queen of night

—  week one of the summit,  pontius,  with nyx erebus.  @nyxerebvs​

he’s hardily one for tours, having never been good at being able to quietly sit and listen, especially when someone uses words he doesn’t understand. but it’s better than staring at the ceiling of his room, even if biskóto’s weight on top of him is soothing. at least there are people to talk to here, eyes that brighten when they clock menelaus mycenae. he only feels important when he’s actively wanted.

it’s a relief the atmosphere isn’t dead silent, and he can keep himself thoroughly distracted by the fish that pass underfoot and the endless questions sent his way. this was supposed to be time to relax, but as he’s beginning to zone out from the current conversation, he recognises a familiar outline. shit. mene is quick to turn around, hoping she won’t realize he’s here. but the tour has only just started, and he has nowhere to run to, only a group of bodies that aren’t tall enough to hide behind gracefully. 

he silently thanks the fates that this conversation drones on. mene is long past being able to absorb any of the words, only able to think about the possibility of nyx staring daggers into the back of his head. but that luck doesn’t last, and people excuse themselves to pay more attention to the tour, leaving him open and vulnerable. perhaps the fates are laughing at him today, because nyx becomes free of her conversation too, and everyone knows menelaus can’t handle silences. “oh, nyx, i didn’t see you there,” he lies, forcing a smile to hide the lack of eye contact he gives her. “uh, how are you liking the tour?” he asks, nervously stuffing his hands into his pockets.

---

To say that Nyx had never liked Menelaus would be a vast understatement. She had thought he was trouble from the moment he first stepped foot in Tartarus, and he had managed to prove her right over and over and over again. She didn’t know what Zagreus and Hypnos saw in him, what differentiated him in their minds from every other addicted rich idiot who wasted their lives away in the Styx.

She certainly didn’t know what Thanatos had seen in him, and the knowledge that they’d been...involved grated at her every time she laid eyes on him. Thanatos had many, many good qualities, but she’d grown to realize that taste in partners was not at all one of them.

And yet, Menelaus was a paying customer. One of Tartarus’s most loyal. So as much as she would have liked to give him the chewing out of a lifetime when he turned to her, she just rolled her eyes and said, “It is a welcome reprieve from being on that gigantic abomination of a ship. I like the opportunities to see some of Aegean’s more natural sights. Even if Poseidon is actively destroying and rebuilding them in his image.”

Circe nods, “Thank you,” She says, “The worst part is not knowing, though I understand that Hades did all he could.” Of course, Circe still privately has her doubts about the thoroughness of the search for her brother. She would like to believe that every stone had been overturned, every corner searched – but it doesn’t make sense that, if everything to find her brother truly had been done, that he would not have been found. Though doubt still plagues her, she has learned to swallow it – at least in front of most.

Circe hums. It would make sense that Hades had shared this information with Nyx. Admittedly, she did not know much about the woman other than popular opinion, but Poseidon had always said that they were close. It spoke a lot, she thought, that Nyx had known all these years and kept it quiet – almost as much as it spoke about Circe that she’d barely been able to contain the secret for a year.

“Hephaestus and Zeus?” She clarifies, shifting her weight between her feet before giving Nyx a shrug. She’s thinks they’re outlandish, of course, but just believable enough that they will keep media attention away from potential stories of patricide. “Same as everybody else, I suppose. It seems shocking, but I don’t give it much thought beyond that.” A pause, “What do you think of them?”

---

Nyx nodded in agreement, expression softened with a small, sympathetic frown. All he could, indeed. She was grateful when the conversation moved on, even if they were simply drifting from one murder to another.

She laughed under her breath. “Chaos, no, not the affair. Although, I believe you’re right. It is shocking, but just enough. As uncomfortable as I am with another person knowing, they do make a good scandal. It fits.” She shook her head.

“I meant the rumors of Cronus’s murder, of course. The Pandora leak. The...messages. Either someone has found something or someone has said something.” That someone being her, Circe, or one of the brothers. She wasn’t sure the timeline matched up for Hera. Couldn’t fathom her doing something like that regardless. “How do you think it’s happened?”

-

He smiles faintly. Can’t quite imagine Nyx and Zeus committing to a false affair, but he thinks the effort would have been a riot to watch, given how she talks of the Rhea and Olympe on social media alone. Remembers still, how Zeus had groused to him right after Nyx’s, how he had tried not to smile as he poured Zeus another glass, the fire roaring behind them. Hephaestus couldn’t help it, at the time - it’s rare to see Zeus being denied anything, and he’d delighted in the novelty as if it were an indulgence. 

“I’m sure you’re relieved,” he remarks, searches her face for an affirmation. Quietly, “I’m curious. Would Hades have minded?” 

He crooks his lips. “We exercise a lot of care here. I as well. Every single person you see on Pontius, in this room even - who they are, what they’re capable of, does not escape us. Just as it is in Tartarus for you, I’m sure.” 

---

Nyx could hardly keep a straight face at his comment about Hades, her mind drifting back to the conversation they’d had after. “Perhaps only inasmuch as the publicity would lead to an invasion of Tartarus,” she said, which wasn’t anywhere close to true. “Otherwise, why would he?”

She looked up at Hephaestus’s expression and her eyes narrowed. “I actually wouldn’t say I’m quite relieved. The knowledge that yet another person knows — that Zeus went behind our backs to talk to you — rather cancels out any relief I could gain from the knowledge that I don’t have to pretend to do anything with Zeus,” she explained. And more directly, “You’re a liability, Hephaestus.”

She waved a hand at their surroundings. “Talking like this is merely an example of that. Even in Tartarus, we only speak about such things behind closed doors. We don’t take anything, including our control over our surroundings, for granted.”

Orpheus half expects their words to be met by a cold silence. They could only pretend to be so surprised if she were to take her drink and leave them, alone once again, at the bar. When she speaks, though her words lacked even a hint of compassion, they can only just fight back a smile that tries to pry it’s way onto their lips. They hide what manages to slip through behind a sip of their drink, and that sickly sweet sentimentalism of theirs finds it’s way in — At least she’s talking to you.

“Ah,” They draw out the word, licking alcoholic residue off their teeth. “Guess so … Stupid question, on my part.” Though Nyx’s constant state of motion has made it far too difficult to find her alone, it also made Orpheus proud, in a way. In the business of performance, to be busy was synonymous with success. They could only assume the same of hers, could only assume her success. They tried to keep up best they could, but the grapevine could only convey so much. All they could assume was that their mother remained successful, and content, and happy. They could not bare to imagine otherwise.

Nyx’s question was one Orpheus had asked themself many times since arriving in Pontius. So, it, to hear the thought echoed, earns a genuine chuckle from the individual as they down the last of their drink. “Now that’s a good question.” They think for a moment, settling into their not-knowing-an-answer. “I mean, some would say everyone worth knowing in Olympe, or, shit, maybe just everyone worth knowing period is here. If I hadn’t come, it would’ve been a boring two weeks at home … So, y’know. I’m here for networking —” The half truth is emphasized by dramatic finger quotations. “Trying to make some new connections. Maybe if I’m lucky, by end of the week I can be a guinea pig for some new augmentations … Leave here with some sick new body mods.” It’s only half a joke. Orpheus always said they’d never explore augmentation, whether or not they meant it was a whole other conversation to be had.

“‘M also just … Exploring. Never been to Pontius before. It’s pretty.” They pause. “Though, don’t think I’ll ever get used to being on water … Feels unstable.” Orpheus does not admit to their ulterior motives, to their desire to, once again, be in the same place as everyone they cared about, all at once. Though that feeling lingers behind their words, behind their actions. It’s obvious, in the way they’ve so desperately sought out their mother, but still, unspoken.

---

Networking, Orpheus said, with air quotes that made Nyx turn her head and give them a purely exasperated look. For a split second, they were back in Tartarus, with Nyx reiterating for the millionth time that Orpheus needed to learn to look out for themself first, to take their passions seriously. They were eleven years old, and Nyx was urging them to practice - their knifework, their mathematics, their music - reminding them they didn’t have a future if they didn’t cultivate their skills. She’d be the first to admit she had been tough on them. Had it done any good?

She turned her head back to her drink. Back to the ship that rocked beneath them. There was something they could both agree on. “It is strange,” she agreed. “It feels wrong.” The first time she had gone to Pontius, the ship had traveled far enough out that land wasn’t visible as far as the eye could see. She had taken one look at that endless expanse of blue above and below them, and she had immediately fled to her cabin, shaken by it. She didn’t understand how anyone could live somewhere so open.

Still, she couldn’t fault them for wanting to travel - though she wondered if that really was their reason for coming. Surely they’d known that people from Tartarus would be there. Was Orpheus planning on visiting them? She didn’t ask directly, not wanting to start another fight. Instead, she said, “Don’t get body modifications. The Fates made you perfect. Besides, I’m sure Poseidon is implanting spying devices in all of Scalpel’s augmentations.” Meaningfully, she added, “I think you have enough eyes watching you. No?”

Growing up, Alecto had always been acutely aware of the smallest movements – the way that one could abandon, etched into her brain. What abandonment could look like on others was different, but it hadn’t ever been something she was worried about from Nyx. However, the drop of her arm, pulls at her heart as if it’s reminiscent of such a thing. 

“Okay,” Alecto replied. They want to take Nyx’s words at face value, that there wasn’t any actual disappointment that hung between them. “It was a lapse in judgement.” It had been. That’s what this had been, right? “I’m well aware of the risks, and I took them so that I could apologize the way I needed to.” 

Apologies were hard to come by out of Alecto, and she knew that Nyx was aware of that. “Nothing aside from new faces, which I’m getting used to. They have Scylla on their payroll. I haven’t made it to the bottom floor yet, but I’m bound to at some point.” Alecto tries to think of logic, of this mission, to push past the feelings that clouded their earlier judgement. 

---

“You had nothing to apologize for,” Nyx insisted again. She knew that apologies from Alecto were rare, and she didn’t mean to spurn this one - but she hated the thought of Alecto feeling guilt over a well-executed plan. She’d done everything perfectly. She wished Alecto was half as proud of themself as Nyx was of them.

Besides, she found herself worrying about what else that guilt might push Alecto to do. If Alecto believed Nyx wasn’t the only one to whom they owed an apology. Meeting with the Asphodels so soon would be dangerous, as Alecto knew. But she suspected reiterating that point would do little good.

He takes mental note of the way she’s sitting, the way that she speaks. If there’s any disdain running through her words he can’t hear it. Achilles is grateful for that, even while he quietly folds his hands and interlocks his fingers together. Alright, Nyx replies.

It should feel like a victory. It doesn’t. Instead, the dread comes rushing right back up, cut through clean by the mention of Alecto. Another injury. Another failure that isn’t really a failure, but certainly feels like it. They haven’t spoken much of that. He has been unable to offer her any sort of creature comfort up to this point.

He hadn’t seen the fight, but he knows the aftermath had been ugly. He’s not privy to all of the details of that particular arrangement, which was a key piece of his role he’d had to accept a long time ago. Sometimes you know things. Sometimes you don’t. “I’ll see what he says,” he agrees, but really, what could Patroclus say of Alecto?

“It’s just two weeks.” He’s trying to comfort her, here. He’s also trying to comfort himself, which is… embarrassing. “Two weeks. Just a summit. I’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

---

Just two weeks, he insisted, and she breathed an almost-laugh at the notion that he was trying to make her feel better. That her concerns over Alecto might be so transparent. Wasn’t it meant to be the other way around? Hadn’t she begun this conversation with the intent of comforting him over Patroclus? Over the years, she was beginning to suspect, Achilles had nearly perfected the skill of deflection.

“I know we will,” she replied smoothly, with more confidence than she possessed. “And I’m glad to hear that you have a plan.” Even if it was a plan that had a million ways it could go wrong, a plan she absolutely hated. Achilles shouldn’t be forced to weaponize his feelings for Patroclus. But. She didn’t think there was any hope of dissuading him, so she moved on.

HONESTY had always been a defining characteristic of CIRCE EPHYRA. Lying had never sat well with her – she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it, never understanding why someone would be compelled to say something other than what they meant. This was simultaneously one of her greatest strengths, and one of her greatest foils. 

It had served her well when she was able to point out the class troublemakers to her teacher at school, but not so well she told the aforementioned troublemakers what she had done. It had served her well in gaining the trust of Poseidon Rhea, of her employees, and the company as a whole – but perhaps not so well when it came to discussing indelicate details with Nyx Erebus.

Perhaps, were she more skilled in the art of deception, she would consider lying to Nyx here – or, at the very least, telling her that it was, in fact, none of her business. But, she’s not, and so Circe answers with the only thing she knows – the truth. “About a year ago.” She says, “After my brother disappeared. I… I didn’t believe that everything that could be done to find him had been done, so Poseidon reassured me of your boss’ word.” She pauses, “I wasn’t surprised to see you there.” She says, raising her eyes to meet Nyx’s, “When did Hades tell you?”

---

After her brother disappeared. Chaos below.

Nyx kept her expression carefully neutral, grateful for her sunglasses, which made the task easier. Fascinating, that that one little accident had spiraled into Circe learning about all of this. She nodded slowly. “I admit, I don’t know the details, but I remember how Hades overturned all of Tartarus trying to find your brother. I’m sorry he wasn’t able to. I can’t imagine the pain of it.”

She moved on to address Circe’s question swiftly. Unlike Circe, she could not tell the whole truth. Could not speak of her and Hades and Persephone, of the unbreakable bond they had forged in a darkened room, in quiet confessions.

But she did admit, “He told me not too long after the fact. Our professional lives were becoming increasingly reliant on each other. He thought it was important to be fully honest about the nature of his inheritance; he didn’t want me to be hurt by ignorance. I’ve always appreciated his honesty.” Her head inclined to the side. “What do you make of these new rumors?”

–

Eurydice nodded, smiling softly as she let Nyx spread the sunscreen on her back. Nyx took her time, hands deliberate and careful, and the singer had absolutely no qualms about it. She felt special, as silly as that might be, and her soft smile stayed because of that. To pass the seconds, Eurydice made lazy circles in the water with her legs, and watched the resulting ripples with sweet contentment.

This was the Nyx that she loved—the caretaker, the person who made sure you were protected. In these moments, she thinks she could love Nyx forever…

Now if only she could forget that the Head of Operations was also in the same body. Then there would be no doubt of Eurydice’s affection, none at all.

She let a chuckle mingle with the other’s laugh, her smile widening with a joking edge. “Pontius people have bad taste then. This is confirmation of it.” Eurydice accepted the sunscreen bottle, squirting out enough for her arms and chest. She squeezed the bottle once more to put a couple dots of sunscreen on her face.

She laughed again. “Ha, no. You can take a break. There hasn’t been one suitor in sight, not that I mind. I’m not really sure I’m ready for being in the dating scene, anyways.”

---

“All surface people have bad taste,” Nyx said, with a haughty, dismissive tone evocative of a younger Nyx, who lived in a village beneath the earth and had long ago decided that if she couldn’t join the people on the surface, she would resent them. That wasn’t a side of herself she typically allowed to Asphodels to see; she would share with them her long for Tartarus and its potential, but not the frustration her loyalty had bloomed from. But sometimes, when she looked at Eurydice and saw her mother - a Fury, one Tartarus-born - it slipped out.

She paused, any humor fading for a moment, when Eurydice explained that she wasn’t ready for the dating scene. She weighed her options. It had been ten years, but she knew well that saying so would only make her a hypocrite. It had been twenty-seven, after all, since Persephone.

So instead, she said, “Well, I can’t imagine why they’re not falling to their knees left and right at the sight of you - but that’s one less thing I have to worry about, I suppose.” And with a roll of her eyes, “Zagreus’s dating life alone has caused me enough trouble.”

Hermes settles over Thanatos’ shoulders like a death shroud, the air around his head gone icy and thick. He digs a thumbnail into the leather of the chair arm underhand and smoothes over the mark with the flat of his index finger. He’d been lucky on Olympe that their confrontations had remained digital in nature, and lucky now with Pontius looming that Hermes-the-child-genius must be dialed up to eleven if Thanatos is even allowed on deck. 

There he goes again – making Hermes’ problems about them. Thanatos tips his head back, until the crown hits the top of the chair.

“I promise you there is no risk of that. Of … the Hermes of it all.” He’s sure his mother can read the set of Than’s shoulders as he spits out the name, the way his knuckles go white against the dark chair. There is, at least, this thin line of truth winding between Thanatos and Nyx; no expectation to explain beyond what he already has. He tips up his head just slightly to meet Nyx’s gaze, though, or search for it. Does she know something more?

“What are you worried about? Don’t bullshit me. I know the reason we haven’t talked about this before now is because you don’t want to. What aren’t you telling me?” Than’s starting to wonder if this is how Zagreus feels all the time – the oyster sickness of turning a corner towards voices, only to find a conversation dead on the floor. Killed by your footfalls. 

---

Nyx pursed her lips when Thanatos locked eyes with her, demanding to know what she was concerned about. She hesitated, not because she was loathe to discuss it (not anymore), but because she didn’t want Thanatos to think she didn’t have faith in him. She knew him to be intelligent and loyal - but she also knew what love could do to someone. Even worse, what the want of it did.

“I was just concerned that we wouldn’t be on the same page, about you and Ariadne,” she confessed finally, words stilted like just articulating them took effort. It was just an awkward subject, one she had hoped they might avoid entirely. What a baseless, stupid hope that was.

🗡🗡🗡

He doesn’t respond. Not at first. It feels like Nyx has kicked him squarely in the chest, right between the ribcage. When they’d first started working together in a real way, which meant shadowing her when he wasn’t shadowing Hades, he’d been… not unkind to her, exactly, but definitely bitter. Out of his depth, absolutely.

A familiar lash of fury stokes up, and Achilles, well-practiced, stamps out the embers. Again, again, again, no matter how much he hates thinking it because he can’t say it to her, because he knows what that would do to Nyx: Persephone won’t be coming back to Tartarus, either.

Again, again, and again, every time Achilles thinks he’s over anything… it turns out that he’s not. He looks out the window to avoid looking at Nyx, in case his face betrays anything. “He did.” There’s nothing else Achilles thinks he can say on the matter. They’d discussed it. Achilles had still felt guilty, but that had been the hard part. At the very thought of Hades he has the compulsion to look over his shoulder to see if the man has emerged yet from his call. No sign of him, yet.

“It’s a good idea,” Achilles says, a weak-hearted attempt at changing the subject so he doesn’t have to think about the lift of her voice on I trust you. “Do you have your eyes on anyone specific? I can keep an eye out, too, although I’ll let you do the important part.”

---

He turned away from her. She had to accept, then, that there wasn’t much more she could do. If Achilles wanted to speak to Patroclus, then she doubted there was much in the world that could dissuade him from doing so. She admired his love, his ability to act on it, even as it worried her.

“Alright.” She had already conceded that it was a good idea; he didn’t need to convince her of anything. She wondered if perhaps he was trying to convince himself. She sighed and pulled out her phone because she couldn’t keep staring at Achilles’s back.

“I have a few particularly disgruntled employees that I’m targeting. I’ll email you their names,” she told him. “If you can get any more information on them, on the sorts of opportunities they might be looking for, that could be useful. I wonder -”

 closed to @nyxerebvs where: helicon, pontius when: the hour of the leviathan; first week

It’s been years since he’d last seen Nyx before Olympe; perhaps even decades - he can’t remember the last time he ever trekked to Tartarus since Hades’ and Persephone’s wedding. Feels like lifetimes, if a life is partitioned between ignorance and knowing. 

He’s not spoken or seen Nyx since Olympe, but encountering her here, knowing all that she must know for years now, he can’t help his envy. How he could look at Hades and Nyx, and never once doubt his trust in her, and hers in him. “I heard it was meant to be you, initially,” he begins, and ends. Hephaestus looks and feels exhausted, and he can hardly spare more in terms of pleasantries.

---

Nyx was sipping a drink (better than those on Olympe, but that wasn’t saying much) and staring out at the ocean when Hephaestus approached her. She hadn’t spoken to Hephaestus in years, probably, had never had a reason to. She’d seen him as Zeus’s pawn, turned Poseidon’s. She knew, vaguely, that he had grown up with the brothers, but she’d never given him much thought. Her mistake.

When he spoke - and so bluntly - she was glad that her surprise was hidden behind her sunglasses. She turned and looked up at him, eyebrows raised. “Hello, Hephaestus,” she greeted him. “Yes, I volunteered. Nobody else worked. I didn’t really work either.”

So it was a good thing that Zeus had found Hephaestus, but she would never admit that. She still seethed at the reminder that Zeus had gone behind all of their backs to tell him. Another person knowing, she thought, could only make things worse. “You should really try to exercise more care. Never know who might be eavesdropping.”

Alecto’s mouth twisted– half smile, half grimace. She felt weak. She knew the risks that came with contacting Nyx, yet she had done it anyways. Why, they hadn’t quite figured out yet. They should’ve been stronger. Alecto should have watched them all from afar, she should have made peace with her mission. 

But it wasn’t that simple. Alecto nodded at Nyx’s words, not quite absorbing them. She knew they weren’t real, had known that going in they would have to bruise and batter, that it had to come across in a way that would not cause for question. Alecto bit down onto the inside of their cheek as they watched Nyx look away. 

It wasn’t every day that they received praise from Nyx, and even somebody who became friends with the monsters beneath their bed was prone to the feeling – no, the need to be needed, to be wanted. “I’m sorry.” Alecto meant it. Her tone was coated in remorse – she knew better. Of course she knew better. 

“I couldn’t help myself. You were all here, and…” Alecto laughed, though their tone was humorless. “It was stupid, asking you to meet me. I know that.” Alecto thought of the others, those she had already seen, those she wanted to latch onto, fingers holding wrists like bracelets. “They’re doing good, making it seem like I’m a traitor.” The word tasted sour. Traitor. “But don’t worry. For the remainder of your stay, I won’t corner you again.” This may be the last time she got to see them, and for how long? Weeks? Months, this time? Longer than that?

---

Nyx winced at the assurance that Alecto wouldn’t corner her again, had to reminder herself that this was what she wanted, this was what she needed Alecto to do. Her arm half-extended, wanting to pull Alecto into a hug - then dropped back down to her side. She was afraid that if she pulled her into a hug now, she might never be able to let her go.

Instead, she nodded and kept her distance, assuming it would make it easier for both of them. “You don’t have to apologize. I know this is difficult. I’m certain I would have done the same thing, in your position.” She had gone to see Orpheus, after all. “If it gets too difficult or if you encounter any danger...don’t hesitate to reach out. Just keep in mind that reaching out comes with its own risks.”

The wonders of Nyx Erebus, Achilles thinks, that she can call him on his bluff with only two words. He feels his face grow hot with embarrassment, brief, like he’s been caught doing something he’s not supposed to be doing. He’s quietly glad she’s looking away, for the sake of his own pride. He doesn’t know how to cope with her flagrant admission, either. She doesn’t want to see him get hurt, but has turned her eyes away each time he’s stepped across the hot coals, the same as he does for her when Persephone is brought up. He’s seen some of the old holos. He knows what her ache looks like as much as he does his own.

They’re complicit in one another’s suffering. He doesn’t know what that says about him, or what it says about Nyx, but he thinks he knows what it says about the hold they’ve got each other in. He grips tightly to the armrests of the seat until his metacarpals hurt and the leather creaks, and then he lets go. “I’ve already told Hades.” Achilles can see her going to him, too, saying something in hopes of dissuading him, but Hades expressed similar worries in his own way.

“I think of what the two of you done for Tartarus. You’ve changed it from the outlands to the mines.” He doesn’t know how to express this greater want, when it’s so easily undermined by his flagrant desire to be close to Patroclus. “If we could get that sort of growth down into Tartarus, even simulated, it would change everything. Zagreus and the rest would have an easier start. We could move away from—” Achilles stops himself there, before he looks like a complete fool. He still treads the thin line between discussion and argument, though, because if there’s any time to figure this out and justify himself to Nyx, it’s now. Pontius is going to be as much a den of snakes as Olympe had been. Worse, maybe. “I do have a thought behind it. I’m not just…”

---

“I know.” Nyx pursed her lips, frustrated that Achilles was voicing exactly what she’d been thinking for weeks now. Ulterior motives aside, she couldn’t deny that him getting information from Patroclus was a good idea. Perhaps he could even make connections with some of the other scientists on Pontius, try to find the weaker links. 

Still, the possibility of an opportunity was not worth sacrificing Achilles for. There was the risk of him breaking his heart, of course. But she was also thinking about the far more terrifying risk that he might decide not to return to Tartarus. Selfish of her, maybe - but she wasn’t sure Tartarus would survive that hit. 

“Of course I want that sort of growth in Tartarus. I’ve been trying to recruit scientific talent for weeks. If you truly believe that Patroclus can help us get that, and that you won’t hurt yourself too much in the process, then by all means get information from him. But he cannot come back to Tartarus.” Her frown deepened. “If you’ve spoken to Hades, I imagine he told you that too.”

🗡🗡🗡

She extends her hand. He takes it, at first, but not for very long. He feels like he’s going to shake out of his skin. It’d be better if she didn’t know just how unsure he feels about all this. Achilles just wishes they’d had more time to rest and recover in Tartarus. He’s come close to confronting the reality that he’ll be seeing Patroclus again, but it doesn’t feel totally real.

Or he doesn’t want it to be real. He’s not sure. He’s rehearsed his apology seventeen times so far. He’ll still fuck it up, he’s sure.

“I don’t know. If you wanted, but…” Well, she’ll find out sooner or later. “I’m going to see if I can get any worthwhile information from him. He’s head of terraforming, you know, a certified genius, so I figured that anything there might be good for us to have.” Does it sound like he’s making excuses? It feels like it, to Achilles, like he couldn’t come across any more desperate. Hungry, maybe, just to be close to Patroclus, and needing some concrete reason behind that hunger that doesn’t look completely selfish. “It isn’t like we can bring him back with us.”

Now there’s a topic he’s never breached before, invoking Patroclus’ banishment from Tartarus. They’ve danced around it over the years, but he’s never been brave enough to say it out loud to Nyx.

---

“I see.” Nyx’s tone was laced with skepticism, despite her best intentions. She was sure Achilles was being honest with her, that he genuinely thought he might get information out of Patroclus. She was also sure that that wasn’t his only reason for wanting to speak to him.

“If you’re going to talk to him anyway, then I appreciate you also trying to get information from him. As one of Aegan’s top scientists, I’m sure he does have something we could use. It could be helpful to know the details of what he’s working on.” She ran her now-free hand over her face, gaze averted.

Thanatos listens and nods his way through Nyx’s bullet points. He tries to keep a neutral expression. The first is fine – barring extreme and debilitating boredom, Than has little desire to hunker down in a cabin fidgeting away at his pivot tables. No working, easy enough. Then the second bullet comes, and Than knows he’s failed. His mouth curves downwards sharply. His fingers curl into the leather. He doesn’t argue, yet, but he certainly chews on an argument while his jaw works. 

Avoid Aegean employees. Keep your distance. Thanatos should be grateful for the excuse. He’s by no means eager to navigate the landmine of Hermes. Or the knotted web of Ariadne. Or the conversational trap doors with Aphrodite. Or even Poseidon, whose messages he’s received but as avoided decrypting for the last fortnight. None of this, of course, Than can tell his mother without raising more alarms than she already has ringing.

“No fights?” Thanatos clicks his tongue, slouches lower in the over-cushioned seat. Kicks a leg out, heel to the floor. “Damn, I was really hoping Mino and I could try to bring some culture to those uptight pricks. Maybe get an impromptu ring started on one of the islands. He’ll be so disappointed.” He slants Nyx a lopsided, half-edged smirk. 

“Joking, obviously. Hyp’s given me a very strict alcohol allotment and I’m pretty sure Zag’s this close to drafting chaperone rotations. Detox is proceeding as planned. But some of those Aegean employees are my friends – or, friends of the Thanatos interested in contracting with the company. I won’t go out of my way, but I’m not going to shaft them either. Even if you’re taking me off the Pontius assignment. But if you need me to say it: no I will not contact Alecto.” Than chews on his cheek, considering. “Or Ariadne.”  

---

Nyx didn’t miss the look on Thanatos’s face, the sharp, displeased frown that signaled a brewing storm. With that in mind, she could only manage a thin smile as he cracked a joke about starting a ring on Pontius, patient as she waited for him to get to what bothered him. “I’m sure that Mino will survive the heartbreak.”

At the mention of his friends, her smile faded altogether, replaced by a deep frown that told Thanatos exactly what she thought about that. She pressed a hand over her mouth, gaze shifting away from his. The compromise - no Alecto, no Ariadne - made her feel a little better, but not by much. It seemed simplest to keep Thanatos away from Pontius entirely. But he wasn’t a child, and she couldn’t control him like one.

“I would recommend you not contact Hermes, either,” she suggested, settling her hand back onto her lap. “But, other than Alecto and Ariadne, I will leave the extent of your contact with people on Pontius up to you.” As much as she trusted Than’s judgment, whatever was between him and Ariadne could become a security risk she wasn’t willing to take on.