refusetofight | For @messageforyou

For @messageforyou

Besides the obvious, there’s one big problem with being dead: it leaves Patroclus with too much time to think. To ruminate. To overanalyze. That was always his tendency, but at least in life, he had Achilles and the war. There was rarely a stretch of stillness that allowed him to wander so deep in the labyrinth of his own thoughts.

Not like Elysium. Patroclus wishes he was more like Ajax, always spoiling for a test of strength against the shades of other legends, or Odysseus, chatting and joking so easily with anyone who will listen. Will they ever tire of it? Meanwhile, Pat still feels like his place here is undeserved. His act of bravery at Troy was a fluke. That wasn’t enough for Elysium; Achilles had to arrange that deal with Hades himself.

And what is he doing with that gift? Whiling it away in a chronically dreadful mood. It’s no surprise Achilles would take another lover. He needs someone more exciting and vibrant. He needs a challenge. Hermes is who he needed from the very start. Powerful, divine, worthy.

Now there’s Lyra, to—a beautiful, perfect child. Hermes can give Achilles anything he wants. What can Patroclus give him? Painful memories. Shame and regret. Achilles never says as much—of course he wouldn’t—but Pat assumes.

He lays sprawled on the spongy ground in the center of a glade, looking up at Ixion and fumbling around the corners of this well-trod maze of thought. Méli has surrounded him in scattered offerings: very fetchable sticks, a sandal, a broken arrow, an old bone. She finally gives up her restless pacing to flop down next to him. She shifts to rest her chin on his chest and sighs emphatically. Her gifts don’t seem to be helping.

“I’m sorry. I’m not good company right now, am I?” he mumbles, stroking her soft ears. He wishes he could be more like her. Living in the moment, not a single worry except what fun will be had next …

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Lyra beams as she's praised by her father. Yes, she really likes that name for her. And she really likes that Achilles showers her with praise, attention, and affection.

"I'll figure it out," Lyra says, grinning at Méli. "I want to say hi to Méli too. And I won't even have to wait for Anthesteria to see you, then. I can tell you all about all the things I'm learning and the adventures I have and the friends I make."

Maybe it's youth, or maybe it's just semi-divine confidence, but Lyra is absolutely certain that Achilles and Pat would like to hear all about her life and the things she experiences. There's not a hint of self-consciousness to how she says it, not a hint of insecurity despite only having known them three days.

"Do you think my teacher will let me have a dog? Or a kitty? A kitty that isn't Hermes, that is." Not that Lyra objects to her kitty cat dad, but she doesn't think he'll have the time to let her carry him around as a beloved companion all day.

Patroclus notes how eagerly Achilles takes to fatherhood; he’s already so very like Peleus, with eyes full of pride and a smile deeply creased with fondness. Pat exhales and relaxes his weight against Achilles, visibly content. Yes, this is exactly what they missed in life: hope for the future.

And that means Achilles and Pat both want to hear every little detail about Lyra’s life; she’s living a better one on their behalf.

As much as Pat is biased, he props his chin on Achilles’ shoulder and says, “A cat will be less distracting—mostly.”

Achilles can’t really imagine an animal in Medea’s chambers—at least, not one that isn’t slowly bleeding to death. She doesn’t strike him as the sort to tolerate the chaos that a pet would bring to her home.

“Your teacher will have her hands plenty full with one new creature scampering about.” Achilles gives Lyra’s neck a teasing tickle. “Wait a few months before you ask, and if she denies your request, I’ll have a word.”

Lyra giggles, wrinkling her noise as she squirms away from her father's tickling fingers. She holds out her hands and grabs his arm, pulling it in to give a big affectionate hug like it's a stuffed animal.

"I'll be good. I'll convince her I'll be extra good with a kitty. Or a dog."

Lyra knows grownups well, and she knows that they can often be negotiated with. Rewards come to kids who promise to do extra chores and follow through in exchange for what they want.

"Is the teacher nice? I hope she's nice. Is she nice?" Lyra would like a nice teacher. It's easier to deal with nice grownups. And if she has a teacher, she hopes that the teacher likes her.

Achilles easily uses her grip on his arm to haul her into his lap. There’s no time to waste when it comes to showing affection. He’s already acutely aware that she won’t be this small for very long, nor will she always be so close.

“Nice isn’t the word I would use,” Achilles hums, carefully ignoring the skeptical side-eye he can feel Pat giving him. “She strikes me as fair, I suppose, so long as you listen and show her respect.”

Which, honestly, is probably a better teacher for someone like Lyra. If a teacher is too nice, a child so headstrong and clever might not heed them.

Achilles idly smooths out a wrinkle in Lyra’s tunic, as if that would make the threadbare garment more presentable. “She might not want to share her knowledge with someone who doesn’t seem to appreciate it.”

Lyra squeals in delight as she’s hauled into Achilles’ lap, clinging to his arm like a monkey before throwing her arms around his neck, swaying in his lap as if she needs to move to express the intensity of her cheer.

“I’ll appreciate it! I’ll be good! Promise!” She’ll be the BEST student ever! She’ll learn all the things and the teacher will like her very much and she’ll tell her fathers and uncle all about it, and it’ll be so fun. “And you’ll see how nice my letters get. I’ll show you. I’ll practice extra hard so one day I can write down all the stories of my adventures and I can tell you all about them.”

In the back of Achilles’ head, there’s Hermes’ voice, murmuring, Sorry, love, just finished off the backlog for Hades. Are you still free to chat about Medea?

“Good.” Achilles kisses the crown of her head. It pleases him to know she plans to write her own story—not to leave it up to the bards to interpret. They only know how to write songs about beautiful or wicked women. Not women who travel the world on adventures. “I want you to write every last detail.”

He goes quiet at the sound of Hermes’ voice at the edge of his consciousness I’m with Lyra and Patroclus in Elysium. Would you join us? He pauses as he recalls Pat and Hermes’ last meeting, then adds, I think Pat will not be so difficult today, and if we need to speak alone, he can keep Lyra occupied.

“Don’t make the poor girl spend her whole life at a scribe’s desk,” Pat chides. “If she’s anything like you—or her other father—sitting still will be torture.”

"I won't sit at a scribe's desk! I'll figure out how to walk and write at the same time! I'll be very good at it!" Lyra protests cheerfully, still rocking side to side as she imagines more and more fantastical things for her future self.

There's a hint of reticence in Hermes' side of the connection. Are you sure? I don't want to have a fight in front of her.

What Hermes doesn't say is that he's still sore about the other day, and he really doesn't want to see what happens if Patroclus uses his new advantage of knowledge on him to dig in a dagger where it really would hurt. Hermes has enough on his mind without walking on eggshells around Pat, and balancing that with his anxiety around his daughter.

“Learn your letters well before you go trying to walk and write,” Patroclus warns. “Or no one will be able to read a word of your stories. Not even your father and me.”

While Pat and Lyra talk, Achilles continues to reassure Hermes: I’m sure. I think some of his worries have been put to rest. And Patroclus wouldn’t pick a fight in font of Lyra. Achilles understands Hermes’ concern, but he also knows Pat well enough that he wouldn’t argue with a father in front of his child. But if you’d rather not risk it, I’ll step away and meet you elsewhere.

“Something the matter?” Pat asks softly, noting Achilles’ distant look.

“No, but I’ll need to speak with Hermes before long.” Achilles watches Pat’s face carefully for any sign of pain or resentment. For the first time, he doesn’t find any. “We need to discuss the matter of this tutor.”

“Mm. Yes. Best to get that sorted.” Pat gives Achilles a kiss on the cheek, then shoots Lyra a warm smile like a doting uncle. “Your daughter’s already excited to get started on her future.“

?? Hermes' side of the connection is just a confused noise for a moment. How can Achilles be so sure? He remembers how messy the other day was, right? Wasn't he the one who suggested that Hermes and Patroclus avoid each other for a while?

He considers a moment, tempted by the chance to maybe take baby steps towards reconciling, but... I don't want to gamble in front of Lyra.

Hermes is working through his feelings about fatherhood, but he knows he doesn't want her stuck witnessing drama with her fathers' love life. Especially with how ugly it's gotten in the past, and how perceptive she is even without things being ugly.

"Yes, when will you be able to talk to him?" Lyra grins, smooshing her face against Achilles' shoulder. "Is there a way to call him? Or does he just come when he wants?"

The idea of her divine father just flitting in and out on a whim seems consistent with her understanding of gods. She hopes that she doesn't have to wait terribly long to see him again. He's not as approachable as her mortal father, but she still wants to know him.

“A god like Hermes has many ways to send messages,” Achilles explains, stroking Lyra’s cheek. In time, he imagines Hermes will speak to her like this, or perhaps find some other special way to reach his daughter.

As you wish. I’ll meet you at the glade that looks like Phthia, he sends back. Lyra will stay with Pat.

“He wants to discuss the matter now,” Achilles says, as much to answer Lyra as to alert Patroclus. Then he focuses all of his attention on his daughter, hands on her shoulders as if assigning her a very important task: “Lyra, my dear, can I trust you to keep Pat and Méli company a bit longer while your father and I have a word?”

I’ll see you there, my love.

Lyra listens to the assignment from her father, and she nods solemnly. She knows that he doesn’t really need someone to keep Patroclus and Méli company, but it’s nice to be asked to do something anyway while the grownups talk about important things.

“I’ll keep them company.” Lyra gives a sloppy salute. “Promise.”

But she hesitates a beat. “Will Hermes say hi to me before she goes again?”

It’s probably silly to expect anything more than a visit in the morning by a divine father. According to the stories, that’s already a step up from most gods. But still. She’d like to say hi to him before he rushes off to do more god things.

Achilles gently lifts Lyra from his lap, passing her back to Patroclus. “Good. It seems Pat very much enjoys speaking with you.”

“I do,” Patroclus confirms. Méli hops to her feet, parading the chewed sandal in the hopes that one of them will give chase. “Méli’s quite fond of you as well.”

“And not to worry—I’ll make certain Hermes pays you a visit, little fledgling,” Achilles assures, giving Lyra’s hair an affectionate ruffle as he rises to his feet. “We won’t be long.”

He leaves Patroclus and Lyra behind, making his way to the glade styled after his old home. Elysium seems even more accommodating than usual in aligning his path—maybe all too eager to help the father of the strange mortal girl who is so kind and grateful. In only a few minutes, he’s standing among the familiar sketch of stones and columns. Achilles thoughtfully rubs the fingertip burnt by Medea’s binding magic as he awaits Hermes’ arrival.

Lyra allows herself to be passed to Pat, sitting in his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck before squishing her cheek on Pat's shoulder. Shades are colder than the living are, but there's still something comforting in the way they smell. They smell like people who love her. But maybe that's just Achilles and Pat.

"Okay. I like spending time with Pat and Méli too." Especially now that Pat is happier. Lyra is very pleased with herself that she bullied Pat into doing something that made him happier.

But soon enough, Achilles is in the glade that resembles Pthia. He doesn't need to wait long. There's a lightness in the air, a whiff of sunlight and adventure, and then Hermes is there, hovering in the air and giving Achilles a quick kiss as he buzzes side to side. The restless energy is strong in him today.

"Sorry to make you wait, darling," Hermes says, zipping side to side like a giant hummingbird as he brushes himself off. "There was an earthquake in the Aegean Sea and I had to collect some unfortunate fishermen and people living on the coast. But Uncle Hades' backlog is officially done with, and the latest ledger should put him in a good mood."

“Good,” he says, then quickly adds, “Not about the earthquake—that you’ve given Lord Hades so much help. I’m sure he’s pleased.”

With the backlog officially caught up, it genuinely feels like the upheaval from the last few years is finally over.

As per habit, Achilles seeks Hermes’ hands to pull him to a gentle stop. Watching Hermes flit around like that is making him restless. “Slow down, magpie. All that fluttering will make me dizzy.”

Once he’s coaxed Hermes to stillness (or close enough to it) Achilles leans in for a proper kiss and smiles as he says, “That’s one thing Lyra has absolutely inherited from you: the inability to sit still.”

Hermes settles somewhat as Achilles takes his hands, tugging him to the ground. His instinct is to keep hovering and zipping, but he takes a deep breath, squeezing Achilles' hands as he forces himself to calm down. Or as calm as he can get, at any rate.

"Poor girl will hardly find anyone who can keep up," Hermes says ruefully, returning Achilles' kiss. But then again, it seems all demigods struggle to find people who can keep up with them. Typical hazard of divine blood. "I wish I could say I'm surprised she already sneaked her way down here to Elysium again. Is she well?"

Not that Lyra really had much time to get into trouble since that morning, when Hermes visited her, but Hermes doesn't want to underestimate her trouble-getting abilities.

“If not someone to keep up with her, then someone to keep her calm and grounded when she needs it.” A Patroclus, he thinks. Or, if Achilles was a little more self-aware, what he’s become to Hermes.

“She’s doing very well. Eager for her adventures.” He smiles, his pride shining through. “She’s growing fond of Patroclus. They were talking and playing with Méli when I arrived.”

Achilles fully trusts Pat to treat Lyra well, regardless of her origins. If anything, he was worried Pat would force down his discomfort for Achilles’ sake, but seeing his genuine smile was a relief.

Still, Achilles knows his isn’t the only say when it comes to their daughter. He shifts his hands in Hermes’ to drag a thumb over his knuckles. “Is that— … Does that worry you? Lyra spending time with him?”

Hermes immediately thinks of what Achilles is to him, someone to ground him and calm him when his restless energy threatens to vibrate him out of his skin. Yes, Lyra needs someone like that, who can make her feel calm without feeling slow.

And who knows what questions to ask. Hermes looks down at Achilles' thumb stroking his knuckles. His wings flex, fluffing and pinning, as he thinks.

"The more adults in her life who care for her, the better," he says. "And I trust Patroclus to treat her well."

If nothing else, he knows that Pat is kind, especially to weaker creatures like animals and children.

"But..." Hermes pins his wings to his head, grimacing at their hands as he tries to think of how he can put his feelings into words. The truth is, he's insecure. He's worried his daughter will prefer Patroclus over him, or just prefer the company of mortals, dead or alive, over a god who can't understand her the same way and who struggles so much to relate to her. And Styx, he doesn't want Lyra dragged into the drama between him and Pat. "Well. I hope she will like spending time with me too."

Ugh, that sounded so pathetic, even to his own ears. He winces, grimacing at himself. He's so in over his head with having a child.

Achilles hands grip a little tighter at that but and his brow twists into a furrow. This battle against Hermes’ anxiety will be a long one. A siege against nigh-impenetrable walls, shored up over thousands of years. But Achilles is nothing if not stubborn, determined.

“Of course she will, love.” Achilles pulls Hermes into a firm hug. “The moment she knew you were coming, she asked me to make certain you’d visit her as well.”

He turns his head to nuzzle a kiss against Hermes’ cheek and continues speaking, soft against his ear: “She told me all about your visit this morning. She was so delighted. You’re already a fine father.”

Hermes returns the hug, feathers fluffing to hear that his daughter (that word still feels weird) specifically asked that he visit her. And that she liked his visit earlier, even.

"Really? I hadn't meant to wake her up. I was guilty waking her up so early."

Even if Hermes sleeps just to unwind, he knows sleep is very important for mortals. He'd worried that he disturbed her, though she didn't seem grumpy to be woken up.

Hermes buries his face in Achilles' hair. He can't help but think of Lyra's hair, just as fluffy as Achilles', and perpetually smelling just a little of the sea.

"She called me 'dad'."

“My dear, can you imagine how special that is to a child?” Especially one who, up until now, thought she was a foundling. “To awake to the sight of their own father—in the shape of a handsome tomcat, no less?”

Achilles smiles against Hermes’ ear, as proud of his lover as he is of their daughter. Good girl, making Hermes feel welcome and wanted. “See? She’s already claimed you for her own, whether you want it or not.”

He rubs his palms at the small of Hermes’ back and breathes a contented sigh. His continued smile is still clear in his voice. “She called me ‘daddy.’ I never thought I would hear that.”

At this point, it’s far better than being called “Greatest of the Greeks.”

Hermes hadn't been sure how he felt about being called 'Dad'--it's going fast, this is all so fast, and for once he's not ready--but the idea of being claimed as hers seems... nice. And more than the nice is feels when someone decides to be his devotee.

"How silly, that the god of speed is outpaced by his daughter." But Hermes can't help but smile, petting Achilles' hair. And would it really be so hard to make sure he was around to greet her in the morning frequently? No, he doesn't think that would be so hard. He can keep up with all his other daily obligations, so why not one more to make his daughter feel special?

"I'm glad she called you that, my love. She's clearly already besotted with you." Hermes hears that's how little girls should be with their fathers. Zeus wasn't the sort of father who inspired his daughters to be daddy's girls, but Lyra can have better than that.

“It’s the fate of all parents to be outdone by their own children,” Achilles says with a soft laugh. Lyra was fortunate to know love from the beginning. It’s not as much of a stranger as it is to Hermes.

“Hearing her use that word … it makes me wish I could keep her close.” That they could carve out a secret, strange little home in the Underworld where Achilles could raise her himself. But that would be selfish. Lyra and her mortal body need the surface while she lives—with all its joy and pain and wonder. She has no business spending her short mortal years among the dead.

Achilles exhales, finally getting to the matter at hand: “But if she must be under another’s care … I believe Apollo is right. Medea is a worthy choice.”

It's the fat of all parents to be outdone by their children. That's normally a very charged thing to say in Hermes' family, but there's something warm in his heart to be outdone like this. Not by being violently attacked or overthrown or trapped, but by being bested at what he does. He wonders for a moment why Zeus and Kronos were so afraid of children who could outshine them in even some small way.

"The really annoying thing about Apollo is that he's usually right." Hermes pulls away from Achilles' hug just enough to see his face, smiling ruefully with a hint of fond humor in his eyes. "But don't tell him I said that. He'd be even more insufferable than usual."

At least Athena is just aloof about being right all the time. Apollo is snarky about it.

"You tell me about your thoughts on Medea." Hermes tucks one of Achilles' golden curls behind his ear. "And then I'll tell you mine."

“Your secret is safe with me—I’m sorry, love, but I prefer not to speak with Apollo if I can help it.” He’ll be civil for Hermes’ sake, but he won’t be friendly. Especially given that the feeling seems to be mutual.

Achilles hums and looks upwards through the sparse beams that crisscross the open roof. “Lady Medea is not what I thought. Not exactly.”

But how to describe her? “I think that she may have been much like me in her youth—vengeful and ruthless—but age has cooled her. She is still ferocious and powerful, but not indiscriminate. I think she has done what she must to make her own way in a world filled with cruel men.”

The same world that their daughter will also need to navigate. “If Lyra proves an apt and respectful pupil, Lady Medea will teach her well and keep her safe—at least from mortals.”

Achilles meets Hermes’ dark eyes. “But I am often a poor judge. I cannot see people’s true hearts as you can.”

"I think you've got a good judge of her, myself." Hermes hums softly in thought, his wings flexing as he considers. He's been watching Medea as much as he can all day, including when Achilles was talking to her, and... "I don't like that she's been denying people their rites. But I can't argue with her logic."

Hermes can't help but be a little ashamed that a mortal thought of this issue before him, one that seems obvious in retrospect. He'd always been skeptical of putting the power of judgment in the hands of only three mortal men, but he didn't think of the crimes that the gods would despise that the mortal men might not care about.

Still, mortals shouldn't take the eternal fate of a shade in their own hands. The system needs changing so people like Medea won't be driven to act. Something to discuss later, perhaps with Nyx, since Hermes expects that Hades will be cross with him quite soon. "I think the panel of judges may be due more admissions in Erebus."

Women, certainly. Perhaps slaves. People who will think to protect the interests of the vulnerable in Asphodel, full of shades that can't defend themselves against monsters wearing mortal forms.

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