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1. training
Step. Stab, slash, step, advance –
"Careful, lad."
Zagreus looked up at his mentor, advancing on him with a pointed spear. Achilles was a blurry, blonde whirr everywhere he looked, disappearing in one place then appearing in another. In a helpless daze, Zagreus tried to parry his attacks, desperately holding his own spear out. His grip felt weaker and weaker by the minute, and every strike he blocked with his spear sent a shockwave of pain down his body.
Keep going. Side, step, st…. wait, that isn't right…!
Too late. A wrong step, and Zagreus fell to the ground, his body slamming into the sandy floor. He shuddered in pain as Achilles's spearpoint came into his view, just a small distance away from his chest.
"I – I yield – " Zagreus forced the words out, choking on blood that wasn't there, his voice weak and throat dry. He looked at his mentor as his hands dug into the sand, holding onto the grains like they were a lifeline. Though Zagreus tried his best to look unbothered, his expression must have betrayed him, causing Achilles to soften and retrieve his spear. His mentor was never cruel. Achilles was filled with such kindness; he couldn't bear seeing Zagreus afraid like that. There was a small glint of apology that Zagreus saw in Achilles's bright, green eyes.
As soon as the weapon was sheathed, tucked away from Zagreus's exposed chest, the prince let out a sigh of relief. He took a moment, squeezing hard into the sand, taking long, deep breaths. Refusing to look at Achilles.
His entire body screamed at him to lay on the sandy floor, to close his eyes and surrender himself to slumber. With every move that he made, there was an ache that came with it; in his limbs, his chest, and his head.
Get it together. This training isn't over.
Zagreus closed his eyes, almost squeezing them shut, and took one, last, deep breath, before getting up on his feet. Using his spear as leverage, he stood, almost falling over (again) in the process.
"I'm alright." Zagreus declared, in as strong a voice as he could muster. His eyes were glued to the ground. "I can – let's continue."
"My prince," Achilles winced at the instinctive title he called Zagreus – "Lad, Zagreus. You don't look well. Perhaps we should take a break."
Zagreus's eyes widened, and he frantically raised his head at his mentor to look at him. "No. No, I'm fine, Achilles – "
"Breaks are also essential to training, lad." Achilles explained, as gently as he could. He lowered his spear, stepping closer to the prince and putting a hand on his shoulder. Achilles's touch felt warm and reassuring, and waves of exhaustion washed over Zagreus. "A warrior led to the brink of overexertion will not serve use in the battlefield at all."
Zagreus bit the inside of his cheek. He could use the rest. He would probably be able to fight better after a quick nap, or a small snack. That was what he deserved, right? Perhaps he could indulge, just a little bit …
Then his mind snapped to those thoughts. He thought of that man just outside the chambers, the man seated at the throne of the Underworld, the man who has scorned him and deemed him worthless. That man who had filled him with unbridled rage and anger, that man who he wanted to break free from. The singular purpose of all his training, all his hard work, all his exhaustion.
This is my revenge. Zagreus thought. You who have mocked me relentlessly, you who deem me unworthy. Once I get out of here, I will truly be free.
(But is it freedom you seek, dear prince, or is it approval? For there is a voice in your head; a miniscule one, trapped in the dark corners of your mind, and it says: once I get out of here, perhaps you will look at me with respect. Perhaps you will treat me like a son.)
… No matter what the reason is, I have to keep going. If I stop now, I'll lose everything.
"No," Zagreus said, decisively. While he did not like affirming his princely status, he looked at Achilles with a determination that indicated that his decision would not be rejected. "I have to keep going. I'm fine, Achilles, Sir. Please, teach me more."
Achilles scrutinized him for a while, studying the expression on his face, trying to decipher what the prince was feeling. Zagreus held his gaze.
After a moment, Achilles sighed, unsheathing his spear once more. "Alright. Let's go over your mistake, fix it, then we'll work from there."
Zagreus let out a sigh of relief, nodding as he managed to smile. Achilles returned it.
I can't stop here. Keep going, keep going. I'll lose everything if I stop. Keep going, keep going.
…..
2. fury
"You look like shit." Was the first thing Megaera said to him when he entered the last chamber of Tartarus.
Zagreus winced, trying to keep it together, gripping the handle of his blade tighter. "I've looked worse, believe you me."
"Really? Because the you that's in front of me right now looks like he couldn't even land a single hit on me."
Zagreus had always known Megaera to be rather sharp in her words — insults and threats came naturally to her — but this time, this was just her being honest. If Zagreus could look in a mirror right now, he would definitely agree with her. But right now, all he had was the sensation of pain, blood, and a throbbing headache.
The only part of his appearance he could see were the many wounds and scars that littered over his arms, and the slimy, cold feeling of the blood pouring from his face to the other parts of his body. His blood, not the Styx's. It was obvious that luck did not favor him in the past few chambers of Tartarus.
It's no matter. I have to keep going.
Zagreus forced a laugh. "Please, don't underestimate me because of my looks, Meg. Let's get this done."
Megaera held his gaze. There was confliction in her eyes, a small hesitance. "I'm not fighting somebody who looks like they can't take this battle seriously."
"I can. Seriously, what's wrong? Don't worry about how bad I look." Zagreus gave her a grin, taking a deep breath to compose himself. "It's not like you to feel pity for me, Meg."
"It's not pity." Megaera spat at him, scowling as her whip crackled dangerously. "It's the truth. You look like you're about to keel over. Zagreus, if you —"
"Stop."
Zagreus's voice sounded foreign even to him — it was suddenly serious, guarded, unshakeable. There was a look in his eyes that he tried to hide: desperation, determination, and a very miniscule spark of blind rage. He readied his sword, holding it up in an offensive stance, pointing it towards the Fury.
I don't care if I lose. I don't care if I die. I'll get back up and try again. I'll find her, my mother, and I will know peace, and my father …
(Your father. You will prove him wrong, show him that you're more than just a worthless, helpless prince trapped in his House. That's one of your reasons for fighting, isn't it? Even you cannot deny it now. You're tired of his scorn. You want to fix this relationship that you have. Despite all your rage, you still want to make him proud.)
(And your mother — she abandoned you. What guarantee do you have that she would be willing to accept you in her arms once again? She left the Underworld years ago; why would she want to go back? To reunite with you, with your father, and the others of the House? Why would she want that, if she so readily left you all, all those years ago?)
Shut up — I don't know. The truth is incomplete, I can't draw conclusions from it right now. I need to know. I need to understand. I need to make it out of here. That's all that matters.
(That's another reason, then? To understand? To uncover the truth?)
… I'm not sure. Maybe. I don't understand my own feelings right now. Maybe someday, I will, but for now …
"Fight me, Meg." Zagreus said, his voice a little brighter, a little steadier. A little stronger. There was willpower somewhere deep inside him, and whatever reason it was there, he would understand at a different time. "I asked for this. I want to make it out of here. And I don't mind losing pools of blood to you if it means getting closer to succeeding."
Zagreus watched as Megaera pursed her lips, studying him carefully. In the end, she cracked her whip, readying it at her side. She shook off any kind of hesitation that Zagreus saw in her earlier.
"Keep your determination, Zag. You'll need it."
I want to see the surface. I want to see my mother. I want to know the truth. Keep going, keep going.
.....
3. paradise
Being in Patroclus's glade in Elysium always seemed to put Zagreus at ease.
As soon as he saw the symbol of his glade above the chamber door, he readily ran through, making his way up the stairs and towards the fallen Myrmidon warrior, who was already looking up at him with the faintest trace of a smile on his face.
"Sir, I couldn't be happier to see you right now." Zagreus greeted him, unable to suppress the grin on his face.
Patroclus studied him, head to toe, taking in Zagreus's state. Bloodied, bruised, and scarred. Just like always, of course, but today, it was moreso that newfound glint in Zagreus's eye that caught Patroclus's attention.
Patroclus passed the canteen of hydralite gold to Zagreus, then patted the ground beside him. Hesitantly, the prince took a seat, crossing his legs as he opened the small container. As soon as the liquid entered his body, some of his cuts and wounds healed.
"Better, stranger?"
"Better, sir. Thank you." Zagreus nodded. He looked at the fallen warrior curiously, slightly tilting his head to the side. "Is something the matter?"
"… You look more determined than before." Like always, Patroclus never beat around the bush, always pointing out things as he saw them. Zagreus watched his expression soften, albeit only slightly. "I always thought this battle of yours was meaningless, but lately, you've been … how do I say this — stronger, perhaps?"
Zagreus looked at him in confusion. "Well, sir, I've gained a lot of fighting experience through these attempts to the surface, so I've definitely grown a lot stronger from where I started. But … I don't think that's what you mean."
"It's not. I mean — stronger in terms of will, I suppose." Patroclus smiled gently — it was rare for Zagreus to see the fallen warrior smile, so he knew that Patroclus meant every word that he said. "You used to be so volatile. Like an angry rush of rage. But now, it seems you've been fighting for a purpose — or maybe, you've always had that purpose, but it seems much clearer to you now.
"Did I get that right?" Patroclus finished, looking towards Zagreus slyly.
Zagreus stared at him in surprise, then burst into lighthearted laughter. "Sir, are you this good at reading people? Achilles should have warned me sooner."
Patroclus shared his laughter — well, it was just a small chuckle, but it was laughter nonetheless. "Achilles was a different case. My love, he wore his emotions on his sleeve. You were a little harder, but I could gander a few guesses about how you were feeling."
Zagreus glanced at his sword, which he set down on the ground in front of him. Patroclus followed his gaze. "I … found my mother." He said, significantly quieter than before. Zagreus could see his reflection in the crimson blade of his sword; there was melancholy in his face. He didn't know if it was a good look on him.
"On the surface?"
"Yes," Zagreus continued. He started to mindlessly pick at the grass he was sitting on. "It's … a long story, sir. But … I need to convince her to return."
"Return?"
"Here." Zagreus waved his hand aimlessly towards the sky of Elysium, gesturing to the entire Underworld. "With me, and Father. Only she doesn't believe that Father would ever care for her after all this time."
"Hm," Patroclus studied him once more, and Zagreus could feel the weight of his stare. "But you're determined."
"… I am." Zagreus nodded, slowly, carefully. There was a bit of brightness that returned to him, those sparks of passion that danced in his eyes. "I want … I want to fix this. I know that Father loves her deeply. She loves him, too, in return. Everyone in the House sees her as part of the Underworld — "
"And you, stranger?"
Zagreus faced Patroclus suddenly, surprise etched into his smile. "… Me, sir?"
"You," Patroclus nodded. "What do you think of her? What do you want?"
(And the question shows itself again, Prince. Your reasons for this journey that you insist on seeing to its end. But now, it doesn't seem as cruel, nor as confusing, as before. Now, it feels like light; golden, warm and calm. It feels right, it feels more certain than before.)
(But there is doubt in your mind. It echoes, once more: is what I'm doing selfish? Am I truly doing this for the House, or am I fighting for my own reasons? Over and over and over again. Do you truly deserve this?)
I … don't know.
Patroclus sighed gently, before placing a hand on Zagreus's shoulder and squeezing it firmly. "You fight for everyone in your house. You fight for your mother, and your father. Do you also fight for yourself?"
Zagreus blinked. "… I don't know." The words in his mind felt strange as he spoke them into being. He pursed his lips, hesitating, as his voice became smaller — not timid, but more cautious: "… Is that a bad thing?"
Patroclus removed his hand from Zagreus's shoulder and smiled with a look of gentle fondness, maybe a little amusement. Though his voice was as slow and soothing as always, his answer was resolute; unchanging, and with finality: "No."
(This long, weary journey you are upon, dear prince, it seems you have a myriad of reasons for. And, perhaps, one of those reasons could be something you deem "selfish". Though, strangely, this "selfish" does not feel selfish at all. What an unusual conclusion to draw.)
(Dear prince, take a look at yourself; you fight for your family, your friends, and your realm. Do you fight for yourself?)
… Yes, I think I do.
Zagreus found his voice again. "I … want my mother to return home." He said, a little louder than before. "I want to fix whatever I can of this broken family. I want to feel loved, by both Mother and Father, in that House. I want everyone to be happy … "
Zagreus's voice faltered, then he grinned sheepishly. "Now that I say it out loud, it's a little childish, sir."
"Dreams of peace and happiness are not childish at all, stranger." Patroclus said, shaking his head. He picked up Zagreus's blade, which laid on the ground in front of them, and handed it to him. "Your reasons to fight, what you think makes this battle worth fighting — hang on to them. And keep going."
Zagreus stared at the blade in Patroclus's hands before sighing, breaking into a smile. He took the blade into his hands and tucked the canteen of hydralite gold away, then lifted himself off the ground.
"Thank you, sir." Zagreus said, nodding, as he placed his blade into its sheath. He looked at the fallen warrior and smiled, bright and lighthearted as always. "I'll see you again, next time?"
"Next time, then, stranger."
For the House, for this family, and for me. Keep going, keep going.
.....
4. garden
"Mother."
Zagreus ran into the lovely garden, the scent of pomegranates and flowers filling his lungs. At the sound of her name, Queen Persephone turned around, greeting him with a wave and an enthusiastic smile.
"My son, you're back! How was it?" Persephone asked, embracing Zagreus warmly. "Did you make it to my garden, by any chance?"
Zagreus looked sheepish. "Oh, uh, actually — I did manage to water a few plants, but ultimately, I was taken before I could tend to them all."
Persephone laughed softly. "It's no matter. I used a little magic on them to keep them from withering, so they should last a few more hundred years or so." She picked up her skirt and began to walk through the garden, gesturing for Zagreus to follow.
"It's a little unusual, you know?" She said, gentle and a little solemn. "To be back here. With your father, with everyone. With you, especially."
"Is that the bad kind of unusual?" Zagreus asked, and though he tried to bite back his worry, a hint of doubt escaped his voice.
Persephone turned to him immediately. "Oh, no! Of course not. I made this choice, did I not? I want more than anything to be with you and your father." She said, smiling, almost laughing lightheartedly at Zagreus's anxious expression. "I simply meant that it will take me a while, getting used to all this again. And …"
Her smile mellowed. "I never got the chance to be your mother, Zagreus. I certainly want to do that now, but I'm — well, honestly, I'm a little afraid. That I will not do as good a job. That I missed too much having left you out here, all on your own; too many moments that I might not be able to get back."
Zagreus stopped in his tracks and held his mother's hands, squeezing them tightly. "Mother, you're doing great. There's no need for you to be anxious about anything like that! You're doing the best you can." Zagreus tried for an encouraging smile, meeting her eyes. "Those memories that you missed — we can simply make more. Make up for the time we spent apart. Right?"
Persephone was taken aback for a moment, gazing deep into her son's eyes before laughing once more; a clear sound that dissipated any gloominess in her eyes. "Yes, I think you're right. Starting now, we'll be able to make up for lost time."
"Sounds like a plan!"
Persephone smiled kindly. "Zagreus, you're a ray of hope to everyone, do you know that? To me and to everyone in the House — including your father." She sighed, a contented expression on her face. "We're all in a better place than we were before."
"I'm glad," Zagreus said. "Though, I can't take all the credit — I mean, change starts from within, or something like that, right? You can only find yourself in a better place if you choose to."
"That's true," Persephone nodded. "But you pushed me in the right direction. And I'm forever grateful to you for that, my son."
For a still moment, the garden was completely silent. Solemn, quiet, and full of love. Zagreus stood by his mother, breathing in the serenity of it all. For once in his life, he felt like he achieved something. That this journey of his was not meaningless after all.
(It was never meaningless, dear prince. You have those reasons, do you not? Those myriad of reasons, full of love and longing. It was for these reasons you train and fight and struggle.)
It was Persephone who broke the silence first. "So, you'll keep going then? Battle your way to the surface as … some kind of security specialist, I suppose?"
"I suppose," Zagreus echoed. "But besides that … I want to keep going because of my own reasons. Not out of obligation."
"Oh? And, pray tell, what are these reasons?"
(The question has returned to you, dear prince. What is your answer this time?)
I suppose the voices in my head don't have much of an answer either?
(Not this time. This one is up to you.)
"Hmm … " Zagreus pressed a hand to his chin, deep in thought. "I suppose … I want to understand this world better. Gain more experience. I want to get stronger, in order to protect everyone I love. I want to become friends with everyone in the House — they've always seemed so distant before, but now, I think that I can get to know everyone a bit more. I want …"
Zagreus stopped himself, grinning sheepishly again. "My reasons have grown more and more affectionate the more I keep fighting, I've noticed. It's a little less heroic than the reasons when I started."
"There's no shame in that!" Persephone said, laughing quietly. "Not a lot of gods harbor the same heartfelt desires as you. And that, my son, is a very good thing."
(Humans are said to have the same ideals. Humans, demigod heroes, and the like. They harbor the same passion, the same love. The same wish for peace and happiness. These would never be associated with an almighty, powerful god.)
(But you, Zagreus, prince of the Underworld, the god of blood and life … it makes sense that 'Life' would have the same passions as humanity, no? 'Life' yearns for the same ideals as life itself. You have the compassion and ardor that the gods in the heavens have never understood.)
(You truly are something special, dear prince.)
Zagreus turned to embrace his mother once more. "Thank you, Mother."
Persephone blinked. "What did I do?"
"For returning. For this talk. For confiding in me." Zagreus said. "I want to keep going, like always. I'm more certain than before, that I want to continue. Even if I've achieved my previous goals … this journey hasn't lost all of its meaning, I think.”
Persephone smiled, in both admiration and pride. "It seems you’ve decided. Go, then! Good luck, my son."
Zagreus smiled at her, taking her hands and giving her a gentle squeeze, before running out of the garden and into his chambers.
I have so many reasons I want to keep going. Even if some of my reasons seem mundane, even if they seem trivial to others … they still exist, and they will be part of why I will keep going. I accept them all the same. They're all part of my journey.
Keep going, keep going.
.....
+1. death
Another attempt, another death, another wade in the River Styx.
Zagreus was, in all honesty, exhausted. For all his training and experience, he was not completely invulnerable, and he could feel the weight of the particularly abhorrent run he just went through. Without a word, he brought himself up and out of the bloody river and dragged himself into the main hall of the House.
Hypnos greeted him, cheerful as always, waving at him before focusing back on his long list of dead souls. He was more productive these days, even regarded by his boss, Zagreus's grumpy father.
In the center of the House, he caught a glimpse of Achilles, talking to a shade who was asking for directions. He, also, seemed more carefree nowadays. Zagreus had no doubt in his mind that it was because of Patroclus and their long-awaited reunion. It warmed his heart to see his teacher so happy, to see him rewarded for his patience and efforts.
Then he saw Orpheus, singing a lovely melody with the lyre in his hands. Reuniting with his muse has relit the love he had for music, and he no longer felt unworthy of playing Eurydice's songs in the court of Hades. Then, Zagreus saw Nyx, who, despite not having the most tearful of reunions with Chaos, was still noticeably more serene. More content. As if a small weight had been lifted off her shoulders.
Then there was Megaera, having a chat with Dusa inside the lounge. Zagreus understood that her relationship with her sisters would never be perfectly mended, but even she seemed more affable with them nowadays. She didn't seem to particularly hate him, anymore, which was a great relief to him.
Well, on second thought, she probably still has some kind of contempt for me. All part of the job, right?
Zagreus found himself smiling. The House had never felt so … at peace before. It was always tense around the halls, like everybody was walking on broken glass, afraid to make even the simplest of mistakes. But it seemed less gloomy, now. Less suffocating.
Zagreus didn't bother going into the lounge this time, instead heading straight towards his chambers. To his surprise, however, a certain god of death waited for him there, looking up at the entryway as soon as he entered.
"Than!" Zagreus said, a little weakly. He walked over and planted a chaste kiss on Thanatos's cheek, admiring the way he blushed a pale gold. "You’re here! Why?"
Thanatos rolled his eyes and willed himself to the ground. "You look … incredibly tired."
"Do I?" Zagreus tilted his head towards the Mirror of Night. It wasn't typically used to gaze at one's reflection, because of its tinted color, but it still did the job — barely. "I don't really feel like it."
"Don't lie to me," Thanatos scoffed, shaking his head before taking Zagreus's hand in his and forcing the prince to lay down in his bed. "Go get some rest."
"Please, I'll rest when I'm — "
"Dead? Yes, well," Thanatos pointed at himself, unable to bite back a small smile. "'Death' wants you to go to sleep. And not eternally."
"I'm — "
"No objections." Thanatos sat by his bedside as he threw the blanket over the prince's body. His voice subsequently mellowed, much gentler than before. "You've been working hard these days, you know? You're bound to make someone worry."
Zagreus opened his mouth to speak, but Thanatos stopped him with a finger to his mouth. "You've done so much for this House. You deserve at least a few hours of rest. I don't think you've taken a break since this — " Thanatos waved his hand aimlessly, " — whole thing."
Zagreus laughed softly as Thanatos withdrew his hand. "You're not going to let me say no, are you?"
Thanatos smiled gently, looking away from the prince. "You know me well."
"You'll stay here, right?"
Thanatos clicked his tongue. "You know I have quite the unavoidable job."
"Aw."
"… I'll be here when you wake up." Thanatos said, rolling his eyes, still with a rather beautiful smile on his face. "Now, sleep, already, before I get Hypnos to do that for me."
"Okay, okay. See you, Than."
Thanatos lingered for a moment more, before leaning in to plant a kiss on Zagreus's cheek, returning the one he gave earlier. "See you."
(You've not reached the end of your journey, dear prince, but you've come a long way, haven't you? Thinking back to where it all started, it's a little nostalgic, is it not? It makes you a little proud to see how much you've grown, how much you've done and how much you have achieved.)
(So look back and remember your journey, and let it lead you to the realm of dreams, to a slumber well-earned.)
(Rest, dear Prince Zagreus. Good night.)
(Or day.)
Keep going … hmm… just for now … I'll take a little nap.