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Sometimes, Zagreus envisions things.
Strange things. Things that flit in and out of focus within the space of his daydreams, flare up suddenly on cold snowy nights—appearing in misty dark gold and silver when his hands reach out to touch the cool frost, swim briefly in his eyes with red liquidly visions when he bleeds, or send chills through his back as night falls and the hidden heaven emerges.
He sees colors--dull colors and dark colors. Otherworldly glowing greens, reds, purples—fields of flame and azure pools of grass. Crumbling cities and rifts of night beneath his feet.
He remembers a face. Cast in shadows, gilded with cool gold, and framed in silver curtains. Full lips that rest still and stoic beneath flashing eyes, a strange cold touch that clings and ices his warm skin.
All of it gone too soon. Lost whenever he tries to grasp it and pull it to focus. All except a deep sense of belonging. A sense that the place he is, right now, is not quite right—but these visions… That’s where he’s meant to be.
Zagreus is nothing if not persistent.
÷ ÷ ÷ ÷
His mother was always very concerned about injuries.
Each drop of his scarlet blood, a river in her eyes.
She kept him close to her and her green hands, fretted over every scrape and cut he ever presented as a child. Never allowed him to stray too far from her side or venture out into the woods and fields and mountains of the world for fear that his crimson smoldering feet would catch on a stray stone and cast him into a dark chasm, extinguishing his blazing light.
Yet, whenever he would question his mother directly she would gently grasp his head and slowly, solemnly press his deeply charcoal hair to her chest. Then speak in a soft quivering tone: “If you die, I might never see you again.” Silencing him with the thought of causing her pain.
But Zagreus wasn’t afraid to die. He knew his mother’s fear wasn’t without experience, but somehow the concept of death always seemed like a familiar face. He would trust his life into his own hands and feet and seek his journey out regardless of the cost—death is just a function of the body. Pain is temporary, blood is temporary.
÷ ÷ ÷ ÷
However, it wasn’t until much later in his immortal life that Zagreus truly sought out his demise.
Despite his indifference towards what his mother considered to be a fragile existence, Zagreus didn’t feel compelled to leave. Perhaps it was the lingering fear from his childhood of what his actions would do to her, or maybe he just didn’t need the external world—content at home with the abundance of living things his mother cultivated in her tender hands.
But as he grew so did the strange dreams and memories of another world, another life beyond the mortal realm. And the pull of those visions was magnetic, intensifying with each passing sun. He knew he needed to find this place, and soon.
“Mother” Zagreus calls out through the small seaside cottage. The walls adorned with various drying herbs and flowers—harvested from the late-spring fields behind the small building he knew as home.
As a child Zagreus’ ceaseless energy would prevent his mother from hanging herbs all about their home like this. Each time she placed a bouquet or small collection of vivid greens on the walls Zagreus would find some unfathomable way to reduce the carefully cultivated plants to cinders at his softly flaming feet.
Of course, it was never intentional. There was an unspoken knowing between the two that Zagreus was distinctly different from his mother. Sure, some elements between them were clearly linked—their limitless and frequently foolish optimism, the eternally warm constitution of skin, tameless texture of their hair, the natural wonder and energy they each possessed. Yet the vivid emerald of her eyes was only reflected once within him-- lonesome on her son’s pale greyish face.
For years he had wondered where his demonic right eye owed its origin. The deeper than night hair—so wholly opposite his mother’s warm and pale strands. The chiseled high cheekbones and sharp jaw that grew curiously more prominent over the years—so angular against his mother’s softly curved face.
And then there were the things not physical. The strange lust for violence coursing, just as much a part of his body as his enigmatic blood, through his living veins. The latent power and darkness in his limbs, lying idle and humming with potential unused in his thus far quiet life. The cynical curt remarks and cleverness of his sometimes wicked sharp tongue. Traits not found in the dawning light.
He shakes his head lightly trying to clear the thoughts that he had been plagued by his entire life, returning his eyes to the foliage on the walls and the way the sunlight from the latticework windows cast bending shadows on the many detailed organic curves of the faded green plants.
“Mother?” He calls once more into the overgrown house.
“Yes?” The soothing familiar voice echoes from the backroom, just as a woman all in hues of sandy gold, ivory, and green emerges from the hall. Zagreus feels the corners of his mouth lift into a smile at the sight of his mother—she never failed to bring him joy.
“Mother,“ his small smile widening as she enters the room, idly wiping her green and purple stained hands on her blanched skirt, gaze so intent and gentle upon her only son “I’ve been giving it some thought” he begins, smile fading, “and I think it’s time I went away.”
She gazes at him, focused but also contemplative and saddened. He’s not sure what to say—for someone who can usually monologue and offer short light humor with ease his tongue and mind feel weighed down and clumsy before his mother’s softly grieved face.
She sighs and offers quietly, “I’ve always known you would one day go—even though I had hoped you would not, I knew you would.” She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply.
“I must mother. There is a place, this place I have been dreaming of for…” he pauses as the visualization sends an excited quiver down his spine “…an eternity. I have to find it; I have to know where it is.” He sighs with her but holds his focus on her face, confident in his decision.
She opens her eyes and returns his determined look “I cannot stop you my child, I only ask that you be careful wherever you go” she hesitates, breaking eye contact from him briefly, “and… that you return, someday.” She lifts her eyes back to his, brimming with so much emotion and love that it threatens to prick tears from his too.
Instead, he smiles-- sad but sweet, “I will mother.” And brushes her light golden hair from her forehead to place a tender kiss on the crown of her head. “You have my word, and my thanks.” he smiles, sorrow from the levity of the moment sticking tacky in his throat. Caught in the contrast of heavy heart against the overflowing excitement for his journey pushing at his shoulders, urging him on. She reaches for him, pulling him tight to her chest, just like when he was a boy, and breathes with him. The gentle and familiar rise and fall of her chest feeling so long and yet over in an instant as she releases him. He looks back to her eyes, and with one last grin on his devilish face is gone. Leaving behind only his burning tracks.
÷ ÷ ÷ ÷
Thanatos exhales a silent sigh as he feels the familiar solemn ring against his skull. Signaling another soul awaiting his scythe.
He closes his eyes. Draws in a breath. Then summons his scythe, and begins heading for the surface.
÷ ÷ ÷ ÷
Zagreus lays, warmth draining from his unfamiliarly heavy body, his consciousness swimming around in his head, here then gone. He opens his eyes to the blue sky overhead, the brightness of the world a warm pain in his weakened gaze. He twitches his fingers against the moss beside him, moist with his blood. How did it come to this so quickly? In his hazy state Zagreus can’t recall anything about his fall. He can’t recall what we was searching for either…
Perhaps his mother’s fear wasn’t without reason—maybe his partial god status wasn't any good for death defying refunds? It certainly felt that way.
He tries to picture his mother now, tending to her garden what did it look like again? A weak grin graces his bluing lips as his mind releases the aimless thoughts, too frail now to hold even them.
÷ ÷ ÷ ÷
Well, this is a new one.
The dead god hovers over the body that called him, quietly observing.
Thanatos, for all his eons of experience and the endless variations of demise he’s witnessed, has never seen anything like this. The form beneath him looks so… accepting.
It’s a young man, his body blue and broken in its eternally silent rest at the foot of the towering mossy mountain. There’s a lot of blood, pooling around him like his own personal river Styx. Thanatos tucks a silvery curtain of hair behind his ear to clear his vision so he can further study the corpse. The rich blood has soaked through even his clothes and hair, coloring everything about him a deep velvety ruby. His eyes softly closed and slightly sunken into ivory skin, dark long lashes resting so gentle on his prominent cheekbones. His cobalt tinged lips pulled up in a lazy content smile. Unruly raven hair and eyebrows fluttering softly with the breeze.
Thanatos doesn’t usually study his subjects with such intensity. After so many years of dealing death, the subjects blur and cease to surprise him. It’s easier to just get it over with, quickly carry the soul to his brother and go about his work. But something about the pitiful boy, resting so contentedly and calmly in his pool of blood draws him in. Even dead, something about his body feels so alive. Maybe it’s the extreme quantity of blood—perhaps still flowing from his veins? Or the curious pleased peace reflected in his fine face?
He’s almost… familiar? Like someone he’s s seen once in a dream… But that’s not quite right? Something within his smoky flesh feels pulled to the body, a magnetic force drawing him in.
Without realizing it, he reaches out his hand towards the young man’s face. As his cool fingers brush the dark locks from the chilled, unmoving forehead Thanatos is suddenly struck with a deep feeling of wrongness. He jerks back his hand. The black hair falls back over the smooth alabaster skin. Something about the cold flesh unnerves him—his hand is still tingling with discomfort, almost as if it was burned by that icy surface.
Shock pulls him from the entranced haze. With a small flick of his head that frees his lustrous strands of hair, he positions his scythe, and cuts.
÷ ÷ ÷ ÷
It’s just floating now… Zagreus breathes out a gentle exhale at the thought. Allowing his body to rest safe inside the distant rocking sensation he feels. His senses slowly return to him, awareness pulling him gently from his smoky dream.
Things gradually becoming just a little clearer as his body sways. Each gentle movement lulling him back towards consciousness. It’s like the opposite of a lullaby, not very good at keeping me asleep are you invisible cradle? he thinks, lip—is that his lip? Yes?, twitching up with the silent jest. He feels something holding him. It’s chilled, but strong, firm.
No. Not something--someone. Steady and wintery arms against his flesh. His heavy body tucked against an equally cool and confident, chest. There’s a curious comfort he feels being held like this. Zagreus wills his eyes to open, and his skin sense this being further, but it’s no use. The energy is drained from his body, utterly absent, his consciousness tethered only by these anonymous arms. Arms which are… lowering? Him now? Further, really? He thinks. The pleasantly frigid hands drop him down more and more and Zagreus, now convinced he’s about to tumble out of the strange soothing clutch and splat all over a forest floor again, fights fruitlessly to seize control of his useless corpse.
Then it’s fire, liquid all around his body that scorches through his veins, igniting him from the inside out. His eyes flare open. Lungs suck in a breath. Body trembles with the rush of heat and blood. Pumping, pulsing through his torso, limbs, fingers, eyelids, heels, lips. He gasps out and scrambles in the burning not-water. Colors and sounds assault his dead senses, bleed into his visions and ears bright, loud, demanding. He shuts his eyes against the pain of living. Draws gasping breaths of stagnant air. Slows his inhales, exhales. Slower… again… and after what feels like a passed lifetime of pain, opens his eyes.
Above him, gazing down with a furrowed brow stands a man gilded in gold and silver. Zagreus’ eyes blink up at him from the, quite literally, blood red pool.
The tiny crease between his silver eyebrows deepens slightly as Zagreus stares. The hovering man’s full lips pursed tightly together; firm jaw locked with tension. But Zagreus hardly notices the god’s discomfort at his blazing black, red, and green gaze. He continues looking—taking in the silky snowy hair, cool mocha skin stretched over sculpted shoulders and nose, frosted eyelashes guarding a concerned golden gaze. The intricately carved armor, clasping a midnight chiton over toned muscle. The winged pauldron reflecting back eerie red light from the, now much more bearable, river beneath him.
Zagreus’s mouth splits into a wide toothy grin, “Are you supposed to be my white knight?” he coolly asks the dazzling stranger.
The stranger’s creased brow deepens even more, his mouth parting to respond before—
“Thanatos.” a commanding regal voice echoes out from the chamber walls.
The pearly head of Zag’s gorgeous knight, Thanatos apparently, jerks up. His golden eyes alert and focused intensely beyond the drippy freshly resurrected Zagreus. Zagreus lets out a disappointed sigh and lifts himself to a standing position, shaking droplets of the lukewarm not-water from his hair.
“Come here.” The low and dark voice commands. Zag’s ivory knight inclines his head in a minute signal motion, barely perceptible, and hovers calmly past Zagreus. He watches the form of his terribly ungifted lullaby singer glide down toward the commanding voice, eyes catching now on the scenery around him. The towering walls of this long hallway they seem to be in are lit with thousands of candles, casting blazing shadows and yellowy glow into the dark space. At the far end, where Thanatos is now stopped, still hovering but head titled down in submission, is a large desk-like podium, behind which sits a large dark figure Zagreus can’t quite make out in the ember light.
“And you.” summons the shadow, tone noticeably more irritated at him than it was with Thanatos.
Zagreus raises one inky eyebrow and pauses a moment to consider. He huffs, and surprisingly gracefully, climbs his way out of the crimson bath before slowly waltzing down the single hall.
“That the usual welcome for this place?” he asks coolly as he walks, “Would’ve thought hell had a bit more hospitality toward newcomers.” When he finally makes it what can only be the reception desk for the dead, he plants his feet firmly down before the dark podium and looks up with a raised defiant chin. Above him glares a deep and shadowed face. Hm, bad day for the master of the house? Zagreus wonders. The dark god before him intensifies his gaze at Zagreus, dark eyebrows casting even darker shadows against his black eyes. Zagreus stares hard back—never one to back down from a challenge.
The god’s angered expression does not waver, and Zagreus’ mind flashes with inspiration.
He wills his brow smooth, pauses, and extends his hand up to the desk “Pleasure to make your acquaintance lord, I am Zagreus.”
The god is not amused. His furrow deepens further, glaring for several long seconds with such pure censure towards Zag’s extended hand. Finally he breaks his gaze with the living god, and turns to the quietly waiting Thanatos,
“Send. Him. Back.” His low voice rumbles, firm and absolute with power. Thanatos gives his concise nod. The god of the dead seems appeased and hms a mildly satisfied, still mostly irked, sound before returning his shadowy gaze to the documents on his desk.
Zagreus withdrawals his waiting palm, a peculiar and irrational pain tugs within his chest. Whatever just happened… It seems like he’ll be returning home after all. Zagreus drops his shoulders, not realizing the tension latent there during this whole ordeal and breathes out a defeated huff.
“Let’s go.” A clipped even voice cuts between his wandering thoughts. Zagreus glances away from the intriguing and… familiar? Architecture of the halls to watch Thanatos already hovering away down a different conjoining corridor of the house. His black cape slowly trailing behind his cloaked form, beckoning Zagreus after him. Well, he doesn’t need to be told twice, Zagreus grins and dashes in a blaze of embers to follow the laconic god.
“So, my frosted knight, I’m assuming were headed back to the surface. But since it was quite a painful effort to get here, do you think we could take the scenic route?” Zagreus asks, corner of his mouth twitching up at the idea of exploring the strange underworld realm, and if this beautifully enigmatic man is to be his guide—all the better. Thanatos does not slow down nor turn to Zagreus. He casts his lidded aurelian gaze sideways at the alien man.
“Do not call me that.” He utters and returns his gaze straight ahead.
Zagreus shrugs, “Too bad, I guess we’ll just have to go with Than then. You can call me Zag also, this way everything’s even between us.” he grins back up at the black hovering figure. There’s a bit of silence as Zagreus awaits the other man’s response.
“I liked you better when you were dead.” Thanatos speaks, tone cool and elegantly emotionless. Sparing no glance to Zagreus at all this time.
Zagreus lets out a soft chuckle “That’s cruel Thanatos.” He’s about to press more, after all how can he resist someone so brilliant and curious, but his clever words are forgotten when they enter a dark but still strangely luminous green and purple chamber.
This place… I know this place… He thinks as his eyes trace the crumbling stone and statues of the cold realm. This is—A gasp escapes his lips.
“Thanatos…” he begins, the unsteady quality of his voice pulls his escort’s head and gaze slightly towards him, “I understand that I died. The dead go to the land of Hades, so then this place is…” his voice falters at the words and the implications of what they mean. Thanatos pauses before answering,
“You are correct. The place we are currently in is called Tartarus, it is the deepest chasm city within this realm excluding the House of Hades.” He waits for Zagreus to respond but the recently deceased man is silent, “Don’t worry” he begins again turning his head back towards the labyrinth passages before him, “You are not long for this realm.”
But the soft and steady words from those mahogany lips offer no ease to Zagreus. He follows the god up through the maze of the underworld in sullen silence, unsure how to proceed.
It doesn’t take long for the odd pair to reach the edge of the realm—Thanatos having made this journey many times to collect souls. Returning them… that was a different story, but not a different path. Zagreus picks up his head as his companion hovers to a stop. He takes a moment to properly study the god’s face once more. Thanatos is like a great mountain covered in fresh snow. The deep, and slumbering cool brown of his skin, resting beneath the white and silver of his eyelashes and hair. Golden rays reflect upon his frosted deatils, dance inside his eyes, and settle shimmering undertones within his skin. The bones of his face—solid and strong, but also organic; curved and rounded softly like the work of wind and water upon stone. So much power and potential left slumbering just beneath his skin. He wonders what it would be like to wake such a force.
Zagreus is sure now, this realm, these grey crumbling walls, and this man too. He knows this place, this person. This must be the place.
He smiles at Thanatos, natural and relentless optimism returning to his posture. The god waits beside him with waning patience, and small crease between his precise brows.
“Farewell.” Thanatos speaks, urging him on. Zagreus beams back a smile sharp enough to cut even death. And with one quick and fierce movement, grasps Thanatos by the front of his black chiton so that he can swiftly press his lips to the cool marble of his beautiful knight’s cheek. His lips linger briefly to savor the moment before he releases the bewildered god.
“ For now…” he whispers and dashes off into the world of warmth.
÷ ÷ ÷ ÷
Zagreus’s eyes open with a jolt. Sensation flooding his body.
Above his head, familiar spring eyes gaze at him with extreme shock and concern. He looks up into his mother’s gaze, before the smile from moments before breaks out across his face,
“Sorry mother, but I must leave you once more” he says, already sitting up from his bed, “I’ve got a date with death.”
÷ ÷ ÷ ÷
Suffice to say Thanatos is deeply confused.
If picking up the strange living god/man, having Hades demand Thanatos send him back immediately on sight, and the… goodbye wasn’t odd enough, then the call of that same soul not even a full few hours after he delivered it back to the world above certainly was.
His brow knits together, he feels that’s been happening a lot more lately, and he begins ascending once more to the electric call.
The surface is so bright. Thanatos throws his hood over his head—he didn’t realize till now that it was knocked back after the jerk from a certain incident with his apparent “damsel in distress”. He swiftly wanders across the blinding realm in search of the young man again, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.
The sight when he does reach the intensely brazen and reckless corpse, Zagreus, his mind supplies at the sight, it’s not too different from the first time.
Well... except that this time he’s skewed rather than dropped. But the fountain of endless scarlet blood streaming from his punctured chest, the oddly content and painless expression, and drained lifeless body is all there, same as before.
This time, with a deep sigh and tight press of his eyes, Thanatos wills himself not to observe the quieted firestorm of a man, nor touch that extinguished skin that scorched his cheek mere moments ago.
Instead he summons his scythe, and gentler than he cares to admit, slices the boy’s soul from his body once more.
The descent to the Styx is different this time. Before, Thanatos could only ponder at the enigma of humanity within his stone arms. And doubt himself when his brother grunted a smoky offer for the body at him, and Thanatos positively freaked and silently carried him off alone with no response. He doesn’t let Charon take the bleeding soul, so strange, this time either. Thankfully his brother doesn’t ask twice. But rather than allow his mind to swim with wonders of why as before, he merely gazes.
Zagreus’s skin is still not right to the touch. As much as the collision from earlier had shocked both his mind and body, something about it had also felt so right. That intense heat melting through the tundra of his skin and warming something traitorous and unknown in his chest. Heat so foreign and wild in the cold depths of the underworld. And then there were those eyes. Eyes just like his lord and yet so so far from that too. Everything about him confused Thanatos. The burning feet and skin, dark as Hades himself hair and single eye, that velvet voice.
Thanatos quiets his mind as he lowers the perplexing soul into the deep red fingers and ripples of the Styx.
And immediately he lets go—Zagreus’s body quakes and thrashes divine liquid everywhere. Everything coming back to life hurts. Thanatos winces. This is why you don’t deliver souls… Trembles rack and pain rumbles across the surface of his victim’s ashen skin, carrying with it a flush that dusts his sharp chin and high cheekbones in petal pink. After a few more shivers, unpleasant for the gold of death as well, diverging eyes blink open and immediately lock their burning gaze with Thanatos’s own.
“Hey you.” the low and silky voice, slightly raspy from blood and death, calls to him. A traitorous shiver runs up Thanatos’s spine.
But the reunion is short lived, Hades bellows sharply from across the chamber, “I thought I said, get him out of here!” Thanatos looks across the hall, back to the (now glaring down the chamber) outlawed Zagreus, and gestures once more for him to follow as he drifts promptly from the river, towards the exit once more. Behind him he hears an exasperated huff, and following wet fierce strides tailing him down the corridors of the House.
Once they clear the ears of Hades, though Thanatos knows the god ruler hears all within the realm, and enter the beginnings of Tartarus the steps behind him slow to a lazy walk. Thanatos, unable to resist, glances back quickly at his current captive. He expects to see something surprising that will no doubt cause some ridiculous physical reaction within his own non-animated flesh, perhaps a lidded, lusty gaze watching him, but what he sees instead shocks him even more.
Zagreus isn’t looking at him at all. His eyes are flitting around the collapsing architecture of Tartarus. Tracing each and every groove and symbol as if it was the most precious and beautiful object he had ever seen. His face is so open, so unguarded. Eyes breathing in the atmosphere and light, swallowing it with a look of deep awe and disbelief. What would it be like to be under that gaze? A curious cold flare sparks in the dead god’s chest. But it’s nothing compared to the guilt he feels for assuming Zagreus would be trying to tease him the whole journey back.
Mortals never find such inspiration in the underworld. The ruined city and beams of harsh light bouncing off a blood-red river horrifies the spirits, even without the rooms and elements designed to torture. But then again Thanatos is pretty certain Zagreus isn’t a mortal at all.
He turns away from his fascinated follower and slows his hovering pace. He can’t help but feel remorse at having observed such an emotional moment. Thanatos thought he was the only one who could care for this place. Even lord Hades detests his prison. But to Thanatos, this world is home. A cold and unfeeling home sure, but his nonetheless. His lip twitches, it was… nice to know he wasn’t the only one who took time to observe.
The two ascend slowly, Thanatos giving Zagreus time to take in the realm, through the mazes and stone doorways. Past the fiery pools of Asphodel, and into the lusciously departed fields of Elysium. Thanatos finds himself taking in the sights alongside Zagreus. Allowing himself to really consider the unique feeling of each room they pass. He feels inspired by his victim, finds himself sharing in the quiet gasps and shivering alongside the smooth, soft witty phrases echoing occasionally behind him. A strange, unnamed feeling blooms in his cold core. With Zagreus each chamber feels new and alight with secrets—living.
Still they eventually reach the edge of this realm and the next, and Thanatos feels a wistful pull in his chest as he hovers to a stop. He lifts his eyes from the line of realms and into Zagreus’s gaze. But the resurrected man is already focused on him. The viridian and charcoal eyes fluttering with such a soft expression upon his face that it makes Thanatos feel small and fragile. Zagreus is looking at him with the same marveling gaze that he gave each and every alcove they passed. Expression lifting into that brilliant smile after Thanatos’s eye meet his. And it’s just too much for Thanatos to bear. He looks away hastily.
“Forgive me Than,” the marvelous voice that makes Thanatos feel so uselessly weak murmurs, “I didn’t mean to ignore you, but I knew one look at you--you would simply freeze my eyes there.” He smiles with somber mirth. Thanatos has absolutely no idea what nonsense he is talking now with that dangerous voice. “You’ll still be here when I return right?”
“Return?” Thanatos asks. Surely he won’t be coming back again. Even for the gods the underworld is no comforting haunt. Yet, Zagreus looks delighted at Thanatos’s confusion.
“Of course, I still owe you a kiss don’t I? After all I do believe I stole one from you.”
“You do not owe me anything.” Thanatos utters, barely holding his tone at the comment.
“One’s not enough incentive then?” Zagreus asks smoothly, raising his single eyebrow. And again, before Thanatos can make a move to dodge or evade, Zagreus grips his bare shoulders and draws his face down. Thanatos can’t move, his eyelids flutter shut, hot electricity courses through his body at the contact of Zagreus' warm palms. His cocoa skin breaks out in chills and suddenly satin lips sear against the sensitive edge of his jaw. So warm, so right. The lips don’t vanish instantly like their last encounter. No. This time they press back several times, branding that soft delicate corner where jawbone meets flesh. Thanatos draws in a quivering uneven breath and releases it out hard. His face falls forward and presses into Zagreus’s luscious inky locks, mouth open and gasping against the forehead of his assaulter.
“See you soon.” Sultry lips lift to whisper against his ear.
Lifetimes later, when Thanatos is finally able to find the strength to open his eyes, Zagreus is long gone.
÷ ÷ ÷ ÷
Zagreus’s eyes open to the blinding living world. He fills his lungs with air, “Again.”
÷ ÷ ÷ ÷
Another soul beckons, a genial familiar soul. With a sigh Thanatos embarks on his journey to pick up his prone to accident princess. His?
This time it’s his lips that are coated in blood. Vivid red spills from Zagreus’s cupid’s bow in streaming rivulets down his sharp chin. Thanatos’s eyes follow the currents down Zagreus’s jaw and neck to where the thick liquid puddles in the valley of his clavicle. The dead fingers of his right hand are curled slack on a small vial.
Poison Thanatos recognizes bitterly. It certainly didn’t look like a painless death. Why is he doing this to himself? Does he really think Hades will keep sending him back? Why throw away his life like this? Thanatos feels a sharp pain pull in his chest as he gazes upon Zagreus’s inanimate form. After a pause to collect himself, Thanatos summons his scythe once again on Zagreus’s behalf.
÷ ÷ ÷ ÷
After the excruciating start up and somehow even further offended Hades banishing him again from his domain, Zagreus is finally on the realm’s road with his frostbitten knight.
He doesn’t intend to waste precious time studying the bewitching parts of the underworld this death. Not when he has a much more interesting muse at his disposal.
Poison wasn’t as easy a death as he expected it to be, but worth it--he would make the best of it. But he can be patient too. He waits until they pass into the moonlit pastures of Elysium before he speaks,
“Mind if we take a breath Than?” he asks coolly. Thanatos stops and looks back to Zagreus, face stern and pinched trying to hide his confusion. His gold gaze locks on Zagreus, and the living young man feels his heartbeat skip at the look. “I was hoping we could maybe don something a bit more lively this time, as long as that’s not too stimulating for you.” He grins at the silvery god’s flustered expression.
“What are you proposing prisoner?” The cold elegant voice asks.
“Nothing much, I’m not suggesting that I don’t enjoy our quiet walks, I just want to better appraise your lordship. What do you usually do when you’re not rescuing me from the land of the living?”
“There is always much to be done in the land of the dead. As a god of this realm it is my duty to collect the souls of the deceased for my lord.” Thanatos answers slowly.
“And the occasional delivery it seems” Zagreus replies with a simper. “There’s nothing you do for leisure though? Seems like a depressing life.” Zagreus feels saddened for the gentle Thanatos. For someone so strongly crafted the god seems a bit fragile too. Especially around Zagreus’s lips…
“I deal only in death. That is my domain.” Thanatos replies in tranquil tone.
“Well if that’s your calling, shall we go raise a little hell?” Zagreus inquires with glee. He doesn’t wait for Thanatos’s perplexed prose; he never was very patient. Instead he seizes the blessedly cool hand in his own palm and drags the god to the edge of the azure terrain where a collection of curious spirits are gathered eyes dripping with latent violence. “Let’s deal some death together Than.”
÷ ÷ ÷ ÷
Zagreus huffs out an elated breath. He’s trying to catch his breath both from the violent game and the positively gorgeously flushed Thanatos at his side—full lips parted just slightly, and low prominent cheekbones dusted with silver and gold. Zagreus idly wonders what his knight’s blood looks like… His heart trembles and tugs. Gods is he ever stuck on this man…
Thanatos seems a little winded too. He turns and faces Zagreus, expression released and… pleasant? When we the last time he did anything for himself? Zagreus wonders silently.
The two of them had lost themselves in the combat—entering chamber after chamber and vanquishing wretched foes in blazing slices without a hint of hesitance. Zagreus giving into the destruction his body craved for so long on the surface. Finally feeling, at the side of this deadly god, that his hunger for battle wasn’t so wrong and sinful. He adored his mother, but it was hard to keep up with her pacifism when he knew it was ignoring half of his nature.
But not here. Here his dueling natures belongs. Burning life and carnage balanced by the peacefully deadly god.
“It seems we’re here.” that beautiful monotone voice murmurs freeing Zagreus from his contemplations. Does he sound… Sad? Zagreus wonders, but he’s unsure. He knows he has infectious emotions—something his mother and those around him made quite clear in his youth. Zagreus feels a vulnerable chill seize him momentarily, was he just projecting his own feelings upon Thanatos?
“Yeah it does…” he begins, trying to will away the melancholy he feels at leaving this world and man that feels as if it were made for him. “See you on the other side my darling knight” his lip curls up slightly and he makes to leave once again before--
“I thought I asked you not to call me that.” Thanatos huffs out exasperated and ruffled. Zagreus pauses, warm pulsing again in his body.
“And I thought I asked you to call me Zag, but it seems we’re both not very good at requests.” He grins. “Which reminds me… I still owe you something… A couple of things actually.” Zagreus’s small moment of misery is dissipated now, replaced completely with flaring excitement and jest.
Thanatos looks mildly bothered to the untrained eye, but to Zagreus, who has been studying him every chance he can get, he looks absolutely terrified. He takes that look as a challenge, “If you won’t I will,” and reaches up to clutch Thanatos’s silvery strands, gently and slowly this time brushing them behind his ear. Thanatos quips a sharp intake of breath, snowy eyelashes fluttering closed, head leaning ever so slightly into Zagreus’s warm fingertips. He’s so adorable. How could Zagreus even hope to resist? He presses his lips, so tenderly against the delicate crease of a lidded golden eye. Cool mercury floods in his burning veins at the contact. Zagreus shivers with longing.
“Hey,” he whispers, lips still lightly clinging to Thanatos’s marmoreal skin, “how about we make a deal? Next time, if I kill more wretched foes than you, will you kiss me?” Zagreus, usually so suave and confident, feels oddly anxious as he waits for his knight’s response. Thanatos’s eyes blink open to gaze lidded and hazy down at Zagreus. Freezing him, just as he knew they would, against his form. Eons pass before Thanatos responds,
“Alright Zagreus.” His smokey lips twitch up ever so marginally, “But you should be aware, death does not loose.”
Zagreus shivers again, gods when that molasses voice utters his name. He feels incredibly disadvantaged. But smiles back anyways,
“It’s a promise then, Thanatos.” And rushes off so he can sooner claim his prize.
÷ ÷ ÷ ÷
It’s awhile before Zagreus calls Thanatos to collect again. Time doesn’t have much a home in Thanatos’s world, but he feels the absence of the blazing god acutely in the quiet moments without him. I wonder if he’s been practicing…
When the beckon from Zag’s tireless soul does clink sweetly in his mind Thanatos doesn’t hesitate to answer it.
The unique ring echoes across the living world, speaking in a voice only Thanatos can hear. He feels strangely satisfied at the knowledge of this private possession. He allows it to guide him across lusciously alive mountains and plains until he comes to a small clearing in a frozen forest.
Lying, unnaturally still, in the fresh snow is a head of familiar midnight hair, and a chilled white complexion.
It’s winter. Thanatos notes watching delicate snowflakes settle in Zagreus’s wind spiked hair. He recalls the mellow voice belonging to that hair. The world is so silent.
Something about the thought of seeing any more of Zagreus right now twists an ache in Thanatos’s chest. He stops his hover, allowing his feet to touch the blanket of snow beside Zagreus’s resting form. Cold is not the sensation he feels. Just a light compression as Thanatos gazes up into the snow bound forest.
Frost clings to trees and twigs. Their silhouettes standing dark and angular against the white scatter. The sky is grey, gently dropping tufts of light into the small clearing. Further up above are icicles dangling from a large branch; a few of them broken off in jagged fractals. Thanatos realizes then where they have fallen.
A frantic flutter interrupts his darkening thoughts and vision. He squints towards a papery dark shape interrupting the cool grey sky. It twirls down from among the high branches, spiraling as it falls. Dropping with graceful sorrow toward the earth until it finally lays to rest on a soft frozen cheek. Purple wings quivering on the freckles of white that dust Zagreus’s face. The delicate snow lingers along his long dark eyelashes. Bright red and white just out of the god’s gaze. And for a moment, just looking into that virile face, Thanatos expects those eyes to open. Waits for the reveal of his vibrant pools of green, red, and black.
Nothing happens, Zagreus remains dead as the butterfly on his cheek.
÷ ÷ ÷ ÷
Thanatos descends into the river Styx, still cradling Zagreus’s body tightly against his armor. The chills that lingers on Zagreus’s flesh twists a new kind of pain in Thanatos, he had never rushed so quickly to deliver a soul before. But he knows the Styx itself carries a curse for any living creature. A curse he watched Zagreus suffer twice before.
He pauses wading in its waters, holding Zagreus just a hair from its scarlet surface. Glowing hands implore him to release the cold body but Thanatos just holds. He knows he must drop Zagreus in, he needs to feel that warmth against his skin, hold that heterozygous gaze within his own, hear that full voice utter his name and shatter him from the inside out. Thanatos has never felt so selfish and naive.
There’s only one thing he can think of to ease the pain, something Nyx used to do long, long ago... Something he owes.
He summons up his confidence and intently presses his lips against those of the bloodless boy in his arms before plunging them both under the river.
÷ ÷ ÷ ÷
The pain rushes in, and Zagreus starts to scream but something swallows the sound before it escapes his lips. Around him boiling liquid forces its way through his veins and wrenches his heart into fierce rhythm. All too familiar. But something is different this time. There’s a coolness caging his trashing body, holding him so tight and tender. And the stopper on his lips—chilled and perfect. Zagreus wills his eyes open despite the agony in his body.
But the sight that greets him is red. His eyes burn and the pain makes him shriek. Zagreus jerks out of the mysterious embrace and flops out of the Styx onto the cold stone floor of Hades’ House. He breathes out hard and fast, gasping against the steps that cut into his weak body.
“You we’re gone longer...” Thanatos murmurs. Zagreus smiles slowly up at him,
“Did you miss me?” he gaps out with a small laugh; the pain is finally easing from his bones “What’s wrong? I thought you liked me best dead.” Thanatos says nothing. He just stares at Zagreus, cold and creased. Zagreus longs to press his fingertips to those pained lines, and smooth away the pinched expression from his lovely knight’s face. But all he can do is try and maintain his devilish smile as Thanatos’ silence stabs his freshly forged heart. And if Thanatos does notice at all the quiver in his lips he does not disclose this to Zagreus.
A scoff echoes out over the chamber. Zagreus lifts his head to the figure at far end of the chamber. Right. Let’s get this over with.
÷ ÷ ÷ ÷
Thanatos is quiet. Too quiet.
After they finally got out of the House, thank goodness you couldn’t die twice in the underworld--one Styx bath this eternal evening was already more than enough, and played out their promised challenge, the two were left traveling in complete silence towards the surface.
Gods the challenge… Zagreus lost—his months of training useless against the lingering weight in his chest. It was still a pleasure, of course. Fighting his way up room though room alongside the elated elegance of his hooded companion was extraordinary. There was a chemistry between them, electric. Zagreus had never felt as alive as he did in the presence of Thanatos. But his technique was clumsy with longing while Thanatos, seemed even more focused and fierce than ever before.
That really didn’t make Zagreus feel any better.
But even worse was the stagnant dead air between them. Usually Thanatos would sneak “subtle” glances back a Zagreus all along their journey, or slow and hesitate his hover to allow him to examine and breathe deeply in each room. It was quiet, but companionable, sweet. There is none of that today. Thanatos stares and moves like clockwork locked forward and Zagreus trails behind crestfallen and heartsick. They journey like this, through countless vaults of blue green and titan fire, securely silent.
Then, Thanatos stops. What is most likely only a couple chambers from his exit. Zagreus pauses looking up with wide eyes.
“I…” Thanatos’ rich voice echoes, “I wanted to speak with you more. As the victor of our challenge, you owe me this.” He states. Zagreus’ thick eyebrows arch high with shock. “Why do you continue this? Allowing yourself to perish over and over again, surely you do not enjoy bathing in the Styx.” The grey god is so sincere that it lifts tons from Zagreus’ shoulders. He takes in their environment, a curious part of Elysium that ends not into white misty waters but rather a jagged overgrown cliff. The edge overlooks all the levels of the underworld, all the way down to the torturous chartreuse and violet city of Tartarus. Zagreus sighs and sits along that chasm, golden feet dangling over the realm.
“This place…” he begins slowly, willing to lay himself bare but unsure how, “it calls to me. I believe it always has.” Thanatos gracefully mirror’s Zagreus’ position and gazes down into the underworld. “There is, within me, a part that does not belong in the land above. I may not be a god of the world like you or Hades, but I am not of the skies and earth either. This blood,” he looks down to his pink-tinged grey skin, “it lives, but it also hungers. Pulsing in my veins, and I know it does not desire anything in the land above.” Zagreus pauses with the weight of his own words. He had never told anyone that before, not even his mother.
Thanatos is looking at him now, gaze intent and unwavering. “It’s here, in this place.” He finishes. Here beside you.
Thanatos is stoic as always. And Zagreus presses his eyes shut, he feels vulnerable and bare and he just wishes Thanatos would say something, anything.
“My apologies, I was not aware.” Zagreus smiles bitterly, right, of course Thanatos didn’t reciprocate… I should’ve known. It was only he who felt the curious connection towards the grey god. “Will you return…” Thanatos trails off, almost as if there was more he wanted to say but thought better of it. Hope flutters in Zagreus darkened heart. His grin goes candid on his sharp features,
“Yes, after all you would surely miss me too much if I didn’t.” Wouldn’t you?
Thanatos hums gently beside him, neither confirming nor denying the teasing words. Well, I guess that counts for something. Zagreus smiles and leans back against the ethereal pastures of Elysium.
The two lay there for what could be mere moments, but for them the restful cooling breezes and gentle rays of otherworldly light extend the time into what seems like years. Thanatos speaks gently into the atmosphere,
“Sometimes, this place makes me question if Hades truly has no fondness for the surface.” Zagreus opens his eyes and quietly listens, “I have ventured to the land of the living many times. Although there is beauty there, far beyond this realm, it too is not without pain. Hades designed his kingdom to bear and trap the pain of the dead, hold it over them and bind their spirits with it. However, Elysium always seems a place that can bear the earth’s beauty without pain.” His low voice is slow and placid, “Still, Hades himself will not venture into these fields. Perhaps there is pain here after all.” Zagreus watches Thanatos close his lidded eyes and breathe deeply. He notes how few times he’s truly seen the god take a breath.
“I was born a creature of this realm, but my existence is, and will always be, between this land and that of the world above. Yet, I do not find nearly as much pain in this world.” He opens his eyes and looks to the reclined Zagreus now, softness smoothing his stoic face, “No, I much prefer this.” He finishes, eyes still locked on the drowsy Zagreus. The living man closes his eyes against the golden gaze and breathes out a contented puff of air.
Yes, this is much better.
÷ ÷ ÷ ÷
When Zagreus awakens again he is resting against the gates of the underworld. He wearily blinks open his eyes, already scanning the bright lush fields for his wintery knight, but Thanatos is long gone.
No goodbye kiss then. But the absence of the god doesn’t eat away at Zagreus’s living heart at he expected. There is a curious light and hope in his chest from their talk earlier. Perhaps he could get Hades to let him stay here, to allow him repose in this realm with Thanatos, heart hammering and alive in their challenges, at peace in the cerulean fields. What a wondrously dead life that would be.
Challenge accepted. He grins as he dashes out the doors.
÷ ÷ ÷ ÷
Thanatos doesn’t wait for Zagreus to die this time.
After delivering the sleeping young man to the gates of the realm, he was immediately summoned to Hades’ House. He put Zagreus down gently against the glowing walls and flew down to his lord in the hopes that he could get the request over with quickly return before the lovely living boy awoke.
However his trip was quite drawn out. It seemed his lord was less than pleased with their ransacking of his domain and rest in “a place that is in no way intended for your use.” In all honesty Thanatos was just surprised Hades didn’t disturb them sooner with summoned foes or trivial survival trails. But, he had his own theories regarding the undead king’s rare consideration and censure toward Zagreus… After all scarlet-black eyes and ruthless bloodlust weren’t traits any mortals he knew possessed.
While he was stuck listening to the wrath of Hades Thanatos felt a cold shift in the realm, and he knew he was too late to see the blazing god off. His undead heart twinges pitifully at the thought.
As soon as he’s released from his lecture Thanatos races up into the living realm. He has to find Zagreus, has to ask him what he meant in the fields of Elysium. Would he… Could he really trade his eternal living life for an undying one in the underworld? A lack of lifetimes… with me? Thanatos lets out a quavering and weak breath at the thought.
The words they shared in those beryl green grasses haunt Thanatos with visions. Daydreams of nights, eternities no longer spent waiting in anguish for Zagreus to die and reincarnate once more into an ocean of red pain. Images of Zagreus living, here, in a place without the agony of life or death.
He would be free from their prison.
And Thanatos could be with him. Fighting, living, breathing alongside him. Then, perhaps, some-eternity he would feel confident enough to hold that feverishly warm body within his arms. To willingly incinerate himself in Zagreus’ fire. Finally claim the fiery kisses and touches owed to him. To confess, with clear conviction, the emotions that had been plaguing and growing within him more and more since he first witnessed the awe and fondness the other felt for this world, his world.
His heart aches with unspoken adoration. Thanatos must find him.
And he does.
And he isn’t dead.
And it’s the worst thing a smitten god of death could possibly imagine.
He isn’t dead, yet.
Zagreus stands, hacking and sputtering his precious blood against a stone spring-ivy-clad wall in an ancient ruin. A frigid chill turns Thanatos’ icy skin unbearably cold. There’s a spear impaled into his back, and Thanatos can only watch in agonized horror as Zagreus’s shaking fingers grasp it from behind and wrench it from his body. His, usually dark and smooth as maroon velvet, voice howls with strain and the spear clatters to the stone ground. A waterfall of blood oozes and streams down from the empty wound. Zagreus collapses, pressing his forehead against the crumbling wall, his body is wracked with shivers and hyperventilating bloody breaths.
“What have you done?” What have I been making you do? Thanatos utters into the vicious sight. The moments in the river Styx are nothing compared to the torment of this scene. His still heart is shattering in his chest.
Zagreus lifts his head, and glances over his leaking shoulder to Thanatos and smiles, lips and teeth drenched with blood,
“A bit early don’t you think?” He laughs out—his voice stripped and frail, “Sorry, I asked them to be swift but I think all the blood scared them off before they could finish the job. I’m sure it’s nothing you’re not already used to though.” His words are stuttered and uneven. “Should only a be a few more minutes now… Just… Hah… wait a moment, okay?” Zagreus winces out the last sentence and turns his body to rest on the ground, back against the stone wall. The movement lacks all the strength and grace Thanatos associates with him—it’s wobbly and disjointed. It’s all wrong.
No, definitely not “okay”.
Thanatos steps with shaken limbs over to the insufficiently vanquished Zagreus, sitting utterly broken in a lake of his blood. Zagreus tilts his head up to gaze into the gods eyes, and smiles so sweetly that Thanatos wants to turn away,
“Say,” Zagreus begins, “do you think you could kiss me better?” Humorous tone falling dead on inconsolable ears.
“Not this time.” Thanatos mutters bitterly, he doesn’t give Zagreus a chance to ask what that means, “Who did this to you? Where are they? Tell me and I shall end them.” Thanatos proclaims darkly. But Zagreus only laughs,
“There’s no need for that, and besides, I wanted this so that—” he coughs out a fresh splatter of vital fluid onto his knees “so that I could see you.” A prickling shiver runs down Thanatos’s spine. He did this… because of me. It’s me after all… I am the one who killed him.
A icy hand reaches up and touches his ankle, Thanatos stares down at the dying god.
“Hey” he whispers, “Don’t look so sad, after all, it’s only tem-porar-y.” And with that last syllable Zagreus is gone, his body nothing more than an abandoned shell. The delicate clink of his departed soul rings in Thanatos’s mind. And the god collapses to the cold ground and lukewarm blood, and wails for the first time in his entire existence.
After several moments trying to quip with the wrenching twists at his core, Thanatos lifts his head to look upon Zagreus once more. His dark hair, his divine skin, now laid to rest over dead bones. The scarlet of his beautifully curved lips passing with time into deeper and deeper shades of blue.
Even in death Zagreus is stunning. But this beauty is nothing compared to the radiance from life. No, this form is without everything that makes Zagreus. Drained not only of his scarlet hue, but also his mischievous gaze, clever silvery tongue, resonant soothing voice, teasing and tender touches, tireless vibrancy and devotion to his cause. It’s all gone. Everything that Thanatos loved in him so much, is gone.
Is this what death does? After a pause to let his thought ring out Thanatos can’t take it any longer, he sighs and severs once again with his scythe. Laying both this place, and his selfish aspirations to rest.
÷ ÷ ÷ ÷
Zagreus awakens from the tormenting water of the Styx. And immediately after rising from its hands says,
“Well my frozen knight, care for a rematch?” Thanatos smiles painfully,
“Let’s deal some death together Zag.” And off they go. This is only temporary… Only temporary…
÷ ÷ ÷ ÷
Thanatos is very careful and conscious not to let his foolish heart get in the way of what he’s determined shall be his last odyssey with Zagreus.
To accomplish this he keeps the boy at a slight distance. Enjoys their tango of one-liners and harmonious blows. But he does not linger beside him as they clear rooms, nor return the casual touches Zagreus claps on his shoulders and back to congratulate on a “death well dealt”. He will be strong and stay silent. For Zagreus.
At the end of their run Thanatos watches Zagreus flop down into the same cliffside field of Elysium, gorgeously flushed and exhausted. The death-patron feels a traitorous pleasant stirring in his core at the sight of those inky locks spayed against the fields of his home. Gods how he wishes Zagreus could stay…
He cannot. He must not. Thanatos seats himself in the field a calculated few feet away from Zagreus. His heart is heavy in his chest, he knows their time in ending now—these are the final moments he has with his beloved.
“Pretty decent run, Than” Zagreus gasps rolling over to grin at the god beside him, “I think it’s about time we discuss rewards… After all I did best you this time, I feel it is indeed only fair you relinquish me a favor.” Zagreus sits up and readjusts himself closer to Thanatos, which does absolutely nothing to ease the wound in his chest. Thanatos doesn’t wait for Zagreus to make a specific request, he knows by now not to trust the living god like that, or rather not to test himself with whatever Zagreus would ask of him. Instead he gently takes one of the warm pulsing hands, turns it over, and presses a small token into it. Zagreus looks perplexed, but not upset. Thanatos withdraws his hands and watches the prince delicately lift and turn the petrified Elysium butterfly in his long fingers. His emerald and demonic gaze is so soft on the gift that Thanatos has to look away. Not trusting himself to remain calm. He breathes in deeply with a small tremor.
“Thanatos…” Zagreus begins the mirth from his voice completely gone—his tone is serious and drenched in compassion, and gods how that voice torments the dead god’s heart. “Please, look at me.”
Thanatos turns his head to Zagreus’s heaven and hell eyes. And for a moment Zagreus says nothing. His eyes flit quickly over Thanatos’s face as a small crinkle forms between his dark brows. After his silent assessment ends, Zagreus slowly lifts his free hand towards Thanatos who flinches away from the touch. The hand withdrawals. The furrowed brow deepens. Zagreus sighs in defeat,
“Thanatos.” He begins, “We cannot continue this.” I know Thanatos responds silently. Zagreus continues “I cannot… exist like this. This place, alone it is only half…” Zagreus pauses and ponders between words, so strangely unlike his usual quick wit. Finally he huffs out a breath and speaks without falter, “I want to be here. I will do whatever it takes, but I will not stay if you don’t hold any regard for me. I don’t want to force you Thanatos. In the beginning it was meaningless, it was fun, teasing you, messing with you and your silent demeanor without consideration or care. But over these last few deaths everything has changed. You must know… I care for you, so deeply. I won’t condemn you to a life with me if it is not what you desire. Regardless of my own feelings.”
Zagreus closes his eyes, “I want you to tell me now. Tell me how you truly feel. If an eternity with me, is something you think you might want. Tell me, and if you want me to stay I shall stay, but if not, then I promise I will go and never die again.” He opens his bi-colored eyes and stares determined back into Thanatos’s honey gaze.
And Thanatos is not strong enough to utter words. His body is wracked with shivers and his clenched hands tremble at his sides. There are words, so many words, caught in his throat. Wings of them fluttering in his chest and unable to burst out when it most matters. He wills his body to get up, to move, scream, do something. But he cannot, the strength in his limbs is trapped, he is frozen to the ground of his own personal hell.
Zagreus waits patiently, but Thanatos just sits with a face cold as a stone, and after a few moments Zagreus sighs and rises from the eternal ground. Thanatos remains utterly stuck and heartbrokenly watching the only light in his cold world leave.
Zagreus closes his eyes gently and sighs, “Farewell Thanatos, I love you.”
And the spell is broken.
Thanatos rises from the ground immediately and seizes Zagreus in his arms. Gripping the beating body in his cold cage of limbs so strongly and tightly. Stay his mind screams Don’t leave me alone, nothing is the same without you. The warmth of Zagreus against him melts his frozen lips,
“Don’t leave me.” He utters hoarsely, voice choked with so many repressed feelings pouring out from his core, “Please, please, don’t leave. I am sorry. I am so so sorry. When I found you. Dying…” He shudders at the memory, gripping Zagreus even tighter to reassure himself with the pounding of a living heart, “There was nothing I could do to ease your pain, to make you whole again. To make you live. Seeing you there, dying… I couldn’t let you live a life like that, even if it meant I would never see you again. I won’t pin you down to me because I love you.” He finishes in a rush of cool breath.
After a long moment he releases Zagreus from his grasp, holding just his blazing shoulders now. He closes his eyes so he can speak his next thoughts, “Of course I wanted you to stay. Still, want you to stay. You don’t know how many times I thought of chaining you down here, binding you with a cursed contract to this place so that you could never leave.” That same blackness from before invades his words, turning his tone deep and cruel but Thanatos pushes it back,
“Love is not a casual word Zagreus.” He breathes weakly, “Not temporary. Not for me. I cannot simply love. Death does not take shortcuts and it does not falter. It is steadfast. Constant. Consuming. Irreversible.” He picks up Zagreus’s hand and presses it to his cold chest,
“I told you before, I am a creature of this world. The only thing I deal in is death. But I do not prefer you that way. I do not love you that way. I want you to live Zagreus.” Thanatos summons up his conviction and claims the shocked open lips below his, tasting and touching that scorching life. He breaks away quickly with a shiver at the hunger that wells within him,
“I want you to live. Even if it’s without me. You must live.” He finishes, gazing down into green and crimson eyes. His favorite face in all heaven and hell.
Zagreus huffs out a breath, his eyes and face is dazed and so lovely flushed,
“Gods, don’t you see?” he begins chuckling a little under his breath, “There is no life for me without you in it. Not any worth living.”
“All I can give you is this dead heart.” Thanatos sighs solemnly.
“So give it. You owe it to me, remember.” Zagreus grins up at him, and Thanatos smiles a tiny fragile thing,
“And what will you give me?” he asks, cool hands reaching up to cup Zagreus’ glowing face.
“Only what I owe you, of course.” Zagreus teases and presses his smoldering lips up to meet death. Thanatos gasps at the contact, hands sliding into Zagreus’s flyaway hair. He tugs at the strands and Zagreus lets out a weak sound that ignites electricity within his silver veins. They break apart, Zagreus sucking in a breath and starring exquisitely flushed. Thanatos is unable to wait a precious moment more, in a swift single movement he pulls his Zagreus down to the illustrious ground.
÷ ÷ ÷ ÷
Zagreus sighs contentedly, hands tangled in the glossy hair of his lover. He studies the statuesque face, resting so peacefully beside him. Thanatos’s snowy lashes lift and he blinks his golden eyes slowly back at Zagreus, his mouth twitched into what untrained eyes would call a weak smile, but what Zagreus knew was truly a beam.
“Hey,” Zagreus whispers into the underworld breeze, “I’ve been meaning to ask you… When you refused my request to kiss me better, you said ‘again’.” Thanatos blushes suddenly shy and sterling, Zagreus grins, “I think this means I owe something still.”
And if there was any questioning the genuineness of the blinding smile of his love before, there certainly isn’t now.