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Zagreus could never sleep much in his own bed. It was soft, his sheets were luxurious, the room was always the perfect temperature somehow. That's probably what made it so hard - it was all too picture perfect. Discounting the mess of his things tossed about the floor, of course.
In Patroclus' glade, however, he often arrived bone weary. Covered in blood and sweat, after the first few times they sat in amicable silence, he'd find himself starting awake completely unaware of ever falling asleep to begin with. It was strange how comforting this stranger was. His quiet musings to himself often lead to him drifting in and out of dreams.
This was one of those times. Patroclus had been wondering aloud about being forgotten. Zagreus tiredly assured him he would always remember where he was, and the shade only gave a little huff - a facsimile of a sigh, since he didn't truly need to breathe.
Zag dreamt of what it would be like to be forgotten. To leap from that courtyard one time only to find the denizens of the realm no longer sought him out, as though his escape no longer mattered. He wandered silently through the depths of Tartarus and over the flowing lava of Asphodel. Even in Elysium, where the shades sparred for bits of glory, they forgot the purpose of the Prince's journey. He felt invisible.
Within the temple, the satyrs were quiet. They mumbled their strange chants and did their rituals and never once turned to see him. He ran into no one who recognized him - not Sisyphus or Eurydice, Patroclus or even Charon, not even at his usual shop front near the exit. Even Cerberus was absent. No one barred his path the entire way to the snowy room that marked the liminal space between the realm of Hades and the surface.
Without his father to stand in the way, the only one to greet him was Selene, soaring high in a cloud drifted sky. That was, until he reached that final door.
"Going somewhere, Zagreus?" came the always even tone he recognized without even having to see who stood behind him.
"Than- I didn't hear your toll," Zag answered, frozen looking ahead.
"I've been following you since Tartarus. You mean you didn't notice?" Thanatos asked, carefully cool.
Looking down into his hands, one fist held Stygius, slack in his grasp from disuse. The other held tightly to the little stuffed mouse, Mort. Had he called for Than without realizing?
There were no footsteps, though when he turned around, Thanatos was hovering much closer than he had sounded. Close enough to touch. A hand cupped his cheek, and even the chill skin was something he wanted to lean into. He was not forgotten, not by who mattered most.
"You know you are never long for the surface. And still you venture here, time and again. Watching you ascend from the Styx is both relief and heartbreak. To know you have returned, but in some painful way, it-" Than's level voice cracked and the raw emotion refused to dislodge itself, merely causing him to shake his head.
"Thanatos…" Zagreus dropped Stygius, his hand resting over the one at his face and everything went cloudsoft and moonbright.
"Thanatos…" Zag mumbled and suddenly the babbling river took over in his ear. His cheek was held, not by painted fingertips but by springy grass.
"The death god," Patroclus said, sitting nearby. "You've mentioned you are close. You speak of him in your sleep."
Too tired to worry about the blush that rose on his face at the thought, Zag just smiled and brought himself upright, a hand running in vain through his ever messy black hair. Getting to his feet with a stretch, he fished around his chiton and found the real Mort, giving him a gentle squeeze.
"I think I'll go see if I can find him out there. Thank you for letting me rest here, sir."
Patroclus snorted, feigning annoyance, though his beard twitched with the glimmer of a smile.
"My long time spent by the river has yet to grey this hair, but if you keep calling me that, it may still happen."
Zagreus laughed and took off with a wave over his shoulder, fully intending to find that heart that would never forget him.