Archive of Our Own ^beta

    Zagreus runs a hand through his hair as the last of the Styx drips from it and fills out the few missing spots of his body, sighing heavily and watching a particularly nasty pair of cuts across his stomach disappear. He can't help a quiet chuckle when he watches an arrow wound heal and realizes it was a shot to his heel that had done him in, had left him open to being nearly cut in half by two (two!) swords.

    Nobody should be able to shoot like that, really.

    Nobody is also the ‘name’ of that damned archer, so he supposes it only makes sense that he can shoot like that.

    The prince walks forward, the shades in front of him easily parting as he makes his way towards Hypnos. The god startles awake, nearly dropping the list he had been holding, as always. It’s such a repetitive clumsiness that Zagreus would believe it if someone told him it was intentional.

    “Well hello there, prince!” Hypnos greets, blinking slowly at him before looking down at the papers in his hands, mumbling a quiet “Let’s see here…”

    He tilts his head, before breaking out into a grin and a lively laugh, looking back up at the prince and waving the papers around.

    “Really? You died to no-one? What did you do, trip over your sword?” Hypnos teases, wiggling his fingers and tilting his head just a bit. Zagreus huffs, crossing his arms, but the laughter is infectious and he can't help a small smile.

    “Nope, that’s his name. No-one.” Hypnos seems to find this hysterical, giggling and curling in on himself, clearly trying to say something but repeatedly cutting himself off with more giggles. Zagreus shakes his head, giving the god a pat on his shoulder and starting the walk over to Cerberus.

    Hypnos’ giggles and mumbled “No-one, ohhh, who did he piss off to get named that!” trail after him, before quieting into a sigh and then, finally, fading into loud snoring. Nothing can keep Sleep awake for all that long, no matter how hard some people (Read: Zagreus’ Father) try.

    Cerberus’ left head noses at him curiously when he approaches, and Zagreus huffs when it licks him, raising his hands so it’ll submit to pets instead. The middle head looks over too, and pushes its nose against his side, before tilting questioningly.

    “Ah, I made some new friends in the arena!” Zagreus explains, at which the middle head narrows its eyes and leans closer to sniff him intently, ignoring the disgruntled huff from the right head.

    Then, suddenly, it lurches back, and the left head seems just as startled as Zagreus is, both of them tilting their heads and blinking a few times. He can hear Orpheus chuckle quietly from behind him, but doesn't bother to respond, too busy watching Cerberus lick its lips and then lean back in to sniff him some more.

    It pulls back with disgust in its eyes again. Because obviously Zagreus smells no different. It’s been five seconds.

    “What is it, boy?” he asks. One massive red paw raises, knocking him down, and he’s immediately assaulted by the middle head licking his entire body with intent. The left head just seems excited to join in, and he lets out a resigned sigh.

     ‘The terrifying hellhound seems to smell something very awful on the prince's clothes’ Homer narrates for him, and he’s about to accept that, before ‘Moreso than usual, at least’ is tacked onto the end.

    He cannot talk to Homer when there are people around. He’d done it one time before and that didn't turn out great for him. He cannot do it again.

    He really wants to though.

    Instead, he just angrily thinks ‘I don't smell bad’.

    “What have you done to get Cerberus so distressed, boy?” Hades calls from the desk, and Zagreus instinctively freezes up, shifting uncomfortably as he’s coated in hellhound saliva, which is honestly far preferable to speaking with his father.

    “I’m not sure, father,” he answers, and that's it. Hades sighs, but turns back to the line of shades, voice booming as he calls out “Next!”

    At last, Cerberus finally deems him… not smelly anymore, he supposes. Or at least, now he smells like wet dog rather than whatever made him react like that. Fun. Zagreus loves smelling like wet dog.

    The paw lifts from his torso, and he grumbles as he pushes himself to stand, halfheartedly glaring at the hellhound. The left head sticks its tongue out at him, the middle one huffs and sniffs him once more before nodding, the rightmost one seems to be trying its very best to fall asleep.

    Zagreus looks around the House, catching sight of Nyx over at her spot, Orpheus playing his lyre, Dusa tidying up near the entrance to the lounge, and…

    Ah, Achilles!

    If anyone is to have information about the two odd shades, it's probably Achilles, considering he's  been heading up to Elysium quite often now that he's allowed to. If not, Patroclus may at least, and he can ask Achilles to go over to the glade so all three can discuss.

    Zagreus waves brightly as he makes his way towards the shade, smiling wide. He gets a small nod and warm look in greeting, and the hero shifts to rest his spear against the wall behind him.

    The prince bounds forward, dragging the shade into a tight hug — and, subtly, he slips a bottle of nectar into the fabric of his mentor's cloak — before releasing him and taking a step back. Achilles huffs, fixing his now slightly messier clothes, while Zagreus debates over how to ask about the two new Champions of Elysium.

    “Something exciting happen out there, lad?” Achilles asks, raising an eyebrow, his voice light and teasing. Zagreus nods quickly, reaching to his hip to remove the sheath and dagger belonging to Nobody, oblivious to the way Achilles narrows his eyes at it.

    “Sure did!” he exclaims, holding out the sheath with a proud grin, “I met some new shades! I was actually coming over here to ask you about them! You wouldn't happen to have heard anything about the new Champions of Elysium, would you?” 

    Achilles hums, leaning back against the wall, crossing one leg over the other and never taking his eyes from the dagger.

    “Can’t say I have, lad, but if you wouldn't mind, why don't you tell me about them?” Zagreus nods again, trying to recall anything that would be actually useful to the shade. But, well, all of it would be fairly useful, wouldn't it? So he should just say all of it.

    Achilles chuckles before he can even start, waving a hand dismissively, before saying “Oh, don’t say all of it, lest we stand here until my next visit to Patroclus. Just explain what they look like.”

    The prince crosses his arms and looks away so the shade won't see the embarrassed flush of his face, but that whispery laugh reaches him anyways.

    “I’m not that bad,” he mumbles, earning a fond head shake, before he waves his arms and changes the topic back to what they’re supposed to be talking about.

    “Anyways! The Champions! I walked in on the middle of a fight between the two of them and Theseus and Asterius. One of them shielded me and made sure I didn't get hit, and then they both dragged me off to a side room so they could rest before our fight. The one that guarded me called himself Nobody. He’s short and lean, kinda reminds me of Hermes? Long, curly hair, and olive-ish skin with lightning scars on his face, and a real nasty slash that crosses his whole face too! His eyes are mismatched, one grey like Athena’s and one brown. He’s got a funny hat — not like Charons, more like someone flipped a bowl onto his head and he kept it.

    He’s the one that gave me the dagger — which, by the way, he’s really good at throwing daggers — and he’s got a really captivating voice. Kind of sounds like he’s spent the last ten years drowning, but at the same time his words are smooth. Really strange to listen to! Apparently there's a rumour that he’s half siren, but he hates it. Uh… he’s got a really thick cloak, black wool with white patterning on it, which is pinned with an owl brooch, and… and he uses a bow that’s kind of weirdly shaped,” Zagreus rambles, motioning vaguely and not noticing the conflicted look on Achilles’ face.

    “Now, the second one! He’s tall and intimidating, lots of scars as well, including one that cuts right up the side of his mouth, so his teeth are always a little visible where his lip is split. He introduced himself as No-one, which I suppose fits well with Nobody. His eyes are almost black, as is his hair, which is braided — really nicely, might I add, I wonder if Nobody knows how to braid — Anyways! Long braids, tied back and decorated with gold rings and clasps, so he jingles whenever he moves. He also had proper armour, unlike Nobody, and for the short while we fought, he was really up close and… overwhelming, which I guess fits considering he dual wields swords!

    He didn't talk much outside of banter with Nobody, but he was also, like, really focused on eating his meal, which is very reasonable and I can't fault him for it. He did seem to enjoy making jokes at the other shade's expense, though, and also they’re definitely into each other, which I’m not sure how to feel about since Nobody apparently has a wife? And—” Achilles raises a hand to stop him, and Zagreus obeys, shutting up immediately.

    The shade seems exhausted, eyes narrowed and still glaring at the dagger. He lets out a heavy sigh, looking upwards with his other hand pinching the bridge of his nose and mumbling something that sounds like a prayer for patience. Zagreus grins nervously as Achilles looks back down at him.

    “Oh, I certainly know those two,” Achilles mutters darkly, before putting a hand on the prince's shoulder and leaning in, forcing him to make eye contact. He swears the shades pupils aren't typically slitted, but they sure are right now. The bright teal of Achilles’ eyes has swallowed up most of the whites, which prompts him to wonder just hours much Nereid blood the man has, and this close he swears he can hear a low rumbling, like the tide rolling over a rocky shore.

    “Listen, next time you head up that way, take Varatha with you, and make sure you've got my aspect of it. Bring Antos too, and call for Pat and I once you get into the arena.” Zagreus nods, mumbling a quiet ‘yessir’ , and he's released with a warm pat on the back, Achilles standing straight again and grabbing his spear from the wall.

    “Well, I shouldn't keep you any longer. Go make your rounds and get some rest, lad. Even gods like you are bound to need a minute of peace every now and again!” Achilles ‘orders’, his voice back to the soft, warm, tone it typically is.

    Zagreus has no idea what just happened, but he feels a bit scared for Nobody and No-one. Regardless, he smiles at his mentor and waves as he turns to trot towards his room.

    So, Aspect of Achilles and Companion Antos… Should he just bring the Myrmidon Bracer too? Complete the set? Or he could take the Broken Spearpoint that Patroclus gave him.

    He hums as he makes his way to his room, too caught in his head to speak with Nyx right now, instead just nodding at her in acknowledgment and passing right into his chambers, then directly beyond into the courtyard.

    He could seek out Athena? Get her call, maybe that one boon of hers that helps keep his God Gauge full? Possibly her dash? He does love her dash boon.

    Skelly says something, but he isn't listening, walking right over to the keepsakes.

    Maybe he tries to get Dionysus and Athena’s duo boon. He thinks that one slows projectiles, right? That might help with Nobody's arrows.

    Opening his keepsake storage, he blinks at the new hook that’s appeared and, after a quick glance around, he realizes that the keepsake he’d taken with him on his last run was back in storage.

    Curiously, he looks at the dagger, and when he reaches out to blindly pick a different keepsake, it disappears between one blink and the next, the sheath suddenly hanging on the new hook.

    Huh!

    He reaches forward, brushing his fingers over it to check what it does. 

     Increases the potency of Poms of Power by 1 level, it says, which really isn't something he’ll turn down. Plus, he’s going to need to keep this new keepsake at a similar level as his others, which means having it equipped.

    He picks it up and settles it on his belt, before shutting the cupboard again. He greets Skelly with a wave, striding towards Varatha and switching to Achilles’ aspect. He’d already had Antos with him, so there’s no time to waste.

    Just for fun, he decides to throw the spear through Skelly and dart after in order to get past him, snickering as he appears on the skeletons' other side before facing the window he uses to escape, and the Pact of Punishment on it.

    Just to be safe, he double checks that he didn't have the Extreme Measures pact for Elysium. He did not. Nobody and No-one being there was completely unrelated to the pact. Which makes him curious what they would get from the pact, since neither seems like they’d be the type for that tacky chariot and armour, and Asterius’ set certainly wouldn't fit either of them.

    He leaves it off for now. Better to at least figure out the bare minimum of how they fight before giving them a buff.

    Since the bounties demand he go up to five, he signs on two levels of Benefits Package and jumps down.

    To Elysium he goes.

    He reaches Elysium with little difficulty, because of course. It's not that difficult to reach anymore. Magera and the other two Furies have become predictable, and though Lernie can be a bit annoying sometimes, anything that can deflect makes the hydra laughable.

    So, Zagreus has reached Elysium fairly easily with two death defies to his name. The exalted, of course, prove troublesome, but that's mostly because he finds himself faced with several armoured Greatshields and, of course, a small army of Flame Wheels.

    Because truly, what would this region be without a hundred Flame Wheels per chamber?

    He looks up at the next two doors, idly cutting into and eating the Pom of Power that had been his reward for this room and directing the levels to his attack, which Artemis had upgraded for him.

    One of them leads to Patroclus’ glade, the other to some obols. He knows which one he’s going to without question, and approaches the door to the glade, trotting through it and tossing the now empty flesh of the pomegranate aside.

    It had, admittedly, been far nicer to not just bite into it. Maybe he’ll use this dagger more than he thought, even if not for actual keepsake reasons.

    “Ah, look, we have a visitor,” says a whispery voice, carried to him by the gentle breeze of the chamber. Zagreus waves brightly at Patroclus and Achilles, the former of which dips his head and the latter of which waves back, as he makes his way over the bridge to the two shades.

    “Greetings, stranger. Achilles was just telling me how you came face to face with opponents who weren't Theseus and the Minotaur in the arena?” There's a certain knowing in Patroclus’ voice, and Zagreus gets the feeling that he's also aware of who Nobody and No-one are. Regardless, the prince nods, grinning.

    “Sure did! Nobody and No-one, though I’m almost certain those aren't their real names,” he answers. Achilles huffs and rolls his eyes, pointed ears and fins both twitching in what could either be amusement or irritation — the rest of him doesn't exactly reveal anything — while Patroclus shakes his head slightly with a muted smile.

    “If they were, those would certainly be unfortunate names. For Nobody more so than No-one. If nothing else, combining it into metis can mean cunning.” Achilles barks out a laugh at that, which is somewhat startling, because he rarely lets such things pass. Zagreus blinks at the shade, before glancing back at Patroclus, whose smile has turned proud and loving as he looks at Achilles.

    “Of course the bastard would pick the more flattering one for his ‘friend’!” Achilles laughs, “Gods know those two could never simply compliment each other.” Patroclus hums at that, tilting his head slightly and leaning on his spear, eyes now firmly locked onto his lover as Zagreus is delegated to third wheel yet again.

    “And you can, my heart?” Patroclus asks, causing Achilles’ face to flush red and his ears to pin back against his head. Zagreus snickers at him, which seems to remind them both that he's here, and Patroclus reaches into his chlamys to retrieve his gifts.

    Zagreus picks up the Cyclops Jerky Select, nods his head in thanks, and waves as he makes his way into the next chamber.

    The fact that both Achilles and Patroclus seem to easily recognize the new Champions by description alone is interesting. And they know them well enough that they can make judgments on their characters, on top of that.

    That implies that the two are probably from the Trojan War? Maybe other Myrmidons? Who was important… He can tell he's forgetting something very obvious and important, but just can't seem to remember it.

    He doesn't get much time to think before a Brightsword rushes him and he's forced to actually focus on fighting instead of trying to figure out who the mystery shades might be.

    Before he knows it, he's standing in front of Charon's wares with one hand on his hip and the other on his chin, considering what he wants to buy. He decides upon a boon from Artemis — he picks for his critical hits to deal more damage — as well as a Pom of Power, which he offers a bit of to Charon.

    The boatman groans at him, but reaches out a hand to pick a few seeds, which disappear into the purple smoke that they exhale shortly after.

    “Think you'd give me a discount for that?” he jokes. They narrow their eyes and make a few more vague growly noises.

    He takes the hint and, finishing the fruit off, turns to the entrance to the arena. Hopefully, he’ll walk in and see Nobody and No-one instead of Theseus and Asterius, else he’d have Achilles’  spear with him for no reason.

    It's not that it's a bad weapon, it's just that he prefers Stygius. The sword is what he'd started with, it's what he'd like to keep.

    With a sigh, he steps through the gate to the arena, shutting his eyes against the bright light and opening them to the sight of the two shades he wanted to see. 

    Nobody stands to his right, his bow and three arrows held in his hands, dark chlamys draped over him just right to leave his left arm — which holds the arrows — more open. He scans Zagreus with an even look, though something changes once he spots Achilles’ spear, and the shade shifts slightly closer to his companion.

    No-one stands to the left, arms crossed in front of his chest, bronze armour glinting in the light. His stance is loose but ready to move, an air of false relaxation around him. A feeling that fades once he, too, spots the spear, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly. 

    “...My dagger is serving you well, I see?” Nobody says, his eyes only darting to the sheath for a moment before returning to the spear. Zagreus nods, twirling his weapon just for the fun of it and watching both shades tense up.

    “Sure has! I will admit, the Poms do taste way better when I just eat the seeds, so, thanks for that!” Nobody smiles at him, No-one forces a similar expression. Zagreus grins.

    “Good, good. Say, you wouldn't have any more Nectar would you? My wife enjoyed it, possibly more than the Ambrosia that I come here to win.” Zagreus hums, shaking his head and shifting his weight a bit to rest one hand on his hip.

    “I do have more, yes, though I don’t see how your… wife… likes it more than Ambrosia?” Nobody's eyes narrow dangerously, and No-one looks over at the shorter with raised brows, forced smile shifting to a slightly more genuine smirk, before returning his gaze to Zagreus.

    In one smooth motion, No-one draws his swords and lazily twirls them in his hands, settling into a fighting stance. Nobody raises the arrows to the string and nocks one.

    “Fucked up with the hesitance on the word wife there, prince,” the taller shade says, and Zagreus ducks as an arrow goes flying past his head, dashing to the side to avoid the sword swung at him right after.

    He flinches away from a second arrow whizzing just past his ear, and the third lands true in his shoulder, causing him to stagger, leaving him far too open to a slash from No-one.

    He needs to call for Achilles. Like, now.

    Zagreus clears his throat, takes a deep breath, and shouts.

     “Achilles!”

    Nobody freezes up, as does No-one, and there's silence for only a second before—

     “Odysseus!”

    Achilles’ voice rings through the arena, loud and intimidating, and he descends like a vengeful god as Nobody bolts towards a wall, dropping his bow, and he thinks he spots the translucent amber wings of Hermes’ blessing flaring out at his heels.

    A few things then happen in very rapid succession.

     First, the weapon that had been in Zagreus’ hands is no longer there, and is instead flying past him, followed shortly by a blur of golden hair and green fabric that he belatedly recognizes as Achilles.

    Second, Nobody is pinned to the wall by the aforementioned weapon, one prong on either side of his neck and the sharp center hovering a hair's width from the shades neck. He’s got a nervous grin on his face, one that Zagreus does not get to see much longer, because:

    Third, Achilles is looming over Nobody, the shorter man hidden entirely behind him, yanking the spear from the wall so he can instead grab the archer by the throat and throw him across the arena.

    Zagreus watches that gold-green blur tail Nobody, then solidify back into Achilles when the demigod pins Nobody to the ground, straddling the shade with both hands on his throat, teeth bared and pupils slitted and fins flared.

    “Long time no see?” Nobody tries, and for his efforts he gets his head slammed into the ground.

    “You fucker!” Achilles hisses, “You disappeared on me! You- do you do anything but disappear and scare the shit out of everyone you know?” Nobody winces, visibly shrinking slightly at the words.

    “Ah, well, if you’ll believe it, I don't usually want to!” the shorter shade says, “Trust me, if I could stop getting inadvertently seperated from family and friends for long periods of time, I would!”

    Achilles makes a sound like crashing waves and shakes the shade beneath him.

    “I should hope so! What the hells have you been up to?! I didn't see you pass through the House! Do you know how annoying Agamemnon and Menelaus and fucking everyone has been when I see them?! Gods above, of course you’ve got Diomedes with you, I guess I should've suspected something when I didn't see him ripping apart the entire damn underworld searching for you! No, no, it’s just me and whichever of the other kings kept visiting just to ask after you that you hid from!”

    Zagreus gets the feeling this is far more personal than he has any right to listen in on.

    He also finally processes the name Achilles had shouted. Odysseus. As in Odysseus, Son of Laertes, King of Ithaca. He feels like he remembers his father complaining about the man. He also knows, to some degree, his story, for all that Homer has told him of it.

    He now remembers the part of the story with the Cyclops, how Odysseus had tricked Polyphemus by telling him his name was Nobody. And Zagreus had fallen for the same trick, somehow.

    Zagreus also recalls how the man was well known to be one of Athena's most favoured, to the point she almost acted motherly towards him. The owl pin and designs on the dagger and silver owlish eyes and head tilt and…

    Kind of just everything about him, actually. 

    That all… probably should've tipped him off immediately.

    He looks over at No-one. Diomedes. King of Argos. Another of Athena's most favoured. 

    The King is smirking at him, both blades sheathed again, before he turns his gaze to where Odysseus — blood and darkness, that’s actually Odysseus — is still being berated by Achilles, which seems to have now turned to… Achilles’ son. Zagreus didn’t even know he had a son.

    “Should we… do something?” Zagreus asks. Diomedes barks out a laugh, while Patroclus, who has appeared as well, shakes his head with a resigned sigh.

    “No, he deserves this,” Diomedes answers simply, waving dismissively with one hand, his grin turning sharp and he stares at Odysseus with something Zagreus can't quite put a name to in his eyes.

    “Even if Odysseus was deserving of our help, Achilles won't release him until he wants to, and even the three of us stand not a chance against him,” Patroclus adds, seemingly having already accepted that this will take a while and now settled down to sit on the ground.

    Diomedes steps around Zagreus to sit beside the other shade, leaning back with a heavy sigh while the two other heroes have now switched to writhing, Odysseus seemingly making some effort to escape while Achilles keeps him pinned.

    Zagreus grumbles, but takes a seat beside Patroclus as well.

    “Hey, Ody!” Diomedes shouts, “Mind tossing me a pomegranate?”

    “Eat shit!” Odysseus snaps back, but a moment later a pomegranate goes flying towards the Argive King's head, who easily catches it and draws one of his swords to slice it open, before placing it in the middle of the three of them and motioning to it.

    Patroclus breaks off a fifth of the fruit for himself, which prompts Zagreus to also start snacking from it, popping a few seeds into his mouth and watching Odysseus pull a blade from nowhere and attempt to stab Achilles, who grabs the knife in one hand and throws it away.

    “This is good,” Patroclus mumbles, seeming surprised as he tilts the slice a few times, before idly picking out a couple more seeds, “Where did he pull this from, exactly?”

    Diomedes shrugs and hums, waving a hand dismissively. “Oh, you know.”

    Patroclus gives the King a flat look. Diomedes refuses to meet the shade’s eyes.

    “No, I’m afraid I don't.”

    “Ehh, well, it's not all that important.”

    A few moments of quiet between the two. Achilles is now yelling something about Menelaus and pining. Zagreus feels like pine is a type of tree, but who is he to question Aristos Achaion.

    “Do you know where he pulled this from?” Patroclus interrogates, raising a brow.

    “...His chlamys is enchanted by Hermes. We haven't really tested it, but he can store pretty much anything in there,” Diomedes admits.

    Zagreus snaps, leaning forward with wide eyes and looking at the tallest of the three, who stares back at him as he exclaims “That’s how he stole Stygius?!” 

    Diomedes nods, while Patroclus tilts his head and mutters ‘He stole Stygius?’.

    “Sure is. He's definitely his grandfather's blood, I'll say. Can't seem to keep his greedy fingers off anything that interests him. Usually he doesn't go around stealing divine weaponry, but honestly? I'm not surprised that he did so the second he was able to.”

    Patroclus hums and nods, leaning back and seeming to relax slightly.

    “Gods, Tydides, do you remember when you first came to find Achilles and I? Mere minutes after he'd infiltrated our room had Laertiades stolen something from us. If I recall, it was one of Achilles’ favourite earrings,” the shade murmurs, prompting a chuckle from Diomedes, though another attempt from Odysseus to stab his assaulter may also have been the cause of that — Zagreus wonders just how many weapons the man has on him, considering this is attempt five.

    “Yes, I certainly do. I also recall Pelides storming into our room and tossing an apple at his head fast enough that it left a hole in the wall! It's a good thing we left shortly after, else Odysseus would have stolen more and pissed Pelides off further.” For some reason, Patroclus’ cheeks darken just slightly at this, but he occupies himself with picking more seeds from his pomegranate slice.

    Zagreus picks out a few more seeds of his own, watching as Odysseus retrieves yet another knife and Achilles tosses it aside. The latter now seems to be fumbling with the pin holding the former's cloak on, which causes yet more squirming.

    “Is he pulling all of those,” Zagreus motions to the pile of knives on the ground, “From his cloak?”

    Diomedes chuckles and shakes his head. Achilles succeeds in his attempts and, while both his hands are full and he's throwing the mass of black fabric aside, Odysseus pulls another dagger from somewhere and tries to stab him.

    “The six on the ground were. He's got at least another twelve on him though. Maybe more, I can't remember.” Zagreus stares in horror at Diomedes, before looking at Odysseus again, who did successfully stab Achilles this time and got punched in the stomach for his efforts.

    “How does he even…” The prince trails off when Patroclus puts a hand on his shoulder and shakes his head, a haunted look in his eyes.

    “Stranger, trust me, I've seen that man pull twenty three separate weapons off of him when he only had his tunic, arm braces, hat, and sandals. One was hidden behind his eye. He is a terribly resourceful man — he wasn't called the man of many resources for no reason.”

    Zagreus does not think he wants to ask about that. 

    He looks over at the two shades again. Achilles has pinned Odysseus with his spear and shifted to instead rifling through his armour and clothes, slowly removing more and more weaponry.

    “...Why is Achilles so mad at him anyways?” Zagreus asks, after taking a moment to gather his courage, eating a few more pomegranate seeds while the aforementioned demigod pulls a thin, flat bone from under Odysseus’ tunic and adds it to the steadily growing pile.

    “He certainly wasn't named ‘He who causes anger’ for nothing. He’s very skilled at pissing people off,” Diomedes responds, reaching over to grab Patroclus’ spear and using it to tug the discarded cloak closer, before digging into it and pulling out what is presumably a wineskin. He uncaps it and drinks some, ignoring Odysseus’ protesting yell.

    “Like Achilles said,” Patroclus cuts in, and Zagreus silently thanks him for actually explaining, “Laertiades disappeared completely when he reached the Underworld. I must admit, I was lost to the Lethe at that point, but Achilles has spared me no detail in how he went completely off the map with little more than Hypnos mentioning his name appearing on the lists and Lord Hades complaining some.”

     The prince nods with a quiet hum, picking out yet more seeds to snack on. Achilles finally seems satisfied, and the two heroes are now sitting there in silence and glaring at each other.

    Odysseus raises a hand towards his face. Achilles immediately pins it to the shades side and settles his knee on it, ignoring the complaints of the Ithacan King.

    Zagreus wonders if he’d been reaching for his eye, which he quickly decides is something he does not want to envision. He glances around instead, looking at the shades still seated in the stands, and lightly elbows Patroclus.

    “Should we try to get them to take it somewhere more private?” he asks, to which Patroclus nods and Diomedes grumbles, but nods as well.

    “Yes, we should. Tydides, would you gather up Laertiades items? I’ll go speak to Achilles.” Diomedes huffs, but pushes himself to stand up, slinging Odysseus’ cloak over his shoulder and raising the wineskin to his lips before capping it and placing it in the folds of the fabric.

    Zagreus stands up as well, offering a hand to Patroclus, who takes it with a grateful smile and brushes off his tunic. The prince watches him take his spear and stride over to the two shades, now passionately arguing about something or other, and decides to go help Diomedes in collecting Odysseus’ scattered weaponry.

    A few minutes later, and the five of them are back in the side room Odysseus and Diomedes had pulled him into when he first met them. Odysseus is standing in front of a table, mixing a reddish liquid and water and a little bit of nectar, which Diomedes teases him about since other than Zagreus, who is a god and shouldn't count, he's technically the highest ranking of them.

    Achilles and Patroclus are sitting on one of the couches, Diomedes on the other, while Zagreus himself has dragged a chair over to sit on.

    Odysseus pours the drink and hands it out to everyone. Zagreus sniffs it, before taking a tentative sip of the liquid. It tastes almost like a Dionysus boon, which is weird because he's never licked a Dionysus boon, but now that he's thinking of it there is a lingering aftertaste every time he picks one up. 

    The Ithacan sits down on the same couch as Diomedes, and downs half his cup immediately, leaning against the taller King. He's shoved away, and the two glare at each other for a moment.

    “I'm not getting used as a shield, thanks,” Diomedes says flatly. Odysseus rolls his eyes and stretches out over the entire rest of the couch in response. 

    The air is heavy, silent, tense. Zagreus glances between Achilles and Odysseus, the former of which has his eyes narrowed at the latter, who is looking everywhere else in the room to avoid making eye contact.

    Patroclus takes a slow sip, also looking between the two. Diomedes looks remarkably bored, but there's a tension in his shoulders that betrays his nerves.

    Nobody speaks for a long, long while.

    Then—

    “Did you hear that Nestor finally died?” Achilles says.

    Odysseus sits up straighter at that, immediately looking over at the younger and tilting his head a bit.

    “Really?” he asks, and Achilles nods, leaning back in his seat. Odysseus barks out a laugh. “I was beginning to think he was secretly immortal! Gods above, the man must’ve been ancient by the time he died! I haven't seen him around Elysium yet, kind of just assumed he was still going!”

    Zagreus blinks, glancing between the two.

    “I bribed Hypnos to let me look at his file,” the demigod says, fins twitching slightly and a wide grin splitting his face, “His age was redacted. Even Master Hades doesn't know how old he was when he finally dropped!”

    Patroclus stares blankly at his companion, surprise clear on his face.

    “The man lived, what, five generations? Saw me die at least! Telemachus hasn't told me if he was still alive by the time he died,” Odysseus offers, before leaning forward with narrowed eyes, raising a hand and pointing at Achilles accusingly, “By the way, Neoptolemus needs to stop leaving swords on top of my sons door. I’ve been trying to intercept him, but he always does it while I'm out!”

    Diomedes has actually tuned into the conversation now, staring blankly at the man beside him.

    “I'll tell him you're worried for his safety,” Achilles offers, voice teasing while Odysseus huffs and crosses his arms, “I'm sure he'll be happy to hear his mentor still thinks of his health!”

    Zagreus meets Patroclus’ gaze, then Diomedes’.

    “Do not mention me to him, I really don't need him barging into whatever I'm doing to sob into my shoulder and wish for my death. Again. He really takes after you when it comes to emotional stability, you know?” Odysseus responds. Achilles rolls his eyes, motioning at the Ithacan.

    Achilles looks like he’s about to say something in return, but Zagreus raises a hand, and both of them look over in sync.

    “Uh, pardon me, but… are you not mad at him, sir?” he asks, cautiously. Patroclus nods, as does Diomedes.

    “Oh, I’m furious. I’ll come by the arena later to stab him for a while. I just have more important things to discuss first,” Achilles replies, and then the two get straight back to gossiping, throwing around names — Paris, Agamemnon, Aeneas, and several more, all of whom have done one thing or another to earn the two's ire. He thinks he hears Poseidon get brought up.

    Patroclus shuffles closer to Zagreus’ chair, further from the shade beside him, which could either be to avoid the wild motioning of the demigod or to get away from whatever has replaced Achilles. Diomedes seems to be trying to sit as still as possible, like any movement will disrupt the strange peace.

    “They used to be some of the biggest gossips at Troy. All four of us would gather on occasion to discuss the going-ons of the army, and the two of them on their own even more often,” Patroclus whispers. Zagreus tilts his head slightly, because he hadn't taken Achilles as someone who would care for gossip, “I was expecting them to do this eventually, but my heart isn't exactly known for his ability to put aside his grudges for any length of time.”

    “Odysseus has been itching to do this for a while,” Diomedes adds from his other side, and Zagreus looks over at him again, “Penelope doesn't get quite as invested as these two, nor do I, so he hasn't had anybody with the same…” The Argive motions vaguely between the two men, who are snickering about something or other, both with sharp, unnerving grins and a somewhat terrifying glimmer in their eyes.

    “How long are they going to do this for..?” Zagreus asks hesitantly. Patroclus and Diomedes make eye contact, before glancing over at their companions, then looking back at Zagreus.

    “Too long,” they mutter in sync, both sounding resigned.

    The three of them go quiet for a moment. Odysseus is talking about a ‘Thersites’, which seems particularly interesting to Achilles. The demigod is leaned forward to the point he’s nearly fallen off his chair, nodding and giggling along with the Ithacan.

    Zagreus bites his cheek, looking at the door out. He doesn't want to spend too long here, he does still have places to be. His father awaits him on the surface. So he decides to ask, “Do you think I could just… go? Or…?”

    Patroclus hums while Diomedes shrugs.

    “Probably. Unless you want to wait for me to get Theseus and The Minotaur. I’m not going to stop you,” Diomedes says. Zagreus blinks, then very slowly stands up. Neither Odysseus nor Achilles look at him, so he cautiously walks behind the couch Achilles is on and picks up his spear.

    He waves goodbye to Diomedes and Patroclus, the former of which gives him a two fingered salute while the latter closes his eyes and mumbles something that Zagreus can't hear.

    Then, he’s out the door and back into the arena, bolting into the next chamber before it can shut.

    To the surface, he supposes!