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Thanatos liked watching him.
It started out as a way to look out for the prince; to make sure he was okay. Thanatos would step in whenever necessary and offer his help, then be on his way. That was that. Nothing more to it.
But as several attempts passed by, Zagreus grew stronger. It was easier for him to force his way through the heroes of Elysium, wielding every weapon with the skill of a long-time, strong-willed veteran. A level of skill that often takes years, maybe centuries, for someone to achieve, but Zagreus has managed to reach in only several days … or nights. Every strike became lethal, every movement practiced and perfected. It became challenging for Thanatos to decipher when exactly the prince needed his help.
But he continued to watch. And it had become some sort of an unhealthy habit for him to do so.
Whenever time permits him, he would find himself hovering over the vastness of Elysium. He’d follow the sound of a distant battle and find Zagreus already there, sword or spear at the ready, slicing and stabbing every foe in his view.
Thanatos had never really liked ruthless, hands-on combat. He wasn’t drawn to it; he never found it beautiful, nor did he find it exciting.
But with Zagreus, it was different. It was alluring . It was a feeling akin to temptation, to yearning.
Every swing and swipe with his sword, traced with the serious expression in his face. His eyes — both vicious red and gentle green — glinted with some sort of stubborn determination Thanatos could never understand. His dark, tousled hair that swayed in the wind, and the burning laurel that rested atop his ears. The way each hard-won battle scar, engraved on every part of his body, made him look like a true hero, one deserving of all the glory and greatness of Elysium.
(The way blood trickled over the side of his mouth when he got hurt, and the way he’d wipe it off with a laugh or a challenging grin. The almost-crazy look in his eyes. It was a look that Thanatos was slightly terrified of — but at the same time, it was beautiful. He was beautiful.)
Zagreus was a burning flame, unwavering and undefeated. It was blinding, watching such a bright light, but he couldn’t help but watch. He couldn’t take his eyes off him.
There was an invisible force that drew him closer to the prince, some kind of strong pull that even the Death himself could not comprehend — or resist. He wanted to watch him eternally, to observe his every move. He couldn’t — no, he didn’t want to — look away.
(Thanatos has thought, time and time again, that perhaps Lady Aphrodite herself had been messing around in his head, taking control of his emotions. But he knew, deep down, that wasn’t the case. This was all him. This was all Zagreus.)
Such thoughts were frankly embarrassing to Thanatos. Just about a year ago — maybe more, for the concept of time in the Underworld was an enigma to all — he did not care for Zagreus. Not to this degree, at least. But now, here he was, finding himself unable to go a day without seeing the prince. It was infuriating, but infuriatingly real, and true.
Thanatos quietly hoped he wasn’t too obvious about it. The last thing he wanted was for Zagreus to take notice of what he was doing. He’d take having to fight Lord Hades against his will over that.
He’d take anything over that.
…
Thanatos stood by his usual spot in the House of Hades, arms rested over the railing of the western balcony. His eyes followed the flow of the River Styx and its blood-like waters. He was expecting someone.
Anytime now.
He closed his eyes and waited for a familiar splash in the waters.
As if on cue, a distant voice muttered: “I’m home.”
Thanatos blinked his eyes open. There he was, the prince, in all his bloody glory. He watched as Zagreus shook his head (in a rather dog-like manner), droplets of the Styx leaving small pools of crimson at the prince’s burning feet. Then he disappeared into the main hall, perhaps to talk to Hypnos, or to Lord Hades and Lady Persephone.
A few moments later, he saw Zagreus run into the West Hall, to first greet his mentor, Achilles. They exchanged a few words, most of which Thanatos couldn’t hear, and soon he heard footsteps coming towards him.
Thanatos held a hand up without turning around. “Hey,” He said, calmly.
“Than!” He heard Zagreus call out. The footsteps came faster, from walking to sprinting towards him. Soon, the prince was at his side, a smile on his face.
“Hello, Zagreus.” Thanatos said. He had to resist the pull of a smile at the corner of his lips.
Zagreus cleared his throat. “Than,” He regarded him. Thanatos looked over to him, and he saw that the prince was avoiding his gaze. He watched as Zagreus pursed his lips, clearly holding back.
(Thanatos has watched this expression several times. He’s learned to know what it means; he’s made himself aware of these infinitesimal things. Things that go unnoticed to most, but are inexplicably important to the God of Death.)
“Out with it, Zag.” Thanatos said, sighing. “You have something to say to me. I assure you, whatever it is—“
“It’s nothing.” Zagreus quickly interjected. He flashed him a grin. “It’s nice to see you here—“
Thanatos placed a finger over Zagreus’s lips, gesturing for him to stop talking. “I assure you, that whatever it is, I won’t mind. Just tell me. You clearly have something on your mind, and it’s certainly not ‘nothing’ .”
“Okay, okay, I get it.” Zagreus placed a hand over Thanatos’s and gently pushed it away from him. However, instead of moving his hand away, it remained there, fingers sinking into the gaps between Thanatos’s hand, almost intertwined.
(His touch was warm, unnaturally warm. Almost like there was human blood in his veins; crimson and truly alive. A striking contrast to every other god and goddess Thanatos has ever met: cold, lifeless, and the blood of melted gold. Nothing like Zagreus.)
Before he could bark out a ‘what the hell do you think you’re doing’ , Zagreus spoke: “Than, have you ever … thought about what I was the god of?”
…Huh.
What was Zagreus the god of? He didn’t know the answer to that question. He’s never thought about it, but surely, if one was a god, then one should be the god of something , right?
“…No. It never really crossed my mind.” Thanatos managed to say. “Did something happen?”
“No, not really.” Zagreus cast a sideways glance down the hall, towards his mentor. “But .. Achilles thinks I’m the god of blood. Of life? I don’t know how I feel about that.”
(...what?)
“…Than?”
(The God of… Life.)
“Thanatos? Sorry, I shouldn’t have said —“
“No! No, it’s… fine.” Thanatos quickly interrupted.
It made perfect sense. The god whom the Fates deemed as one who wasn’t supposed to exist, brought to life by Mother Night herself. The god who remained in the shadows of history, a child born of the secret romance between Lord Hades and the goddess Persephone, yet he persevered in his quest to reunite them.
These cruel instances of Zagreus’s life — everything that prevented him from truly living — he had defied them all. Is that not the essence of life? To fight for it, to take it from the clutches of the Fates and claim it as your own? To truly live for yourself?
The god closest to mortality, closest to being human , with veins of a deep red instead of a shining gold. The god of blood, the god of life.
It made perfect sense.
Would that explain how much Thanatos wanted to be closer to him? To Life? Would it make sense that Death would be enamored by the very existence of Life?
(Yes. Of course . For what is Death without Life, and what is Life without Death? Meaningless.)
“…I think it makes sense.” Thanatos spoke, finally. It was too shallow of an answer, barely encompassing all his thoughts, but it would suffice for now. “Does that — do you not like it?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just — “ Zagreus took a deep breath. “It feels weird … being something. Up until now, I didn’t feel like I would amount to anything, or do anything useful. Be something to my Father and this House. Being the god of something feels … well, that’s important. I’m not.”
“Don’t say that.” Thanatos said, almost immediately, turning around to look at him. “You’re …”
Thanatos paused. He never really had experience in comforting others, much less comforting Zagreus. The prince always seemed to be in such a cheerful mood; it never crossed Thanatos’s mind that he would ever feel … worthless.
(In retrospect, he never really thought about those kinds of things at all. He never stopped for a moment to think about feelings growing up. He had a duty to perform, and that was all he focused on. Up until now, of course, where someone else lingered in his mind for more than he had expected.)
But … of course Zagreus would feel that way. Lord Hades has been hard on the prince growing up. He was constantly frustrated by the mere existence of Zagreus, even when the prince had done nothing wrong. He had never once looked at Zagreus properly until Persephone had returned. Of course he would feel that way.
Thanatos remained silent, trying to find the right words to say. Then, he took a deep breath. “Zagreus, you can’t say that about yourself — you’re important. You can choose to believe me or not, but I truly think that this House would not be what it is without you.”
(He could not imagine the House of Hades without Zagreus. How lonely it would be, how close to ruin it would be. He could not imagine himself without Zagreus. )
“And—“ Thanatos stopped himself, voice faltering. He looked away quickly. He wasn’t supposed to say that much.
“And?”
“Nothing.”
Zagreus raised an eyebrow. He cleared his throat, then spoke in a deeper tone: “ I assure you, whatever it is, I won’t mind! Just tell me! You clearly have something on your mind, and it’s certainly— “
“You — stop that.” Thanatos glared at him and punched him lightly on the shoulder. “How do you even remember what I said?”
“Your words, Than. And I like listening to you talk.” Zagreus grinned at him — that lopsided, teasing grin. There was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes that Thanatos could not ignore. “So tell me.”
“And — well,” Thanatos looked away once more, unable to face the prince. “The House needs you, just as I said, though if it’s any consolation … you’re also important to me.”
(This is embarrassing.)
“I — Than, you …” Thanatos could feel the prince’s curious gaze on him. He was a little hesitant to turn around, dreading what kind of expression he would see on Zagreus’s face when he did.
As soon as he turned his head to look at him, ready to explain himself and apologize for overstepping, the words died in his throat.
Zagreus was looking at him with a warm smile on his face. His mismatched eyes, oftentimes intimidating, softened as they met Thanatos’s golden ones. His face and ears were tinged with a mellow red. Zagreus’s hand — which, Thanatos had almost forgotten that it was laced with his — grew warmer, his hold becoming more firm.
(All these infinitesimal things that Thanatos noticed. Inexplicably important. )
The gentleness in that simple expression of his was one Thanatos could never properly describe in words. But at the time, there was only one word Thanatos thought of to describe the prince in front of him; Zagreus was beautiful. That’s all there was to it.
“Thank you,” The prince finally said, breaking the growing silence between them. “I’m still not sure about this whole ‘god of blood’ thing, but I think I needed that. It made me feel a little better.”
“I … didn’t do much.” Thanatos found his voice again, much to his surprise — and relief. “I just told you how I felt. I didn’t offer you any advice —“
“You’ve done more than enough for me, Than. Really, thank you. You have no idea.” Zagreus’s smile widened into a cheerful grin — one that erased any doubts Thanatos might’ve had about what he had done to earn the prince’s gratitude.
Thanatos couldn’t help but smile in return, albeit a lot smaller in comparison to the prince’s. “Glad to have helped you, then.”
Zagreus beamed at him once more, giving his hand a squeeze before letting go.
(Thanatos already missed the warmth.)
“I should get going. Will I see you in Elysium?”
Thanatos couldn’t resist the expectant, almost pleading look in his eyes. “…Maybe. I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” Zagreus nodded, accepting his answer. Then, a small smirk rested on his lips. “Might be better to actually help me than just stare at me from above, though.”
(What.)
“What?”
“Bye, Than! I’ll see you out there!”