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Guh-dong.
Thanatos closed his eyes as he appeared in a flash of light, illuminating the Elysian chamber with a bright green.
He opened his eyes and held his scythe at the ready, expecting to see Zagreus before him with that signature grin of his. For reasons he could not explain, Zagreus always seemed to be smiling up at him every time he announced his presence. He’s done it so often that Thanatos has started to look forward to it; to seeing that smile of his.
This time, however, he was disappointed.
Zagreus was staring straight at the ground, bent over with his hands upon his knees. His sword was hastily discarded at his side, its bright blade stained with black. He was breathing heavily, each unsteady breath scorned with fatigue, crimson blood dripping down the side of his face and from his mouth. He could barely stand. He could barely even look at Thanatos.
It took Thanatos all his willpower to not discard his scythe and drop to the ground next to Zagreus right then and there. He wanted to take him by the arms and legs and carry him in his arms, then deliver him to the House himself.
(But he knew Zagreus would not like that. He knew Zagreus honored each one of these attempts. Finding his way back home without dying was a displeasure to him — as he would feel as if he did not deserve such a victory.)
Instead he steeled himself, taking a deep breath as he hovered closer. Just close enough to see Zagreus properly.
“…Zag,” Thanatos started, his voice coming out gentler than he had expected. “Zag, are you all right?”
Zagreus said nothing as he took a shaky breath, picking up his sword and planting it into the ground. Using the weapon as support, he lifted himself up to his feet and faced the God of Death, a defiant look in his eyes. Gone was the usual cheerful smile, and in its place was a helpless, almost frustrated expression. Thanatos couldn’t quite place what Zagreus was feeling, but he knew for certain that things had gone wrong for this attempt.
“I’m—“ Zagreus suddenly doubled over, clutching his throat as he stumbled backwards. Thanatos instinctively reached for him, hesitating to place a hand on his shoulder.
(He decided against it. His hand fell halfway to the injured prince, and it remained by his side. Not now. )
Zagreus coughed up some blood onto the grass before he continued, “ Fine . I’m fine. Let’s get this started.”
(His voice was rasp with exhaustion. So different from his usual tone. A striking contrast to his cheerful demeanor.
Zagreus just sounds so tired .)
Before Thanatos could protest, detailed, glowing circles of light came to life in the ground before them, signaling the start of battle. In the blink of an eye, the warriors of Elysium materialized before them, eager for blood.
(Not Thanatos’s blood. Intoxicating, humane, crimson blood. Zagreus.)
“…Don’t push yourself too hard.” Thanatos managed to whisper, leaning close behind Zagreus’s ear. He readied himself, pointing his scythe towards the dead.
And so, he leapt into battle.
During his and Zagreus’s little contests, Thanatos had always made it a point to attack their enemies slower in order to give Zagreus a small advantage. He’d always make sure his moves were slightly delayed, unable to compete with Zagreus’s reckless speed. Then he’d ‘reluctantly’ pass on the centaur heart to the prince.
This time, however, he showed the Elysian souls a small taste of his real power, his real speed. He got rid of them a little faster — just a little — to make sure Zagreus did not overexert himself.
As every soul fell to his hand, he started to feel a strange sensation in his heart; it was hot — a fiery, searing kind of warmth, different from the comfortable solace he usually felt around Zagreus. He felt as if something inside him was burning, and was almost painful. Like something was clenched around his heart, squeezing it uncomfortably tight.
Rage.
But rage for what? To who, in particular?
(To whatever — to whoever made Zagreus bleed.)
“Ah—!“
Thanatos quickly turned around to the sound of Zagreus’s voice, ready to fight, only to find that an Exalted had pierced their spear into his chest. His eyes widened as he immediately floated closer, towards the prince, longing to do something , anything at all — before a bright light almost blinded him.
Instinctively, he squeezed his eyes shut to shield himself from the light, but slowly opened them as he watched Zagreus rise from the ground in a flash of red. It was as if his heart was being pulled out of his chest, and with it all his blood. His skin became pale and lifeless. His eyes were shut tight, his teeth grit together and a bead of sweat trickled down his face as he braced himself for pain. The insignia of Hades appeared; a blinding, crimson symbol above the prince’s head.
The Death Defiance. Thanatos knew Zagreus was in control of it, thanks to Nyx, but he had never seen him use it before. Not up close. Not like this.
Thanatos’s hand found its way to his heart on instinct. He had always been able to ascertain when a life has been taken. There would always be that familiar shiver that ran through him; something he’s grown accustomed to. But the prince’s death felt different; it echoed throughout his body, resonating deeply with his soul. It was painful . No death has ever been as painful to him as this: Zagreus’s death, up close and personal.
Zagreus had died before. Multiple times, in fact. Why did this one feel all the more agonizing?
(Because he watched. He watches ; he always does. He can’t take his eyes off of the prince of the Underworld, even in times like this.)
Then the feeling left just as soon as it came. He watched as Zagreus’s wounds healed, as the color returned to his skin and face, no longer pale and lifeless. The spear that was thrusted into his chest simply fell to the ground. The arrows that were wedged into his back were reduced to ash. Zagreus’s heart returned to him, replaced and renewed. He gasped and opened his eyes, vicious red and gentle green shining once again. Another life.
He had just watched his friend, dearest to him and to his heart, die and live again. For a moment, he was taken aback, unsure of what to do.
But the images of Zagreus’s almost-dead body replayed in his mind. The painful expression on his face, the paleness of his skin, the unending flow of blood that left through his fatal wounds. He has seen death before, in its many scornful forms and twisted ways. He is Death; the embodiment of it, the bringer of it, the fulfiller and the deliverer.
He should be used to this.
But this was Zagreus. The god of life and blood. His entire person, who he was and what he was made to do, was life . To be alive, to live, to breathe and to exist.
Seeing the god of life simply die, even just for a fleeting moment, felt wrong . Unequivocally wrong.
Thanatos’s rage soared.
Without looking back, with his eyes on Zagreus alone, he brandished his scythe, raising it just above his head. Not a single word uttered, not a single sound heard. Zagreus met his eyes —his golden eyes, that glowed with an eerie, dangerous light — and watched .
He didn’t stop Thanatos from doing whatever it is he wanted to do. The god of death took it as permission.
Each and every soul, every warrior, butterfly and chariot, was marked with a menacing, glowing purple scythe. The symbol of death by Death himself. With a swipe of his scythe that created a glowing arc of light as he dragged the weapon down to his side, they were all reduced to nothing.
The trial ended. The air cleared and Thanatos breathed out a heavy sigh. He looked down at his hand, the one that wielded his scythe. It was trembling, although very slightly.
Why had he done that? Since when did his feelings dictate his actions?
(But strangely enough, he felt satisfied. Regret was an unfamiliar feeling to him. Not a shred of remorse washed over him. When he looked at the prince, just a short distance from him, all he felt was relief.)
He drifted over to where Zagreus was standing, lowering his weapon as he approached. The prince seemed less tired than before, but was breathing quickly, something almost akin to hyperventilation. It took a moment for him to regain himself and look at Thanatos, now with a tired smile on his face.
“I can never get used to that,” Zagreus mumbled, exhaustingly, with a sheepish smile on his face. While it didn’t feel fake, it definitely felt a little forced. “Sorry you had to see that. I saw you watching.”
“It’s fine.” Thanatos took another deep breath. Unable to hold back any longer, he willed himself to descend to the ground, letting his feet touch the grass of Elysium. He walked towards the prince, who was staring at him in surprise, before placing a hand on his arm. Thanatos said nothing, looking down at the ground with his lips pursed, hesitating.
“Than…?”
Wordlessly, his fingers moved toward a spot on Zagreus’s wrist, just below his palm. There, he could feel his faint heartbeat. He could feel the warmth in the prince’s veins, the blood coursing through them. Life.
(He was alive. There was no need for him to doubt.)
He let go of the prince’s hand and looked up to face him. “It’s nothing. I was just … surprised, is all.”
He watched as Zagreus’s eyes soften, his lips pressing into a small frown. There was a glint of guilt in his eyes, and Thanatos could tell that another apology was on the tip of his tongue.
“You did nothing wrong.” Thanatos clarified. He wasn’t angry — at least, he wasn’t anymore . But even when he was tormented with rage, it was not because of Zagreus. He could do nothing to make him feel that kind of burning, uncontrollable anger.
“It was — I’ve never seen it before. Your Death Defiance. So I was … worried. A little.” Thanatos let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He mumbled, much softer; loud enough for only the two of them to hear. Just for him, just for them.
Zagreus finally smiled — a simple, genuine smile. Nothing forced or fake or tired. Just that warm smile of his.
“I guess you won?” Zagreus said, looking towards the now-empty chamber. The scent of battle still lingered in the air, pitch-black blood in small splatters on the grass.
Thanatos looked away from him, a hand behind his neck. “Sorry about that.“
“It’s fine, Than.” Zagreus grinned at him. It was strange, not being suspended midair, but Thanatos welcomed the sight of Zagreus before him. He felt much closer to the prince than he ever had before — face-to-face, able to drink in every part of him.
(On another, unserious note, he noticed that he was not much taller than Zagreus — only by a few inches. The prince had grown a lot more than he had anticipated, in their time apart. Perhaps he should keep up the whole floating thing, then.)
Thanatos stared longer than he should have, causing Zagreus to tilt his head in confusion. He waved a hand in front of the Thanatos’s face. “…Than?”
“What?” Thanatos blinked, snapping back to the moment.
“I said I was gonna get going.” Zagreus pointed over to the gleaming chamber door that stood in front of them, the symbol of Patroclus’s glade shining in a small crystal above the golden frame. “Patroclus will be able to refresh my Defiances, so you don’t need to worry.”
“Wait,“ Thanatos held out his gloved hand in between the two of them. A centaur heart sparked to life; it floated in Thanatos’s palm, bright red and pulsing.
Zagreus’s eyes widened as he frantically shook his head. “What? Than, you won. I can’t — “
“Take it,” Thanatos insisted. He stepped closer to the prince, stopping just before his hand touched his chest. “You need it. I know you do. You know you do.”
“But — “
“I violated the rules of our contest and used too much of my power. That gave me an unfair advantage. By that reasoning, I am disqualified. So the prize is rightfully yours.”
(A laughable reason – no, perhaps an excuse is a better term to call it. But Thanatos wanted to make sure Zagreus was safe — or at least, as safe as he could be. He wanted to help him, in any little way he could.)
“Since when did our contests have rules?” Zagreus said, lightly, as he chuckled good-naturedly. He placed a hand over Thanatos’s wrist. “Alright, I accept. Here, you can do the honors.”
Zagreus guided Thanatos’s hand towards his chest, closing the distance between them. A familiar warmth bloomed in Thanatos, spreading across his face. That comforting warmth of solace, not the biting pain of rage.
Thanatos couldn’t help but smile.
He pressed his gauntlet gently onto the prince’s chest, and the centaur heart disappeared, becoming one with his. Underneath his palm, Thanatos felt the gentle hum of his heartbeat.
It was strangely comforting, just the two of them in the empty Elysian chamber and a calming silence, save for the gentle sound of the distant River Lethe and the constant drum of Zagreus’s heartbeat.
Two gods — Death and Life — as one. It was as if nothing else mattered.
(Zagreus’s heartbeat was soothing. As if everything in the world was right; nothing was out of place. Even if Elysium were to crumble at his feet right now, he wouldn’t care, as long as Zagreus was still alive.)
(Since when did he think that way?)
Zagreus cleared his throat, looking away as a soft red brushed over his cheeks and ears. Thanatos quickly retracted his hand.
“Um, right. So — “ Zagreus tried for a small smile. “I’ll see you back at the House, then.”
“I’ll try my best to make it.” Thanatos complied. He found himself returning the smile — as best as he could, anyway.
He leaned in, one final time, pressing himself close to the prince's ear. He placed a hand on Zagreus's shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “Good luck — and don't die. You know how to call me, if you should ever need my help." He whispered, in a gentleness unfamiliar to even himself.
(He'd never admit it, but it took him every ounce of his willpower not to press a small kiss to the prince's cheek right then and there. He feared what would happen if he did.)
With one last look at the prince, who was smiling at him, giddily, with all the life the world could offer, he closed his eyes and disappeared in a flash of green.
…
“I heard quite the commotion in the last chamber.” Patroclus said, handing him the Kiss of Styx. “Made quite the scene, have you, Stranger?”
“Ah — no. To be truthful, I didn’t do much.” The prince replied. He took the small bottle and drank from it. He felt the effects instantly, and it sent a shiver through his body, as if a splash of cold water had suddenly doused him. “It was just Than.”
Patroclus raised an eyebrow. “Thanatos, God of Death? I didn’t know you two were acquainted.”
“More than acquainted, Sir.” Zagreus said. His voice faltered as he saw Patroclus’s expression, a small smile building on his face. Something almost akin to a smirk. “Wait, I didn’t mean in that way. I mean — we’ve been friends for a long time. A very long time.”
“Alright, Stranger. Whatever you say.” Patroclus waved a hand towards the chamber doors at the end of the glade. “Best you get going, now.”
"Right." Zagreus stood up from his place in front of Patroclus and carried his sword. Almost subconsciously, his hand found its way just above his ear, hovering over it as if something was there.
The ghost of Thanatos's touch, the sound of his voice. It reverberated through the prince's soul.
How could Death's touch be so intoxicating?