Chapter Text
“You found me,” Zagreus smiles at him.
It’s not a pretty smile. It’s a bloody smile. A dying man’s smile.
And yet, Thanatos cannot look away.
He thinks about the way they used to play hide and seek when they were young, noisy children animating the House of Death. No matter how good Zag was at hiding, no matter how easily he could elude Hypnos, Than was always able to find him out.
So much simpler times. It feels like so many ages ago, but it’s probably been only a couple hundred years.
And yet some things remain unchanged.
“No escaping death, and all,” Thanatos answers, mentally cataloguing his injuries this time. Fractured ribs, burn marks, probably some internal bleeding, and that’s seeing past all the gore he’s covered in. Right on cue, Zag coughs a bit of blood.
Thanatos sighs. God of blood, indeed.
The trouble is, he might actually escape him one of these days. He’s determined, and doesn’t seem to mind the vast amounts of horrifying pain he goes through. He has a goal to achieve.
Than isn’t sure if he’s envious of Zag, for his burning determination, or of his mother, for being the object of his ceaseless struggle. He knows he’s unfair. But he is death, after all.
Zag’s time has run out. He expends the last of his energy on a weak salute, and lets the Styx take him away.
***
Thanatos remembers the first time he saw Zagreus like this. It was a while ago when he found him in the depths of Tartarus, among wretches and louts, clubbing away at his already unconscious form.
He didn’t do anything, then. The realization was too shocking for him to step in.
He remembers the numerous following times, each of them showing he’d made it further, even by a hair. But he had paid the price each and every time, in increasingly gruesome ways.
He didn’t do anything then, either.
He remembers the numerous times picking him off Megaera’s floor. He remembers his contorted, almost small-looking form, before he disappeared. He remembers the looks he exchanged with her. His uncertainty of whether he should hate her for hurting him like this, or be grateful for her holding him back.
Than hoped, in vain, that he would somehow grow tired of his masochistic quest. But that was foolish, wishful thinking. Like he’d never known Zagreus.
None of this mattered, for soon Zag figured out how to get past Megaera and make it to Asphodel. His fatal injuries now included burns and occasionally being turned to stone. Than always found him, and always too late.
This had been his job for ages, so why did it start feeling like a curse? Some unfortunate person dies, he’s there at the perfect time to pick them up. It had never bothered him before. But it bothers him now.
So he started to track his movements through the underworld, observing from a distance. Not risking encouraging either Zag’s quest, or his father’s wrath.
By the time Zag finally made it to Elysium, Thanatos made a choice.
***
“Death approaches,” he says, by way of greeting. “Thought you could just get away from me, did you?”
He’s allowing himself to speak his mind, but just a little. His emotions feel harder to navigate than the underworld’s ever-shifting chambers.
Zag seems surprised and a little wary to see him. After his encounters with Megaera, Than can’t blame him. But he’s there to help.
The trouble is, the fool wouldn’t accept his help if it was offered as such, though he has no qualms about taking the Olympians’ boons – and he definitely should. So he disguises it as a contest of strength. Zag accepts. Not that he really has any choice in the matter.
It feels good to finally act. He couldn’t stand seeing him get hurt anymore. This way, he can ensure Zag will at least make it a little further this time. This way, he’ll get a little less slashed by swords and bruised by shields and pierced by arrows and tortured by evil butterflies. This way, he can pay some retribution to the wretches that tore at the object of his… at Zag before.
Together, they make quick work of the shades in the room. He gives him a centaur heart, to help some more, and they exchange smartass quips that don’t really hold much meaning. Something passive-aggressive about not being thanked or not needing help.
Than disappears before he can say what he really wants to say.
***
Rinse and repeat. They fall into a sort of routine. Than joining Zag to help when he’s able, then again later down the line to witness his inevitable demise.
It’s not easy even on his desensitized eyes, but it is comforting, in a way, watching him die again and again. Comforting, knowing he’ll always come back to him. He knows it’s selfish and wrong, and he hates himself for it. He also knows it won’t be forever, and he hates himself for not saying anything while he still can.
Zag is already out of it this time around. Carefully, reverently, he wipes a bit of blood off his cheek with his thumb, then watches him dissolve into the Styx.
Than lingers for a moment longer, thinking. Does Zag even need him? Probably not. But he didn’t shoo him away either, so he’ll take what he can get.
Sighing, he returns at the House.
How much longer will this charade last?
***
They speak a little at the House. It’s good to see him unharmed, even if for a brief period of time.
At first, he makes it seem like he doesn’t believe he’ll make it, or that it’s a monumentally bad idea, because if spite is what motivates Zag, he is there to provide.
But they also speak a bit about her. Than can’t relate, being able to see his mother at any time, but he certainly begins to sympathize. And before he can catch himself, he lets it slip that Zag grew stronger. That he’ll make it. Because he has no doubt that he will.
The other stuff he never mentions, but the beaming smile Zag gives him makes his heart ache.
***
Than hates the temple of Styx the most. The stink of death carries different undertones here. Poison. Corruption. Rot. He hopes with his whole heart that Zagreus will breeze past. But the Fates, of course, have different plans.
You’d think that with them being his siblings and all, they would deal Than a better hand than this.
Zagreus is lying on the floor of a room that smells of blood and vermin and dark magic. Of things that shouldn’t exist. He’s sweating profusely, so it takes Than a moment to realize he’s crying, as well.
“Than!” he says. “Than, you came. You’re here. Are you actually here? Please let it be you.”
Something in him breaks then. He sits on the floor next to him and cradles his head in his lap.
“I’m here, Zag.”
Zag looks up into his eyes and tries for a smile, but then he makes a pained grimace.
“I’m so glad you came. This hurts so much. It all hurts so much every time, actually. And then you come. And I know it’ll be okay. I know I’m not alone anymore.” He draws in a shaky breath. “The mortals are so lucky to have you, Than.”
He’s crying some more. Thanatos chokes up a little.
“Oh, Zag…”
He tries to brush some of the hair on his forehead. Zagreus grabs his hand and squeezes it tightly.
“Thank you,” he says. Then he squeezes his hand even harder, his face contorting in pain. Then, softer, his voice barely a breath, he repeats: “Thank you.”
That’s all that Than can take.
“Let’s go home.”
He sinks into the Styx with Zag, hoping for the release it provides to everyone but himself.
***
Before he even realized, something in him shifted already. He’s rooting for Zagreus. He cared for him before, of course, but he also cared for himself more. Now, they share the joy of every progress he makes. Of each try bringing him closer to the outside world.
The pain in his chest is nothing compared to what Zag goes through.
***
The first time Zagreus makes it past the Doors of Death, Hades sends him back.
He’s drowning in a pool of his own blood when Than reaches him. The snow around him is steaming, fresh boiling blood hissing against the cold surface. Horrified, he remembers the first time he saw him like this, his inability to do anything about it. He won’t be able to stand himself if he doesn’t help somehow. But what can he do now? Hades is wiping his monstrous spear a few feet away from them.
Than pulls his body to an upright position and, hoping he can still hear him, whispers in his ear:
“It hurts me, too. Every time.”
Then he summons the Styx.
***
Zag never let on whether he’d heard him then. But Than didn’t say it again. He hates how it’s only the charged, desperate moments that get a reaction out of him. But at least it’s something.
He gets to pick Zagreus up after Hades is done with him a couple times more. One time, he manages to look into the Lord’s eyes. He sees anger, and thinly veiled grief.
It shocks him, the way it feels like a mirror.
***
The first time Zagreus makes it past Hades, he summons Than.
“So… is this it?” Than asks, hating the way his voice sounds.
“I… I don’t know, Than. I don’t know what awaits. All I know is that it’s so cold,” Zag tries to jest. But he’s hugging himself.
“I have faith in you, Zag. You know that. Whatever awaits, you’ll make it through.”
Encouraging him comes so easy. It’s like second nature.
Zag coughs a little and pulls out a bottle of ambrosia. “Anyway, before I go, I thought we could share this.”
“Sure,” says Thanatos, not really knowing what else to say.
Without another word, they open and share it, watching the sun rise over the sea. The silence is heavy, too heavy for either of them to break. Inside his head, Than hears distant screams. He pays them no mind.
The ambrosia ends too quickly. Zag shuffles a bit.
“I should probably go”, he says.
“Go get them, Zag.” Than forces a smile. “Before you catch a cold and die again.”
Zag chuckles weakly.
“Before I go, can I… Can I get a kiss for luck?”
Maybe it’s the heady feeling that lingers after the ambrosia, or the simplicity of the request, or maybe it’s the weight of the past months bearing on him, but Than obliges, ignoring the way his insides are now screaming at full volume, ignoring the way this will hurt in a couple of seconds.
For just a fraction of a moment, with his hand at the back of Zag’s neck and his lips intertwined with his, his mind quiets down.
And then the moment ends.
When they depart, he keeps his eyes closed. He doesn’t see Zag go.
But he’s starting to feel the cold.