LIAKÁDA, percy jackson

XV. what is done in courage is done alone

0015. | WHAT IS DONE IN
COURAGE IS DONE ALONE

Percy dreamt of Troy.

He was in the aging man's body once more, hair auburn, muscles bristling, voice booming, and honestly, a little bit drunk.

          He barely recognised the slow, dizzy signs of inebriation. He supposed he was quite boring as a teenager but Percy hated drinking. To him, drinking always meant something bad. Even a celebration could turn sour if enough beers were finished and shots downed. Gabe taught him that. He had given Percy his first beer when he was five. It tasted like fermented dirt. He hated it, as all kids do. He had more from that point, only occasionally when Gabe was in a benevolent mood because he never usually liked to share. Until he went to his first school party with some older kids, he had never seen anyone his age openly drinking. After speaking to some people and hanging out, he was quickly offered a drink. It still tasted like fermented dirt and after two sips, he ditched it down the toilet, pretending to have chugged it. The kids thought he was cool and he managed to survive the night without being drunk, but it wasn't his favourite memory.

In his dream now, Menelaus was drunk.

His strong, hairy hand was gripped tightly around a cup with as much ferocity as he imagined the king carried a spear. They were in a tent, massive like a circus tent and the inhabitants weren't much different. There was a man in every seat, all clasping at cups and jugs like it was a lifeline. They were scarred and scabbed, cut up and bruised but there was not a single face without a grin. They were all drunker than life and merrier than the dead.

There were women there too. They were dressed in those types of robes that honestly looked a bit like a bedsheet with a belt, in Percy's opinion. He saw them a lot on Circe's Island. Some had their sleeves hanging off their shoulders, others had skirts that were torn. A few were bruised, another was wild eyed and frantic like she was in a burning building, not a party. They were pouring drinks for the men and being grabbed and groped at every opportunity. A few were pulled into the laps of some of the men.

Menelaus had no one in his lap. He had no one near him really besides other men. Percy made the guess that they were friends or generals. He didn't really know how kings worked.

"Συγχαρητήρια για τη νίκη σου, βασιλιά μου. Congratulations on your victory, my king." A voice behind him said.

Menelaus turned slowly. His body was slow and his neck was aching. It was tough to sit in his body. This was the body of an aging man and one who was drunk as well. Percy was struggling to even keep awake. "Ευχαριστώ Διομήδη. Thank you, Diomedes." Menelaus drawled. "Αν και νομίζω ότι τα λόγια σου θα μπορούσαν να γίνουν δεκτά καλύτερα από τον αδερφό μου. Though I think your words might be better received by my brother." He waved his hand lazily and looked around the room. "Είμαι σίγουρος ότι είναι κάπου εδώ. I'm sure he's around here somewhere."