Chapter Text
Orpheus was singing some newer tune when Zagreus returned from the surface, energized after encountering foxes for the first time. Watching them jump in the snow for prey was so amazing! Falling out of the tree he was hiding in and dashing his brains out was not.
He recognized the words that Orpheus was singing as he made his rounds to say hello to everyone.
“Ah, Zagreus,” Orpheus said to him as the song ended, even as he strummed out a chorus for background music, “Did you enjoy the latest of my songs?”
“Yes, it sounded kind of familiar, even if I only caught the last part of it.”
“Oh yes, it was based on the tale of you and Lord Dionysus you told me the other day, or night. I hope you enjoyed it.”
“Yes, I did, I bet Lord Dionysus would too!”
This made Orpheus’ smile turn nervous, “I… I did write it in hopes he’d find it appealing, even if a god's good graces does not matter as much when one is dead.”
“Good graces? I didn’t know Lord Dionysus didn’t like you,” Zagreus couldn’t really imagine the laid back god being mad at anyone, really.
“Well. Erm. I do not mean to speak ill of anyone,” Orpheus looked around, as if he was worried of being smited, even death, “But Lord Dionysus was- indirectly, of course!- the cause of my death.”
Shades did not often tell of their deaths, and Zagreus knew this was a deeply personal thing Orpheus was telling him.
“How did that happen? I thought you worshipped Apollo primarily.”
Orpheus’ strumming turned into a more fidgeting motion, “Yes, I did… I became despondent, after failing to get my Euridyce back. I shut everyone out, took no other wife. Lived in the woods,” he made a single, despondent sound that was probably a laugh.
Zagreus found himself putting a comforting hand on the musician’s shoulder. The Hall was mostly empty, Hades and Persephone off in the gardens, Hypnos asleep.
“My sorrowful song attracted cultists of Lord Dionysus… I do not know why, but they sought to stone me to death, I always assumed they were sent by Lord Dionysus himself, but my song… my song drove them to rip me apart with their bare hands.”
Zagreus had died many a time, but even he had a hard time picturing being ripped apart so brutally, “I’m sorry, mate. That’s awful.”
“It was a long time ago,” Orpheus’ eyes were moist, even as he paradoxically smiled, “My head still sang, even through my death. I’ve been told it was thrown into the river and floated to Lesbos, to become a prophet. Quite the odd turn of events, I’m sure you’ll agree.”
“That… wow. That’s an awful compensation for dying,” Zagreus blurted.
This made Orpheus laugh gently, “A very surprising myth, for sure.”
“Thank you for telling me this, Orpheus. I know that kind of thing is hard to talk about for most shades.”
“Of course, my friend. I have you to thank for everything, after all.”