Chapter Text
The boy’s eyes opened themselves, forcing him awake.
As he raised his head from the soft linen sheets, he saw the back of the head of some other kid; black hair dark as night, adorned with a red and orange wreath of leaves glowing like embers.
He would have thought it was any other servant, but he already knew all the servants well from helping them around the house. These laundry sheets weren’t even his; they were a menagerie of his siblings’. He wondered, briefly, if this was another dream; one where he actually was a house servant, nameless and loveless and yet, somehow, free.. He quickly shook the thought from his head. All the house servants had names, and love. So, instead, he let his thoughts wander back to the kid with the rough, black hair, and why it was so different to his own soft, curly white hair.
Hypnos blinked, realizing that he had been staring at the air for far too long, as the kid had long since left and never looked back. Yawning, he felt himself falling back into the various linen bed sheets as his eyes closed on him.
-----
“Get your things, boy,” was all that Father had told him, yet it was all that was needed for little Zagreus to understand.
They were leaving the House. Finally, for what seemed like the first time in his life, Zagreus would be free from the confines of what very much seemed to be his prison. Zagreus could hardly wait; six years and he had only been permitted to leave the House a handful of times. Six years of stuffy clothes and boring parties had the boy endured. Six years of the same tiles and floors and windows. Six years of..
Well, the House wasn’t that bad, but Zagreus was still excited.
Quickly, he gathered his little sword and some clothes, some things to play with and shoved them all into the first satchel he laid his eyes on.
As he skipped over to the entranceway to the House, Father laughed (or perhaps scoffed) at him lightly before returning to a sterner tone of voice.
“You don’t need all of that stuff, boy. We are merely going to a political meeting,” he stated, big and tall and all opposing-like. Zagreus pouted. Politics weren't fun.
Father extended his arm, to which Zagreus had felt some sense of hope. Maybe he would comfort him. Maybe he would let him ride his shoulders. Maybe.. “Give me your bag, boy. I’m going to check it.” Zagreus’ world came crashing down. His father was a bloodstained traitor. Like the one in those story books with the heroes. Zagreus was the hero, and he was supposed to defeat this villain, this fiend.
“But, Father!” he exclaimed, crossing his arms, and then pushing them down, and then doing all sorts of movements and actions and thrashing that all said I don’t wanna!. Father did look pleased at this, and Zagreus flinched.
He quietly handed over his satchel.
-----
In the end, Zagreus was able to keep at least his sword, and a few boring things that Father had put there himself.
“I would not that the son of the King would look like a fool who only plays with his toys.” Zagreus mumbled to himself on the roof of the wagon carriage. “Look at me, I'm soooo important”.
“What was that, boy?” A stern voice, as per usual.
“Nothing, Father!”
Zagreus fumbled with his small wooden sword. One day I'll have a real sword! he thought to himself. “A real sword, and I'll be knighted with one some day! A knight!” The dull wooden sword danced around gracelessly in his small hands; aimless and clumsy.
Zagreus could hear his father speaking. “You won't be a knight, boy,” he stated as if it were his mission to make Zagreus’ day outside the House miserable. “You'll be something better; you'll be a king. You'll command knights, you'll lead them; and you'll have reign over the entire kingdom.”
Zagreus lit up at his father's words. The wooden sword in his hands danced once more before the little prince pressed it hard against the carriage roof as he looked down from the roof to his father.
“Really, father?!” he asked excitedly. “The whole kingdom!”
Hades knew not if he was feeling a twinge of pride at his son or embarrassment at his son's impudence. “Yes, boy. Now get down from the roof. We are nearly there and I would not that the son of the King would look like a fool.”
-----
The woman was tall, pale as the moon and yet with hair as dark as the night sky. It felt as if she were shrouded in the night, or as if she were the night itself. Zagreus imagined that she held dominion over the sky, forcing the harsh summer daylight out in order to provide the people with soft, cool comfort.
Zagreus moved from side to side, anxious to explore the palace, in place. His hands were locked firmly behind his back in order to keep it straight, yet his eyes wandered all over the tall pillars, open spaces and giant doors. While being only a little smaller than the House, this palace was all new to Zagreus. He had only been here a handful of times, and each time he'd enter felt like an entirely new experience,
Nyx and his father exchanged pleasantries. They breathed in “Greetings,” and “It is good to see you,” and “How fare your children?” and all sorts of other boring questions that all sounded like statements.
They shook hands, faces straight and professional. Zagreus could gag, except his father was right there next to him.
Nyx then turned to Zagreus. Her eyes were motherly; understanding and kind (which completely betrayed her otherwise stale, regal expression, in Zagreus’ eyes).
Her voice was, likewise, unexpectedly motherly. “It is good to see you, my child. You have grown,” she stated as her lilywhite hand moved to pat him on the head. She stroked it lightly, gently and for but a brief, ephemeral moment. “You may explore the palace while your father and I discuss matters concerning the kingdom. Run along now.”
Zagreus grinned at her widely. It was only around noontime, giving Zagreus plenty of time to explore the palace. He soon ran off with his small wooden sword in hand.
The little prince's main goal was to find any hint of straight, long hair, white or black, that he could spot. Rumours and tall tales had spoken of the children of Nyx, all of which currently residing in her palace, each with long strands of hair either black as night, or white as the stars. He had heard such from the servants back at the House.
First, he checked the training grounds. He ran up the stairs, and found naught but studying quarters and sleeping rooms and libraries (which all made his head swim), so he went back down and ran left and right and left again. He ran all sorts of ways until he saw an open doorway that led to a dry, open field of pale dirt and dust. He dropped his sword at how used the area looked. Zagreus could imagine tens of knights-in-training using the area. He imagined their banter, their loud voices, their freak strength and power.
There were weapons all about; some small, most large (taller than the little prince himself), all played neatly on a wooden rack. In fact, that and one row of wooden training dummies were the only “neat” things among the entire area. The rest was a wasteland of broken wood, massacred dummies and the echoes of their inanimate screams. An axe a little taller than Zagreus had been long scattered on the ground, dusty and bathed in grime.
Sadly, Zagreus hadn't found anyone training, so he decided to leave the area in search of the palace's kitchen area. The sun had already passed its peak once he left.
-----
The servants’ area was much larger than Zagreus had remembered. Perhaps it was because he never thought to explore there until now. Left and right, the place was swimming with servants; all busy and all dashing excitedly, hardly giving the little prince any notice. The most he had actually heard was an aside “What's a kid doing here?” he could barely catch.
Lost among all the excitement, Zagreus stumbled into a smaller room. Drapes of various cloth hung from the ceiling, as various apparel and clothing hung from strings of clothesline. They painted a menagerie of shades of purple, red and gold; all shining in their own way.
Zagreus would have found himself staying in that beautiful small room forever, had he not caught the sight of white hair. His heart rate picked up, until he realized that the hair was cut short, and curled like that of a sheep. It wasn't long strands of straight hair, the rumours had stated, and so Zagreus thought that it was any other boy servant with white hair.
He turned his back and ran off.
-----
The rest of the day was spent with Zagreus running all around the palace in search of Nyx's children. He heard from servants of the House that two of them were near his age; twins, both seven years. He had also heard of two only a little older than his sister’s age, though he had forgotten the specifics, as it hadn't applied to him.
He had checked the library, the training grounds, the kitchen, the dining room, the servants’ quarters and just about any other place he could think of in the palace, yet he could not find any trace of long, straight hair of night or snow.
The sun was about to begin setting, and little Zagreus found himself sighing, sitting atop the thick wall of some balcony he had found.
He watched as the trees were bathed in sunlight, appreciating its beauty and yet still disappointed.
“I couldn't find any of Nyx's children this time, either..” he mumbled to himself, fidgeting with the strap of his satchel.
Zagreus looked around what was beyond the balcony area. His eyes roamed down to the ground, where little servants rushed like worker ants. Then, he scanned the horizon, vast and ever so boring and unchanging. Lastly, he gazed across the balcony itself.
With little hands gripping the top of the balcony wall, feet planted on the ground and a head resting cooly on the wall, another boy was gazing at the sky. He seemed to be staring at the full moon, but his face was turned and Zagreus couldn't see clearly what his eyes rested on.
As the sun fell around the boy, Zagreus found he was beautiful; bathed in red and bronze by the dying light of the sun itself.
His white hair was dyed gold as tiny particles of stardust glistened within it. Zagreus thought its curls were similar to that of a sheep's, or to that of the clouds. Either way, it reflected more light as the moon grew higher up and the sun fell lower.
“You know, most of them are awake at night,” the mysterious boy said, watching as the moon crept further up the sky. “That's why you rarely ever see any. Try sleeping over; that'll catch you one of Nyx's ever elusive children!”
By the light of the full moon, his face shone with what seemed like stars for freckles. His eyes, however, were shrouded behind his fluffy hair, turned away with the rest of his face.
“..Why haven't I seen you before?” asked Zagreus. He stopped himself from trying to catch a better glimpse of the boy, shivering grimly at the thought of his father calling him impudent and impolite at the idea.
The boy paused, released his hands from the balcony wall before putting them back on and shifting listlessly back and forth.
Finally, the boy had turned to reveal tired eyes and a mischievous grin. “Because I'm awake at night, too.” With that, he was gone. It was as if he had disappeared into a puff of smoke, or cloud, or perhaps stardust.
Either way, Zagreus found himself alone in the palace with naught but the comfort of the Moon's presence to console him. The balcony wall he sat on was cool against the skin of his small hands. All around was blue, shrouded in night and yet not at all scary or uncomfortable. Several minutes passed, and the moon was settled high above.
“Let us go, boy.” A large, firm hand placed itself onto Zagreus’ head, patting firmly and awkwardly, yet with a recognizable stoutness.
Zagreus yawned. “But it's late, father,” he mumbled before falling softly onto his father's side.
“All the more reason to get home soon, Zagreus,” mumbled Hades, who guided the half-asleep little Zagreus over to the carriage. The little prince was too tired to have heard anything, yet slept soundly on the ride about to the House.
That night, Zagreus dreamt of the boy he had met at the palace, replaying the moment and each previous second of it.