So this just kind-of happened. It was a bit of fun.

Epic Poetry at Bedtime

"Why did he do it, Nico?" said Will, his voice mournful.

Nico rubbed his eyes and rolled over in the bed. He stared blearily at Will, or where the shape of Will was, anyway. "Why did who do what?" He grimaced. It was really dark. What time was it? Was something wrong - to do with the war - or was Will having a nightmare - or -

"Why did Aeneas kill Turnus?"

"Gods, Will…" he groaned. "I thought it was something important. Can it not wait until tomorrow? Or, like, the end of time?"

"But it is important, Nico! I mean, if this is the foundation-stone for Roman culture, then it should be understandable, right? If we're going to live with them."

"If this is going to be a habit of yours, then 'we' aren't living anywhere…" muttered Nico.

Will kissed Nico on the shoulder. "You don't mean that."

"No. But imagine that I did, shut up in shock, and go to sleep. Or at least let me sleep."

"But I can't sleep. I'm not tired."

"Well, Will, we're all different. I, for example, can, and will, go to sleep. Now. Good night."

"Fine. But you're boring."

There was silence in the darkness for a little while.

"And how old are you, anyway? Seven?"

"Not asleep, then, Nico?" said Will.

Nico could imagine the smug little smile on Will's face. In fact - he reached up, and there it was, curved upwards underneath his fingertips. "You're keeping me awake," he grumbled. "You and your thinking."

"How does that keep you awake?"

"I can hear your brain working. It squeaks like a rusty hinge. It's very distracting for someone trying to get to sleep."

"Sorry. I can't help it if you're overly sensitive. Besides, I thought you wanted me to do my homework?"

"But not now!" moaned Nico, burying his head in the pillow.

"Well, I am. And I can talk, and talk, and talk, and talk, and -"

Nico fastened his mouth to Will's.

"- and talk, and talk -"

Nico tried again.

"- and talk, and talk, and -"

"For the love of the gods, Will, shut up!"

"- and talk - ow! Nico!"

"You're lucky it wasn't a more permanent injury."

"How would you know? I'm the doctor here!"

"Who's been the most often injured? Besides, stick around with you long enough and I'm bound to pick a few things up."

"Mmm. Whatever. So, about Aeneas -"

"Carry this on and this is the last time we're sleeping together."

Will tutted. "That's as much a punishment on you as me. Think your threats through next time, dear."

"Oh, I never said that we'd stop having sex. Just that we wouldn't be sleeping together, in the same place. You'd have to slink back to your cabin. If I'm feeling generous, I might shadow-travel you there. If I'm really generous, I might let you have your clothes. Imagine the little kids seeing -"

"Nico!"

"Or I could dump you somewhere totally at random."

"Not like you've done that before…" muttered Will.

"What was that?" said Nico.

"Remember the first time? When you got a bit … overexcited, and -"

"I remember!" blurted out Nico. In this position, foreheads almost touching, Will could feel the heat of embarrassment radiating off him. In fact, if he opened his eyes he'd probably be able to see Nico glowing in the dark.

"Where was it we ended up?"

Nico mumbled something.

"What was that?" wheedled Will.

"I think it was Scotland," said Nico sourly, shifting onto his back. Will put his head into the crook of his shoulder.

"I remember." Will frowned. "It was bloody freezing." He sighed. "Out in the middle of nowhere, as bare as the -"

"There's no need to remind me any further. I - I lost concentration."

"Imagine if there had been people! We'd have been so embarrassed."

"We'd have been arrested."

Will laughed. "I guess we might have been. Well, at least you never did it again."

Nico was silent.

"Nico?" said Will, propping himself up on an elbow. "Am I to infer from that silence that you 'lost concentration' at other times as well?"

Nico could imagine Will's little smirk again. He covered his face with his hands. "Maybe a few times! It's hard to keep it in check!"

"When?"

"Oh, every now and again. I've managed to control the location, though. We only go between here and my bed in the Underworld. And, up to now, you've never noticed, so I think we can call it a success."

Will snorted, and then dissolved into full-scale laughter. After a few moments, Nico couldn't help himself from joining in.

"Shh! Shh!" said Will, hurriedly, as soon as he'd recovered himself.

"You started it!" hissed Nico.

"Doesn't matter. If anyone catches us here -"

"They'll hardly be surprised. It's not like anyone doesn't know. If Chiron had wanted to catch us, he's had quite a while to do so."

"It would be embarrassing, though."

"Well, you are."

"And you said I was being childish, Nico…"

"I'm sleeping now."

Will waited a few moments. "Right, so, Aeneas and Turnus. Why?"

"I could ask the same question…" groaned Nico.

"And I already answered it," said Will. "To me, it doesn't make sense. All the way through, Aeneas had been restrained, honourable, and pretty dispassionate. Yet right at the end, he flips out and kills an opponent that he'd already defeated and disarmed. He even thinks to himself what the right thing to do would be, and then kills Turnus anyway."

"You're not giving up on this, are you?"

"All the time you've spent trying to shut me up could have been used answering my question, and you could have been asleep by now."

"Fine." Nico leant his head against Will's chest. "Turnus has to die. It's fate."

"But why?"

"Aeneas has to marry Lavinia. He must have the legitimacy of the Latins. Turnus was already promised to her; he couldn't live, otherwise the whole Roman line would be subject to doubt."

"But why kill him, though? He'd defeated Turnus, he'd won Lavinia from him. Why was it necessary to kill him?"

"Turnus was inferior to Aeneas. Angry. Greedy. That's what provoked Aeneas - that he had Pallas' belt, taken from his corpse. It was only on seeing that that Aeneas decided to kill him."

"But does greed justify that? Does anger? I mean, Aeneas got angry at that moment - does that make him worthy of death? And why does Turnus' inferiority mean that he has to die?"

"Because - because - I can't believe I'm co-operating - because Turnus is the anti-Aeneas, motivated by desire, not duty. Like Dido. They both have to die for Aeneas to succeed. And Aeneas must succeed."

"But doesn't he, in succeeding, succumb to desire rather than duty? His desire for revenge overpowers his pious restraint, and reverence to the gods and his father - his pietas."

Nico sighed. "I thought you asking me questions. This feels like you're arguing a case…"

"I want a thorough understanding."

"Of course you do…" muttered Nico. "Well, yes. He does. But, in a sense, he also has a duty to his dead friend Pallas. And to Euryales and Nisus, to whom Turnus gave dishonourable treatment by parading their heads around."

"I'm not denying that Turnus did bad stuff, but isn't Aeneas meant to be better than that?"

"I don't know! He's flawed - sometimes he forgets his pietas. Like with Dido. It's his defining characteristic, which makes it all the more noticeable when he loses it from time to time."

"So you're saying that the death of Turnus was a mistake?"

"No!" Nico shifted over, frowning. "Well, perhaps it was a transgression against duty. According to Aeneas' morality, he shouldn't have done it - but he still had to do it. There was more at work than just Aeneas' personal actions. Remember, Turnus and Aeneas are caught between the opposing wills of Jupiter and Juno. Never, as we know, a good place to be."

"True." Will hummed to himself. "There are times, then, when you are not responsible for your actions? When normal ethics are suspended?"

"I would say so. In extreme situations. For specific reasons." Nico shivered. "That's how I see things anyway."

"Do you still -"

"Octavian?" Nico's voice was very steady. "Yeah."

"Poor kid."

"Yeah."

"It wasn't your fault, you know."

"I do. It wasn't yours either. Haven't I just explained why?"

"But are you always convinced by your own explanation?" Will waited. "Nico?"

"Not always, no," came the eventual reply.

"Nor am I."

"Is that really why you're worried about Aeneas' behaviour, Will?"

"Kind-of."

"Try to remember that it's a poem, Will. It doesn't necessarily tell you how you should live. And its characters aren't perfect models either."

"Is that meant to be reassuring?"

"Maybe not. It's true, though. But the truth has no obligation to be reassuring."

"Have you been reading Epictetus?"

"The Stoic philosopher? Maybe."

Will laughed. "I always thought that it would be a good fit for you."

"Are you calling me a Stoic?"

"I wouldn't say that that's necessarily a bad thing…" ventured Will.

"You know, there's a very particular reason why I might be a Stoic."

"Why?"

"It's all about how everything that happens to you is irrelevant; only your reaction to events matters. The only thing that you have absolute control of is the will."

Will leaned in very close to Nico, pressing most of his body up against Nico's. "Is that what you think you have, eh?"

"What did I say?" said Nico, innocence dripping off his voice.

"That was one of your funny jokes. 'Absolute control of the will'. Huh. You control me?" Will snorted. "In your dreams."

Nico couldn't help himself. "Do you really want to know about my dreams?" he said, attempting to make his voice deep and seductive.

"Puberty kind-of passed your voice box by, didn't it, Nico?" laughed Will. "Besides, I've managed to keep you from sleeping for ages. You've not managed to assert your control over me that well, have you?"

"Shut up."

"No."

"Obey!"

"Never."

"I wonder what the weather's like in Scotland?"

"Don't care."

"You're so annoying!"

"Well spotted." Will kissed Nico on the forehead. "I'm here primarily to frustrate you."

"Well," grumbled Nico, "you're pretty good at that."

"Years of practice at being super-annoying. And an excellent teacher in stubbornness."

"Is that a thinly-veiled reference to me?"

"Could be."

"I really want to sleep now."

"Be my guest."

Nico closed his eyes. His breathing slowed as a busy day took its debt in tiredness. He felt himself drift -

Then Will licked his nose. The sudden shock of wetness catapulted Nico into an alert stage, his eyes open, his heartrate rising. "Will! What did you do that for?"

Will giggled. "No real reason."

Nico glared at where he reckoned Will was. "Next time you try that I'll bite your tongue off." He rolled over. "And don't giggle like that. It makes it very hard for me to get annoyed with you."

"Like Aeneas was with Turnus?"

"Will! Shut it."

"I'm still not quite sure -"

Nico wrenched a pillow out from under their heads and pressed it against his ears.

"You know I can just talk louder."

Nico said nothing, tightening his grip on his pillow.

Will laughed. "You love it -"

It was suddenly quite light, and rather cold. Very cold, in fact. Will leapt up. He was in a hollow on the side of a mountain, and there was snow. And he was…

Well, he wasn't dressed for snow, that was for sure. And it was bloody freezing. In August! He hopped over the snow, praying to all the gods he knew that there was no-one around. The snow was only in the shadow of the peak, so once he was off it -

It was still cold. Damp grass and slippery rocks weren't that much better on the feet than the snow. And the air was biting.

He supposed that he was in Scotland. It looked like Scotland. Well, how he thought Scotland looked. It looked similar to how it had looked the last time. How long did it take for frostbite to set in? Was it cold enough for that?

The shadow covering the snow wobbled a little, and Will started forwards, hoping that it was Nico. It wasn't. Instead, a pair of yellow boxers came flying out. Will recognised them as his own. Well, it wasn't like they were going to be Nico's. Which wouldn't have fitted anyway. He knew; he'd tried. A particularly urgent, unexpected - and subsequently uncomfortable - counsellors' meeting.

There was a note attached, in a familiar almost-illegible scrawl, which he read as he, for want of a better word, dressed. 'Wouldn't want you to lose anything important. N.'

No. Of course he wouldn't.

Will sat on a rock and pondered the mountain that he was sitting on. He'd really pushed Nico too far. But he would come and pick him up at some point, right? In the morning, probably. Which for Nico, still meant about midday. Which, here, would probably mean about six o'clock. And it wasn't even dark yet.

He shoved his hands into his armpits. Bugger. Should he try and go down the mountain? There was a lake down there, and a town. But, then again, Nico wouldn't know where to find him, and what good would being in the town do? He supposed he could get arrested. It might be warmer in the cells. And they might give him clothes. Or not. And it would be so embarrassing. Or should he go up? There looked like there was a hut near the top. But getting there would be tricky, and likely to get colder still.

Or maybe Nico would relent? Pick him up early? Any minute now?

Will stared at the unmoving shadows. Oh dear.

He turned away, wondering if the branches of pine trees made good, if prickly, substitutes for clothes.

"Are you sorry yet?"

Will turned back. There was Nico, in his fluffy slippers, with the duvet wrapped around him. He didn't, if Will was honest, look very threatening, but, well, appearances weren't everything.

"Um. Y-yeah." Will tried not to let his teeth chatter, b-but could-dn't help it-t-t.

"Really?"

"Yes!" Will hopped up and down on the spot. "Yes!"

"And you're not going to do it again?"

"No!"

"Is that an honest answer?" said Nico, smiling slightly.

"No…" Will bit his lip. "But I'll try…?" he offered, hopeful.

Nico poked a hand out from beneath the folds of the duvet. Will took it. For once, it was Nico that flinched from the cold. "Come on. We'll go through the rest of your homework in the morning."

"And before then?" said Will, aware that he was probably pushing his luck a bit too soon.

"You'll keep very, very quiet."

There might be more of this, there might not. If anything, it'll be a very occasional series of a (slightly) older Will and Nico, probably with an interest in language or literature.

Thanks for reading! Reviews welcomed.