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This is how it goes the first time.
They're sitting together at the fire, having just celebrated the marriage of one of the myrmidons and one of the camp girls. It's maybe not the most traditional of ceremonies — no parents to approve, no private rooms, no home to prepare, and no grand gifts in the dowry. No dowry at all, technically. It's enough to legitimize the bump that's already appeared in the girl's stomach, the one that isn't spoken about in polite company and is hardly a surprise here, in the middle of a war.
But the two will be happy, Achilles knows, and that is rare in a marriage.
He and Patroclus are sitting at the fire while the last of the drink passes around, their thighs pressed together and causing more heat than the flames that slowly consume the logs that Achilles tossed on earlier. Sense of dignity and urge for privacy limit him to just linking his pinky finger with Patroclus's, though if they were alone there would be no force that could stop Achilles from sitting in Patroclus's lap.
"Do you ever picture it?" Patroclus asks.
"Hm?" Achilles tilts his head, too caught up composing poems about the way Patroclus's eyes shine in the fire or the way his hair falls like a waterfall, tumbling down in a wave of force, captivating even the strongest of men in their wake.
"Marriage." Patroclus smirks. "Children."
Achilles laughs. They know he is set to die young. Glory immortal, life ethereal. The fate set in stone before he was even born. Children? A joke.
"Marriage is for others," Achilles says anyways, as if Patroclus didn't know that already. "I have you, philtatos." Most beloved.
Now Patroclus chuckles. He leans forwards, their knees knocking together as their lips press close. He smells like sword oil and ash and the dust that settles over everything in camp. He smells like the sun beating down while they lay in the sand on the beach, like the herbs and dried meats that hung in Chiron's cave back when they were boys, like their tent right after sex.
He smells like home and Achilles wishes this kiss could last forever.
****
Five years alive and a few thousand years dead later, Achilles is walking through the House of Hades on his way to talk about security with Lady Nyx when he hears a shout, then the slap of feet against marble. He stops, turning so he can give Zagreus a polite nod.
"Hello, lad. I'm afraid I do not have much time to talk. Lady Nyx and I have a meeting." Achilles feels like he hasn't seen Zagreus out of breath since he was a child still learning how to use a sword, but now it looks like he has run a few hundred kilometers without a break. His heels are even smoking. "Is everything all right?"
"Yes! I was just talking to Than and Meg and we — we're going to get married." Zagreus is grinning ear to ear. Even though they're in the middle of the hall, he doesn't care who hears. Certainly everyone knows that the three are together, but marriage? "We aren't sure when, but Nyx is going to officiate."
Achilles blinks. He's not sure he heard correctly and he asks Zagreus to repeat himself.
"We're going to get married. The three of us. Meg thinks it's silly, but I think she likes it more than she wants to confess." Zagreus frowns. He's fiddling with something on his hand. "I thought you would be happy for me, sir."
"I am surprised," Achilles says slowly. "I would not expect Megaera to be interested in children."
"What?" Zagreus stills. His hands fall to his sides. It's almost the expression of someone who has waded through a river and realized he's missing a sandal. "What about children?"
Now Achilles feels like he's the one without the sandal. "Well, that is what marriage is for, lad. Having children. Confirming the line."
The sound of the hall is almost enough to drown out Achilles's thoughts, but Zagreus's expression is hurt. Devastated, even.
"Uh, sir, that's not what marriage is about anymore. Maybe when you were alive, but now people get married out of love." Zagreus clears his throat. "It's not even just between two people anymore. It can be between three people."
That is absolutely not what Achilles has heard about marriage. The only reasons to marry are children and securing one's legacy, not about love or even attraction. The concept of three people being together like that also spits on everything that Achilles recalls about marriage. There may be a man, wife, and concubine but three equals…
Then again, things are strange in this brave new world and Achilles knows that not all of them are bad.
"I apologize for not having the proper reaction then. I am happy for you, lad. It sounds like a momentous occasion." Achilles smiles. "I hope that the celebrations are long and that you have a prosperous future."
"Thank you, sir!" His earlier apprehension forgotten, Zagreus clasps Achilles on the shoulder. "We don't have any plans yet, but I will let you know as soon as we do. Oh, have to run and tell Dusa!" He jogs off, leaving Achilles somehow even more confused than before.
****
Achilles does not brood anymore. He spends too much time with Patroclus to brood. There are too many things to enjoy — his hair, his eyes, his smile, his laughter, his everything — for him to lurk on unsavory thoughts. Tonight — or today, time isn't real in the underworld — he is sitting with his head in Patroclus's lap. Patroclus is playing with his hair, braiding it and weaving flowers through the gold locks.
"You are beautiful," Achilles murmurs, smiling up at Patroclus.
"Ha." Patroclus's smile grows anyways. "Says the demigod."
"So I know about beauty even more than the normal man," Achilles replies. "I have no idea how you ever agreed to be with me."
Patroclus rolls his eyes — he's picked that up from Zagreus, because the myrmidons did not roll their eyes, but princes from the underworld do. "So many millennia have passed and you still say such odd things. When will I convince you that my heart is yours?" Patroclus leans down and kisses him on the forehead, kisses him on the nose, kisses him on the lips.
Achilles, because he is still quite human, reaches up and tangles his fingers in Patroclus's hair, tugs him closer. Their lips part slightly and Achilles hums in contentedness when he tastes the sharp tang that he has associated with Patroclus for so long. It's an awkward angle, though, and sooner than he would like Patroclus has to sit back up.
Unfortunately being a disembodied spirit has fewer perks than one would think.
"I love you," Achilles murmurs. He loves Patroclus, loves being able to call him philtatos, his beloved, his eternal partner. But to call him husband… it seems silly, but if it is the new thing, the new way to show one's affections…
Well, Achilles has never been accused of doing things by halves.
****
He talks to Thanatos first because, unease aside, Thanatos is more likely to have knowledge of the tradition when compared to Zagreus and Megaera probably would not take kindly to being interrogated about her upcoming nuptials, their uneasy friendship aside. The difficulty is locating Thanatos, as his schedule rarely coincides with Achilles nowadays and Achilles is loath to linger in the House when he can go visit Patroclus. Thankfully, he has all the time in the world and he eventually does spot death incarnate waiting at his usual balcony, not a hair of Zagreus in sight.
"Thanatos, may I have a word?" Achilles calls, approaching him but stopping a respectful distance away. Thanatos aims a blank look at him but nods and Achilles closes the space. "I wanted to congratulate you and Zagreus and Megaera. I hope that your marriage brings you joy."
"Thank you, Achilles," Thanatos replies in his characteristic monotone. "I mentioned it once and Zag, well, you know how he is." If Achilles didn't know better, he would have imagined a smile on Thanatos's face for a moment. It disappears like mist, though, and he goes back to frowning.
"How do mortals do it nowadays?" Achilles wonders. "I, ah, was considering the changes. I don't hear much about the mortal world."
Now, Thanatos is many things but he is not stupid. He regards Achilles for a moment with blank eyes and then, slowly like a cat, blinks once.
"They get up to so many things. Marriage is not what it once was, for good or not. Mortals do not exchange dowries anymore, for one. And they often pick their spouses, not their parents."
Achilles's mother had never thought anyone good enough for him and his father loved him too much to make him marry. In many ways, Achilles was lucky that he died so young. Otherwise he would have had to pick and have children and Pat — who knows what would have happened to him. All Achilles knows is that he would have killed anyone who got between them.
Did kill.
He'd rather not think of it.
"Do they exchange anything at all?"
Thanatos shifts slightly, angled so that he can look at Achilles but still monitor the pool of blood. "Yes. Many consider the gift of rings as a necessary part of the engagement." He raises his left hand. A single silver band wraps around one finger. Now that he mentions it, Achilles recalls seeing something similar on Zagreus.
"Interesting. And they show you are connected?" Achilles imagines having a physical reminder of Patroclus with him, one that is perhaps less dour than the obol he wears on his cloak. It belonged to Patroclus due to his death and really isn't the kind of love favor that partners exchange in stories.
"I believe so. They are a way for others to know you are accounted for. In the mortal realm, at least." Thanatos drops his hand. "There are more details, depending on the mortal. It bores me."
"I understand. It is… curious that the lad got the idea in his head," Achilles ventures.
"I blame his mother," Thanatos mutters, but Achilles isn't sure he's supposed to respond and does not. "Was there anything else? I have to go." And there is suddenly a commotion by the pool as Zagreus, covered in blood, emerges with a gasp.
Achilles shakes his head and watches Thanatos float away.
****
He has no idea where to get a ring. Achilles knows that there are many gems, but those are raw and he can't cut them himself, nor can he melt gold into a circle or any of the number of things that need to happen to make a ring. He eventually realizes that the broker can get their phantasmal hands on just about anything, which is good, and that he's still technically getting paid, which is also good.
Then he runs into the more serious problem.
Myrmidons don't wear jewelry, as any ring is going to get in the way of fighting. Even if he and Patroclus don't really fight anymore, it's something that bothers him enough that he almost tosses the idea out right then and there.
But Achilles's rage is only beaten by his pride and there's that unfavorable characteristic that makes him feel that he has to commit to this, like he would be doing Patroclus a disservice by not going through this ritual that he doesn't even have much knowledge of. Achilles had learnt his lesson of not letting others get between him and his happiness. Apparently he hadn't learnt his lesson about getting between himself and his own happiness.
So he asks Zagreus one day while they're training, an easy workout since Achilles can still wipe the floor with him. In a few years, maybe Zagreus will have a chance against the greatest of the Greeks. Maybe.
"It doesn't get in your way?" He asks, nodding to the ring. His spear flies through the air at a breakneck speed, almost taking Zagreus's eye out.
"A bit," Zagreus confesses as he slides to the left, his sword blocking the spear and sparks flying, "I wear it on a chain if I have concerns."
It's an obvious answer. Achilles will never be accused of being too intelligent, at least.
So, with that solved, he runs into his second problem. No ring is good enough. Patroclus deserves something that will blow away the greatest of gods, something so romantic that Aphrodite will be jealous. He should have something that shows even the smallest babe that he is connected with Achilles. Their ashes are together in the mortal realm and their souls are together in the underworld. They are two halves of a whole. His ring should demonstrate all of this with a single glance. They will be together forever. The only force that can get between them is Achilles's stupid pride and he has vowed never to let that happen.
"Isn't that what's happening now?" The look he gives Dusa is enough to make her shriek and start babbling apologies, already ascending to the rafters. "S-s-sorry, sir! Oh, please don't yell at me, I have to go air out the garden—"
"Peace, Dusa," Achilles hastily corrects. "I… may be letting my concern get in the way, but my pride? I am not thinking about myself, I simply want Patroclus to have what is best. He deserves everything. I failed him in life, but I cannot fail him in death."
"F-From what I've heard, if you don't mind me saying, he k-knows do you feel, right?" Dusa squeaks. Achilles nods. "W-Well, why would he need something physical t-to remind him of that? If he loves you—"
"Which he does." Achilles realizes that it sounds like he is trying to convince himself which, in all fairness, happens frequently enough. "Go on," he encourages Dusa, who once more is creeping upwards.
"I-I-I just think that if the love of my life gave me anything, I would be happy to have it — that's all!" There is a loud clamor at the entrance to the lounge and her nerves finally give way. With a hasty goodbye, Dusa disappears.
Achilles watches as Megaera, Thanatos and Zagreus all walk in. Zagreus has linked arms with his two paramours, but they are also glancing at one another with fondness. All three have simple silver rings.
Well, we cannot match them, Achilles thinks as he finishes his drink. He absconds to the training grounds. He's always thought best with a spear in his hand. There's still a few more preparations he has left and he better get this right.
****
This is how it goes the second time.
They're sitting in Elysium watching Zagreus try to teach Asterius and Theseus, of all heroes, some kind of human dance that Hermes apparently told him was a hit at parties. Thanatos and Megaera are sitting at the head table possibly conspiring about the best way to kill Theseus again, which Achilles cannot blame them for. Hades looks proud, which is to say slightly less murderous than usual, while Persephone has been crying on and off ever since the ceremony started. Nyx also looks touched, though her expressions are usually too mysterious for Achilles to interpret.
Hypnos and Charon are there, as is Cebereus and the other assorted members of the House of Hades. Sisyphus is not present, probably by request of Megaera and Thanatos who both have a very personal stake in him never seeing even the verisimilitude of sunlight ever again. Achilles hasn't asked for details. He's not that stupid.
It was a strange ceremony and Achilles doubts that any mortal would recognize it as a wedding, since he's pretty sure weddings don't usually include deadly fights between the three participants or drinking what he's pretty sure is blood from ritual cups. He's also not certain that Hades actually wants this to happen — though, in all fairness, Hades can still stop anything from happening in his realm as long as it isn't his son escaping.
Zagreus bursts into laughter when Theseus is hit in the face by Asterius as he turns, the Athenian not quite fast enough to duck from Asterius waving an arm. Megaera has a smirk on her face and Thanatos looks like he'd rather be working. They're both in slightly nicer versions of their uniforms. Zagreus is actually just in his normal chiton. After this, they will return to fighting and more or less killing each other on a daily basis.
But the three will be happy, Achilles knows, and that is important in a marriage.
"Marry me," Achilles says, suddenly, looking at Patroclus who sits next to him while nursing a bottle of nectar.
"I think children are a little out of our reach," he deadpans. He cups Achilles's cheek in his hand, running a thumb over his bottom lip. No one is looking at them. It wouldn't matter if they were. "Or is this all making you lightheaded? We can go elsewhere. They will never notice us leave."
"No, I am serious." Achilles fidgets around in his pocket, eventually withdrawing the band that he had gotten the broker to acquire.
He slides out of his seat so he can kneel, taking one of Patroclus's hands in his. The other clutches the ring, holding it out. It's an offering, a promise, an oath that he can keep. It's simple gold with φιλτατος — philtatos, beloved — engraved on the inside. It's proof that he doesn't care what the world thinks as long as Patroclus knows.
"You know I love you. You are my sun and stars and moon. You are the reason for my existence, for my life and death. I cannot picture a future without you and I want to prove that." Achilles feels a bit foolish, what with the way Patroclus looks at him like he's grown a second head. But fear — and honor — are for the weak and Achilles is the greatest of the Greeks and he can get through something as simple as a proposal. "Will you bring me the greatest joy a man could know and vow to be with me for eternity?"
"I already have, you fool," Patroclus murmurs, but there is no heat in his words. He gently takes the ring, holding it up to the light. "Why now?"
"I was not planning on doing this now, but it seems as good a time as any," Achilles confesses. "Maybe I have finally gone mad, but it is wonderful that it's about love now. It's not about children or bloodlines or one's legacy. It's love. It's — It is about promises and the future and being together for the world to know. We do not need to hide."
"I doubt there was anyone in the camp who did not have some idea of our bond." But Patroclus slips the ring on anyways and it fits perfectly on his finger. In fact, he doesn't even have to guess which one it goes on, which surprises Achilles. After all, they did not wear wedding rings back in Ancient Greece.
Patroclus then takes Achilles hand, the one clasping his, and raises it to his lips. He presses soft kisses there and Achilles is so distracted by how enamored he is with this man that he doesn't notice the second ring until it is on his finger.
"Uh," he says eloquently, because he's honestly never been the best speaker when caught off guard.
"I cannot believe you beat me to it," Patroclus says with a smile, kissing the ring. It's gold with a single emerald embedded in the band, a shade that matches Achilles's eyes. "I had a plan, you know. Zagreus was going to assist me. It would have been very dramatic."
"I love you," Achilles breathes, because that's all the thought going through his head. He finds himself pulled closer, stumbling over his own two feet, and then his lips are touching Patroclus's lips and there is a warm hand in his hair and a hand on his hip and a tongue in his mouth—
Zagreus cheers. Remembering that they are in public, Achilles still doesn't stop until Patroclus laughs against his mouth, a rumble resonating in his chest. He rests his forehead against Patroclus's and doesn't mind that Zagreus is shouting from joy, probably more than someone who is currently at his own wedding.
Achilles doesn't have much of a mind to apologize, because he can't. He doesn't care. His world is in his hands and he's crying and Patroclus is wiping the tears off his face and this — this is something he had never even hoped for, had never thought to imagine.
"I love you too," Patroclus murmurs. "Yes, Achilles. I will gladly marry you."
****
The actual wedding takes place a few weeks later. They don't need too much. Their friends in Elysium are invited and their friends elsewhere are given permission to enter for the occasion. Zagreus is there, of course, as are Thanatos and Megaera.
Lady Nyx has sent her regards, as has Lord Hades and Lady Persephone. Their gifts are appreciated, as is the time off that Lord Hades is allowing Achilles.
Still, it's a small ceremony.
Achilles isn't quite sure how mortals do it nowadays, but the way the two of them do it is straightforward. Zagreus, proud as could be, is officiating. He's a prince, so he can get away with it. There are chairs set up for their friends — Chiron, as a centaur, stands — and a raised dias underneath an ambiguous tree. Orpheus starts playing something perfectly regal and Eurydice sings about love and loss and hope. When she's finished Achilles and Patroclus stand and meet at the dias.
They don't have clothes to change into, not really, but Achilles is in his nicest armor and Patroclus is wearing his cleanest chiton. They join hands and Zagreus has a little speech.
"The first time I met Achilles, he stabbed me with his spear. I felt offended at first, before learning that this is just how he greets most people." Zagreus grins, as if the memory of Achilles murdering Zagreus during their first training session isn't actually a bit traumatizing even now, however many centuries later. "But Achilles, sir, you taught me many things other than using a spear. You taught me to never do things in halves. If I raise a weapon, I mean to kill. If I extend my hand, I mean it sincerely. If I promise my heart, then I cannot take it away."
There's a moment as he shares a significant look with his significant others, but Achilles doesn't even notice. He's too busy looking at the small smile on Patroclus's face, the way his hair is pulled back with golden pins instead of messily tucked underneath laurels. His eyes are so bright, Apollo would think them the sun. Achilles cannot imagine a more perfect sight.
"Patroclus, sir, you were ever-patient. You demonstrated true love eternal, the kind of passion that even the ultimate loss cannot hold back. Together, you two demonstrate what anyone would want in a partnership, what anyone would be blessed to have. And today, I am honored to officiate this ceremony to make you husband and husband." Zagreus clears his throat. "Will you please extend your hands?"
On command, Patroclus and Achilles reach out so that they meet in the middle, Achilles's left hand underneath Patroclus's. Zagreus withdraws a bright red ribbon and begins to wrap it around them, starting with their wrists. It's soft as silk but Achilles can't help but flex his hand a little, testing the strength. Patroclus gives him a fond, if mildly exasperated look. Some things never change.
"With this fabric, we tie your fates together. You are no longer separate lives but one tapestry woven by the Fates. You will be together in death eternal as you were in life temporal. Achilles, son of Peleus, do you swear this?" Zagreus asks.
"I swear it," Achilles responds immediately, strong as he can.
"And Patroclus, son of Meneotius, do you swear this?"
"I do," Patroclus says sharply, a contrast to his usual drawl.
Zagreus finishes binding their hands together, thin red a delicate contrast to Achilles's pale skin or Patroclus's much darker complexion. It is perfect still.
"Achilles, you may speak." This part was what kept Achilles pacing in the training yard, what caused even Skelly to tell him to lay off for a few hours.
"I have never been shy about my feelings for you," Achilles starts. He looks directly at Patroclus. He is the only one who matters. "You are my world. You are the reason I breathe and sleep, as it were. You are the strength behind my spear and the wind is my steps. You keep my heart whole and my spirit strong. I would do anything for you. I would die for you—"
"You have already," Patroclus points out, which, fair. Zagreus hides his smile behind his hand.
Achilles laughs bashfully, an emotion not often seen on his face. "Yes, you are right. As always, my love. But I would do it again and again and again if it would keep you from harm. There is no person, spirit, or god I cherish more than you and I will strive to show you that for the rest of our days."
"And here I am, thinking that you knew better than to challenge the gods again," Patroclus teases. His eyelids crease when he smiles, and though he died too young for wrinkles there are still laughter lines in his face. They fill Achilles with hope and warmth, a sign that they can still find happiness.
Maybe he shouldn't be surprised. After all, they are getting married.
"Patroclus, you may speak as well," Zagreus reminds them, after a moment of them just looking into each other's eyes.
"Oh yes, I suppose I have some words prepared." Patroclus breaks out into a wider smile, his shiny teeth visible between soft lips. "You always have had the ego for both of us. I've been content to be the footnote in your tale. I still am. Glory and honor are not for me, and that is all right. But I was worried, for a time, that you cherished your pride more than us. It almost tore us apart."
Achilles frowns, eyebrows furrowing. Patroclus raises his free hand.
"Peace, Achilles. The Muses may sing of your rage, but I know better now. I know what lies in your heart and I know that there is no ceremony that could ever capture the depth of your emotions. I know this because my own heart feels the same. I could not imagine a future without you any better than I could picture Greece without the sun or Odysseus without a loud mouth." Patroclus pauses so the laughter — none so loud as Odysseus, who sits in the third row — can die down. "So please accept this bond and this ritual as a physical manifestation of my promise. As in life, as in death. Forever and always."
"Forever and always," Achilles echoes.
Zagreus is smiling so wide that his face may break. "With that, and with the power of Hades, I pronounce you husband and husband. You may—"
Achilles doesn't wait for permission. He hugs Patroclus close by his chiton and kisses him. Maybe it's the way his heart feels like it will explode or the cheering and whistling from their friends. Maybe it's the way Patroclus tilts his head just right and their lips fit together like two halves of a circle. Maybe it is the fact that this is their first kiss as married men, but whatever it is —
It is perfect.