Archive of Our Own

Leaves crunched under Achilles’ boots, disturbing the silence of the forest around him. Birds barely sang anymore, if there were any left. The sweet sounds of nature that used to grace these woods have long gone quiet. Only crows cawed overhead on occasion, yet even those had to drop dead eventually. He fiddled with the ring on his finger, the gold band idly twisting this way and that. Sticking to paths carved by other survivors before him, Achilles kept his eyes sharp and searching for any sign of tracks he could follow. He adjusted the sling that held his shotgun on his shoulder and continued in the direction he last saw his husband leave. North.

It had been nearly three weeks since Patroclus’ disappearance. Nearly three weeks of sleepless nights spent roaming the wilderness with nothing more than a pack full of dwindling supplies and weapons to keep him company. There was no sign of life anywhere, even the wind was unable to shake the trees. When did the world stop living? Since the dead started to?

The stillness drove Achilles mad. For ten years he handled the bustling of their camp; sending out scouts and gathering parties, taking in those who were lost and injured, cultivating their own little society with Patroclus by his side. Through the stress of it all, he was never alone. Now, after one final kiss goodbye, he was.

It made his spirit wane, he could feel the weight of hopelessness strangle him under its boot. A small, treacherous part of him whispered the terrifying truth that all of this was for nothing. That his other half was gone, never to be seen again—unless he came back rotting like the others.

Every terrible scenario raced through his mind’s eye; was he lost? Taken? Killed? Starving? Bitten?

The image of an undead Patroclus made every part of him wretch. Eyes once full of love now hollow, maggots making their homes in his sockets. Soft skin rotting away from his bones, putrid and necrotic. His warm voice would no longer be his own, instead a pained groan begging for the barrel of a gun to end his misery.

Achilles desperately fought against such thoughts; memories playing and replaying in his head reminding him why he was out here, who he was searching for, what he meant to him.

~|:|~

“Alone? Absolutely not, I am coming with you.” Achilles stood in the door frame, arms crossed. The dog tags around his neck clinked as they turned between his fingers. 

Patroclus looked at him with that gentle gaze of his. “I will not be gone for long, only a few days at most. I just need to gather whatever herbs I can salvage. When I return we’ll see what we can find in town together, alright?”

Patroclus continued to pack his bag, taking minimal supplies. That did not ease Achilles’ mind. “Why can’t I come with you? I nearly know just as many herbs as you do, you taught me yourself! Please, as your husband—”

“As my husband I need you to look after our camp. This safe house is our family, Achilles, one of us must remain here to care for them.” He zipped up the bag for emphasis, pulling on his wool jacket before hauling the bag over his shoulder. Achilles only managed to gape at him, words struggling to take form on his tongue.

He crossed the threshold of their small bedroom, running his hands through his hair as he began to pace. “But we’ve gone out together before! Patroclus, please, this is a foolish idea. If there’s something you’re hiding then you can tell me, you know that.”

“We’ve gone out in parties before, and those were only for a day. I will manage on my own, Achilles, it is not the first time I have ventured out alone and it will not be the last. You have to trust me.”

“I do trust you!” Achilles said, exasperated. “I don’t trust whatever the hell is out there trying to kill all of us! If not me then bring someone else. Odysseus, perhaps. I don’t want you alone out there. I fear for you.”

Patroclus stepped in front of him, his warm eyes meeting Achilles’ own. He took his husband’s scarred, calloused hands and brought them to his lips. The other man eased, shoulders relaxing with a sigh. Patroclus was the only source of softness Achilles has had for the past decade or so. A familiar comfort he could collapse into at the end of each day, helping him recall why his heart continued to beat.

“Fear is for the weak, love, is that not what you tell me?” Patroclus grinned, radiant as the sunrise. “I know this is foolish, I understand why you’re upset, but we need more supplies. There are more who are sick and injured every day, I cannot neglect them, Achilles, my heart cannot take it.”

Bless Patroclus’ kind soul, Achilles thought, and curse his limitless supply of selflessness. There was a brief pause, a thousand scenarios running through both of their minds and filling the space between them. Reluctantly, Achilles gave in— falling forward to engulf his lover in the tightest embrace he could muster. He buried his face into the crook of his neck, taking in his homely scent. Everything reeked of death these days, though Patroclus always seemed untouched by the miasma.

“Three days. Four at the most, then I’ll be home, alright?”

“Alright.”

They brought their lips together in a kiss, pouring all the love they could into each other. Achilles wanted to commit the feeling to memory, to run his tongue along his bottom lip and taste what his beloved left behind.

“I love you, Achilles. I’ll see you again soon.”

“I love you too, Pat. I’ll… I’ll see you.” Achilles grasped his hand, allowing it to be dragged along momentarily as Patroclus turned to leave.

Patroclus looked back and smiled at him, harbouring a playful confidence that his features carried so well.

“You’ll see me.”

~|:|~

A quiet noise pulled Achilles from his revelry, caution running through his body as his heart rate picked up. Remaining vigilant, he pinpointed which direction the sound was coming from. It was some kind of sniffling— an animal perhaps? When was the last time he’d seen one tread through this forest? Regardless, Achilles edged closer with his hatchet in hand. Whatever it was did not sound undead, but he could never be too sure.

He felt the wilderness’ eyes watch him silently. A gentle breeze breathed down the back of his neck, sending goosebumps rippling across his body. The wood of the handle nearly creaked under the weight of his crushing grip; knuckles turning white from the strain.

A miscalculated step had him snapping a twig beneath his feet. He winced at his own carelessness; expecting something to crawl out of its hiding place and maul him to death. Instead, the sniffling stopped. Achilles could just barely see a figure shifting in the bushes ahead. Tension began to build in his muscles, adrenaline ready for him to pounce into action at any moment. Every inch of his body screamed at him to run, to abandon this dangerous curiosity and live another day. But something else urged him closer, some greater instinct he could not put a name to.

The hairs on his neck stood on end, gut twisting in a horrible knot when he crouched before the bush. Reaching out his hatchet— blade end first— he moved branches out of the way to reveal whatever threat lay within.

“Mama?” A small, weary voice whispered.

Large, mismatched eyes peered up at him. They were watery and almost glazed over.

“Oh.” Achilles breathed, anxiety draining from his bones.

A boy was curled in on himself, cradling an injured arm to his chest. His face was red and tear-streaked. Fear held him in place, shaking. What was most striking were his eyes, one green and one brown, looking rather distant. Achilles had seen that far off gaze before, he had been at the mercy of it himself.

“Hello, lad. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.” He put down his weapons and brought a hand closer. The boy flinched away at first before his mind caught up with him. He held out a shaky hand and Achilles helped him out of the bush—allowing him to sit on the cushioned grass beneath them. Getting a better look, Achilles noticed just how small he was, no more than eight or nine years old if he had to guess. The boy wore a red hoodie and black sweatpants that matched his dark hair. He was frail but not entirely malnourished; a little dirty, he must have been out here alone for a few days.

“I’m afraid I’m not your mother, little one. My name is Achilles, may I ask who you are?” He took off his backpack, already searching for something to deal with the boy’s wound.

“Z-Zagreus…” He snivelled, senses beginning to return.

“That’s a rather nasty gash, Zagreus. Where did you get it from?”

Zagreus looked at his arm, his sleeve ripped revealing a deep incision that stained the already scarlet hoodie into a darker crimson. “I… I caught it on something. A branch, I think.”

“Well that was one hell of a branch, lad. May I take a look at it?” Zagreus nodded and slowly held his arm out.

Achilles kissed his teeth when he got a closer look. It was fresh but had stopped bleeding, he thanked whoever was listening in the heavens that it was indeed a cut and not some kind of bite. Taking a flask out from his pack, he unscrewed the cap.

“What is that?” Zagreus asked, fear still clinging onto his voice.

“It’s just some water. I don’t have any disinfectant so this will have to do. This might sting a bit.” Carefully, he poured water onto the wound.

Zagreus squirmed at the uncomfortable pain. “It hurts!” His voice squeaked, cracking like Achilles’ heart at the sight.

He tried to softly placate him. “I know lad, I know. I’m sorry, just one more moment. Do you mind if I…?” Achilles tore off the rest of Zagreus’ sleeve, wrapping it tightly around the arm to bandage it.

“Thank you.” Zagreus said, averting his gaze. Shyness looked unnatural on him, like a caged bird.

Achilles sat down, crossing his legs while continuing to quietly examine the boy for any more injuries. A few more scratches and bruises dotted his skin, but nothing that wouldn’t heal on its own. Zagreus shifted under his scrutiny, averting his gaze and digging his hands into the pocket at the front of his sweater. Achilles gave a small hum when he found everything else in order.

“So tell me Zagreus, what are you doing here all alone? Where are your parents?”

Zagreus began to tear up at the question. “I’m looking for my mama, I lost her.” He mumbled, wiping a tear away. “My father he… he’s gone.”

That was a story Achilles had heard far more than he would have liked. Too many wandering children ended up at their camp’s doorstep with no one to turn to and nowhere else to go.

“We seem to be in a similar situation, lad.” He tried to comfort him, if what he said was any comfort at all. “I am also looking for someone, my husband. We can search together if you would like?” That’s all anyone was doing now, searching.

“Yes please, Achilles, sir.”

Achilles stood up, helping Zagreus to his feet. He hauled his backpack on and slung his gun around his shoulder again. With deft fingers he unbuckled a belt that held a pouch around his hips; he wrapped it around Zagreus and adjusted it accordingly.

“Now,” Achilles started. “I am giving you my knife for protection, and only protection. Do you understand? This is not a toy. If we run into something, and I cannot help you for whatever reason, use it to defend yourself, alright?”

“Okay, I understand. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, lad.” Achilles ruffled Zagreus’ hair, a few giggles managing to escape from him.

A small voice in his head said that perhaps giving a random child a knife the size of half his arm was not the smartest decision Achilles had ever made, but he would never forgive himself if anything happened to Zagreus under his care.

Too much guilt already ate away at him.

“Do you know which direction you were heading in?” Achilles asked, the boy shook his head. “Alright, I was going north, do you mind if we keep going?” Zagreus repeated the action once more.

With that decided, Achilles took his hand and continued forward with a new responsibility by his side.

It was difficult for Achilles to gauge what kind of person Zagreus was. The boy was relatively quiet it seemed, but that stemmed from fear more than anything. Zagreus was born into a world of fear, but he had not known it his whole life. The way his eyes flashed around— a hint of curiosity in his gaze. How he carried himself confidently despite his injury, or his eager footsteps that fell in sync with Achilles’ own. The lad brought so much life with him wherever he went, life that Achilles thought had fizzled out years ago.

“What is your mother’s name, lad? What does she look like? How did you lose her?” Achilles asked, hoping the invasive questions would not scare him off.

Zagreus only kept an uncertain look on his face. “Persephone. She has hair like yours, but a bit straighter. It was very pretty, she always liked to braid it.” His brow furrowed as he spoke. “We were in one of our hiding spots when they attacked us. She was fending them off and… and she told me to run, and I did. I was too scared to look back so I kept going. But then I stopped and I didn’t know where I was anymore. I tried looking for her but I was lost.”

“Who attacked you? Was it raiders?”

“No. They weren’t alive, or… they weren’t meant to be.”

A cold chill ran through Achilles. It was hard enough for a child to grasp the concept of death, but the undead? No one had managed to decode the unnatural phenomenon yet. Hundreds of years of science all brought to a halt when something occurred that was just not right. As the years went by everything had begun moving backwards; cities abandoned and left to rot, governments that spread far and wide now struggled to hold onto townships, people reduced to their most primitive instincts just to get by.

The dead were living, and those who were alive were surviving.

“I miss her.” His words floated delicately in the air, almost a whisper.

“I know, I understand.” Achilles pulled Zagreus closer into his side, the boy reached just above his waist.

“What about your husband? What is he like?” Zagreus could not help but ask, his inquisitive mind burning for answers.

There was a pause, Achilles reigning in the countless memories that flooded every part of him. “My Patroclus, he’s incredibly kind. I know he would have taken a liking to you.” Zagreus’ expression lit up at the praise.

“We met when we were in the army, way back when. He was a medic and I was in the marines.” Achilles shook his head, willing away recollections that only made his heart ache. “Patroclus has the most gorgeous eyes, always holding so much love. His hair falls in beautiful curls that frame his face. When he smiles it’s a soft, bright glow like the moon. There was this warmth about him, one I’ve never seen in anyone else. I suppose that is what drew me to him in the first place.”

“Wow, you really do love him.” Zagreus said flatly.

Achilles chuckled, a foreign sound in his throat. “Yes I do, lad, I love him with all my heart.”

“So how did he get lost?” The boy kicked a stone forward as they walked along.

“Over the years we created a safe house, Elysium, it’s called. We’ve got a few hundred people or so; some come and go while others stay, we welcome anyone who is in desperate need. But recently our rations have been running rather short, and we’d loath to turn people away—so Patroclus decided to make a short excursion on his own to find medical supplies. He said he would return in a few days but… it’s been much longer now. I led countless search parties for him, but they were all fruitless. Eventually I decided to find him on my own.”

Zagreus hummed in acknowledgement. He squeezed Achilles’ hand, feeling the wedding band that was slightly cold against his skin. “Why did you let him go alone?”

Achilles bristled at the simple, logical question. A familiar bubbling self-hatred stewed inside him, gnawing at his rib cage and constricting his lungs. He cleared his throat, attempting to cut through the thorns that suffocated his words. The corners of his lips dropped into a frown that held more grief than anger.

“I didn’t— I tried to…” He grumbled to himself, attempting to wrangle his tongue. “Patroclus is my one weakness. He used to call me ‘an obstinate mule,’ but in the end I always relented to him.”

“What does ob- obis… obistonant mean?”

“Obstinate. It means to be stubborn, or unyielding.”

“Oh.” Zagreus’ lips formed a small “o” as he dragged out the sound. “But why did you let him go?”

Achilles closed his eyes and took a deep breath, slowly exhaling; children and their need for straightforward answers. “He was rather convincing and I made a mistake, alright? But I’m trying to fix it now.”

“Alright.” He continued to kick the rock ahead of them, stretching his leg out to nudge it closer when it strayed from the path.

The sun shone high above them, raining down warmth from the heavens. Flecks of gold glittered on the foliage whenever rays of light managed to trickle through the dense treetops. Crows called in the distance, making a small commotion as they fluttered away. Achilles could almost convince himself that the world had returned to the way it was meant to be—shining and pleasant and brimming with life. Breathing in the fresh air, the scent of rot was faint, as if his brain was playing a cruel trick on his senses.

“Achilles, sir.” Zagreus bit his chapped lip, speech wavering. “I’m hungry.” He mumbled, ashamed, as though asking for a simple need was a great burden upon both of them.

“Not to worry lad, I’ve got some snacks in my pack here. We’ll take a break.” He led them off the trail and deeper into the woods, stepping over and ducking under roots and branches. Their small maneuver through the shrubbery led them to a quiet clearing where Achilles settled them down in the grass.

He rummaged around in his bag while Zagreus sat patiently. Achilles hid his growing concern when he saw his dwindling rations, making a mental note to start scavenging—or hunting if he was lucky enough.

“Here, you can have this.” He tossed an unlabelled granola bar to the boy, who stared at it with worry written all over his face.

“Are there nuts in here?” He asked.

Achilles was convinced that it contained more sawdust than anything. “I’m not entirely sure, probably.”

Zagreus frowned, mismatched eyes cast to the ground and riddled with guilt. “Oh. I can’t have it, I’m allergic.”

A tired sigh left Achilles’ lips. “Of course you are.” He quickly back tracked when he noticed the trembling pout on the boy’s face. “It’s alright, lad, I’ll eat it. You can have these instead.” He handed him a small bag of dried fruits.

The storm cloud above Zagreus’ head cleared as he grabbed the bag and nearly tore it open. He paused, picking up a brown, wrinkled fruit and holding aloft so Achilles could see.

“What’s this?” He asked, puzzled.

“That’s a dried fig.”

His nose wrinkled. “It looks gross.”

A small laugh adorned Achilles’ face. “Yes, it does a bit. But I promise you it’s sweet. Try it.”

Zagreus slowly brought the fig to his lips, taking a hesitant bite. Achilles watched with amusement as Zagreus came to the small revelation that dried figs were indeed quite sweet. The lad’s eyes grew wide and a smile graced his youthful features.

“It’s yummy!” He said assuredly, shoving the rest into his mouth.

“See? I told you.”

The two wanderers enjoyed their brief bit of respite together. Zagreus scarfed down his food like a stray dog receiving scraps for the first time, crowding around it desperately in fear of someone taking it. Achilles looked on with pity and concern, wondering if it truly was only starvation that brought on such behaviour.

“Slow down lad, you’ll choke. I promise you have that bag all to yourself.”

Zagreus stopped and looked up, his cheeks flushing. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Achilles shook his head. “No need to apologise, just be a little more careful.”

He nodded and continued at a more reasonable pace. Achilles took a lazy bite out of his granola bar, savouring it, as he was entirely unsure of when his next meal would be. Whatever small bit of silence shared between them—that Achilles greatly appreciated—was cut off once more by Zagreus’ onslaught of questions.

“Where did you come from?”

“Somewhere far from here.”

“You’re not gonna tell me?”

“You could guess.”

Zagreus concentrated for a moment, weighing out his options. He decided he’d rather bombard the man with more questions instead.

“Do you and Patroclus have kids?”

“No.” Achilles reclined, resting on his elbows.

“Why?”

“We uh… weren’t exactly equipped for it.”

“Okay. What’s your favourite colour?”

He gestured towards the moss-green sweater he was wearing.

“Oh! I like red! How old are you?”

“Are you really going to keep asking me arbitrary questions?” Achilles rolled his eyes, though there was little heat behind the gesture. Zagreus gave a resolute nod. “Fine, you can try to guess this one too.”

This time the boy took up the challenge. “Are you nineteen?”

Achilles let out an ungraceful snort. “Older, try again.”

“Fifty-two?”

“Do I really look—? Whatever, younger.”

“Hm… Thirty?”

“Bit older.” He sat up and stretched, cracking his back.

Zagreus’ expression grew serious, putting all his thought into his next guess.

“Thirty… five?”

Achilles smirked. “Something like that. You better finish up now, lad. I would like to move a bit further before the sun sets.”

“Why do you call me lad?” Zagreus said while putting the last two pieces of fruit in his mouth.

Achilles shrugged, packing everything away. “My father called me lad, most people in my family did. I suppose I got it from them.” He tilted his head, looking down at Zagreus. A whisper of affection in his gaze. “Would you rather be called something else?”

He shook his head. “No, I like it. I was just wondering.”

Wondering. When had Achilles last wondered about something? Not worrying or ridden with anxieties and what-ifs, but daydreaming. Asking a question about the world and experiencing the thrill of finding the answer? Or imagining a more fun, nonsensical answer because it was more interesting than reality. There is no room in his life for such luxuries anymore; yet he is grateful that Zagreus could still feel something so precious that he himself had long since forgotten.

Though it may be a long time before Achilles would ask about the wonders of the world, it was as good a time as any to discover more about the little one who was tagging along. “I think it’s my turn to ask a few questions, lad. Do you have any siblings? Or is it just you and your mother?”

“Just me and my mama.” He suddenly perked up at a thought. “And my dog Cerberus! He was very brave, he was helping my mama when I ran away.”

“Is that so? What kind of dog was he?”

“I don’t know. We found him one day and decided to keep him! My mama almost said no but I kept saying please until she said yes.” Zagreus proudly explained.

“An ever effective tactic—” Achilles was cut off by a buzzing sound. A fly hovered around them, zipping around and dodging every swat that he aimed at it. His stomach dropped, blood pumping through his veins with a renewed vigour.

“Shit. Get behind me, Zagreus, now.” The air shivered at his tone, gravelly and filled with blistering rage waiting to be released.

Zagreus moved without hesitation, clutching close to Achilles’ flank. “W-What’s happening?” His voice quivered like a leaf in the wind.

“Do you smell that, lad? The stench of decay?” He clapped his hands around another fly that joined the previous, killing it.

The wind had changed, bringing with it a reinvigorated malodour of death. Taking his shotgun in hand, Achilles slowly turned around while pointing it in every direction. His finger hovered over the trigger, twitching with anticipation. Eventually he stopped when he faced where the smell was coming from, behind them.

A low groan was barely heard over the sound of their own panicked breathing. Squelching accompanied each lumbering step that drew closer and closer. The world reeked of disease.

Out from the bushes a living corpse stumbled its way towards them. Festering, damp flesh fell off in chunks leaving a bloodied trail behind it. Around thinning hair was a crown of flies buzzing obnoxiously, burrowing into the open wounds that seeped pus and pestilence. The revenant held its arms in front of itself, cradling a revolting knot of its own bowels—dark and slick as they began to liquefy. It dragged along its small intestines like an umbilical cord, a perversion of the life it was forced to keep living long after the sands of time had run out.

Zagreus whined, tears rolling down his cheeks upon seeing the gruesome creature. Without a moment's hesitation Achilles took aim and fired, watching with grim satisfaction as its head was blown clean off. Decaying bits of skin and muscle exploded in every direction. The remaining body collapsed to the floor in a pile of withering tissues and bone; it did not move save for the various insects that crawled around inside it, eating away at the cadaver. Achilles unloaded another round into the body, making sure that it would not reanimate again.

A shrill, blood-curdling scream came from behind. Achilles whipped around to see another corpse ambling on swollen ankles in their direction. This one was fresher, faster, and the terror-filled wailing that emanated from it would not stop. It was far too human, skin blistering and beginning to slough off. Its lower jaw was gone, tongue lurching with every grotesque twitch of its head. Bloodied foam leaked from its nose and its green eyes were bulging from what could have been fear—if its eyelids had not rotted away first. The chest cavity was open, exposing a rib cage harbouring gangrenous lungs that writhed with worms.

Another explosive shot rang out when Achilles fired at the wretch—taking off its arm. Yet it did not slow down. Cocking his gun he let another round fly, rupturing its torso but not killing it. Its quick pace did not cease in the slightest. Feeling around his pockets for more ammo, he came up empty. He’d left it in his bag. Mentally kicking himself, Achilles handed the shotgun to Zagreus.

“Hold this. Do not move. Understand?”

Zagreus nodded, his whole body trembling.

The undead creature was only meters away when Achilles took hold of his hatchet and launched himself at it. With a large swing he slashed at its face, swiftly dodging out of the way as it tried to claw at him. He came down with another blow to the head, the blade caught in its skull but with a rough kick Achilles ripped it back out. Now on the ground, the revenant reached out to grab the man but he sliced its hand, the limp appendage hung on only by a flap of skin. Standing high above his opponent, Achilles put all his weight into chopping at its neck—hacking away viciously and without mercy.

A primal yell tore from Achilles’ throat as he beheaded the wretch in one final coup de grâce.

He towered above the corpse, staring into its lifeless eyes. Heaving breaths racked his chest, shoulders shaking under the weight of adrenaline. Achilles could feel the cold, coagulated blood drip from his face, his hands. All of his senses strained to find any other approaching threat, but the forest was still.

Rage subsided. The electric thrill that coursed through him cooled into relief. Turning back towards Zagreus, he found the boy petrified.

“Zagreus?” Achilles attempted to calm his voice, crouching down to make eye contact with him. “It’s alright, it’s all over. Are you hurt?”

Zagreus’ shake of his head was near imperceptible. He held that same faraway look that Achilles saw when he found him in the bush. Slowly, Achilles took the gun from his hands and set it aside— the boy jolted at the contact, squeezing his eyes shut. He would be fluffing up like a cat if he could.

“Are you there, lad? Can you look at me?” Achilles shifted slightly, sitting on his knees. Zagreus peeked one brown eye at him, then another green. “Very good, thank you. Now, do you want me to give you a hug, or would you prefer to have some space?”

The lad outstretched his arms, keeping them limp. Achilles shuffled a little closer and brought him into a warm hug, feeling Zagreus’ rabbit-pace heartbeat against his chest. A mop of black hair tickled the sides of Achilles’ cheeks as Zagreus hid his face in his shoulder.

“Alright. Can you breathe with me? We’re gonna take slow, deep breaths together. Are you ready?”

“Mhm.”

“Breathe in…”

They inhaled together, chests pressing against one another as their lungs filled with stinging air. Achilles could taste the decay around them on his tongue. With an exhale their limbs loosened, stress flowing out of them like a river into the sea. Zagreus fell deeper into Achilles’ embrace, who held him closer in turn—rubbing soothing circles on his back whenever his breathing began to stutter. Achilles shushed him with the gentleness of morning dew; a softness he thought had vanished.

With each cycle of breaths he could feel the boy’s heartbeat start to slow, easing into a steady pace. He unravelled himself and cupped Zagreus’ face in his hands, wiping away stray tears.

“Feeling better?” Asked Achilles.

“Mhm.” Zagreus picked at his nails, though the rest of his body seemed at ease.

“Are these…?” He gestured towards the bodies on the ground. “Do you recognize either of them?”

“No.” Zagreus answered without sparing a glance.

“Well, we ought to get a move on then, hm?” Achilles held out his hand, gesturing with his fingers for Zagreus to take it. The boy only stared.

“You… have blood on your hand.” He frowned, unease clouding his features.

“Ah, so I do.” After wiping off the blood on his thigh, Achilles held it out again. “Better get used to it lad, until we find a river or a creek to bathe in I’m going to be rather bloody.”

Hesitantly, Zagreus took it and voiced no more complaints. They set off in the same direction, the sun warming the sides of their faces as it inched closer to the horizon. A strained stillness fell upon them while they walked. Zagreus stayed close to Achilles’ side, head lowered and mouth in a thin line. He tried not to drag his feet as he struggled to keep up with the man’s anxious footsteps. The bloodied hatchet that sat dormant at Achilles’ flank caught the corner of Zagreus’ eye. It glistened in the fiery light of sunset, taunting his fear that refused to cease.

Achilles noted the sudden bout of silence from Zagreus, he’d begun to help the lad out of his shell and now he’s all but crawled back in. It was one of those times where Achilles would reluctantly ask himself what Patroclus would do.

“Are you sure you’re okay, lad? It was quite scary back there, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He said, just above a whisper.

“Do you… want to talk about it? How you felt?” Achilles’ voice wavered. Patroclus was leagues better than him at this sort of thing, he’d sit for hours with anyone who needed an ear and a comforting shoulder to cry on. Achilles had no idea what Patroclus said in these moments, but whatever words he uttered seemed to help greatly.

“I felt… hopeless.” Zagreus replied quietly, words mumbling together.

“Hopeless. How so?”

“I thought I was gonna lose you, like how I lost my mama.” His eyes welled with tears. “I don’t wanna lose you, Achilles! I don’t want to be alone again!” Zagreus grappled Achilles’ arm, bringing them to a stop. He sobbed into his side, trembling. “I’m scared.”

“Oh, sweet boy, come here.” Achilles hushed, crouching down to pick up Zagreus and balance him on his hip. He was a little heavier than expected.

He brushed back a few tufts of inky black hair. “You won’t lose me, alright? I’m not going anywhere. We’ll find your mother together. You will never be alone again, I promise.”

Zagreus wiped his face with a wet sniff. “A-And… you, when…” He huffed, sentences evading his mind. “When you were with the axe and were… I didn’t— I didn’t like it.”

Achilles’ heart shattered, followed by a sickening swoop in his stomach. Of course he scared the poor thing; the mangled corpses far behind them could attest to his brutality when dealing with foes. It was more than just the outside threat that troubled the boy, Zagreus had seen the murderous glint in his eyes and thought he had already lost him.

A wave of nausea overtook Achilles.

“I’m sorry, Zagreus. I never meant to scare you, I was only trying to protect you, understand? I got… caught up in the action, so to speak—beside myself with fear for your safety. In the future I will try to keep my wits about me, I swear it. I am truly sorry.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise, lad.”

Zagreus held out his pinky. Achilles curled his own around it, forming a lifelong pact. A bright smile crept onto Zagreus’ face, bringing with it a wave of relief for Achilles.

Craning his neck to view the dimming sky, Achilles spotted the evening star shining proudly above— whatever sunlight was left was now limited. He ushered them back into the woods, remaining vigilant of any threats. The foliage became thicker, not many things could traverse through without making a sound; Achilles was sure if they rested here for the night, he could hear anything that decided to approach them.

A small clearing appeared up ahead. Achilles hacked away at a few shrubs to widen it slightly, a perfect place to set up camp.

“I’ll start gathering wood for the fire. I need you to collect whatever rocks or stones you can find to create the firepit.” He instructed.

“Okay. Can I get pebbles too?” Zagreus asked, dead serious.

Achilles had no idea that there was even a difference. “I’m afraid pebbles are a bit too small for this task, rocks and stones only.”

“Yes, sir!” With that, Zagreus reared up to sprint off into the brush, but Achilles held him fast.

“Wait just a moment, lad. I don’t want you going too far or else you’ll get lost again. I’ll be here chopping a few branches, keep me in your line of sight, okay?”

Zagreus gave an enthusiastic nod. “What does ‘line of sight’ mean?”

“It means to stay where you can see me and I can see you. Do we have a deal?”

“Mhm! We have a deal!”

Achilles ruffled his hair again with a smile. “There’s a good lad.”

At the dismissal Zagreus trotted away at a more reasonable pace, head down and eyes glued to the ground as he began his rock hunt. Achilles watched him become engulfed in greenery, prancing like a fawn in the spring.

“How many rocks do we need?” Zagreus shouted a little ways away.

Achilles took his worn out elastic from around his wrist and began to tie his hair back. “As many as you can find will do.”

After taking off all his baggage that encumbered him, he got to work felling branches, starting with ones that seemed dead or dying and working his way to healthier ones that hung lower to the ground. Sticks and twigs he found on the ground were not passed up either, and he took some time to shave off some softer bark as tinder.

While he worked his thoughts wandered to a familiar place, anxiety. Every concern he had flooded to the surface of his mind waiting to be picked and prodded at like a scab. Having Zagreus with him meant one more mouth to feed, one that was growing by the day. His rations were already spread quite thin and he would rather not have a fussy, impatient Zagreus who was plagued by hunger. Rectifying this issue takes first priority.

Another issue was the boy’s mother. Achilles was set on finding her, of that he had no doubt— but he was just as sure about Persephone’s location as he was about Patroclus’. What if the two had gone in different directions? That was most likely, if anything. He couldn’t prioritise one over the other, he would need to find a new way to expand his search.

Finally, there was the matter of Elysium. Achilles was sure that Odysseus could run the camp on his own, but one man can only handle hundreds of people for so long. Another part of him wondered if Patroclus had returned while he was away; now in the same position he was, worrying about his beloved’s safety. Or perhaps worse, Patroclus set out on his own to find him in a broken game of hide and seek.

His train of thought was interrupted by a Zagreus that came tumbling out of the foliage. His sweater pockets were bulging with stones along with the bounty he held in his arms. A proud smile decorated his face, making his cheeks dimple.

“I found some! Oh! I like your hair like that.” He said while dumping the pile in the middle of the clearing.

“Really? Thank you, lad. And thank you for collecting so many. You can start arranging them in a circle, I’m almost done here.”

Zagreus was quick to get to work sorting the rocks, having the largest ones in the centre and the smallest around the edges. The tip of his tongue stuck out while he focused on making sure everything was placed just right.

Achilles approached with the firewood, placing them on the ground. “Have you ever made a fire before?” He asked, when Zagreus replied with a shake of his head, he hummed and crouched down. “Well today you’ll learn.”

Zagreus huddled up next to him and paid close attention, eyes wide with curiosity.

“First we start with the kindling. I have some sticks here, it’ll help the small flame latch onto something once we add a spark to the tinder.” He put the gathered materials into the middle of the pit, laying the sticks as a base.

“Take those dry leaves and some bark and place it on top.” Achilles kept a keen eye on Zagreus as he did as he was told, chaotically throwing the leaves before tossing on the bark. “Very good. This is our tinder, it’s what catches the spark. It will create quite a bit of smoke, but once the tinder is alight the kindling will make the flame. Do you understand?”

“Kindling first, which helps feed the flame. Then tinder, which catches the spark? And the spark will make the flame.”

“Exactly. You’re a quick learner, lad.” Achilles could not help but smile at Zagreus, who beamed with a gap-toothed grin.

“Alright, can you take a few steps back for me, Zagreus? I don’t want you to get hurt.” The boy obeyed, and he continued.

“Now we light the tinder. Luckily for us,” with one swift flourish he produced a lighter in his hand, a small flame already dancing at the tip. Zagreus gasped with delight. “I have a lighter. Though, other means will work just fine such as matches, rubbing wood together, or using curved glass to harness the sunlight.”

Achilles brought his lighter close to the tinder, observing the smoke and growing heat that came to life. He leaned in closer, lightly blowing on it.

“Won’t blowing on it put it out?” Asked Zagreus, he tilted his head like a confused puppy.

“A strong gust would put it out, yes. But gentle exhales help with air flow, fire needs proper air circulation in order to grow and create more heat.” More kindling was added and Zagreus watched in awe as the flame grew, curling around the new fuel.

Once the fire burned stronger, Achilles positioned logs in and around the fire. “Notice how the logs formed a sort of pyramid around the fire with gaps in between? This keeps the oxygen moving.”

He beckoned Zagreus closer again, allowing him to sit and feel the warmth that emanated from their newly constructed fire. The boy seemed so pale against the soft orange glow, the change in lighting made him look ruddy and vibrant.

“Keep an eye on the fire for me, would you? I’ll set up your bed for tonight.”

The term ‘bed’ was rather generous. All Achilles could offer was a thin bedroll that was more akin to a tattered blanket. Still, Zagreus’ needs came first, and sleeping on the solid ground made no difference to him in the long run. He unrolled the dusty blue sleeping bag and dragged it closer to the fire, attempting to fluff up what little contents acted as stuffing inside.

“Where are you gonna sleep?” Zagreus questioned while moving over to sit on the bedroll.

Achilles shrugged. “It is not winter yet, and we have a fire going. I will be just fine on the ground.”

The lad’s face contorted into a frown. “But that’s not fair! You need somewhere to sleep too!”

“Not to worry, lad. I promise I have slept in far worse conditions before. This truly is not a problem for me.”

Zagreus’ eyes narrowed, unconvinced, but he dropped the subject. Conversation now over, Achilles took the time to scour his pack for the ammo he so desperately needed not too long ago. He checked the smaller pockets before moving on to the main opening of the bag. His hand felt around for a few moments before he stuck his head in with an annoyed huff. Finally, he found the box he was looking for.

“There you are, you bastard.” He muttered, holding it up triumphantly. Grabbing his shotgun he began reloading it.

Rocking back and forth, Zagreus stared inquisitively. “When are you going to teach me how to shoot?” 

“Not for a long time yet, lad.” Achilles pumped the forearm for emphasis before turning the safety on. “If it were up to me you would never even see this blasted thing.”

His face fell. “Oh… well where are we going next?”

It was getting late and Achilles was growing tired of the incessant questions. “Can I tell you tomorrow?”

“No!” Zagreus snapped like a twig. “I want to know now, so I can dream about it.”

He really was just the tiniest blessing; Achilles softened with a sigh. “There is a town not too far from here, I would like to explore and see what we can find there.”

The answer seemed to satisfy him before another enquiry sprang forth. “How do you know your way around so well?”

“I’ve grown very familiar with this area over the years, I also have a compass to help orient me— but here, I’ll show you a trick.” Achilles pointed up to the sky filled with stars, a million little lights blinking at them as if to say hello.

“Do you see that constellation there? The Great Bear? You know of it, right?”

Zagreus followed his gaze and their eyes locked on the same spot in the sky. “Yeah! My mama told me a story about that one.”

“Good, that will help you remember. Those two stars where the front of the bear is meant to be are called pointer stars, they point towards the North Star.” Achilles trailed his finger upwards. “It is the brightest star in the sky, which makes it the easiest to find. Now, this star is special because unlike the others, it does not move.”

“Why doesn’t it move?”

“Because it’s directly above what is called the northern axis, that’s the point that guides the compass north, see?” He held out his compass and pointed it in the direction of the star, the little red arrow displayed true north. “When the earth turns, it stays above us. Does that make sense?”

“Yes. But why does it make the compass point north?”

“Unfortunately magnetism is still a mystery to me, lad.” Achilles shook his head, focusing back on the lesson. “All you need to navigate is the North Star. If you’re facing it, that’s how you know you’re facing north, and it’s easy to find your way from there. East is to your right, west to your left, and behind you is south.”

“I’ll try to remember that.” He sounded rather unsure.

“We’ll practice each night, you’ll get the hang of it eventually.” He turned away from the stars and stoked the fire with a stick, watching the embers spark and crackle, flying wistfully into the air before disappearing. “That’s enough questions for tonight, I think. You will have the chance to ask me more tomorrow. It’s time for bed now, Zagreus.”

The boy pouted, of course this was bound to be a problem.

“But I’m not tired!” The immediate yawn that followed proved otherwise, but Zagreus held steadfast in his claim.

Achilles tutted, his own exhaustion weighing on him. “Please, lad, none of this right now. Tomorrow will be a long day and we both need rest.”

Zagreus kept sulking, staring at Achilles and wordlessly challenging him as if to say ‘make me.’

The boy may be stubborn, but Achilles invented stubbornness. He leaned forward and stared Zagreus down in turn. They waged silent war against each other, only crickets and the spitting fire as their audience. Achilles raised an eyebrow, taunting him. After a few more moments Zagreus relented with a huff.

“Fine. I’ll only go to bed if you tell me a story.” Checkmate.

The man had no choice but to accept the bargain. “Alright,” he rolled his eyes and helped Zagreus settle into his sleeping bag. “I have a story, but it’s quite long. I’ll continue it each night before you go to sleep, does that sound fair?”

Zagreus nodded with an affirmative hum.

Achilles dramatically cleared his throat. “There once was a complicated man, one of many ways— of twists and turns. Who found himself wandering, lost after a great war in a once blessed city…”

He continued on, weaving a tale of monsters and adventure that was bound to make Zagreus’ imagination run wild. It was rather refreshing to have a quiet moment such as this, to set aside the day and focus on a story that is different from their own. Achilles played up different voices and mannerisms to bring the myth to life; attempting to take the lad far away from where their troubles currently resided.

From the hazy look in Zagreus’ eyes, eyelids blinking slower and slower each moment, Achilles was relieved to find that he was finally starting to tire out. He halted his words and regarded the boy, gentleness overtaking his demeanour.

“You can’t deny it any longer, Zagreus. It’s time to sleep.” He whispered while brushing a dark lock behind his ear.

Zagreus whined, scrunching up his face as he stretched and rubbed his drowsy eyes. He leaned further into Achilles’ touch. “Goodnight, Achilles.” His quiet words were whisked away in the night breeze.

“Goodnight lad, sweet dreams.” Achilles laid down right next to him, watching the small rise and fall of his breaths that were silhouetted by the campfire.

A sudden warmth filled his chest, something unfamiliar but not unwelcome. He had a new small, helpless person he had to worry about— regardless of the extra burden and the relentless chirping questions, Achilles knew that he would give his life to protect this boy. Even if that spared him a few more moments before his own demise, it would be enough. He saw so much of what used to be himself in Zagreus; the boundless energy, the never-ending need to ask ‘why’, he saw it in every bright smile and petulant frown. It made him limitlessly paternal in a way he thought he would never know. Achilles had found one more thing to die for, but he’d also found one more thing to live for. Another reason to open his eyes when dawn breaks, another reason to keep striding forward when only the unknown lay ahead, another reason to fight tooth and nail to keep his heart beating.

If the world was ending, he would make sure that it would end in love.