. Goodnight, Achilles.”

He picked up the books again and returned to where Patroclus was waiting for him. As Chiron performed his nightly routines, he managed to catch a few of their whisperings.

“Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?”

“I am fine, Achilles.”

“I hope we swim in the river tomorrow…”

“Maybe we will go fishing.”

He halted the eavesdropping, for the conversation was not his to hear. As he settled into bed, he could only think of their future. His boys would change before his very eyes, growing into themselves and the world around them. Born warriors, the both of them, destined for great honour and inevitably great tragedy. Such is the case with many of the others that once slept where they sleep now. There will come a day when he will look into their eyes and wonder where the two innocent lambs have gone, finding only courageousness where uncertainty once stood. And on that day he will have to let them go, allow them to explore life without his guiding hand. To seize the path the Fates have laid for them and face adversity armed with all he has taught them. On that day, he will never see them again.

But today is not that day, nor is tomorrow, nor the day after that.

So with a heart leaden with love, Chiron allowed himself to slip into the comforting realm of sleep, dreaming of endless fields and the bright smiles that lay quiet in the next room.