Archive of Our Own

Melinoë has had this nightmare for as long as she can remember.

When she had first confided in Hecate regarding it, it had shaken all in the Crossroads to their core. With utmost clarity, the princess could paint a picture of what she ought to be too young to remember. It was torment, to recall yourself at your most weak and vulnerable, your most helpless. It was just as cruel to witness your family in the same position. It was happening, and it would happen again, and there was yet to be an end in sight for it.

Chronos had left Melinoë with the worst possible memory she was capable of having when it came to what was meant to be hers. With the feeling of the orange blanket she’d been wrapped in also came her father’s desperate pleas, and the hushed whispers of the witch of the Crossroads. It had come with grief stricken final glances, and the finality of promises. Melinoë could paint a picture of her father’s room, but if this was the cost, she wished she couldn’t recall a single feature on the god’s face.

If it wasn’t all she had, perhaps she’d finally let herself forget. This weight she carried had to mean something.

It wakes her suddenly, almost painfully, and leaves her with tear-stained cheeks. Her heart races in a way it hasn’t had to anywhere else. Her head pounds. Her throat tightens. Melinoë’s gasps for air, however, for the first time, go entirely unheard.

This tends to be the part in this horrid routine in which she is consoled by the titaness who raised her, who took into her care what her own family could not afford to. was meant to go differently, as most events in Melinoë’s life were meant to. Tonight seemingly had other plans, and as the princess lies in the silence, her thoughts all-consuming and dreadful, she grows tired of waiting for it to be filled by more than the sound of her own sobs.

Her feet scorch the ground below her with every step she takes out of her tent towards the center of the Crossroads. A cauldron brews, steam rising to the sky, though the head witch is nowhere to be seen. This was a rare instance, yet one she wasn’t unused to. Hecate was far busier than most. Whatever kept her occupied now was of importance.

Odysseus was also absent. The princess was much more used to this, but had never seen both occurrences take place at the same time. In fact, the Crossroads were so empty, one could begin to assume the worst. She likely would, was she not still reeling from the nightmare she’d been plagued with moments ago.

Hecate wasn’t there; neither was Odysseus, nor Nemesis (though she wasn’t the comforting sort, even if she was). But Hypnos was, as always, and perhaps that’s really who Melinoë needs to see right now.

What Melinoë had come to know of the son of Nyx was admittedly very little. She knew that he had once served in her father’s house, greeting Shades by the entrance, and due to the very nature of who he was, had been prone to naps on the job. It had been apparently easy to find yourself cross with him, and yet it had been damn near impossible to stay that way for very long. He was well-intentioned, he’d been worth saving, and that meant undoubtedly that he was loved.

The princess also knew he hadn’t said a word since the day she was born, forever lost in sleep, for reasons unbeknownst to all.

He was of great interest to her, of course. How couldn’t he be? He was cloaked in mystery, and wonder. He was an unsolvable problem. He may, unintentionally, be causing some of hers. Hypnos was all of these things, and he was a constant, forever reliable. Nothing but his snores filled the empty space, and Melinoë listened to them as she watched his chest rise and fall. The local Shades had taken to caring for him, just as they cared for all else here. Perhaps there was kinship to be found between them, both forced into silence and yet with so much to say.

Hypnos makes sleep look peaceful. Melinoë envies him greatly for it. She can’t help but look at him and feel just a spark of hope. What was she to be drawn to, if not that?

It gives her an idea she hadn’t thought of before. This may just be her only time to act on it.

“Um, Lord Hypnos?” she mumbles, rubbing at her eyes.

She knows better than to expect a response; it’s not the first time she’s made futile attempts to wake the other from his slumber, despite the insistence of those around her to leave him be by now. Still, there’s some sort of peace to be found in his presence. He seemed to have that effect on people.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but… I had a nightmare,” she explains, hesitantly shuffling closer, “And I’m a little scared. Even though Headmistress Hecate told me there’s nothing to be afraid of, because it’s in the past now.”

Hypnos lies in a hammock full of red poppies. The Shades keeping him afloat are nothing but cordial towards her. They wouldn’t intervene even if they could. She was royalty, after all, and for a goddess, she was rather kind. One day, the time would come in which she would be worth fearing. It was best not to find a reason to be deserving of it..

“I have it a lot,” the princess goes on pointlessly. “Usually Hecate is here to make me feel better, but I think she’s training with Nemesis. Odysseus is busy too. So I don’t know what to do.”

If she truly wanted, she could stumble into the training grounds, bump into the titaness she spoke of, and likely receive a stern talking to for it. What the pair got up to was far too dangerous for her to be in the crossfire of. She was not of age just yet to wield a sword or staff, like they did. Sometimes, what the princess overheard sounded far too genuine of an argument, especially when Nemesis would storm back into her spot, discontent etched into her face.

Hecate had told her not to take after it, and that was as far as they discussed the matter. It was rude to talk about those who were still in earshot, after all.

“You control sleep, don’t you?” Melinoë asks. “That means dreams too, right? Are you the one who’s been showing me this? I’d like it if you stopped, please.”

Hypnos doesn’t budge, and his murmurs continue droning onwards. Melinoë comes to realize her mistake quickly, smacking one of her hands against her own forehead at her error.

“Right! You need an offering. Sorry, hold on!”

The princess doesn’t actually have all that much to be handing out. She doesn’t own much beyond the clothes on her back and all that remained in her tent. She wasn’t even sure what it was Hypnos would enjoy, and she’s never made offerings on her own before. Still, Melinoë was persistent, and as she looked around, she was sure she could come across something.

Within her tent lies an altar to all that she’s lost. Those it surrounded are not in the position to make note of any offering, and they sure wouldn’t require it from her, but it’s about the sentiment and tradition. Melinoë decides that from what she understands, her mother is an understanding woman. She shall not mind if the princess is to extend some of this gift to others in her absence.

Melinoë settles with lavender. If Sleep’s hammock is to be full of all that blossoms, she would like to be a part of it. She hopes that Mother Gaia won’t consider it a waste, and that this could be enough to appease. By the time she bolts to her tent to retrieve it and skips back to Hypnos’ side, she’s already beginning to lose sight of what had gotten her so worked up in the first place.

“Lord Hypnos,” she fiercely declares, “I would really like to meet you, but you won’t wake up. Hecate said that Mother grew a lot of flowers, so I’m giving some to you! To go with your poppies. I hope they’re comfortable.”

She places it on the other’s chest, and it looks more like a bouquet for the departed than anything good. The hammock lightly sways, the Shades exchanging unreadable glances. Melinoë continues to wait, just in case. She’s mastered the act. She’s waited all her life.

“If you do like it, I hope you’ll be nice to me.”

His snores go on rhythmically. They may as well serve as his heartbeat. The lavender stays put. Perhaps Melinoë should’ve brought a candle as well, if it weren’t for the fact it was a fire hazard, and Hecate had not permitted her to touch those under any circumstances.

On the brink of turning around, the spark within her beginning to flicker out, something seems to shift. Fabric shuffles absentmindedly. Hypnos’ eyelids remain closed, and his lips never part, but an arm extends. He’s awfully pale, Melinoë notes. Pale and thin. His hand starts to drift, and it lowers itself onto Melinoë’s head. You couldn’t tell if you were a mere onlooker, but the princess felt it; he lightly rustled her hair.

Then he went limp, and that was the end of it. Melinoë stared for quite some time before moving his arm back to its rightful spot and readjusting his blanket, ensuring the lavender she’d left for him was also secure. She had to stand on the tips of her toes just to reach him.

Before she can linger on the gesture any longer, she’s finally interrupted by a pair of footsteps, accompanied by the voice of a Shade she knows well.

“Goddess?”

The princess goes awfully still, just as Hecate had taught her once. Stay still, stay quiet, and hold your breath, she’d learned. Brace yourself. Only when you're ready, turn and face your opponent. Aim for the throat, if you must. Remember it's okay to run. She was not yet old enough for such conflict. Thankfully, this was no such thing.

She goes awfully red in the face when she's caught red handed. Heat coursing through her body, the princess spins on her heels, lips pressed into the straightest line she can manage. Melinoë looks up at him, fists clenched at her side, and blinks as innocently as a guilty party can portray.

There before her stands Odysseus, in all of his glory, an eyebrow raised. Whatever it was he’d been occupied with before had been handled swiftly, the Shade now prepared to reclaim his rightful spot in the Crossroads as to keep an eye on things.

“I thought it would be your nap time by now,” he tells her, arms crossed over his chest, “But there's not many ways to tell time down here, is there? Perhaps I miscalculated.”

He doesn’t mention where he’s been, or what he’s been up to. The princess doesn’t need to hear it. She had enough on her plate already, and she wouldn’t quite understand it anyways. Besides, most of it would be rather boring to a child, even the godly sort.

Melinoë knows opportunity when she sees it and nods along vigorously. “Yes! I think you did, Odysseus! I'll be on my way now.”

Odysseus considers this with a hum, and Melinoë begins to drag herself away from the scene just before he speaks again. “Slow down for a moment instead, would you?”

Without awaiting a reply, he kneels down to her level, his smile warm. This was often how he lectured the princess, although it was never often, and never were his words cruel. Melinoë much preferred this over the other's shadow cast over her.

“Lady Hecate’s got her hands full, I'm guessing?” he asks. “Is that why you're out and about? Making conversation with Sleep himself? Can't imagine you've gotten anything out of him.”

Whatever noises emitted from him now surely didn't constitute as such. Still, a part of her dares to argue that something’s changed, even if she couldn’t prove it yet or comprehend it. The only way to avoid the act of lying when you weren’t certain of the truth was to keep your mouth shut. The princess was not in a position in which she could do so.

She could, however, work around what she’s been given.

“Did you know him, Od? Back when you were alive?”

What she means to ask is, has he ever been one to offer his blessing ? Odysseus sharply inhales, then shakes his head, and the princess lets her own begin to droop.

“Afraid not,” he admits. “But we'll both get to know him someday, won't we, when he wakes?”

If he wakes , the darkest corner of her mind corrects. There was not a word in all of the world, uttered by gods or mortals alike, that Melinoë had come to loathe in her short life more than the word ‘if’. It implied an alternative. You would never find both outcomes desirable, and only one could come to pass. Mortals prayed for the right one. Gods knew better than to try. The princess found herself daring to make demands in spite of it.

When he wakes , she reaffirms to herself, much more harshly. When he wakes.

When her own thoughts cause Melinoë to slip into a frown, Odysseus is quick to mirror it.

“You seem troubled, little goddess.”

“I'm fine,” she assures, before she considers the much more truthful answer. She hasn't let herself linger on it in a long time. “It's just… do you think he's alright? Sleeping all the time?”

Melinoë couldn’t imagine it. How much time has passed, for the one lost in his head? Was it hardly anything at all? Was it far too much? Has he lived a thousand lives, since Melinoë drew her first breath? Was it anything like what the princess had seen, or was it far more kind?

The Shade sighs, then tells her gently, “He will be. He’s with us. He’s safe here. Whatever he’s going through, if anything, we’ll be here for him on the other side of it. I’d like to think he’s just dreaming, personally, if he’s not hard at work. Sleep’s his job, after all.”

The answer doesn’t satisfy her, though she can’t pinpoint why. Melinoë’s brows furrow. “What if it’s not a good dream? What if he’s stuck?”

“Do you get stuck in your nightmares often?”

The princess pauses, taken aback, and then shrugs. “I dunno. It forces me awake at the end.”

“Because it scares you?” he suggests.

“I dunno,” she repeats. “I think it doesn’t want me to see any more of it. But it’s scary, and I feel bad when I wake up.”

“Well, I hope you’re not having it too often,” Odysseus tells her. “Have it recently?”

“Maybe,” she uttered, staring at her feet. It wouldn’t be so hard to admit if it didn’t revolve around something so unsettling. It was less of a nightmare as it was a vision that wasn’t meant for her own eyes.

It drove fear into people. At least, it drove it into most of them. Odysseus was a man who’d gone to great lengths in his life, had seen many things that not even Melinoë knew the true extent of. It took outrageous accomplishment for a Shade to be this whole. He wasn’t about to fear Melinoë of all things. This wouldn’t shake him at all.

“Is that why you’re really up?” he asks. “You know what the headmistress would say, don’t you?”

Melinoë nods. “That I need my rest. But she doesn’t sleep. Nemesis doesn’t sleep. You don’t sleep, either! Why do I have to sleep? I’m not even tired.”

“You know why,” he insists. “And if I recall, you have had a very long night full of hiding and seeking, haven’t you? You’ve trained quite vigorously. A bit of a break is well-earned, especially when it comes to what lies ahead. But you’ve got a lot of growing up to do, in the meantime. That takes rest too.”

“Only a few years!” she argues. “Maybe… maybe ten! And then I’ll get him. Shouldn’t I be training, instead of sleeping?”

“Even gods wear themselves out. Titans, too. Save your strength. Replenish it. Don’t be too prideful for it.”

Odysseus makes a good point. Of course he does. This man has, in Melinoë’s eyes, done it all, and he knew a thing or two about the gods. He even seemed to know some of her relatives better than she did, although none of her immediate family. Who was better to equip her for war than one who’d fought in one before?

Melinoë finally caves as she deflates. “Alright. But I don’t want to have the nightmare again.”

Odysseus looks as if his heart could’ve shattered in two for the other right then and there, and then he puts on a braver face and offers, “Would another one of my stories put you at a bit more ease? I’m sure I’ve got a few you haven’t heard before.”

Melinoë gasps, her eyes almost seeming to twinkle. “Really?”

She always did enjoy his stories, although he had to run them by Hecate beforehand. Most had earned the solid rating of ‘when she’s older’, a title that had left the princess with itching curiosity for several years now.

“As long as it wouldn’t scare you,” he tells her, “And if you promise you’ll try to get back to sleep afterwards. I think we’ll have quite the issue on our hands if Lady Hecate catches us out like this.”

“Will you get in trouble, Odysseus?”

“No one will get in trouble if we get a move on.”

Melinoë nods firmly, like she’s just involved herself in some top secret mission. “Alright. Let’s go, then.”

As Odysseus rises back to his feet, Melinoë casts one final look at Hypnos, fast asleep as he’d always been, and who hadn’t so much as flinched since a moment ago. She knows she’s doing all of this for him, too. Perhaps he’d thank her kindly when this was all over for keeping him company, and she’d someday forget what it was ever like to feel the terror she did.

In the meantime, he’s at least owed a proper farewell.

“Moonlight guide you, Lord Hypnos!” she calls out, and then Odysseus takes one of her hands as they make their way back to her tent.

When she next dreams, Melinoë finds herself in a field of poppies, and it’s already a thousand times more pleasant and intriguing than anything that has come before it. The only issue that arrived with something so foreign was that she wasn’t sure where to go from here, only that the flowers surrounding her rose to her knees and that it all had a reason.

She’d have to apologize to Hypnos when she’d next wake for ever doubting him.

The princess decides firstly that just as her mother must not have minded, neither would Lord Hypnos, nor Mother Gaia, if she were to claim a few flowers for herself. She lightly tugs them from their stalks and begins to collect what she can carry. Given her size, it’s not as much as one would think. She wonders how she has yet to set the whole field ablaze with her own feet, and she wonders how the thought alone didn’t cause her to jinx it.

Unlike the Crossroads, there’s not a soul to guide her. There’s not so much as a single Shade in sight. Where Melinoë ought to go from here was anyone’s guess.

The next thing she notices is the sky. In contrast to the flowers surrounding her, it’s a bright blue, clouds scattered across it and the sun beginning to rise. Melinoë’s never seen it. Hypnos seemingly knew enough about it to show it to her here.

Maybe she can find him. Maybe she can wake him.

She takes off straight ahead, without so much as a second thought. She’d have left a trail behind her, was anything here capable of being set alight. She runs as if she has an end goal in sight, as if she knew far more than she did, and with a confidence she’s never known before. Melinoë doesn’t lose steam in the end so much as she loses interest in the vastness of it all. It was hard to mark your progress when it appeared as if she hadn’t taken a single step, no matter where she looked.

This minor setback ends up providing her with a new tactic.

She makes a note this time, running towards the unknown, to start marking where she’s gone. She lets her feet properly imprint themselves into the earth with every step, and she pushes aside any and every poppy within her reach to clear her path. She picks a lot more than necessary, some added to the collection in her arms, while the rest were discarded back to whence they came. Progress is a lot slower than her initial plan, but something in her heart told her she was getting closer.

“Lord Hypnos!” she called out. “Are you there?”

Nothing but the wind fills her eardrums. Somehow, this is encouragement. If Hypnos was in need of being found, then so be it. She’s been taught what to do, by now.

There wasn’t much hiding one could do in a place like this. Hypnos was taller, and his hair was doomed to trail behind him. Not even Melinoë could crouch down low enough to be hidden by all surrounding her. There weren't any dead ends so much as there were far too many possibilities awaiting her, and the princess was running out of ways to shorten the list.

Anything within her sights was to be crossed off of it. The only place she hasn't looked is up.

She knows better, even as one who's never been upon the surface and even in her dreams, than to ever look towards the sun. Melinoë instead locks her gaze on the many clouds, some thin and wispy, others thick and rounder and stuck to one another. You couldn't see them very well in the dark. You hardly noticed them at all until they dared to keep out the moon's light. The princess can only appreciate them here and now. They remind her of the one who got her into this.

“Are you in the sky?” she ponders aloud. Perhaps he was blending in up there. He could float, after all, to an extent, and dreams were full of endless possibilities. “That's not fair! I can't fly. And I'm not that tall yet.”

Nothing seems to stick out, however, even above. She still doesn't dare to avert her attention from it as she marches onwards, studying every shape and color and size until she's forcibly brought to a halt and sent tumbling to the ground with a thump. The poppies she'd collected go straight down with her.

Melinoë had bumped straight into someone who, upon collision, had gasped and winced and felt far more remorse than he ought to. He wasn't Hypnos, but he was someone she would know nonetheless.

“Ow,” she grumbled, her palms sore, as they'd attempted to break her fall. Thank the gods that the impact hadn't knocked her back to reality. “That hurt.”

“Need a hand?” the stranger offers, extending one of his own before she gets the chance to decline it. “Probably my fault.”

It's only as she's scrambling back to her feet that Melinoë catches a glimpse of who the voice belongs to, and then he's all that she can think to focus on. When she gasps, he smiles sheepishly, averting his eyes, the very pair that match her own. His hair is messy, and his clothes seem almost carelessly thrown onto himself. His feet burned all they came across just as her own did. The princess springs upwards in almost an instant, when it all clicks in her head.

Something within her reminds her that her training paid off. Something says, Oh. Found you.

“Zagreus!” she shouts eagerly, pointing straight towards him. “You're Zagreus! You’re my brother!”

He’s a lot taller than she imagined. Everyone seemed tall to young Melinoë.

“Something like that,” he confirms with a grin. It's strange, to hear him speak and move, after only having known him from a portrait for so long. A portrait, and a few stories.

“It's really you!” she cheers. “You're- you're really here!”

Zagreus winces. “Kind of? It's… still a dream, at the end of things. Your dream. Hypnos just had a little hand in it, I suppose. Helped you fill in a few gaps. Or a lot of them.”

Melinoë’s arms fall back to her side, her voice growing quieter. “Oh.”

“He knew me well though,” he adds in assurance. “Maybe I'll be close enough to the real thing.”

The princess considers this as she looks around them. She doesn't know when the pair stopped being in a field and instead stood near a cliff's edge, overlooking the sea. Zagreus looks at her far too desperately for a figment of her imagination. Melinoë thinks she could someday want nothing to do with him and still not have the heart to turn him away like this.

Then again, the idea of wanting nothing to do with him was ludicrous, and not worth the consideration. She knew her answer.

“Can I ask you a few things? Would you answer them?”

“As much as I can, I will,” Zagreus swears. “Deal?”

Melinoë nods. “Deal.”

“Good.”

Zagreus takes a moment to stretch, and then he allows himself to sit by the cliff's edge, letting his legs sway back and forth. He looks over his shoulder towards the princess and pats a vacant spot next to him. It takes Melinoë a moment to realize it's for her. After taking a few steps closer, she grinds to a sudden halt.

“Wait!” she cries. “I almost forgot something again.”

“Forgot something?” Zagreus repeats.

Melinoë rushes to where she fell and scoops up all that she dropped in a hurry. Proud of her collection, she stumbles to the prince’s side and shoves it into his arms. “I was going to give these to someone if I found anyone, because I don’t think I can take them with me back home, so these are for you now.”

Zagreus chuckles fondly. The princess can't help but wonder if he sounds like this in person, and she hopes that he does. “Thank you, Melinoë. They're lovely. I'll hold on to them as long as I can. It's just unfortunate that ‘as long as I can' means ‘until you wake up’.”

“I don't mind staying here,” Melinoë insists. “Hypnos sleeps a lot , so I can probably do it too.”

“You shouldn't,” Zagreus argues, shaking his head. “Not for me.”

The princess pouts, finally taking her seat. “Why not?”

“Well for starters, I'm not even the real thing,” he reminds her, “But more importantly, you have a life to live outside of this, and I think everyone would miss you a lot.”

“I won't stay forever ,” she elaborates. “Just until I'm old enough to defeat Chronos, and then I'll see you for real! And Headmistress will be happy, and Nemesis will stop being so angry, and- and Hypnos will wake up, probably.”

“How about you stay until someone wakes you?” Zagreus offers as a compromise. “Or until we run out of things to talk about? Whichever comes first. Is that alright with you?”

Melinoë stares into his eyes, blinks first, and eventually relents. “I guess .”

“Hey, it won't be so bad,” the prince tells her. “What is everyone like, in the Crossroads?”

“Do you not know them?”

“Not really, no. Hypnos worked in the House, so he’s an exception, but- Hecate and I never spoke, even though our parents were somewhat close to her. I never had the chance to meet Nemesis either. But I have heard about her.”

“Not even Odysseus?” she asks. Zagreus shakes his head.

“I was busy, and our paths never crossed. That's all. I would've loved to, though. Are they treating you well? Those who have been conscious, at least?”

Melinoë nods. “Hecate’s been training me to hunt prey. That's how I found you!”

Zagreus scoffs. “I'm sorry, I'm ‘prey’ to you?”

“Well, you're not prey , but Hecate pretends to be prey sometimes so I can practice, so I guess that's what you were doing too.”

“I think you were just distracted,”he teases. “What about the rest of them?”

“Odysseus tells me all sorts of stories,” she continues, “And sometimes he gets in trouble for it, because Headmistress Hecate thinks some of them are too much for me to handle, but I like them a lot. Nemesis doesn't talk to me very much, but she's really strong and tall, and I like her armor. She has a really big sword! I want a sword.”

“I had a sword, y'know.”

“Really?”

“Stygian Blade,” Zagreus tells her.

“Woah… can I see it?”

“I think you'll have to ask the real Zagreus about that, but I'm sure he'll let you, once you're older. You'll get hurt otherwise.”

Melinoë huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “I wouldn't, though. I'm careful.”

“I’m sure you are.”

Talking to him somehow came to her easily. It couldn't be called natural with the way they've been forced to part, with the way this wasn't even real , but there were so many questions on her tongue that the idea of keeping any of it in was suffocating.

“If you're not the real Zagreus,” she asks, “Then where is he right now? Is Chronos keeping you back at the House?”

“That's one of the questions I can't answer, sorry,” he explains regretfully. “Hypnos doesn't know it, and since he's the reason I’m here, I can't tell you, even in dreams. I guess I could , technically, but- it would be lying. I'd like to think your brother wouldn't lie to you about something serious like this.”

“Are you just Hypnos in disguise then?”

“Complicated. Yes? No? I'm not exactly Hypnos, but… I'm sort of a part of him? I'm his perception of me. Of Zagreus, I should say.”

Melinoë’s brows furrow. “That is complicated.”

“Just a bit.”

“And it means there's a lot I can't ask you,” she adds. “Like what Mother and Father are like.”

She’s heard countless stories. She couldn’t keep track of them all. Her hunger for more in this regard, however, was impossible to satisfy.

“That one I can tell you, actually,” Zagreus corrects. “Hypnos knew them too, obviously. He worked for them.”

“Oh.” Melinoë hesitates, then asks, “What are they like, then? Hecate’s told me a lot, but… I wanna know what you think.”

“Well, Father and I… it took a long time for us to get along,” he begins.

Melinoë leans closer, hanging on to every word.

“I think we're still a bit prone to arguments. But it's a lot better than it was back then. We don’t argue as much. He actually praises me, sometimes. And he cut back on his work, to make time for you. He corrects himself a lot, when he slips up. I think when it comes to you, he'll love you from the start, and with Mother around… I think you'll get along just fine.”

When it all sinks in, when Melinoë is ready, she nods for him to go on. The prince doesn’t hesitate to fulfill her wish.

“Mother herself is all you could really hope for also,” he tells her. “Her love's unconditional. The House seems to respect her authority almost more than Father's, sometimes. Makes me wonder what it is she did before either of us were born.”

Melinoë nods again, and she tries to picture the four of them in the same room, just like this. She wishes their parents could have joined them on the cliffside. She imagines Hypnos has already done what he can, pulling invisible strings behind the scenes, before he was swept up into something else. One day, this wouldn’t have to be a dream. If only she didn’t have to earn the right to it.

Melinoë leans against her brother and sighs. “What about you? What are you like? Nobody seems to know you as much as they know our parents.”

It made sense, of course, why they didn’t have as much to tell, with Zagreus having been kept hidden away for most of his life. That didn’t make her feel any less gutted about it.

“Isn't it a bit… I dunno, egotistical, if I were to go on about myself?” he insists.

“Well, it's not really you,” she argues. “And I asked you to.”

“Fair point.” Zagreus sighs. “I probably won't live up to whatever your expectations are, though. I don't want you to think I’m some perfect role model, or something. I think I can actually be a total idiot, sometimes. I've been told as much.”

“Well Artemis told me you threw a big feast for everyone,” Melinoë protests. “That doesn't sound very bad. And you don't look bad in the portrait in my tent. You look happy.”

“I am happy,” he agrees. “Or, I was. I will be, once everything's settled. Are you happy now, where you are?”

Melinoë, for a moment, and only in the dream she won't tell anyone, considers her answer with honesty.

“Sometimes. Sometimes I'm not. But I don't want to worry anyone.”

Zagreus goes quiet for a while. The princess worries she's said the wrong thing, something that will break all of this. She's about to retract her statement when he finally says, “I wish you didn't have to feel that way. I'm sorry, Melinoë.”

A moment passes. Then another. Melinoë begs the Fates not to wake her just yet. “Did you ever feel this way? Before you found Mother?”

“Another question better suited for the actual me,” Zagreus notes, “But… I think I did, yes. Even with Nyx around, I just… I just knew, I guess. That something was wrong. I think it's normal, when you miss someone. Especially once you know they're out there. I ransacked Father's chambers over it. Escaped the Underworld.”

“Did you like the surface?”

Zagreus nods. “I wish I could stay on it longer, but… I take what I can get. It's always winter though, back home. You can thank Grandmother for that. This was my favorite spot actually, where we are now. Where the sun rises, and where Father would let me go. Just… pretend it's covered in snow and ice, instead of… flowers, everywhere.”

“Hypnos seems to like poppies a lot.”

“Apparently so. I’ve never seen this many before.”

“You will, in the Crossroads,” Melinoë promises. “I can show you everything! Like my tent! And Frinos!”

Zagreus raises an eyebrow. “Frinos?”

“Frinos is my frog. He hopped into my tent a few nights ago. Headmistress told me I can keep him, because I don't have a familiar yet, and because he doesn’t want to leave.”

“I'm not sure I've ever seen a frog, actually.”

“You will soon, then. Frinos will be the first.”

“I'm looking forward to it.”

Melinoë sighs, and as she leans more firmly into the other's side, nearly falls into his lap. “Me too.”

Zagreus lets out a sigh of his own, something riddled with content. It's not really her brother, and he will not remember a word of it, but Melinoë thinks she could almost feel the same like this.

Just not forever.

“I think I have to go back soon,” she announces quietly. “To the real world. Like you said.”

The prince hums in understanding. “You'll be alright.”

“Will you wait up for me?” Melinoë pleads. “Where you are in the real world? Hecate said I need to train for a few more years, before I'm ready.”

“Of course I'll wait for you,” he insists. “But in all honesty, I hate to see you be the one to do this at all. You're so young, you… you remind me so much of… me .”

“I like you, though,” she declares. She'd already decided this a long time ago. “You're my brother. I wanna be like you.”

Zagreus takes a deep breath, staring out towards the sea, admiring the way the sunlight reflects on the water, before he faces her with a patient smile. “Do you wanna know something? What I think he'd tell you, if he was really sitting here with you, right now?”

The trees sway lightly, branches rustling. Waves crash against the rocks below. Melinoë feels the sun against her skin, something new and warm and consoling, and she nods.

“I think,” Zagreus says, “That he'd be proud of you. He'd tell you he's proud of you, and that he loves you very much. But he wouldn't want you to put so much pressure on yourself. The fact that you're alive is enough for him. He'd be… so glad, that you're alive.”

Melinoë hangs onto every little word, and it’s a lifetime before she can admit why it’s all so bothersome. “I want to help, though.”

“I know you do. And you will, when the time is right. But it doesn't have to be tonight. Or tomorrow. Or at any point in the next few years, actually.”

“But… but then I won't see you again,” Melinoë mumbled. “For a long time.”

“What makes you say that?” he asks. “We're here now, aren't we?”

Melinoë’s eyes have begun to sting in a way she swore to herself they never would again, but she nods. “I really want to see you, though. In the real world.”

It's logic that Zagreus can't argue with, no matter where he was, and no matter real or fake. “Me too.”

What the princess blurts out next, she's been waiting to say all along, to one who could never hear it. Even here, it would go unanswered, but for a moment, it would at least seem otherwise.

“I miss you.”

From the moment Melinoë’s lip starts to tremble, Zagreus is already wrapping his arms around her. Her nails dig their way into his clothes, into his skin, as she buries her head into his chest. What erupts from her chest is a guttural cry she refuses to let escape anywhere else, in anyone else’s presence. Zagreus only holds her tighter and soothes her to the best of his capabilities, even as her tears dampen his shoulder. Melinoë had never wished more desperately for her life to have gone differently, and she’d have damned the world for not having gotten this sooner if she wasn’t an optimist.

It's a long time before either of them speak again, once her throat felt awfully dry and all she had left was sniffles. They'd agreed on what the silence would mean. It was time to follow through.

“I miss you too,” Zagreus tells her, one of his hands running through her hair. “But you're gonna be alright, Melinoë. I promise you. And I promise this isn't the last time we'll be together like this.”

The princess steadies her breathing as she utters weakly, “You really promise?”

“I do,” he swears.

Melinoë gulps. “I still don't want to leave.”

“I know. One day, you'll find something that makes this place seem almost terrible in comparison. But you have to go out there and start looking for it.

“That's stupid.”

Zagreus laughs with his whole chest, and despite all of Melinoë’s tears, it's contagious. “You sound just like our mother. Your laugh does, at least.”

“I know,” she admits as she pulls away, rubbing at her eyes. “Hecate told me.”

“Tell her I say hello,” the prince offers. “Or don't, actually. It wouldn't be easy to explain.”

Melinoë nods. “Tell her yourself when you're back.”

“I will.”

The princess draws a few more deep breaths, seeks the courage within her, and then comes to a rather important realization.

“I don't actually know how to leave.”

Zagreus stares at her, seeking the same answer she did, and then he grimaces. “Me neither. I'm not the one that has to wake up.”

The pair fall once again into something comfortable and quiet, and after a moment, Melinoë asks, “Can I just sit here with you, then? Until I do?”

Hecate would wake her, soon enough. Her, or Odysseus. Perhaps even Frinos would come to her aid, after so long. Even Nemesis could show some concern, on her better days, although these weren’t often.

Zagreus only nods. “Of course.”

Although she's bought them a few moments more, Melinoë knows how fragile it all is, painfully aware of how it could end at any moment. She slumps back against the other's chest, hoping she'll remember the feeling forever. She hopes to see him again, whether here or in the flesh, sooner rather than later. She hopes that wherever he may actually be, Zagreus knew she would never give up on him, nor would she forget all the catching up they'd have to do. She’d never forget all they should have had and what they'll never get back. She’d never forget what she was fighting for.

When she eventually wakes, it's the first time the tears trailing down her cheeks moments stem from any sort of joy, however temporary it may be.