Achilles has been a mentor for many decades, his talent with a spear getting him recognized by Lord Hades himself. Training the prince of the Underworld had been a pleasant experience, and as he watched his mentee flourish he found a new sense of purpose— guiding others.

So when he caught wind of a frustrated warrior’s arrival to the Underworld, he was reminded of his past. Broken by some event rather left unsaid, angry at the world. But beneath that turmoil was grit and passion— the makings of a hero. Hades reluctantly approved Achilles’ request to train this shade on the condition that they would assist him in his duties guarding the estate, and he graciously accepted.

Daily sparring led to hushed conversations in the West Hall, of course followed by late meetings in the courtyard. Achilles found himself with a desperate, gentle longing he hadn’t experienced in centuries.

“Avoid leaving your chest exposed,” Achilles chides gently, knocking the blunt training spear against his mentee’s ribcage to send them careening to the ground. He swiftly dislodges the weapon from their hands and casts it aside. “Your heart is in there.”

Achilles has always been an observant man, so when he spots the familiar defeat and frustration in their eyes, he is quick to act.

“Cease thinking poorly of yourself,” He instructs and kneels by their side. His fingers brush along your shoulder, trailing down to cup your hand. “I can almost hear the thoughts cursing your feet for not being quick enough, your arms for not being strong enough, your entire being for not being enough…” He shakes his head, frowning.

Achilles leans to rest his lips against the center of your palm, as if his kisses could siphon away the negativity. “Words diminishing your worth do not aid you.” His tone remains thoughtful while pecking your wrist, then your forearm. “Your feet carry you with grace, your arms attack confidently, and you’ve improved tremendously.” Another trail of kisses brings him back down to your knuckles. “Someday you’ll see what I see.”