#Pachilles inspired

[somethingsomethingwords]

Hello everyone. New year, new story. This one is kind of a niche one. It's a PJO!AU, and also keep in mind the myth of Achilles and Patroclus. I wanted to write about destiny and tragedy, and maybe succeeding in escaping them. As always, comments are more than welcome. Enjoy💜

When Charles enters the room, he knows that this is where his battle starts, still miles away from the actual battlefield.

He gently pushes the door to the infirmary open, and is not surprised to see the other sat on the bed, looking as though he had tried to stand up but failed, with his head in his hands and a bandage already stained with blood on his left thigh.

The blonde looks up, and in his eyes he can see the red hue, but not because of his father's powers. They are bloodshot and puffy.

He'd like to kneel in front of him, rebandage his wounds and comfort him, but he can't. He has to be strong. For the camp, for their friends, for him.

So he just walks until he is in front of Sebastian, gathering enough courage to pose the fatal question.

Everything seems to vibrate with the sound of the incoming tragedy, history repeating itself, never ending sorrow.

"Seb, where is the armour?" That's it, quick, simple, clean.

Many emotions cross his face, and then they all disappear, leaving behind a blank mask.

"No" he says, final.

"Seb, you know I have to. I'm the only one that's left to do it" he can feel the fear starting to make itself known, but he can't let it win, not today.

"Charles, you are not doing it. We'll find somebody else. Hades, I'll do it myself"

Even if his tone is low, his words are firm.

"Seb, there is literally nobody else. It's either me or we lose" And just as he says it, the desperation is starting to feel like something solid.

"I said no. Give me some ambrosia and nectar and I'll deal with it" As he says the words, he pushes on the bed to stand up. It's not even a half step later that his legs give out, and his knees dropping on the wooden floor.

Charles could see it coming, but he did nothing to stop his fall or help him up.

"Sebastian, look at you. You can't even stand, and other ambrosia will kill you, we both know it. Just give it to me, and then..."

"And then what, Charles? I watch you leave camp to never come back? Because you and I both know how this story ends"

"Thanks for the vote of trust" But even as he says it, he knows it's not about trust. It's about prophecies, about destiny, about eternal returns.

But Charles has to raise his temper, so that this will be an angry goodbye, not a sad one.

And, just like he always does, the son of Ares sees through his strategy, and the fury quickly fades.

But without anger, all that's left is shaky voices and wet eyes.

"Charlie, please, listen to me. Stay here, at camp. Defend the children. Let me go" he says as if it's the most logical thing in the world. Or, even if it were, as if Charles is going to listen to logic. He never has. He is not about to.

"Seb, we could fucking see your femur through the beast's slashes like two hours ago. Nectar is not magic. I believe in you more than I've ever believed in them, but even you have your limits. We are still human, Seb" he keeps talking while helping the other on his feet, leaving one of his hands in his and intertwining their fingers.

"So help me put on your armour, then let's go doing what we can to save as many lives as we can" This time he doesn't stop the shaking, doesn't stop the tears, but keeps looking straight into Sebastian's eyes, trying to express all that he can't say through them, trying to impress the colours there into his mind for the last time.

Even as Seb shakes his head, Charles knows he has won. Not because of the power of his words that he will use to rile up every remaining fighter towards the battlefield, but because he can see the despair, hopeless and cruel and inescapable.

He presses his free hand to his cheek, and slowly kisses him as if they have all the time in the world. One last kiss, one last shared breath.

When he pulls back, Seb uses their connected hand to lead him to his cabin, limping slightly.

It's dark and empty, all his siblings guarding the still too young kids.

Gods, they all are still too young for this. But they don't have a choice, it's either this or failure, and failure is not acceptable, for neither of them.

Sebastian's bed is the one nearest to the front. His evident need to always protect makes Charles smile, and it also makes him fall even more in love with Seb.

From beneath it, the blonde takes what looks like the sturdiest armour of all times: the Celestial Bronze culrass shone into the low lights, the helmet with its red crest, the wooden aspis.

Charles accepted all of it, except for the xiphon. He will not leave behind his Bronzen spear, nor his Stygian Iron dagger.

Dressed in Sebastian's armour, with the long cheek guards hiding his face, he knows he can get the other campers to fight. He has to.

Sebastian stares at him, maybe thinking this is the last time they will see each other. But Charles knows it is not. Even if he were to die today, he knows his soul will find Sebastian's. Even in another life, they are predestined.

When he begins to turn, Sebastian gently raises his still tied hand to his lips and he kisses his wrist.

"We will meet again. I swear it on the Styx" he professes in ancient greek.

With a final smile, Charles turns towards the door, towards where all the other campers are bundled.

He isn't Charles Leclerc anymore, Monegasque son of Aphrodite with the most powerful charmspeak of the last 3 centuries.

He now is Sebastian Vettel, German son of Ares, ready to lead his cabin towards the battle, ready to win it.