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It’s jarring.
Thanatos has seen death. Of course he has, he’s the physical embodiment of it for god’s sake. If he hasn’t seen death, no one has.
He’s seen the bloodiest deaths, as his sisters, the Keres, swooped upon the gutted soldiers with gleeful grins that would make Alecto run. He’s seen fields soaked with blood, where soil and iron and feces had mixed till the rivers ran black. On the sidelines, the warriors who gulp vials in shame as their souls sink into the Underworld. The glances he steals then are ones he’d rather have returned.
He’s seen the dead he’s taken as well. The gentle gatherings in a grandparent’s final moments. The quiet sobs for the half-born children. The deaths that shadow entire cities as disease crawls into every home. Scenes that would be gut-wrenching for any mortal are part of the job description. Even peaceful deaths are not without their violence.
He’s seen every kind of death imaginable. Being Death, seeing death, it’s all the same. You become numb, after the first several centuries. You become numb to the blood and the tears; they mix together until only death remains, and you become numb.
It’s jarring, though, to see Zagreus die.
Thanatos feels the heat of Asphodel’s lava threatening to singe his feet.
He prefers to visit Zagreus anywhere but Asphodel, given the scorched fields from Phlegathon’s flooding. He can sense, however, that the prince is already halfway dead by the time he’s crawled his way into the lava soaked region. Just death things.
His death toll rings.
Zagreus is already smiling as he appears. “Hey, Than.” He looks exhausted. “Was hoping to see you today.”
“You’re ransacking your father’s treasures again. I guess I’ll have to help clean up.”
“Thanks much. I’ll make it out of here one day.”
“We’ll see.”
Bright gold sigils form as the Underworld’s wretches begin to manifest.
Zagreus levels Stygius and gets to work. In a flash, he’s already halfway across the room, shouting as Bloodstones fly and gorgons hiss.
Thanatos is always amused by the way the prince fights like he has nothing else to live for. He fights like a mortal. It’s a given, considering his mentor was Achilles, but the style is strange to see on Zagreus.
He slashes away, jumping and yelling between waves of magic and bone spikes. Thanatos merely gives his scythe a spin; everyone falters in the wake of death someday.
Death is being watched. He huffs to himself; Zagreus should worry more about himself.
Tick, tick. He’s leading by a fair amount of kills today.
More monsters crawl out of the lava. More always come when Death arrives; they’re drawn to the stench. He wonders if it would have been better to leave Zagreus alone-- even he can hear how strained each breath has become for the wannabe escaper.
“Damn it, damn it!” Zagreus yells distantly behind.
“Keep going, Zag.”
“I can’t!”
He turns to see Zagreus with a wave of magic slashing through his chest.
He turns to see Zagreus’ blood splashing onto his face.
The red flecks haven’t even dried.
Zagreus falls to his knees.
Zagreus says something, probably a curse, through clenched teeth.
Thanatos watches as the Styx begins to pull Zagreus down.
Down, down.
Back down to Hades’ wretched frown.
He does something he would never do otherwise.
He does something completely out of character.
Thanatos grabs Zagreus’ arm.
Instantly, he can feel the Styx’s pull.
Can Death die? He’s never thought about it.
The Styx is a vicious river. He starts to understand why mortals fear it.
The bloody current tightens its grip on him. He wishes he had a boat.
His consciousness is fading. When was the last time Death felt wakefulness loosen its hold on him?
He thinks of Hypnos’ smarmy face looking up at him with loathsome irritance. The image almost knocks him awake.
Wait, why was he being dragged under? It was Zagreus who died!
He starts to pull upward. Like quicksand, the Styx pulls even harder.
He realizes: there is no escape from death, even for Death itself.
Thanatos crawls out of the Styx with the worst migraine he’s ever had. It’s been so long that he’s walked instead of flying that he forgot what the tangible floor of the House felt like.
Zagreus does this regularly?
He does indeed, Thanatos thought, watching Zagreus emerging in front of him. He managed to make emerging from the bloody river look beautiful. The blood slides off of him like water, and he casually tosses his hair and strides forward.
He is immediately halted by Hypnos’s sharp giggling.
“Whoa, am I seeing this right? Than died ?” His eyes are the widest open Thanatos has ever seen.
Zagreus looks behind him, apparently also surprised by the turn of events.
“Yes,” Thanatos answers begrudgingly, already floating to his feet and shaking off the sanguine fluid. “Never mention this again.”
“Haha, okay. The day death died. Defintiely won’t remember this,” he hastily adds to Thanatos’ sharp scythe swinging.
“Hey, Than, wait-! What happened back there?”
“I made a mistake.”
Zagreus’ lip curls. “Care to elaborate, please?”
“Lesson learned: don’t resist the River Styx. I’ll, er, see you later. I’ve got souls to reap.”
“Alrighty.” He nods and hustles away to his next death.
Thanatos crosses his arms as Zagreus leaves burn streaks across the floor. He wonders if Zagreus purposely does it to irritate Hades. Zagreus almost certainly does it to irritate Hades.
He reflects back to Asphodel.
Why did he grab Zagreus’ arm? To stop him from dying. Why did he want that? Because he cares about Zagreus. But enough that he would try and resist the almighty forces of the Underworld that run through the River Styx? Yes.
Yes. He surprises himself. When did that happen? When did he care about Zagreus enough that defying the Chthonic powers was acceptable to him?
He doesn’t know.
Conflict bubbles up inside of him. He doesn’t want to let this feeling interfere with his duties. But, and he’s starting to want to flick the devil off of his shoulder, hasn’t he already let it, constantly helping Zagreus?
Thanatos sighs.
He’s alone in the entry hall of the House. Hypnos went back to sleep at some point; Hades is likely on the surface, preparing to utterly destroy his son.
He won’t let himself die again.