Chapter Text
In those last disorientating moments, when the first scrape of air was fresh on his lips and the blood yet gripped him tightly, it was almost possible to believe that nothing had changed. When the dark heat had him— the thick cloying pressure, the unmistakable tang of failure— Zagreus could well believe that the hunt was not over.
Until he smelled the flowers.
They were unique to her being here; different than in her garden so high above, different than the withered purple things that had remained in her garden here. It was something of both; something sunsoaked, dried— woodbine and blood oranges, sage and snowdrop and burning wheatgrass. (Scents that Zagreus only knew because he had asked one day to be taught, and learned that there was a language to these things; woodbine for bonds of love, she’d said, and snowdrop for her hope.)
And then he would remember himself, gagging and kneeling on the flagstones beneath his parents’ waiting gazes.
Persephone had taken to lingering with Cerberus, as though strung out on a wire between her husband and her son. Zagreus would run to her and thrust a treasure into her hand, steadfastly ignoring his father’s heavy eye. (He rather thought she must have enough nectar and ambrosia by now to last until the end of days.) And she would laugh and give him one back.
‘Look, Zagreus, isn’t it lovely? The new shoots are coming through so well, I couldn’t help but give one some encouragement. Won’t we be lucky, when the time comes when they all come into bloom?’
‘Would that there be many such times,’ rumbled Hades.
Zagreus twirled the delicate stem between clumsy, gentle fingers, watching its blue head bob and sway.
‘What means this one, mother?’
‘Constancy.’
❃
Thanatos was avoiding him, the bastard.
Zagreus had, over the years, come to learn the subtle distinctions between Than’s natural aloofness (and great love of disappearing half-way through conversations) with when he actually meant to be so. It was the difference between morning frost and the ice which came vengefully on Demeter’s breath.
They fought well enough side by side out there in Asphodel and Elysium in their 'more official capacity', as Thanatos was fond of observing. Well enough that Zagreus remembered the blood and the way it made it hard to tell what was true or not. They sparred, verbally, physically; they bantered and he would disappear, and for a moment it would be like it had been. (Not how it had been, though, when Zagreus had first attempted to escape— when he had been educated on the nature of frost.)
And it was not exactly that he was different in the Halls, only… he wasn’t there. Everything was different, and nothing, nothing at all had changed. He could have yelled, or broken something (except he did, regularly, and if it was helping, he didn’t know how).
Again and again, Zagreus crawled back, hoping to catch his friend.
‘Do you know what Thanatos is up to, these days?,’ he’d even asked his father once, just to wind him up. ‘At this rate, you’ll work him to death.’
‘I do not find your attempts at wit amusing, boy,’ Hades had said (as though sticking to a preordained script of grumpiness— though Zagreus supposed that was just called personality). ‘Why the whereabouts of Thanatos should be any of your concern is entirely beyond me. Do you not have a job of your own to attend to?’
His mother had clucked, looking resignedly between the both of them. ‘Thanatos is very busy, Zagreus,’ she had kindly reassured. ‘I am sure he will make time for you when he is able.’
He’d stuck his tongue out at the pair of them and stalked off, looking for something to kill in his father’s stead.
❃
Zagreus pushed his own red blood impatiently from his eyes and staggered to a halt, panting, victorious in the empty Elysian field. He stood alone in a grove of ghostly spears, marking the points where the fallen had died again. (Much less heroically this time, Zagreus rather thought.)
Through the translucent bars, he could see his prize awaiting; one of the spears was red, stained with blood that in all the ages of mortals upon the earth would never be washed clean. His pulse rose within him, as though meeting some unheard call, wrapping him in mortal recklessness.
‘Olympus! I accept this message!’
‘You fight like a full-blooded man, cousin,’ said the apparition with a shark smile. ‘You teach these forgetful shades their purpose, again and again. War made them heroes, and so shall they make you! Can you hear the drums?’
‘Yes,’ breathed Zagreus. ‘Is there one going on up there?’
‘There are always wars, boy. It is the only mortal constant.’
‘But I mean… not a big one? Like the one that took Achilles and the rest?’
Ares laughed, and it made no sound that Zagreus had ever heard before— booming and grating, like mechanical thunder. Zagreus gripped the ghostly red spear until his knuckles shone white.
‘Your lust for blood is commendable, cousin. I see now why you wish so eagerly to break free of your father’s realm! No, there is no such war in Greece. But when you are here by my side, oh, how this could be changed…’
❃
He made it to the surface with the breath of Ares on his neck and a wild redness clouding his vision, so much so that he could hardly tell the sunrise from the snow. Thanatos had not seen fit to aid him, this time. Too busy dealing with all the wars that weren’t happening, Zagreus supposed.
He didn’t know why it suddenly bothered him. Than’s presence had been so constant, throughout all his attempts, intermittent though it was. (He thought of bluebells, how nicely they would grow when the winter had retreated; how it would please his mother.)
Over the course of getting his mother back, Zagreus had come to see him as a true ally. A true friend. Though it wasn’t like he needed his help, evidently.
Zagreus fell to his knees in the snow, chest growing tight. What would Persephone say?
If it’s not a matter of need, then…
The heat of him caused the snow to run to rivers around his hands and knees, revealing withered continents of grass beneath. He resolved to put it out of his mind.
Zagreus surrendered to darkness and blood, and when he crawled forth again, found that his mother was not there.
❃
‘Orpheus, mate, do you know any songs about ‘constancy’?’
‘Oh, many, Prince Zagreus. Constancy in a lover or a friend is a great treasure, the praise of which has filled the halls of many kings. Though I always found that people seemed to like the ones about inconstancy better. It seems that treasures do become more valuable once they have been lost.’
‘I don’t suppose you could give me a few, so I could make up my own mind?’
‘My apologies, friend…’
❃
‘Mother?’ Zagreus bellowed, dashing forwards so quickly that his feet left scorched slashes in the flagstones.
‘I hope you do not expect me to pay to fix that,’ growled Hades, looking up from his paperwork to eye the black marks with distaste.
‘Where is she? What have you done with her?’
His chest constricted and Zagreus rather felt (hoped) that he had never crawled from the blood at all; that this was some errant, lost dream in the waters…
‘Calm yourself, boy. You are causing a scene.’
All the shades had fled into the walls. Hypnos was surreptitiously trying to rub out a small river of spilled ink with a fold of his cloak. Achilles was standing at attention with his hand on his spear, and Cerberus was wagging his tail. This alone made the tension fall from Zagreus, like a body severed limply from its spirit. Surely nothing could be wrong if Cerberus was content.
He shot his father a glare and moved to pat one of the dog’s massive heads. Its great nose nuzzled into his palm and the tightness in his chest finally began to abate.
‘Your mother may go where she pleases.’
‘I know! I was just… surprised. Forgive me if I’m a little on-edge about the whole thing.’
Hades snorted. ‘If you must know, she is taking a turn about the garden with Thanatos. Her words, not mine.’
Zagreus’ neck cricked, he snapped his head up so quickly. Then, leaving his father grumbling about the masonry, he scorched away.
❃
‘Oh, do tell me again about him and Asterius, I can hardly believe it!’
‘My Queen, I would not wish to bore you…’
‘Bore me!’ Ringing, silver laughter. ‘Thanatos, you are a treasure trove. How ever could I be bored, when you have had what I have not for all these long years? So tell me again, if you are of a mind to.’
‘As my lady commands. He has indeed fought Asterius, many times, but did I tell you of how he—’
‘Mother? Than?’
They turned as Zagreus skidded to a smouldering halt.
‘Oh, Zagreus, not on the grass, please! I’ve only just coaxed it back.’
‘Sorry, mother,’ he said, cringing.
They stood, arm in arm, and, yes, stood— Zagreus stared amazed at the sight of Thanatos’ feet planted firmly on the earth, a sight which he could hardly remember ever having seen in all his life. Persephone’s arm was crooked through Than’s, held stiffly by his side. They made a strange pair— him, all ash, tall and broad beside her willowy, golden frame; like distant thunder besides the rising sun. They stole his breath.
‘You’re… standing,’ said Zagreus, articulately.
Death Incarnate arched one elegant brow.
‘Ever observant, Zag,’ he said, mouth pulling up slightly at the corner. His eyes were mellow, golden and warm.
‘Close your mouth, love, I’m sure it’s nothing to be so amazed about.’
Zagreus did indeed close his mouth, which he hadn’t realised had fallen agape, and gave Thanatos an injured look. ‘Mother, what flower would you give to a withholder of terrible secrets?’
Persephone laughed, covering her mouth with one hand. Thanatos sighed, pale lashes fluttering. (He was actually of a height with Zagreus, when he wasn’t floating imperiously off the earth. Zagreus was beginning to feel a little light-headed.)
‘It is hardly a “terrible secret” that I may walk the earth. It is well known, in fact.’
‘Trust you to invent a metaphor just to be able to get the upper hand by making it literal whenever you please.’
‘It’s hardly like I invente—’
‘Boys! Goodness,’ Persephone laughed, winding her arm through Zagreus’ so that she was tucked between them. ‘Anyone would think you could hardly stand each other! Thanatos has kindly lowered himself to something more like my height so that we might walk together. Would you care to join us?’
Zagreus blinked at her. Only Persephone would dare make such a request, let alone be granted it. She moved to walk with them.
‘You just want to loom over me all the time, don’t you?,’ Zagreus shot over his mother’s head, earning a pinch on the arm. Thanatos ignored him with infuriating dignity.
They began to stroll. Zagreus hadn’t even known that he knew how to stroll. He had the strange and surreal feeling that none of this was actually happening, and that he was in fact lying face down somewhere in Elysium with a spear stuck in his head. His mother’s arm seemed so fragile curled through his own. (He still was not used to the way she loved to touch him— running hands up his arms, through his hair, holding him close— as though she delighted in his presence. It was more physical connectivity than he’d ever had with anyone in all his life and it made him aware of a terrible pit of hunger within him— like opening closed eyes in a pitch black room and learning that what you thought was dark had never even been the half of it.)
‘We were just talking about you, darling,’ Persephone said. Jolted back to himself, Zagreus watched with supreme satisfaction as faint colour began to gather high on Thanatos’ cheeks. His gaze remained fixed forwards, evidently realising that he was now trapped in this conversation.
Good luck getting away with disappearing on your Queen!
‘Oh? That can’t possibly mean well for me. Than is far too honest— when it pleases him to be— to spare me anything.’
Persephone chuckled softly, squeezing their arms. She seemed very slight, standing between them both— like a sapling shooting up between two boulders. Thanatos met his gaze over her head, a spark of reproach dancing in their gold. Zagreus stuck his tongue out at him. Than wrinkled his nose.
‘Well, he knows you far better than I,’ said Persephone, oblivious. ‘And I would have you spared nothing, Zagreus, if it meant knowing you the better!’
‘I’d tell you anything you wished to know, mother,’ Zagreus said, feeling again the slow, unhealed wound of their time apart.
She ran her fingers over his wrist. ‘I’m sure you would, my fiery one. But then you would deprive me the pleasure of hearing another who cares for you sing your praises! Such things are a mother’s chief enjoyment, Zagreus. I must make up for lost time!’
Zagreus laughed, watching Thanatos’ cheeks darken.
‘And I would never wish to deprive you of it, mother, if only I could believe you. I don’t think Than’s ever sung anyone’s praises in all his life. You’re probably allergic to it, aren’t you, mate?’
‘I give praise where praise is due,’ Thanatos gritted out, straining his indifferent composure.
Persephone hummed, cutting off the sarcastic remark brewing on Zagreus’ tongue. ‘It seems that you two have grown up to be very great friends,’ she said. ‘I am so glad. I know it has not been easy with your father, Zagreus, but— I am glad at least that you have had each other. There is nothing so valuable in all the world as a good friend.’
Their eyes caught. It was as though each thought that the other would be the one to turn away, and each wanted to see the other’s reaction; this resulted in neither of them turning, utterly arrested.
A bolt of embarrassed camaraderie passed between them. Than’s eyes warmed with silent mirth, kept ruthlessly in check, and Zagreus knew that all was well.
‘Yeah,’ he said, feeling strange.
They paused by a bare bank. Persephone tilted her head.
‘Now, I won’t give you any flowers for secret-keepers or anything so ridiculous, but…’
Where she looked, there sprung from the black earth two blossoms. One was tall with bursting lilac, which she bent and gave to Thanatos. The other was a branch of white bells, which she gave to Zagreus.
Than held his close to his breast, hair brushing the fine bones of his cheeks as he bent his head with reverence.
‘My Queen,’ he rasped.
‘For you, gentle Thanatos, the Cheiranthus, for your great fidelity in adversity.’
‘Great fidelity? I’m afraid I don’t understand, my Lady.’
Persephone looked up at Thanatos with all the light of the world in her eyes. ‘I fear that your loyalty has been somewhat tested of late, dear Thanatos. It could not have been easy for you, to be caught between your friend and your Master. And yet, your heart proved true.’
Thanatos bowed his silver head. ‘Forgive me for speaking so boldly, my Queen, but you are mistaken. Though my duty is to all the living and all the dead, it was not question of loyalty. To my great shame… it was never difficult to choose, though I may have thought it so at the time.’
Persephone’s quiet, discerning expression broke into one of blinding fondness. ‘I am glad to hear that, Thanatos. Though I do not think it ought to be cause for shame.’
Thanatos inclined his head, silent.
Zagreus startled slightly as his mother turned to him, realising that he had been caught staring at Than. His own cheeks grew hot under her clear gaze.
‘And for you, sweet Zagreus, the ancient lily of the valley. For the return of great happiness, which none but you have brought about.’
‘And you,’ he murmured. ‘And you.’
Thanatos gave him a darting look. Zagreus smiled softly at him.
‘Thank you, mother. Let’s hope it never withers.’
Persephone laughed. ‘Indeed! Now walk with me, and let’s not think anymore of secrets and old sorrows!’
Zagreus smiled, folding the delicate flower close to his breast. Then he leaned close and kissed his mother on her golden brow. ‘I’m glad you’re here, mum.’
Persephone hugged his arm tighter.
‘The significance of the flowers,’ said Thanatos, still holding his close with one hand. ‘Are they of your own invention?’
‘Of course! Who else might know the secret meaning hidden deep at the heart of every seed, that strives every day to become?’
‘So that is how you know,’ murmured Than.
‘Everything has a secret name,’ she said, beginning to walk them along once more. ‘Even people, though I do not pretend to know those! Ah, now I think that it is my turn to tell you boys a story. Don’t tell your father, Zagreus, he would be mortified. No, I mean it! Stop smiling like that, you rascal.’
Thanatos made a noise which sounded suspiciously like a snort of laughter, which only made Zagreus grin harder.
‘I won’t tell you, Zagreus, if you keep on with that mischief in your eye. Honestly, the pair of you!’
He subsided, squeezing her arm, and leaving that particular moral dilemma for another day.
‘Good boy,’ she said, patting his wrist. (Zagreus studiously avoided Thanatos’ gaze, burning like a beacon on his face.) ‘Did you know that I first learned of your father’s good heart from the secrets of plants? Yes, it took me quite by surprise, too. He could hardly have known it at the time, but he had gathered enough to honour me and what I cared for. So little grew here, then, but pomegranates, you see…’
❃
‘Dusa?’
‘Oh! Prince Z-Zagreus! Hi!! Can I h-help you?’
‘You haven’t happened to see a small blue flower anywhere on the ground, have you? I must have dropped it somewhere. It’s quite precious to me, you see…’
‘I—I’m so sorry, Prince, I haven’t seen anything. Oh, gosh! W-Would you like me to help you look again? Uh, I mean—’
‘Thank you, Dusa, that’s very kind. I don’t want to get you in trouble with father, though. You’ve probably got much more important things to be doing.’
‘It’s no trouble!!’
❃
‘So… what do you think of him?’
‘Of whom, darling?’
‘Thanatos,’ Zagreus coughed, fiddling with a clump of sedge.
‘Oh, do be gentle with the grass, love, it’s still young and tender. Of Thanatos?’ She laughed softly, like the quiet falling snow. ‘I think that he has grown up to be a dutiful and caring man. None could live here without his grace and dedication. Your father may rule, but this realm is his, in truth.’
‘Yes, yes, but… what do you think of him? Not Death. Him, the person…’
Persephone sat up from her ministrations at the flower bed and brushed indigo soil from her chiton. Her eyes twinkled when they met his, and he suddenly wished he’d never asked at all.
‘He is Death, Zagreus. These parts cannot be separated.’ Zagreus opened his mouth, but Persephone held up a hand. ‘No, let me finish, my impatient one! He is like the sweet marigold, in whose heart I saw the seed of grief— for the marigold always watches the sun and sadly closes its petals up when he rides away into Night. But who is to say that given a gift of marigolds, you might not feel great love and happiness? Then to you, the marigold reminds you always of the giver and represents, hopefully, nothing of grief at all. These things might both be true.’ She held out to him the yellow blossom.
‘And you say that Than is like… this?’ He took it, twirling the thin, prickly stem between pale fingers.
‘I say that he is many things, all at once. Don’t pout, darling. I think that he is fearsome and devoted. I think that he is also charming, and I think that, more than all of these combined, he cares for you very much.’
Zagreus tamed his violent urges and took to stroking the grass with one heavy thumb (nearly pressing it back into its seed in the soil).
‘Forgive me, but… that’s not exactly what I asked.’
‘Is it not?’
He sighed, and gave up. For his mother he would fight, again and again, through the very depths of hell. For his mother alone would he also stop.
‘Why should it matter, Zagreus,’ she continued softly, ‘what I think of the Lord of Death?’
‘Because— because I care… about you. And about him. I think you’re very wise, a lot wiser than me, so…’ Zagreus deflated. ‘He’s avoiding me. I haven’t spoken to him since that time in the garden. Ares tells me there’s no great war to keep him away, so… I don’t really understand.’
‘What don’t you understand, darling?’
‘Why he’s not around, like he used to be! Why he’s too busy. Why it’s even bothering me…’
‘Oh, Zagreus. Come here.’
Persephone opened her arms and he let his head fall on her lap, curling up on the grassy bank and petting the grass in soft apology. She settled a hand in his hair, stroking it as she never had been able to when he was just a boy. (He thought of gentle Cerberus and understood something more of a dog’s devotion.)
‘I suppose I just thought he’d be more… glad. That I’m not leaving here after all.’
‘I cannot explain what goes through the mind of Nyx’s son any more than you can, Zagreus. Even less so, probably! But I do think that he is glad. He adores you, my darling. I could see it as plainly as the darkness, walking here with you two. Any shade could have, let alone your own mother.’
‘Hmm.’
What good’s any of that, if I never see him? Might as well be adored by any mortal on earth.
Zagreus pressed a hand to his eyes, feeling the hot weight of his fingers, the cool brush of the air. He took in a deep, trembling lungful. Then he sat up, stretched, and climbed to his feet. The marigold he folded into his belt, to be added to his growing collection. To his mother, he bowed.
‘Thanks, mum. I’m gonna go kill some things.’
‘Have fun, dearest.’
❃
‘Achilles?’
‘Yes, lad?’
‘Can you still remember everything you have lost?’
‘The realm of Hades exists to preserve that which has been lost, does it not? Nothing is ever truly forgotten down here, Zagreus. Not forever. It was you who taught me that.’
‘Do you ever wish you could forget?’
‘…I will not lie and tell you that I do not. But as often as I find myself overcome by loss, I find that I am somehow grateful for it, too. My memories give me hope, and teach me well the many errors of my ways.’
‘Yours is a noble heart, Achilles.’
‘You seem uncharacteristically melancholic, my Prince. If you don’t mind my asking, is everything okay? Have you lost something?’
❃
Zagreus stepped off the raft to the sound of ringing bells and felt as though he was stepping into an arena. The lava rivers of Asphodel spat and swirled along behind him and could not have matched the temperature his blood rose to, to hear that gong. The blessing of Aphrodite clouded his mind, making him feel at once sharp and heavy, hot and weak. Perhaps he had set too high a Punishment, this time. Ah, well. He had help, at least.
‘Zagreus.’
He turned. Thanatos had such a way with his name; tender, fond, bored, amused… many things at once. He looked almost alive in the rosy glow of the fires. His skin danced with imperious amber and his eyes shone like folded marigolds.
Zagreus couldn’t bear to look at him floating there so he turned, striking the blood from his spear.
They said no more to one another, setting about the usual business of dodging explosive projectiles and avoiding noxious clouds of sulphur (for Zagreus) and waving his obnoxiously massive scythe to alarmingly deft effect (for Than). Great waves of dark, purple shadow sucked at the mass of enemies, dragging them into the void long after Thanatos had since turned towards his next target. Zagreus found himself distracted by the strangest things— the way the red haze caught in the fine threads of Than’s hair, turning it to molten copper. The way his long fingers spread and adjusted their grip on the scythe’s wrapped handle. The way he sneered at the creatures that fell before him, a lordly, wild glint in his eye…
The blast of magic took Zagreus from the back, completely unawares. Great shocks of bloodless electricity, wire without the copper, language without the words, purple in the red of light, took him, took him, until he was bleeding on his knees, and Than was looking at him, very alarmed. (When was the last time he’d really looked at him?)
Zagreus watched, half lost in his death already, as a cold, precise fury possessed Thanatos’ features and he severed the heart from the soul of whatever poor wretch had offed Zagreus.
A soft, feminine voice cooed in the dead man’s ear. He tasted burning light on the back of his tongue.
Untamed Death is beautiful, was his last coherent thought. It came to him as no surprise.
Thanatos was reaching for him, but Zagreus was already gone.
❃