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Of the many things that Theseus considered himself skilled at, perhaps his greatest pride was his ability to understand the desires of others. His title as Champion carried not only glory but also a duty to be good to his fellow shades, and took it very seriously, so with infinite time on his hands Theseus had grown quite good indeed at sympathizing with all from the smallest child the the greatest beast. (Though… the latter was Asterius, who had actually turned out to be among the easier shades to find kinship with.)
As with any rule, there was an exception, someone who was impossible to understand even the language of, let alone the needs and emotions. A god, and not just any god, but the very one that had brought Theseus himself to Elysium along with so many others.
In truth Theseus was not entirely sure if Charon felt and thought in the same way that most gods did. Charon, with his skeletal face and incomprehensible words, might not be capable of the same passions as his kin.
Still, there was reason to believe that coming to understand him was possible, and that tantalizing possibility was impossible not to consider.
When they’d first met (though “met” was a strong word for it; mostly, Charon had groaned in his general direction and Theseus, cowering slightly, pretended not to hear) Theseus assumed that Charon never left his boat. After being crowned Champion and subsequently watching him bring over other souls, however, he came to realize this was not quite true. On occasion Charon would step out to urge the soul of a confused babe or a terrified pup forward, a kindness he had no obligation to offer.
One day or night Charon even seemed to be attempting, fruitlessly, to explain to an elderly woman that she’d indeed died and in paradise could walk again. In this case, Theseus had stepped in to speak it in plain Greek. After she skipped merrily away the boatman turned to Theseus and made what seemed like an attempt at eye contact, if he’d had eyes.
“Are you thanking me?” Theseus remembered asking. So you can speak, it’s just that most of us can’t understand, he remembered thinking.
(This seems like the most forbidden knowledge of all, something that Theseus cannot even dream of ever learning, which naturally makes him wish to know all the more.)
And so though Charon was not exactly a god that mortals typically thought to worship, he played his role well, and he treated the souls he encountered with more gentleness than was strictly necessary. This, Theseus thought, seemed like more than enough to justify the way that Theseus has developed a certain fascination with him.
That ought to have been the end of it, and it would be for a man that knew how to leave well enough alone. Best to look but not touch; to admire the divine glory of the gods without involving yourself with them, lest it end in ruin.
Of course, Theseus had never known how to leave well enough alone.
To be a god was, first and foremost, to be an observer.
Perhaps this was true for Charon, whose job was only to deliver souls to where they’re already destined to be, most of all. And so, though few realize it, he watches and he listens. The dank halls of Erebus, the new fires of Asphodel, even the far-off, forbidden corners: each has its own stories.
To Charon, Elysium was the most interesting of all, though it has little to do with any of the reasons mortals beg him to be taken there. Seeking glory, being praised for one’s deeds, even fighting for the sheer joy of it... none of that mattered, not for someone like Charon who couldn’t remember ever being born and suspected he might never die.
Still, his gaze tended to linger on the souls that did manage to find their way to these endless fields. Elysium is for those who accomplish great things, but few of them particularly impressed Charon.
In time, one man in particular caught his attention. Many mortals could boast about picking up large rocks or killing beasts, but few remained great after they’d died. Instead they became stagnant, taking sips of the Lethe to help them forget their woes and their glories alike and fight monotonous wars with no true stakes.
Not so for Theseus, who was a constant source of surprise—to his peers, to Hades, and to Charon himself. He greeted the new shades purely out of a sense of duty; he refused even the smallest sip of the river to take the edge off of the pains of his life; and he was the only mortal to have ever brought someone into Elysium by sheer force of stubbornness. (Charon hadn’t even thought that to be possible until it happened! And it’s this that makes the man fascinating.)
They made eye contact sometimes, for long enough that it might be awkward if Theseus could even tell where Charon’s gaze fell. The champion did not, which was probably for the best. Most mortals come to fear Charon when they learn to fear death, and don’t stop even when they no longer have a reason to be afraid.
Charon wasn’t quite sure why he hoped that Theseus would one day overcome that fear.
Craftsmen, farmers, even servants—all of them gathered to talk amongst themselves as they worked. Theseus and Charon were coworkers, technically, so there’s no reason to fear speaking with him. Truly, what was ynusual is when he didn’t talk to Hades’ fellow servants (excepting Asterius, who was his treasured friend before he was a coworker, and thus did not count).
That thought provided Theseus little comfort as he stood awkwardly in the vicinity of the river, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He clutched the item in his hand tightly, enjoying its metallic coolness against his sweaty palm. Charon would be here soon, as best as he could tell (which was admittedly a conclusion based on very little evidence given the general meaninglessness of time in Elysium) and he absolutely had to be ready, even if that meant a length of time spent pointlessly waiting.
Either Theseus was right about Charon being due or he just lost track of time, because it seemed as though the boatman’s arrival was nearly immediate. As always, he glided down the river silently, his boat full of a fresh group of shades. If Theseus still had a living heart it would be beating wildly in his chest.
Charon worked quickly, and soon a half-dozen souls were let loose in Elysium to spend their eternities finding glory. For once Theseus made no move to speak with them in favor of strolling to Charon’s boat in a way that he hoped came off as casual.
It was simple, yes? Walk over to Charon, say hello, hand him his gift, and pray to every god that he didn’t end up utterly humiliating himself or worse and—
—and oh, Charon was looking at him in what appeared to be curiosity. Of course he was! This was new! But Theseus hadn’t planned this far ahead.
Theseus gulped, willing away the lump in his throat, and grinned a bit too widely. “Hello!”
“Hnrgh...” Charon replied. It didn’t sound like a particularly negative sort of hnrgh, which provided Theseus with some amount of courage to continue.
“Might I take up a few moments of your time, Ch— no, Lord Charon?” Nobody ever does much talking with Charon other than Lord Hermes, so it was impossible to know what level of formality he prefers, but this seemed appropriate. “I have to tell you— nay, I have to give you something, if you’d be open to a bit of gift-giving.”
A thin stream of purple smoke idly rolled out of Charon’s mouth, and Theseus had to try very hard not to cough. (He can’t seem overwhelmed by the boatman, damn it!) The smoke tickled his nose and sneaked into his mouth, tasting just a bit like ambrosia.
Theseus cleared his throat, puffed up his chest. Remember, you are a king! he told himself, and there was no reason for a king to fear a god, not when he’s more than paid his dues to the divine throughout both life and death.
But Charon wass... different. More terrifying than his beloved Athena, and more awesome than Hades was when Theseus stood before him. Looking into his expressionless face seemed less like worship and more like how Theseus used to feel when he was young and impulsive and made questionable choices when he was around pretty girls and boys. At that moment Theseus felt no need to pray.
The boatman stared at him still, no doubt waiting to find out why Theseus was interrupting his godly tasks and what, precisely, he meant by a gift.
“Lord Charon!” Theseus said, louder even though there’s no doubt that Charon heard him the first time. “I seek to know you better, and I thought I would start with this!”
“Haaaaaaunh,” Charon said. “Rrrnggg.” It sounded almost like conversation, but Theseus had no idea what to make of these not-words. How could he have ever thought they could talk with each other? Foolish, foolish!
But at this point Theseus had no choice but to forge onward. “Uh— take it!” he said, and with that, Theseus forced the gift into Charon’s now outstretched hand.
Their hands brushed and as soon as Theseus relayed the item to Charon he quickly stepped back. Even a tiny touch between himself and such a powerful being is like lighting, and his stomach flipped even as he drew away. He took another step, and another, until it was less about giving Charon some space and more about… well, giving himself some space. By leaving the vicinity entirely.
Walking backwards, Theseus could still watch Charon’s reaction. The boatman looked at him, then down at the thing in his hand. “Ahhhhh?” he said, likely more confused than ever. And then he made another sound, louder than the others before it. Deeper, and more of a rumble, like it was just barely escaping his throat. It very nearly sounded as though Charon was the one choking.
Failure! Awful, humiliating failure! Theseus turned away at the sound, allowing Charon a chance to throw the gift into the Lethe right then and there, and as he broke into a run he could only assume that this was precisely what Charon did.
A gift. It had been a long time since he’d gotten one of those.
He clutched the item tightly and dropped it into his robes before he rowed away. It would be safe there; nothing went into his robes or came out of them unless he wants it to. They held his coins, his treasures, and his very body, all swirled together in some unknowable symphony of pieces and parts and emptiness. The gift seems to disappear into nothingness, but he’ll be able to pull it out whenever he wishes.
Charon did—pull it out, that is— but he waited until he was alone to do it. A gift from Theseus felt like something special, something precious. A secret that the others in Elysium shouldn’t know about, even though the champion gave it to him quite openly and shamelessly. Just having it made him feel odd, but not in a bad way. Not necessarily in a good way either. Charon didn’t quite have the words to describe it.
(Theseus probably did. He seemed to have words for everything, based on what Charon overhears, though he didn’t talk to Charon himself.)
The item was still cold when it retrieved it, since the space within Charon’s robes keeps things just as they are when they’re put in. It was made of gold, shiny and new, formed into what looked like several bands woven into one loop. A bracelet, not so unlike the ones that Charon already wore. It was a clever gift: something he could use, with the impeccable craftsmanship that one could expect from the jewelry-makers of Elysium. It wasn’t as though Charon didn’t already know that Theseus was clever, but this solidified it.
He thought of wearing the bracelet, and then thought again. He has a dozen of them already, and an addition to the collection would just blend in with the rest. He might even lose track of it, or lose it entirely—his things did fall into the Styx occasionally, and when they did he allowed them to be gifts to the river.
The Styx could not have this. Charon put it back inside of his robes and there it floated, almost a part of him. It felt like a warm, gentle thing right near where his heart would be if he chose to take on a human form.
“Do you think he kept it? Oh gods, what if he threw it away— but gods, what if he kept it!”
“I do not know, King. Just as I didn’t know the first five times you asked me the same thing.”
If it bothered Asterius that Theseus was pacing the arena instead of practicing spearwork with him he did nothing to indicate it. The Minotaur, patient as always, has witnessed each moment of Theseus’ growing affections. Without Asterius, Theseus was sure he’d have gone mad from sheer distress. With Asterius... he was still barely hanging on.
Though Charon had no reputation for being an especially angry god, and though he was unlikely to see Theseus’ inadequate gift as anything more than a small bother, Theseus was simply incapable of not worrying about the situation. Should he end up disliking the gift, the boatman might throw it away, and that would be just as bad, if not worse. For a king, inadequacy is the worst thing of all!
“Asterius, I cannot bear to imagine what he might think of me now. After I handed it to him he made the strangest sound, as though he was choking. He may have been cursing me!”
Asterius shrugged. “Then don’t think about it. Spar with me instead, and take your mind off of things. It must not be much of a curse if you’re still up and alert.”
Before Theseus could answer a single strike of a gong rang out, startling them both. It was a familiar sound, one that signified not a match in the arena (that was a different gong) but rather a message. A new group of shades had arrived in Elysium, and it was the duty of the Champion (and his partner) to greet them properly.
This also meant, of course, that Charon would be there.
Under any other circumstances Theseus would have sprinted there, eager to give the group their first taste of paradise. Now, however...
“Shall we go, king?” said Asterius, not sharing Theseus’ inner turmoil whatsoever.
Should he decline? But no, Asterius wouldn’t believe any excuse that Theseus might offer him—not now, straight after he’d explained the situation up until now. And the bull wouldn’t make excuses for him, either, though he’d probably be willing to tell the shades the truth.
The truth that Theseus was a coward.
Theseus squared his shoulders. “Just give me a moment to prepare.”
“Prepare, king?”
“Mentally!”
“As you will.”
Theseus was late, and Charon felt... empty. The Champion was a bright, chaotic presence within the largely quiet and monotonous underworld, and at some point, seeing him had become a fundamental part of Charon’s journeys into Elysium.
He moved a bony hand just so, in order to reach within himself without drawing any attention. The bracelet, of course, was still safe. A reminder of what he lacked, this time.
As always, Charon watched the shades leave the boat, silently verifying that each of them left it safely and left to enjoy their new home. Most of them did, but not all. Though the final shade was newly dead, just like all the others, what followed was a familiar sight: she trod with great hesitance and confusion, unsure of what she was meant to do now that she’d reached her final resting place. Usually it was the Champion’s duty to assist, but since Theseus and his partner were not nearby, the silent boatman was the only one left to guide the lost soul. All he could do was make a sweeping gesture outward, in the general direction of the nearest cluster of statues, and utter a low groan that seemed to frighten the shade more than it assisted her.
And so she scrambled away just like the rest, likely more lost than before. Then, silence. Charon waited a moment after that, or perhaps it was some time; he didn’t care to keep track of how long.
Nothing.
Was he waiting for the Champion? And if he was, why? There was no formal arrangement in place, and Theseus was free to help the new shades later on if he prefered. Charon had taken his gift to be a gesture of affection and perhaps even an effort to communicate his desire for friendship, but even gods could be wrong.
He was loath to think of it, but it might even be a goodbye. Charon had experienced very few of those; even the queen had come back eventually. Did they always feel like this? Like you’d been sent up a creek without a paddle to help you find shore again?
Charon sighed, and reached for his oar. This wasn’t like him, growing so fond of someone for no clear reason. It wasn’t as though he understood humans and former-humans, nor did he particularly want to. And yet…
“Excuse me!”
A familiar andrather loud voice came from the shore, and Charon recognized it immediately. It may have been Achilles who mortals praised for swiftness in life, but Charon had to imagine that in a footrace he’d be equal with the Champion. Generally this meant very little to Charon, but he couldn’t help but be a bit charmed by the sheer enthusiasm on display.
“Hrrrrngh,” Charon said when Theseus reached him. You’re here after all.
“Yes... well!” Theseus replied. “I thought it wouldn’t matter if I was here or not, but then I also thought that it would matter, as Champion. But I’ve been awfully bothersome to you lately, haven’t I, and maybe you’d prefer if it were someone else for a change? Still, there’s nobody else to send, Asterius isn’t ideal for the job thanks to the bull’s-head, though of course his personality is ideal...”
It seemed that he was babbling, in what appeared to be the hope that if he said enough, he’d eventually manage something that Charon approved of. That was almost laughable; though Theseus didn’t realize it, just the sight of him made a familiar warmth grow within Charon, and the core of it was where the bracelet hid.
As Theseus continued to speak, Charon slowly nodded, and when that didn’t seem to catch his eye the boatman sent a few smoke rings in his direction for emphasis.
That finally made Theseus stop for a moment to cough uncontrollably.
“Mmrrrrr. Ahhhhnhhn.” Don’t worry about it. I’m pleased to see you.
Though Theseus didn’t truly follow Charon’s words, it seemed that he understood their intent. He visibly relaxed, his shoulders slumping somewhat. and his gaze drifting, locking for a moment on Charon’s wrist. “Right,” he said. “I should stop making excuses and just continue on.”
“Ahhh,” Charon agreed.
“And with that in mind... I think I might have offended you with my previous gift. Whether it was inadequate or simply unappealing, I apologize. Something that’s not good enough to use for its intended purpose isn’t adequate for a fellow mortal, let alone a god!”
Unappealing? That wasn’t the case at all; indeed, it was the best gift that Charon had ever received, all due to the identity of the giver. But men thought differently than gods, and Theseus in particular did tend to show off his finest things.
Charon shook his head. This, at least, was a way of communicating that would come through clearly.
“No? But—”
Holding up a finger was enough to silence Theseus for at least a moment. Once he knew he had gained his full attention, Charon reached within himself, grasping the bracelet. Pulling it out didn’t feel particularly unusual, but without it he felt a bit empty. No matter, though. Theseus could fill those gaps, if he saw fit.
“Hnnnnrrrgh,” Charon said, showing Theseus that he’d kept the gift close to where his heart could have been.
Theseus’ eyes widened. “Then you...”
Charon nodded.
“Oh! Oh, well then! Was it too precious to lose? I did have it made from the finest materials I could find in Elysium, and that led to quite a fine result indeed!”
Be that as it may—and Charon did like fine things, certainly—he’d have accepted anything from Theseus, and enjoyed it just the same. “Nnnn,” he said, and watched Theseus consider his words. When the champion didn’t appear to comprehend, Charon gestured to his own chest, then Theseus’, and then his own once more.
I felt a sense of connection with you before. I thought you might feel it too.
Charon wasn’t usually much for putting in such effort to gain men’s understanding. Why bother, when he would see them only for a brief time before the eternal expanse of death? But Theseus was different; Theseus mattered, for reasons he couldn’t put into words and didn’t particularly want to.
“Hhhhhahhhhnh. Rrrrrhhn?”
“I told myself I wasn’t going to run away from you this time. We are meant to be co-working, are we not? Business partners, practically!” Theseus paused, took in a breath. “And if you would like... more than that, as well.”
Charon nodded. Yes. Yes, he would like that quite a bit. The sorts of relationships that humans developed with each other were beyond his realm of expertise, but for Theseus, Charon could try.
Theseus let out a squeak, a sound that probably seemed too small coming from such a broad man, when Charon leaned over.
He wasn’t being threatened. Probably.
But Charon was a large god—not as large as Hades, certainly, or even as large as some of the many foes that Theseus had faced in his glory days—and he had a presence to match. One noticed him across a room or a field. And now, with their faces nearly touching, Theseus was close enough to breathe in the smoke that left Charon’s mouth. Under different circumstances it might have been terrifying, but now the feeling of the smoke on his skin was chilling for very different reasons.
Theseus had imagined it would be odorless, or perhaps smell the same as incense or tobacco. Instead it was like nothing and everything, like he was living and dying all at once, like his heart had suddenly remembered to beat. (Though that last one perhaps had more to do with how badly he wanted to taste more of Charon.)
He should say something, shouldn’t he? One of them had to do the talking, and as usual it would fall to Theseus. Thank him or flatter him further, or... something! Anything!
Before he could figure out the words, Charon kissed him. Lightly, and his face was cool as marble, but it was doubtless that it was a kiss. He tried to memorize the unusual feeling of it, just in case he was never able to experience this again, but how could one possibly remember something so unique after feeling it just once? It was the feeling of cold smoke all around him, caressing his body and entering his lungs, and it was the feeling of a tinge of fear mingling with satisfaction. It was pleasure in a form more pure than he’d ever felt before, which made sense considering it came from a god.
“Ah,” Theseus said when Charon pulled away enough that he could think again. “That was nice.”
“Nnnnghhhhhhah,” Charon replied.
There was one more cause for concern, and he hoped it would be the final one: the question of understanding what Charon was saying, if indeed a mere shade was even capable of such a thing. Theseus wasn’t so convinced that he was, though the god Hermes seemed to have no problems with the difficult task.
Honesty seemed to be best thus far, and so he chose to be honest. “I wish I could speak with you, I truly do. I might have learned to understand your feelings much sooner if I could.”
Charon groaned something else, and somehow, Theseus sensed that he might be saying that it was still possible to learn.
“Well! If you have some spare time, my beloved boatman—and you do, because none have the power to defy the very boatman of the Styx!—we can start right now! Perhaps with a walk down the river! Ah, uh, do you even walk?” Theseus stretched his hand out, and a bit upward, to compensate for their difference in heights.
It seemed like Charon choked on his own smoke, and this time it was clear that this was his way of laughing. Yes, Theseus could do this: he could come to understand Charon better, as long as the god was willing. A new adventure once more, and one that would no doubt be endlessly rewarding.