gwenchan

Fandom: Hades, Iliade
Prompt: Matrimonio

It all started out by chance, actually.

It's a day - or night - as any other in the placid routine of Elysium when Zagreus rushes in Patroclus' glade.

"Hey, sir," he grins. He's wielding Aegis today and he's a little scorched on his arms, but the thing doesn't seem to be bothering him that much. In seconds, he invests Patroclus with a motormouth of what has recently happened down below in the house of Hades.

"By the way your husband apologises for not having been able to visit you in a while but we just got this new intake of souls lately. It's been crazy and - why are you laughing?"

Bringing a hand to cover his mouth, Patroclus forces his laughter to subside to a more polite chuckle.

"Forgive me stranger, but I'm afraid you are mistaken"

"Mistaken, sir?"

Finally, Zagreus stops his walking and gesticulating to stare at him with the confusion of a puppy. It is truly adorable. Now he sees why Achilles grew fond of him

"I suppose when you say husband you are referring to Achilles "

"Well, of course sir," Zagreus says.

"You do know we never married. It was not costum when we were alive. Between men - well, people of the same gender."

Achilles used to joke about it, when he drunk one goblet too much of wine, about having themselves their little ceremony, carrying on the proper sacrifices, but in the end they never went through with it.

"And if we were to survive, he would have married a princess. Just as-"

He trails off. He had laid with women, more than once, and even found himself being enamoured with them. But him with a wife wasn't something he could have ever pictured.

The prince's dark eyebrows are knitted together. Everything concerning the mortal realm is always a mystery for him.

"I think I understand sir. Did you ever miss it?"

Tearing blades of grass on the banks of Lethe, Patroclus searches for an answer. "Not really."

Marriage or not, he knew he was Achilles' and that Achilles was his. They didn't need some proof of legitimation.

Sometimes, still, it would have been nice.

"But if you could have, you would have married him, right?"

The answer is easy

"If given the chance? Of course stranger, one hundred times."

There's a strange glint in Zagreus' eyes when some moments later he bids his goodbye to continue with his quest.

***

Patroclus knows there are visitors coming one second before the door leading to his angle of Elysium slides open. A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth in seeing the shade that is now walking briskly to him, his long tunic swaying with the movement.

"Hello heart," he says, tilting his head back to accept Achilles' kiss. "How are things?"

Huffing, Achilles flops on the grass. "Tiring."

"Yes. The stranger told me something."

Achilles fidgets with his dress and bracers, a nervous telling of which few people know about, so little he has been nervous in his mortal life.

Now, however, he is.

"You know I love you, right?" He says, insecure as he had been months ago - it must have been months - when he appeared before Patroclus' eyes for the first time in a lifetime. He stood there, unable to move, he whom they called swift footed, till Patraclus got up and bridged the gap.

"I think you proved that time and time again"

It doesn’t seem to soothe Achilles’ nervousness however. "And that if I could, I would have chosen you?" he presses on.

"Yes, you said that too. Love, what is it?”

Because it’s clear Achilles has something in mind and he’s only dancing around the subject, him who in life charged head on into the battle without an ounce of fear.

Patroclus watches his well defined shoulders raise and lower as he takes a breath.

"Do you - would you be my spouse?"

For a moment Patroclus isn’t even sure if he has understood well. But when Achilles repeats, it becomes clear his ear didn’t fail him. He considers the fish swimming in the Lethe.

"Am I not already?"

Even in life, he had been Achilles’ spouse in everything but name. Surely more than princess Deidamia. In any case, they were dead. Their time was gone. He doesn’t say that however.

"Is that so important to you?"

Achilles’ eyes are undecipherable. “Not really …” But it’s clear he’s lying and he can try to lie with others but not with Patroclus. “Fine, yes. Look, it’s the lad.”

“What about him?”

“I believe he wants to organise our wedding.”

If Patroclus was still alive, he probably would have choked on his spit.

"He wants to do what?"

The stranger never failed to surprise him. But if it hadn't been for Zagreus, now he would still be alone with his apathy and depression, bitter with nothing but the belief the person he loved the most had abandoned him.

So, in other words, the prince has done enough to obtain his trust.

"What do you think?"

"And you?"

A charp jumps out the water, shining silver for a moment. A wedding. In the Underworld. Being dead and yet to marry. The more Patroclus thinks about it, the less absurd it sounds.

"If any, it'll be a feast

***

"Lord Hades hasn't been particularly enthusiastic," Achilles helpfully informs Patroclus at the first occasion, "But Lady Persephone and Zagreus convinced him."

So it was truly happening.

"The Lad wanted to know everything about our banquets," Achilles says, getting comfortable with his head in Patroclus' lap. "Just as I left he was trying to explain to the cook the recipe for baking bread."

"I don't remember you have wheat in Tartarus"

"We don't. And I'm not even sure Zagreus knows what an ear of corn looks like.”

The lands just outside the temple of Styx are immersed in an eternal winter and, as far as Patroclus knows, Zagreus hasn’t been yet able to visit Persephone’s garden again.

"Are we really doing this?"

It is meant as a joke but Achilles frowns. "Does it bother you, love? I know Zagreus can get a little overwhelming. I thought it would be nice but I can tell him to stop."

"Peace, Achilles," Patroclus hastens to soothe his worries. "I find it simply strange, but in a good way. Can't stop thinking about how it would be in life.”

“Well, you would have had to ask my father for my hand.”

His voice lowers as he says this. As far as Patroclus knows Achilles is sometimes searching for king Peleus but hasn’t been able to locate him yet.

The Elysium is vast, chambers upon chambers each hosting a shade whose merits in life made them worthy. Peleus was a hero as well, so it’s legit to think he must be there as well. But Elysium is also a labyrinth and few know its structure and those who know have other more pressing matters.

“Have you tried asking the stranger?”
“Not yet. I should.”

***

When they were alive tradition wanted the wedding feast to be held in the bride's house. There isn’t a really a bride but for simplicity sake they decided Achilles would take on the role

“Because now he can visit you in Elysium” has been Zagreus’ explanation.

As Achilles doesn’t really have a house and Patroclus doesn’t feel his glade would adapt - in the end they decide the house of Hades is still better suited for the banquet.

Upon entering the House for the first time in ages, Patroclus is rendered speechless for a good five seconds.

It is nothing like he remembered, the once gloomy and Spartan ambient turned into something cosy and warm, almost a little corner of Elysium this side of Tartarus

Zagreus then overdid himself with the decorations. They are mostly bones, but carved so delicately it looks like lace. There are Pomegranates leaves and Pomegranates polished to become shiny as rubies

Lady Persephone brought from the surface some flowers, the kinds that didn't need much care and thrived also in winter and in the darkness of the Underworld.

A gorgon head swirls on the ceiling carrying a dust ruffle to polish already shining bones-chandelier from even the smallest speck of dust. Zagreus lifts an arm above his head and waves.

“His Dusa.”

The head yelps and lets her ruffle fall. Patroclus catches it easily.

"I'm so sorry! It was- you started me and I should go" the head - Dusa - says, bolting away.

"Wait" - Zagreus chases her. "How are things going?"

"Oh, it's going well. But I've still so much to do and Cerberus left hairs everywhere. "

Just as she is saying this, the three-headed guardian of the Underworld woofs and shakes. The result is a considerable amount of hairs and slobber being spread around.

“Cerberus!” Dusa whines. “I’ve just cleaned that spot.”
“I’m sorry Dusa.”

Patroclus feels sorry as well. It’s clear Zagreus wants to go big but it’s already too much. He wasn’t a hero. He doesn’t need a giant ceremony and he’s sure Achilles must have told Zagreus the same.

Zagreus simply waves away his concerns. “Nonsense, sir. You’re my friend and of course you deserve this. Come.”
He guides Patroclus to another area of the palace where Hypnos, in between registering the arriving shadows, checks another, smaller list. “The guests, sir,” Zagreus anticipates Patroclus’ question. Achilles’ mentioned some shades he’d like to invite, if we manage to locate them.”

“Has he mentioned his father?” Patroclus inquires.

“Yes. Working on that. “

At his desk, Lord Hades is the only one not amused with the situation, grumbling about all the time he is going to lose for this theatre. He didn’t do all this mess when he married. An exchange of promises, a small sacrifice so that the union would be blessed and they were done and ready to return to work.

"You can continue to work if you like Father," Patroclus hears Zagreus say. "But you would have more fun.

"Fun is for the fools," The Lord of the Underworld scoffs, head buried in his documents.

But for his joy it won’t be Hades still to preside and bless the union, but the Queen.

As the goddess of spring and rebirth and one of the few divinities that married love it is only fitting that the honour befalls on Lady Persephone.

As she soon will have to leave the House for the obligatory time on Olympus, it’s the perfect moment.

*** .

The day arrives strangely soon, given the absence of real time in the Underworld. As a shade Patroclus doesn’t have a real need to sleep or eat and so the days - and night- are quick to mingle together.

Zagreus' occasional visits are probably the best way he found to distinguish yesterday from tomorrow.

Patroclus bathes in the Elysium fountain chambers, where the marvels of chtonic plumbing have diverted some of the Lethe into a vast pool encased into the rock.

While he doesn’t really need to bathe, certainly not to wash away the dirt, there is something soothing in going through old gestures. It reminds him of when he and Achilles would bathe together, first on Pelion, then on the shores of Troy.

As he soaks into the water, he finds himself being more and more stupidly nervous, as if he was for real a young groom waiting to start a new life with his bride.

A day that could be yesterday Thanatos on Zagreus' behalf materialised in Patroclus' glade to bring him a new chiton. Shadows don't need to change clothes but they can. It's soft material and cream colored, bordered with purple.

He puts it on and then the Myrmidon bracers without which he feels naked.

He is adjusting them and the laurel crown when a high pitched voice announces a newcomer

“Lord Hypnos' ' he greets, with the respect ought to all the Chtonics. Despite his absent- minded demeanour Sleep Incarnate is just as dangerous as Death.

He is donning a new cape today, looking even fluffier than his habitual one.

"Hello sir," Hypnos greets back. "Are you ready?"

Patroclus nods.

***

First stop is the temple of Styx where Zagreus and Thanatos must have done a deep work of pest control as there is no trace of the usual vermin and satyrs that normally haunt the place.

Achilles is already there. He’s dressed simply, an embroidered tunic not much different from Patroclus’ own, but as he did in life, he’s radiating.

The circlet in his golden hair is the same he always wears but today it seems to shine more.

“You look beautiful,” Patroclus has to inform him. Achilles always looks beautiful in his eyes, a beauty underneath that would have stayed even if Fates allowed him to grow old. But now, as they move to the altar, it’s different, deeper. It must be in the way Achilles is looking at him, that shy and yet determined gaze and all the love of the world.

Zagreus has provided them with nectar and they offer them to the gods. Then, Achilles cuts a lock of his hair as well.

***

In Hades' palace the feast has already begun, numerous shades crowding around the tables that fill the common area. Another, bigger, has been placed before Hades' desk and begrudgingly there sits Hades. From time to time Lady Persephone caresses his massive forearm, soothingly.

In a corner, Orpheus is playing a less mournful tune than usual.

“Patroclus, Achilles!” Zagreus welcomes them, and in his toe are a couple of unknown shades but that Achilles must know. “How was it at the temple? I hope you didn’t cross with any satyr. I tried to kill them all but they keep coming back and -”

“It was fine, stranger,” Patroclus stops him while a nearby shade requires Achilles’ attention.

At the entrance Hypnos is checking invitations. One shade captures Patroclus’ attention and the reason is soon clear. He knows this shade and so does Achilles, who beams in recognizing him.

“Anthilocus!”

It’s not the only shade from their past life. Still, however, no trace of King Peleus. But Zagreus told them he couldn’t promise anything. For now, Achilles doesn’t seem to mind - or he is very good at concealing.

Patroclus is about to reach him and begin the feat when a tall woman blocks his path.

“Where do you think you are going?” Blue-skinned, imponent, golden studs and a whip secured at her hip, she must be no one but the Fury Megaera.

"The groom dines away from the bride,” she reminds him.

Patroclus wants to say it's ridiculous. That it was meant to separate the men from the women.

But Lady Megaera wraps an arm around his shoulder and another shade presses a goblet in his hand and he thinks he can bear to be separated from Achilles a little longer.

It's a rich banquet. There's plenty of ambrosia and nectar but also wine, roasted fish thanks to Zagreus rod and dry fruit, courtesy to Persephone

"Hypnos suggested we skewer and grill the vermin of the temple,” Zagreus informs Patroclus at a certain point. “But I vetoed it.”

“Good idea.”

***

Many bottles of nectar and ambrosia lay around empty by the time Lady Persephone calls everyone attention. She thanks all the presents for their company and Zagreus for having organised such a nice feast.

"But it is time for the spouse to leave his old home for a new home.”

Cheering the shadows agree. Patroclus swallows a laugh. It's all pretence - Achilles will never be truly free from Hades' employment and neither he wants to be - but traditions are like an anchor in a storm. They give a sense of security and purpose. They give a sense of security .

The portal for Elysium has been opened.

Traditions want the bride to move to the groom’s house and family. Patroclus’ parents have long been forgotten and if anything it was Achilles to welcome him into his family.

And the portal will just lead to the usual glade and the small house he built there, a house Achilles already knows well. Somebody has wrapped a cloak over his shoulders and the hood is now shadowing his face.

Patroclus offers him his hand. The portal seems to tickle as they cross it. Some shades are already there and they welcome the newly wed with a shower of dried fruits. Lifting an arm above his head as a shield, Achilles breaks into a grin.

Patroclus would very much want to lift him in his arms and kiss him there and then.

He can wait a little more. Patience is his specialty. The ceremony is almost done, just one last blessing from Persephone, some congratulations and then they will be finally left alone.

Patroclus has a feeling there won’t be much sleeping tonight.

***

Patroclus stirs in the bluish light of Elysium. Sprawled next to him Achilles blinks and smiles. "Good morning"

He doesn’t even know if it's really morning but that's the concept that matters. He moves to press his nose against Achilles’, an old gesture of affection.

"Good morning, love. Did you sleep well?"

"The best, dear husband.”

Rolling in bed, Patrolcus can’t help but grin. “I like how that sounds.”
It’s not the first time Achilles has called him his husband, always only half-joking, but now it has a different taste as he repeats the word. Husband. They’re married. They’re still dead and they’re married.

It’s enough to make him feel dizzy. But then Achilles is smiling at him and everything is replaced by a solid sense of fondness.

“You know,” he murmurs, as they laze in bed, carding fingers through Achilles’ hair. “I think Prince Zagreus had a great idea.”

“I couldn’t agree more. “