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Only one thing in the eons of Hades ruling over the Underworld had gone unnoticed by him. On Nyx’s orders, Hypnos had put the great Lord to sleep. He’d had the good sense not to ask why, and he’d kept it that way ever since.
One did not question Mother Nyx.
The deliverer of the forbidden goods had not been Thanatos, nor Nyx, nor anyone Chthonic or divine in nature. It had been the task of the only one in the whole Underworld who would question Nyx.
Achilles had only needed to ask one question, however, before the goodness of his long still heart won against his better judgement.
Upon seeing the parcel he would be delivering, he of course readily agreed.
Under Nyx’s heavy, unyielding cloak of darkness, Achilles was shaded from prying eyes. The stars led his way, illuminating his snow-strewn path upon which his feet made no prints.
As fast as his just barely corporeal legs would carry him, Achilles ran. He knew he would not be long for this world - he had to reach his destination.
When he came across an Eden amidst the frozen wasteland, he knew he’d arrived. Rushing past the threshold, he found his recipient amongst a patch of flowers, gently watering the buds and cooing at the stems.
“My lady!” Achilles called out, forever grateful he could no longer be out of breath.
Persephone looked at him, beyond shocked to see an intruder in her sanctuary.
“Achilles?” She questioned. “What are you doing here?”
Achilles came to a stop before her, clutching his parcel, protectively.
“Forgive the intrusion, my lady, but I haven’t got long. Your son, he’s alive. Lady Nyx returned him to the land of the living, but only just.”
Persephone’s eyes widened, her eyes darting between Achilles and the bundle in his arms. Zagreus.
“That’s...that’s my son? My Zagreus?”
“Yes, but you must take him, quickly. Lady Nyx realized if she revived him and brought him to his full strength by herself...the lad would never be able to join you on the surface. He needs your power, as well.”
“I see…”
Without another word, Achilles handed over the baby to his mother, allowing a smile to slip onto his face at the sight of Persephone’s lovestruck eyes.
“There should be a letter tucked into his blanket from Lady Nyx.”
“Thank you, Achilles.” Persephone murmured, but she could not tear her eyes away from the little one. Nor did Achilles ask this of her.
“Of course, my lady. I trust the lad will be well taken care of.”
Achilles gave a low bow that Persephone did not see, before allowing the pull of Tartarus to bring him back.
As Persephone stared down at her baby, hand laying flat against his small, soft chest, she knew in her heart she would protect this boy with her life. Even Zeus or her mother could not tear her away from her precious boy.
“Oh, my Zagreus,” she murmured. From her hand, soft green light began spreading through his tiny body. He seemed entirely undisturbed, only moving slightly in his sleep.
“Welcome home, my son.”
There were many things Persephone could provide for her precious son. Warmth, love, all the food he could ever want for, a roof over his head, and as many toys as she could craft. But there was one thing she never could be for her boy.
A peer.
No matter how she wished for them to be friends when he got older, she could not be the peer he needed. She would always be his mother, first. Especially so young.
But how could a mother in hiding ever give her son a proper friend around his age? And more importantly, a friend who wouldn’t tell a soul about Zagreus?
She could hardly enlist a mortal. Word would spread like wildfire. And she certainly couldn’t ask any of the children born of Olympus.
In truth, she could only think of one candidate. One who might be able to keep his mouth shut about the truth, particularly if his mother enforced it.
Nyx had had two young sons. They would not nearly be too old to play with Zagreus. And, given the temperament of her boy, she knew which one she would call upon.
Zagreus was a strong boy, this she knew. He could handle anything life threw at him. But, at the same time...his gentle soul and kind heart were both too young to be broken by a harsh treatment.
Persephone had penned the letter to Nyx before Zagreus could even see her do so.
The next morning, when Zagreus came rushing up to her speaking about the boy he’d met in his dreams, gushing about his new friend and how he couldn’t wait to go back to sleep, she knew Nyx had passed along the message.
Finally, Zagreus had a friend.
Zagreus was cresting into his pre-teen years, or the closest equivalent for gods, when he first expressed an interest in fighting. Persephone’s sickle was a scythe to him, used to cut down imaginary foes in games of pretend.
Persephone had seen the same instinct in herself, many years ago. And though she had long traded in her sword for a sickle, the callouses and scars still remained.
The time spent with her cousin Ares was not forgotten to her.
Persephone sat on the steps of her porch, whittling knife running over the length of wood, watching her vibrant son play amongst the flowers.
“Have at you, sunflower! Unless you’re afraid to be beaten by the great Zagreus?” He taunted a sunflower that, to Persephone’s great amusement, was far taller than the boy.
With a fallen twig he had taken from the ground, showing the utmost respect for the tree which had shed it, he batted at the sunflower. He did not properly hit it, of course - he had nearly as much love for the plants as his mother did.
But threatening to best the sunflower in combat was well within his comfort level.
The sun shone down, catching the shimmer of his black hair. Persephone could hear birdsong, increasingly rare in the terrifying times outside of her haven. Wind gently jostled the plants, warming from the biting breeze around the farm.
Inspecting her work, Persephone deemed her project completed. All she needed to do was wrap the strip of red fabric around the end, and it would be ready for use.
She stood, tying off the knot.
“I declare this duel a draw!” She called out to her battling son, effectively grabbing his attention. “Fighters will now shake hands and part ways.”
Zagreus’s two toned eyes flicked between her and the sunflower, before he gingerly grabbed one of the leaves and mimicked the motion of a handshake.
“Well done, my little warrior. Truly, a respectable fighter.”
Tucking the wood under her arm, she gave a round of applause for her son, to which he scratched behind his head, bashfully looking away from her eyes.
“Thank you.” He mumbled.
“Now then, Zagreus,” Persephone stepped down from the porch and approached him. He looked up to meet her eyes, though not as far as he had to even a year ago. He was growing faster than she ever thought he would. “I have a question for you.”
“Yes, Mother?”
Persephone took her gift out from under her arm and showed it to Zagreus.
“Would you like to learn how to fight?”
The wooden sword seemed to be the most miraculous thing Zagreus had ever seen, given the way his eyes went wide.
“Really? You would teach me?”
“Well, I’m no Ares, but I can certainly teach you what I know.”
Zagreus reached out and took the sword gingerly from her hands, marveling at the blade.
“Thank you so much, Mother!” Zagreus exclaimed, bringing the sword into a hug. His eyes almost seemed larger, sparkling with mirth.
“Of course, my dear. But be warned, I certainly won’t be going easy on you.”
Whether or not Zagreus knew it was a lie, he didn’t seem to care. Instead, he furrowed his brow and stared up at her, a look she recognized well mustering on his face.
“I wanna get stronger!”
Persephone allowed herself a smile, setting her hands on her hips.
“Good. Then let’s get to work.”
After five years of training, Persephone’s little boy had outgrown his little sword. Before her very eyes, she was watching him grow into a man.
The handle appeared miniscule in his hand, now defined - if still slightly awkward - and strong. The blade itself was far too light, more effective as a throwing weapon than a sword.
And each day, he grew closer and closer to surpassing her skills. Soon, he would be a warrior strong enough to go toe to toe with his cousins. But he wasn’t there, yet. And the longer it took Persephone to find him a suitable, fitting blade, the more impatient he became.
If she did nothing, his impatience would get the better of him. Birds are meant to fly free from the nest, but not before they’ve developed wings strong enough to carry them.
She had come up with a plan. A rather risky plan, but if it worked...please, let it work.
Candlelight flickered in the dead of night, the few candles she had casting just enough light to see without disturbing the sound asleep boy. Messy black hair fell over his father’s eye, both closed.
She could not help her smile as she watched him, knowing he was spending time with his only friend.
She had to focus! Blinking rapidly to regain control of herself, Persephone turned to the parchment in front of her, and began to write a letter of the utmost importance.
Though, the recipient had already done so much for her. Would he be willing to do even more?
From Achilles, any answer was possible.
It was none of Charon’s business what his customers were up to. So long as they paid the appropriate fees, he would deliver absolutely anything with no questions asked. He had been asked to deliver souls with bread in their pockets, to pass messages to the Lernean Hydra, even to give dog treats to Cerberus. And due to a mutual arrangement, Hades also did not ask questions.
He did not ask questions when he was summoned to the surface by the former queen of Tartarus, and did not even feel the inclination to start when he delivered a letter to Achilles, the house guard.
It took several days - or perhaps only one, Charon could never truly be sure - for the queen to receive a reply back, with a parcel wrapped in light green cloth.
For the correct amount of coin, he delivered it to Persephone and said not a word.
It was not his business.
Nor was it his business when the King’s prized sword was mysteriously found to be missing from the armory.
Charon did not get involved in these squabbles, after all. He only worked and claimed coin for his own.
He did not even mention to the Lord of the Dead that Charon had seen a boy, nearly a man, upon the surface that looked eerily similar to him.
He wasn’t paid to.
Persephone watched.
She watched as her son, her baby, grew. He only grew up and out, turning from the little boy who clung to her leg to a tall, strong man.
The Stygian blade suited him, slicing through the air in clean swings. So practiced that he hardly felt the motions anymore.
It would take a blind man not to notice the troubled expression on his face.
Persephone stood from her seat on the porch, approaching him as she once did so long ago.
Zagreus, too focused on his drills, did not look up at her approach. He was only drawn out of it by the gentle laying of her hand on his shoulder.
He nearly jumped out of his skin, turning to face her.
“Mother!”
“Zagreus,” Persephone smiled, sadly. “What’s troubling you?”
He lowered his sword, his gaze following. “I’ve been thinking.”
“About?”
“My father.”
Persephone’s heart dropped to her feet, her mind numbing for but a moment.
She didn’t speak much about Hades. But perhaps that was why he wanted to know him. Perhaps he wanted to know the man he knew nothing about.
Persephone turned her head, facing the River Styx.
Everything ran through her head all at once. How terrifying the Underworld would be, how little Hades liked visitors, how scared she would be to let him leave on his own.
“Mother?” Zagreus’s voice broke through her thoughts.
She sighed.
“I can tell you how to go to him.”
Zagreus, now a man and a god in his own right, stood at the towering gates of the Underworld. Classically, only fools and heroes attempted to break in or out of Tartarus.
Perhaps he could be both.
The distant groans and whines and screams of the dead met his ears, a shiver running up his spine.
But something hummed in the air, filling his veins, sending surges into his brain.
Power. Pure and unadulterated power.
The gates of the Underworld opened.
And Zagreus walked in.