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Megaera is not mean. She is righteous. First of the Furies and flayer of oath-breakers, she does her work dutifully and with a sense of grim satisfaction. Her work is not vengeance, but justice, a balancing of the scales. It is a necessary task, that those who end their lives in cruelty and hatred find themselves at the end of her whip for all eternity. Without her, there is no justice, no poetry--how can there be a reward for the blessed without a punishment for the damned? It is an important job, the maintenance of order, and Megaera is well-suited for it. She exacts punishment on liars and blackguards as is appropriate and no more--fulfills her role just as she arose from Chaos to.
There is a reason she is allowed in the House while her sisters are not. It is not merely Alecto’s rage and Tisiphone’s obsession, although those certainly bar her sisters in their own right. It is Megaera’s restraint that earns her her continued access to the House, her understanding of the grand scheme that garners Nyx’s respect. Tisiphone and Alecto luxuriate in their duties, as much as Tisiphone can be said to luxuriate in anything, but Megaera understands the big picture behind the actions of her and her sisters, and that is where she finds satisfaction in her role.
The lounge is quiet today as Megaera sips her Nectar. Achilles is with his lover in Elysium, a fact Megaera has only gleaned through carefully piecing together stray comments from the fallen hero, and Dusa is cleaning the West Hall, a task which will take quite a while given her attention to detail. The Head Chef quietly chops onions, never one for idle conversation, and the Wretched Broker is out procuring something Megaera will almost certainly have to confiscate if she sees it. Orpheus strums his lyre experimentally, dreaming of his muse.
Supposedly Ambrosia tastes different every time you try it, conjuring good memories you weren’t even aware you had, but Nectar always tastes the same to Meg--sweet and smoky, the smooth taste lingering in her mouth almost indefinitely. It reminds her of something, but she hasn’t been able to remember what.
The chattering of the shades in the Great Hall--always a constant background hum--changes pitch, a swell of surprise followed by a general murmur of understanding. Megaera allows herself a half-smile. Whenever Zagreus arrives from the Styx, the newcomers in the Hall are confused until those who’ve been around a while explain it to them.
Hypnos’s shout of greeting can be heard from across the House, but whatever Zagreus says in response isn’t so boisterous. Megaera drinks her Nectar patiently, in her mind’s eye watching Zagreus make his rounds to visit Dusa in the West Hall and check for Thanatos by the Administrative Chamber. Orpheus’s lyre quiets as Zagreus stops by the famed musician’s post, and the ambient energy of the House becomes warmer, comforting, as Nyx sees the evidence of her child’s safe return.
A moment later, Zagreus pokes his head into the lounge and looks directly at Megaera. He smiles at her, his hair still wet with Styx water, and winks before darting past the entrance to the lounge, toward an area that used to be closed off from most members of the House. Meg gives an exasperated roll of her eyes, her lips still quirked in a fond smile. Queen Persephone is in the garden, Megaera knows, and she pictures Zagreus taking his mother’s hands warmly, asking her about Olympus and the mortals and the weather. Always excited to see her, always curious about things that don’t affect him--that’s Zagreus, the Underworld’s wayward prince.
At last, he dashes into the lounge and comes to a stop by Meg’s table. He looks happy and handsome, his mismatched eyes bright and cheerful, with no bruises or scrapes to mar his fine face.
“I see Lord Hades beat you back,” Meg says, a hint of pride in her voice.
Zagreus smiles and bounces on the balls of his burning feet. “That’s the only thing he beat me at,” he says with no small amount of satisfaction. “The surface is beautiful this day or night. I saw something that reminded me of you, or well, Batty. It resembled a bat, but its wings were different, and it was red in color. My mother says it is called a bird.”
He looks so pleased by this information that Megaera smirks indulgently and rises from her chair, leaving the empty bottle of Nectar behind. “Why don’t you tell me all about this bird of yours in your chambers?” she says, entwining her fingers with his. His hand is warm, warmer than is typical for chthonic deities, and Megaera likes the feel of it.
She is already pulling him away from the lounge as he replies. “An excellent idea.” His voice is good-natured and a little breathless, the way he often sounds around Meg, and she likes that too.
She tugs him into the corridor and up the stairs to his chambers, and he’s soon caught up with her, the two of them walking side by side. He tells her more about his latest escape, and she tells him sparing details about the newly damned, the latest oath-breakers consigned to her whip.
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” she tells him, “but I can still take pride in what I do.” Megaera glances at Zagreus sideways. A thought from earlier has come back to her. “The mortals don’t seem to like it much. What do you think?”
“About your work?” Zagreus looks surprised. “I suppose I haven’t thought about it as much outside of your repeated attempts to stop my escapes.” He tilts his head at her. “It sounds like an important job. The mortals may fear you, but that should motivate them to treat each other reasonably, right? Eternity, though...I’m glad you and your sisters have let Sisyphus off the hook, because I’m not sure anyone deserves punishment for eternity.”
“It’s a long time,” Megaera acknowledges. “But we all have to do something for eternity.”
They have reached the top of the stairs and arrived at the entrance to Zagreus’s chambers. Megaera gives a low chuckle as she leads Zagreus inside and the two stop beside his bed. “Like this, for example.”
She leaps lightly into the air, her wing beating almost soundlessly, and she hovers there, one hand on Zagreus’s shoulder and the other cupping his chin. He gazes up at her, his eyes wide.
“Would you like a welcome back kiss, Zag?” she asks him, running her thumb over his jawline.
Zagreus blinks, shivers, grins. “Yes, please,” he says, backing up until his legs hit the edge of the bed, but he doesn’t sit down. He stands there, trapped between Megaera and the bed, and for the first time since coming home he is still.
“Good little man,” she purrs, and Megaera kisses him with a tenderness that surprises even herself. Holding his chin and tilting him up to meet her, she is gentle at first, slow and sweet, and then she breaks off, her brow furrowing.
“I just remembered something,” Megaera says as Zagreus blinks at her again.
“What is it?” he asks. He is still standing obediently still, and Meg absently takes one of his hands and places it on her waist.
“I was having some contraband in the lounge earlier, and something about it always tastes familiar,” she says slowly. “I think I’ve figured it out, Zag. It reminds me of you.” And Megaera looks at Zagreus with a mixture of amusement and affection. “It’s not exactly the same, but you and Nectar are the only things I’ve known like it. Any guesses what it is?”
Zagreus turns red. “O-oh, um, yes. It’s--well, I suppose it’s called floral. Very hard to come by down here. Only things from the surface tend to be floral. It makes sense Nectar has it since it’s not supposed to be down here, and now that you mention it, I do recall it tasting kind of like that.”
“And what about you, Zag?” Megaera cups his face, stroking his cheekbones. Zagreus shivers again.
“Father told me, after a fashion, that I sometimes smell of flowers, after he explained what flowers are, and he forbid me from talking about it, saying it was another way I failed to fit in and I had better not draw attention to it. But now I’ve seen flowers for myself, and everyone knows my mother is Persephone, so it doesn’t matter anymore.” Zagreus clears his throat nervously and averts his eyes from where Meg is holding his gaze hostage. “All this to say, I probably taste floral, although you’d be the first to comment on it.”
Meg laughs, a quiet throaty laugh. “Only you could be self-conscious about tasting like Nectar,” she says, kissing him on the forehead. “Now, where were we?”
“You were kissing me and telling me what a good little man I am,” Zagreus answers, looking back at her with a cheeky expression.
Megaera makes an exasperated noise, but secretly she’s smiling. “You sure about that?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “I might have to check a few things to be sure.”
“Check away,” Zagreus replies. He leans into her touch. “You’ll get no objections from me.”
“Good.” Megaera caresses Zagreus’s hair possessively before gently pushing him onto the bed. For a moment, an expression of unfiltered happiness crosses her face. “I’m glad to hear it, Zagreus.” She kisses him again, still hovering just above him, and everything between heaven and hell fades to bliss.