Archive of Our Own

Zagreus should have expected this to happen. He and Thanatos have been hurtling towards this point for a long time.

Zagreus’ earliest memories feature Thanatos prominently. No, simply being prominent does not do their relationship justice. Zagreus’ memories of Thanatos are thought of fondly. They were together since (what the mortals would call) birth. Their draw to each other, their bond, was strong enough to inspire envy in the Fates’ own design for the universe. Maybe the Fates themselves were at work here, but Zagreus liked to think that they chose each other for their own sakes, because despite every snip and insult thrown, they always found their way back to each other’s side. 

Sure, Thanatos was Zagreus’ only friend for the majority of his existence, which was a significant contributing factor to one’s closeness to someone.

That said, his little life in the House has expanded lately. Zagreus was getting out into the world (as far as the Styx would let him), learning about the lives of others outside the rooms he grew up in. And when he and Thanatos found each other again, out there, their bond started budding anew. 

They approached each other differently now. Unfortunately hostile at first, which Zagreus took credit for in his attempts to get the fuck out of his house. Since that, their dynamic has shifted in a way that Zagreus was unsure how to manage. 

Zagreus had enjoyed spoiling Thanatos with drinks and small laughs and comfortable competition. He has watched the Thanatos of his childhood return to him, opening himself up to the prince’s companionship again. 

Perhaps their friendship has even blossomed into something…more. 

Every recent run in with Thanatos had left Zagreus with a delightful tingle down his spine. The anticipation of running into Thanatos in the Underworld became a motivation stronger than Zagreus’ spite. Every jaunt through Hell was an opportunity to spend time with him, and it was worth putting up with his father’s relentless nagging just to Thanatos smile again.

Now Thanatos stands—hovers—in Zagreus’ bedroom, face flushed and words uncertain. He has the courage to look Zagerus in the eyes. The golden hue shining like liquid obols, begging for Zagreus’ attention. In a bedroom Zagreus has carefully curated—or more accurately hoarded—with knickknacks from across the Underworld, his eyes are drawn only to Thanatos. Everything else is small in comparison to the way Zagreus is overwhelmed by him.

In defiance of every trace of death weaved into Thanatos’ being, his eyes are sunlight. They light a fire in Zagreus’ heart that he is compelled to chase. An experience Zagreus had never known until his recent adventures to the surface, yet now engraved so deeply into his core he does not know how he would live without it—without him. 

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About us. What…I want, with you. But I have to ask, do you mean what you said earlier, Zag? That we should…take our time?” 

Zagreus blinks, feeling time slow and vision narrow as he is thrown back to their last conversation. When they settled down for ambrosia in the West Hall, because Thanatos preferred the quiet it offered compared to the now bustling lounge. When in the middle of Thanatos’ sentence, Zagreus had slid his hand to Thanatos’ forearm, tracing the muscles and veins not concealed by Thanatos’ glove. When he had tilted his face closer, mismatched eyes silently begging for Thanatos to close the gap, for their lips to touch. 

Zagreus had been pushing for this to happen, hadn’t he? For them to be more. Because he adores Thanatos and all the fluttering feelings that the god inspires in him. Or perhaps because the thought of this god, in his stunning and moody glory, in his bed right now stokes the flame in his gut he wants to burn brighter. 

Because Zagreus approaches life, including his romantic afflictions, with the same rampant impulsivity. Acting on his instincts, reacting without thinking, often neglecting to regard for the consequences his selfishness would have on others.

Oh gods, this was his friend. His first friend. For all intents and purposes, maybe his only friend still. Too much was going on in his life recently. 

What am I doing?

“…I do. I mean, I think I need to slow down. I’ve been putting a lot on you lately, and I’m happy we are on better terms, but,” Zagreus takes a long breath through his nose, staring down at his hands to force their tremble into submission, “you are my dear friend, Thanatos. I didn’t…I don’t want that to change.” 

Because I can’t lose you, not again. The thought flickers through Zagreus’ mind and strikes a chord in his heart with as much pain as any sword, spear, or arrow that has ever pierced his skin. It certainly feels like his ribs have been peeled open and his beating heart ripped from his writhing body when Thanatos’ face falls into a quiet shock. 

“Oh.” Thanatos’ voice drops, eyes blinking slowly. Processing.

It will be better this way. I promise. I think?

“Than, I—“ Zagreus winces, wishing he could take away the hurt from what he had just done. He was supposed to take care of Than, not this. 

“No,” Thanatos clears his throat, breaking himself out of his daze. He throws his head to the side to break their eye contact, “I understand. Of course. You are my dear friend, as well. I’m…sorry that we’ve done a lot to jeopardize that lately.” 

Thanatos shifts his stance, tightening his grip on his scythe until the umber skin around his knuckles turns bone white. He holds it like it is the only thing keeping him upright. 

“Really, Than, it’s—“ Zagreus stops himself this time. He does not know what he means to say, what he could possibly say. It’s not you, it’s me? Fuck, as if he was not already the biggest asshole in the House of Hades. He appears to have beaten his father in more ways than one this night. 

“Zagreus, don’t. I am truly sorry. I—forget I said anything. It’s okay,” Thanatos squeaks out, his voice cracking at the last word. He runs a hand through his hair, the same strands he pushes out of the way fall back down, and he repeats the motion again. There is no hiding the fact that he is shaking. His hands jitter, missing the mark on his next pass through his hair.

Zagreus opens his mouth to a wordless whine. He closes his mouth swiftly, blocking the sound from escaping further. It was enough to capture Thanatos’s stare. 

Death’s brilliant, sunlight eyes fade to dusk. A haze of tears rose from his waterline to obscure their glow. 

Zagreus attempts speech again, no more sure of what he wants this time around, but desperate to speak. To plead. “I… I’ll be seeing you around?” 

Thanatos does not respond. Not even a nod. He hovers in Zagreus' room, frozen. 

Zagreus’ body must move with the force of his thoughts alone, because he was not aware of his steps until his hand brushes against Thanatos’ wrist. 

Thanatos flinches. He tenses his shoulders, recoiling out of the touch like fire had scorched his skin, and Zagreus was the one who burned him. Death starts to form a word that sounds like Don’t, but his voice dies, breath hitching somewhere around the vowel. 

He has always been smarter between the two of them, because he does not attempt to speak again. Only a sniff, followed by a mournful chime, marks his departure, and in a blink, there’s nothing left of him save for a wisp of blue-green smoke.  

That proof of Thanatos' presence lingers for a few minutes. Zagreus is unmoving, stuck in the middle of his room. Alone. Watching as that cloud of color dissipates. Zagreus takes it in, along with the rest of his room, all at once. Every trinket and treasure is suffocating. There are too many places to look, too many memories overcrowding his thoughts when all that matters now is Thanatos. Thanatos.  

As smoke fades, the room’s temperature rises. The remaining chill of Death that solidifies Zagreus in place is overtaken by a thick, horrendous warmth.  

Prayers often go unanswered, Zagreus has experienced that firsthand. Ages spent pacing this very room, praying to gods unknown for a better father, for a sense of purpose, for a mother than was entirely his own. The few boons he got from family now were nothing compared to eons of an aching silence. Alone and confused. 

None of that compared to the agony of realizing that this prayer in particular had failed. 

I can’t lose you, Than. 

Except he just did, didn’t he? 

*****

Zagreus and Thanatos shuffled behind Hades’ chair. In Zagreus’ young mind, it was a feat of great stealth, one that needed their utmost skill and attention to accomplish. However, the pair were hardly noticed amongst Hades’ most recent shouting of demands at a poor employee. 

“Are you sure?” Thanatos whispered, immediately shushed by a warm hand flinging itself over his mouth. 

Zagreus brought both hands to cup the god’s cheeks. His small hands could barely fit around Death’s round face, and he certainly could not see the look in his eyes with the god’s long, silver hair obscuring his eyes. Zagreus gave Thanatos’ head a shake, back and forth. Just to jostle some sense into him. “No backing out on me now.”

Thanatos huffed, air filling out his cheeks as he pouted. 

“Ugh, don’t give me that look, Than!” Zagreus groaned, as quietly as he could manage in his frustration. “Fine, you help me out with this, and I help you pester Charon.”

Thanatos’ eyes light up, shimmering with excitement. “You mean it?”

Hades’ voice stops, and he sighs. Zagreus does not risk another word until the god of the Underworld starts yelling again.

Zagreus nods, smiling devilishly. “I even have an idea. We each try to take an obol, see how long it takes for him to notice.” 

Small dimples forming on Thanatos’ cheeks as he smiles back. 

They continue their path behind Hades’, stopping once they reach their target. Cerberus, the large, fluffy guardian of the House sleeps with his heads curled up in each other. One head on each front paw, and the other flopping mindlessly in his sleep, trying to find a comfortable spot stacked on top of the others. 

Zagreus jutted his head up to his father, a reminder for Thanatos to signal if he is about to be caught, and focused his attention on Cerberus once more. Zagreus alone was minuscule compared to the sheer heft of this dog, barely half the height of a single head. 

Which is why, of course, Zagreus needed a partner in crime. A partner prone to complaining, but one that was always there for him nonetheless.

He raised a hand in the air, holding up three fingers. He gave a slow, silent countdown. Once all the fingers were down, the boys spun quickly on their heels and jumped. 

They landed on Cerberus’ back with a loud thump, jolting the beast out of his slumber with a yelp. Mission accomplished, easily. Until Cerberus started to shift, standing firmly on his heels and bucking his back. 

Both of them had the sense in that moment to let go, Thanatos landing on his back, with Zagreus crashing down into him shortly after. 

This was fine. They would be sore, but all in all, success mischief. Cerberus would spin around, chase his tail for a bit, and in the worst case scenario, find his disruptors and lick them near to death. 

Except for the fact that in place of any of those ideal scenarios, Cerberus took off like a runaway chariot. He barreled into walls, shattering vase after vase, and then stormed out of view. Into the lounge. 

“Zagreus!” Hades howled from his throne, slamming his fists down onto the desk. 

“Go.” Zagreus threw himself off of Thanatos, landing swiftly on his bare feet. He latched on to Death’s unsure hands to pull him upright. 

“Zag—”

“Than, go, now! This was my idea, I’ll take the worst of it.” He twirled Thanatos around, and shoved into his back. “Quick, poof away or something.”

“I don’t—”

Zagreus groaned again, shooing Death away with a flick of his wrist. He gets a last look at the worried furrow of Thanatos’ brow, rebelling blazing in Death’s eyes. He stands his ground, arms crossed. The next second, Hades’ fiery gaze spots them. 

*****

The next days (or nights, who knows) pass in a blur. Prince of the Underworld and “I’ll sleep when I’m dead, except it’s never because I can’t die” burrows himself in the pile of blankets on his bed and sleeps. It does not feel like sleep, not as he has seen in Hypnos, but rather a drifting in and out of consciousness. 

There was not much official timekeeping in the Underworld to begin with, other than the intake of new shades to mark major events on the surface. Without his usual gallivanting through Hell to kill his dad, Zagreus lost all sense of how long he lay curled up in his room. He would spend the rest of eternity here.

Except that Orpheus helps to provide some context to the passage of minutes, hours, and days. He strums out tune after mournful tune, continuously adding to the swell of anxiety building in Zagreus’ chest. 

He had to admit the ambiance fit his current state quite well. His body, red-blooded and warm, is painfully hot. Sweat sticks to his brow as he piles on yet another blanket of mysterious origin. He never even sleeps, why does he has so many fucking sheets? 

He accepts that this was proper wallowing. No angst of fighting his way through his feelings, no adrenaline to occupy him. Just…sitting in anger and grief and thoughts moving so quickly it hurt. Yearning for something—someone—he threw away. Does he have a right to mourn for a relationship that he destroyed himself?

He did not mean to, but that may have made it worse. He was so unaware of the impact of his actions? Was it possible that he just did not care? He recoils at the path his own brain was leading him. He refused to become—to be—his father. Selfish. Cruel. Unlovable. 

Zagreus clenches his fist around a pillow and screams, hurling the cushion through the air. He does not hear it land. 

“Well, I would not believe it if I did not see you with my own eyes, child.” Nyx’s voice is muffled from Zagreus’ spot under the covers, but the eerie echo of it still tingles his ears. “You are in bed.”

He grumbles, pulling a blanket around him tighter. 

“Hmmm. This is most unusual for you.” Her voice gets closer, until Zagreus feels the shift of her weight beside him. She is as light as a shade, barely rustling the top sheet as she sits. She places a pillow down next to his head. “What troubles you?”

Zagreus’ cannot help but lean into her. Her body is cold and unsteady, as if he could fall right through her and into the arms of the void. Her form matches her persona quite well, an uncaring and never-ending night, but he was familiar with seeking comfort in her arms. The arms of a mother, even if she was not his. 

He pulls the covers out of his face, allowing cool air to wash over him. Nyx’s icy hand settles on his cheek, palm flat. Her fingers brush against the sweaty wisps of hair matting his forehead. 

All the other citizens of the Underworld, gods and shades alike, are cold. Like mortal corpses lying in their graves, buried under the crushing weight of frozen, unforgiving ground. Zagreus sighs into the touch, a welcome relief from the eternal flames bubbling in his own chest. 

“I fucked up.” He manages to choke out. 

Nyx hums low in her throat. It’s the closest equivalent she will ever give to a laugh.

“I mean it! It’s about…”

“Thanatos?” Her voice questions, but the name feels like a statement. She already knows, but she’s kind enough to wait for Zagreus to say it. 

“...Yes,” Zagreus groans. “I hurt his feelings.”

“That sounds a lot like the little gods I remember, too stubborn for either of your own goods. I was hoping you both would grow out of that.”

To an untrained ear, Nyx’s words would sound intimidating. Reverberating through your skull and haunting you with every blink as you invite the darkness in. To Zagreus, she brings a smile to his face. Her dry attempts at humor have only gotten worse through the eons. 

“I hoped so too. Especially after working so hard to get us back to a good place. We fell out of touch for a while as he got busy with…well, death,” Zagreus sighs. “Sorry, that makes it sound like he’s to blame, but really it’s on me for ruining it all. I didn’t exactly help our relationship by running away. I… thought we were okay. Or at least on the way to it.”

“It pleases me to see that you two have gotten close once more. You were attached at the hip as children, and it pained all of us in the House to see you drift apart.” 

Zagreus tilts his head, looking up at her for confirmation. All of the House? Others had taken notice of the two of them?

It is highly unlikely that Nyx did not notice Zagreus’ inquisitive look. She ignores it in favor of continuing her speech. “Thanatos carries a lot of responsibility, even for a god. He lets that responsibility consume him, turning into a solitary being, but I know that is not what he prefers. He enjoys time spent with you especially, to such a strong degree that he was compelled to tell even me about you.”

Zagreus bites his bottom lip, hard enough to leave an indent in the flesh while he finds words. Orpheus starts to sing again, the wailing quality to his recent compositions certainly set a mood. Orpheus could put the Fates to shame, with the timing and accuracy of his songs hitting Zagreus in all the worst ways. 

Nyx spares him the trouble of thought by prompting him further. “I fail to see why your company would be the source of the troubles now. Is spending time with him not a good thing?” 

“It is. It was. We were…friends again. It felt comfortable with him and it was so nice. He wanted us to be something more than friends, and I rejected him. I thought it would be best if we kept what we had.”

“But it appears that things are not remaining the way they are, considering you are in here, distinctly not ‘okay’ with Thanatos.” Her casual language jars Zagreus, tugging the corners of his lips upward against his will. “This is not the outcome you were wanting, I assume?”

“No, it’s not. It is not what…that’s not what either of us wanted, because I also wanted something else.” 

“Clarify for me, Zagreus. You wanted or you want something else with Thanatos?

It would be the first time he has spoken those feelings aloud, even though they are still not as direct, or clear, as he wants them to be. Acknowledging the affection he holds for Thanatos extends beyond friendship grips his heart with a painful squeeze, but he forces himself to lay with it. 

“Want. I want to be with Than.”

There was no denying that the ache in his chest was not at the loss of a friendship, no matter how strong that friendship was. He wants Thanatos, in all the ways he could imagine. 

And Thanatos had felt the same. 

He sniffs, rubbing his palms over his eyes. Nyx gratefully pulls Zagreus out of a dangerous thought spiral with a tired sigh. 

“I knew you would find your way back to each other. Some of us among the House feel that my son has a special talent to be able to locate you in the Underworld. He continues to be drawn to you, like a moth to a flame, seeking you out as his guiding light in a dreary world.” Nyx taps her nails against Zagreus’ temple, her gaze sharp. “So, what is one to do when the fire burns out? How is he supposed to find you now?”

Damn. The longer that sits with him, the worse it feels, tugging harder on his heartstrings. Thanatos had always found him first. Bell tolling, filling Zagreus with a paradoxically hopeful dread. Fear that he had ruined everything. Delight at the mere sight of Thanatos’ stony expression gracing his presence once more. 

After every tense competition and subsequently awkward encounter in the West Hall overlooking the Styx, Thanatos still continued to run into Zagreus throughout the Underworld. 

But it wasn’t simply "running into him". It was purposeful, as was everything about Thanatos. His carefully planned approach to life and work extended to his relationship with the prince. It had to, because he undoubtedly carved out time from an already full schedule with the sole purpose of seeing Zagreus. 

“Fuck!” Zagreus lets his thoughts slip out loud. He smothers his face in his hands with a long groan. 

“I believe I have given you something you needed to hear.” No smile graces her lips, but her words carry an air of self-satisfaction. She was truly a mother to her core. 

“Yes, you have. You always do. Thank you, Nyx.” Zagreus sits up, reaching for a hand that had fallen back into her lap. He does not give her a hug, knowing that he would not get one in return, but he settles for a tight squeeze of her fingers and hopes that his message is received. She nods, eyes bright and shining. 

Zagreus takes a deep breath, allowing Orpheus’ voice to pull him away once more. Focusing not on the keening vocalizations this time, but the words themselves. The piece, like most of the musician’s work, is slow. Somber. A song of love and loss. 

A song for Eurydice. 

Thanatos had always been the one to seek him out. Perhaps now it’s time for Zagreus to find him first. 

*****

Every run—an uncountable number of runs in the nights that follow his conversation with Nyx—has Zagreus bolting through his father’s domain. There is no time for gleeful destruction of property or snarking remarks towards friendly enemies. Even the encounters with his godly relatives is as quick as he can make while still being cordial enough to be kept in their good graces. 

Every run serves a singular purpose of seeking out the one person he needs more than life itself to see. Yet, each room he enters has a distinct lack of Death. 

At least the one that he is looking for, there is plenty of standard death around him at all times. In fact, that helps fuel him, reminding him of the task at hand. Run after run of mindless, efficient slaughter in hopes that enough of it will somehow act as a summon for Thanatos himself, despite the Underworld not being part of his work routine. 

Nyx was the mother of Fate for a reason. Her words may be cryptic, but they carry the power to spark conclusions that he needs to come to himself. To set his own path. The simple fact is that he cares about Thanatos, as significantly more than a friend. That much is indisputable. Each smile Thanatos attempts—attempted—to hide from him is etched permanently into his brain. Every laugh, every touch, all of it making his heart yearn in a way that his impulsive brain simply cannot handle anymore. 

And he had been afraid to admit that to him, because…well, he did not have that clear answer at the moment. 

He was never good at sorting through his thoughts, but this is even more infuriating than his recklessness that usually stems from his scattered brain. Zagreus mostly just hopes the right words find him at any given point. 

He was thinking too much. The Thanatos he grew up with, the one he lost, the fragile friendship they had rebuilt. Everything swirling underneath the surface, fighting to present itself to him at the same time. By the gods, is this how Thanatos operates all the time? No wonder dark bags have embedded themselves under Death’s eyes. 

Except that he does not run into him. After dozens upon dozens of treks—many of which where he reaches the surface to scream at the sun its audacity to flood him with warmth—he has not once seen Thanatos.

Zagreus was the one that pushed him away, why should he be surprised that Thanatos is avoiding him?

He continues to slash and claw his way through the Underworld with such practiced precision to avoid answering the question nagging at the base of his skull. When the opportunity for more had been presented to him, literally waiting for him in his bedroom, he shut it down. Shut him down. Surely Thanatos wants some space, but Zagreus could explain. They could talk it out and—

He dodges the swing of an axe a split second before it splices him in half, rolling to the left and jumping back to his feet to dash. He registers the rumble of the earth just as his opponent charges. It’s followed by a crash as Zagreus ducks behind a pillar, inches away from being gored. 

A grating laugh echoes against the walls of the coliseum, driving the crowd of onlookers wild. Zagreus groans. He was trying to sort something out over here, and this particular foe was not one he was patient enough to put up with today. 

Thankfully, he has gained the ability to tune out the voice by now, the man’s taunts are nothing more than an itch on his ear. 

However, the irritation combined with his uncertainty is enough distraction to open himself up to attack. The warrior’s spear slices through his abdomen, sending him to his knees. The second wave of pain hits as the weapon is recalled back to its owner, dragging Zagreus’ life force along with it. That bastard Theseus sure knew how to make it all worse. 

As he bleeds out on the floor of Elysium’s coliseum, a chime invades Zagreus’ thoughts. His vision is gone, covered in a deep red, making it impossible to verify if the source of the toll is truly there or a figment of his wanting imagination. The sound echoes in his skull, pounding behind his eyes as he is taken by the Styx. 

*****

Zagreus lets himself float in the pool of the Styx for a moment, blocking out his senses of anything other than blood. He dips his head under, opening his eyes to the sea of crimson. He imagines that no other red-blooded creature would find as much solace in this experience, not even he did at first. 

The substance that flowed through his veins was foreign to any other god, something that marked him as an other. He prayed for belonging for too long. Finding his home in the Underworld, in the Styx, calms him. He waits until his lungs burn—even if he did not need to breathe, the sensation of suffocating was unpleasant nonetheless—before coming up for air. 

Hypnos’ heavy snores greet him. Thank Olympus, Zagreus would lose his mind hearing any comment about losing to Theseus of all shades right now. 

He sneaks past Sleep, sulking his way into the lounge when he hears his father’s booming voice. Zagreus freezes, waiting for the bite of his name. It does not come. From the safety of the secret hallway to the lounge, he peeks his head out to see Achilles standing in front of Hades’ desk.  

“What are you eavesdropping for?” The voice comes up from behind Zagreus, purring right next to his ear. 

“Shit!” Zagreus whips around, banging his head against the wall in the process. “Fuck!”

Megaera laughs, a deep, throaty sound that thrums in Zagreus’ ears. He stumbles forward, gingerly holding his newly-bruised temple. The Fury pities him enough to grab his hand and leads him into the lounge.

“Alright, no need to be dramatic. Sit.” She commands, pressing her nails into his clavicle. He can only trust there’s a chair beneath him as he sits. When he lands on a stool, he cannot help but smile. Megaera has gone soft on him lately. There was a point where she would have pushed him to the ground herself. 

“I was not eavesdropping on anyone,” Zagreus answers. “I was just…looking.”

“Huh.” Megaera sits across from him, folding one leg one top of the other. “Not the man I thought you had an eye for, but can’t say I’m surprised, really.”

What?

“What?” Zagreus asks, eyes flying wide with realization. “Achilles? Meg, come on, no! No. I got lost in thought and happened to be…looking over there! Whatever is going through your demonic little mind right now is not happening.”

Megaera twirls a strand of her hair between her fingers, smiling wide. This shift in their dynamic was fresh. Ever since her sisters had started taking over pieces of her work and she lost the ability to beat him senseless on a nightly basis, she has had to find other ways to torment him. Zagreus continues to fall right into her traps. 

“Thinking about him, right?” Meg tips her head back, gesturing towards the portrait on the bulletin board behind her. The currently recognized employee is Thanatos. His portrait dons the same frown Zagreus saw on his face the last time they talked. 

Zagreus feels the heat rise to his face. Yes.

“No.” 

“I do not like lies, Zagreus.” She runs her free hand along the handle of her whip. When she reaches the end, a pluck of a lyre string in the distance emphasizes her intention. 

Zagreus is not going to address the mix of emotions that toil in his gut at that. 

“Fine, yes. I was thinking about Thanatos. I think he’s been avoiding me, but I really need to talk to him.”

For all her grit, an exterior crafted in stone, Zagreus felt she was easy to talk to. She was someone who always says what is on her mind. 

Meg rolls her eyes. “You two are ridiculous. I think the Fates rubbed off on that one somehow, always speaking with riddles and hidden intentions. Can’t you two just admit your feelings?”

Zagreus considers this. Her bluntness was, in fact, exactly the opposite of what he was currently experiencing with Thanatos. Every word Death said was veiled in mystery, not wanting to let his barriers down for others to understand. 

Then Zagreus leans back, staring at Megaera with his mouth agape. “Wait, you—you know that I love him?” 

“You love him?” 

Zagreus’ blood freezes. Megaera had caught him off guard, the words had slipped out. Surely he did not mean it. 

Did he?

He presses the pads of his fingers into his eyes, hard enough to speck his vision with fuzz. “I don’t know, Meg! I—he—things have been weird with us lately. I was telling Nyx that when Thanatos got busy and I was—”

“Being useless?”

Zagreus lets the words roll off him, knowing the place that Megaera comes from. Her words do not have the same bite as Hades’, the god whose booming conversation with Achilles was overtaking his senses. He would have to use his own voice to drown his father out, before he did something drastic. 

“I was also busy. Being a fool, perhaps, but occupying myself nonetheless. But then he came to find me, and we were incredibly rocky for a while. Then it all started to feel, I don’t know, like how we used to?” His eyes dart down to the table. “We were friends. Are friends. I was hoping he and I could work it out together.”

Megaera allows dreadful silence to hang over them. His mind spins in that quiet. He really loves Than. How could he not see it before? The ease in which they talk, even when they were annoyed enough to wring each other’s necks. They would lean closer regardless, often resting a head on the other’s shoulder while they argue.

At what point did Zagreus' heart start fluttering when Thanatos’ hair brushed against the prince’s bare shoulder? When did the cold of Thanatos’ cheek on his skin send a jolt straight down his spine and to his—

A faint whistle flares out of Megaera’s nostrils as she pushes a breath out. 

On the inhale, she speaks, “Please tell me you are not operating on some stupid notion of what we have holding you back from him.”

Zagreus pauses. “No? Maybe?” A wash of shame rolls over him, bile building up in his esophagus. He had not even thought about his relationship with Megaera. They had made it clear that it was fine for them to pursue others before the break up, but the discussion had not been revisited since their reconciliation. 

He has been yearning for Thanatos for nights and not even checked how Megaera felt. 

“Wow, you got real pale. You really are that stupid, aren’t you?” 

“Isn’t your whole thing torturing oath-breakers?” Zagreus laments, slumping his head down to the table. “Maybe that’s it. I’m breaking an oath to you and it’s eating at my conscience.”

Megaera barks out a laugh, more frustrated than amused. “Bold of you to think that I would care about your life that much, Zagreus.”

“Then why else am I so afraid to be in love with him!” The why is truly unnecessary, because Zagreus is not asking a question, he is screaming at himself to give an answer.

Megaera whistles. “Wow, a lot of energy today, huh?”

Zagreus should just go stick his head in the Styx and force himself to drown, this whole night would be better if it started over. He could just let the blood roll over him, lulling in off to a peaceful end where he did not have to toil with his infuriating feelings. He keeps his head buried in his arms, unwilling and unable to take in the look Megaera must be giving him right now. 

Megaera’s hands land on his shoulders, thinner than one would expect for their sheer strength. Even with the fingers splayed out wide, they press into Zagreus’ muscles. The knots of tense energy in his back release, allowing himself to slump further onto the table. 

“Zag, let’s talk this out. There’s some silly little block in your brain keeping you from this relationship, and I regretfully do care about you enough to help you figure it out.”

“Thanks, Meg.” Zagreus grumbles, lifting his head up to greet the unsettlingly wide grin of the woman across from him. 

“You’re welcome. But, know that if you yell at me again, I’m going to snap your neck and give your head to the chef.”

Zagreus pales again, nodding his head in agreement. Megaera removes her hands from Zagreus’ shoulders, clapping them together. “Good! So, tell me your woes, little man.”

“I’m in love with Thanatos.”

“As we’ve just established, yes.”

“He…I told him I wanted to take things slow, to not jump into anything more than what we have. I think it’s because we just started talking again and I’m afraid we’ll fuck it up. That I’ll fuck it up.”

Megaera glares at him, giving him a moment to think. She mulls around his words, pursuing her lips. She clearly believes that there is more, which not even Zagreus knows about, but she is waiting for him to figure it out. 

As Zagreus’ ruminates, the lounge gets quiet. All the hustle and bustle of shades ceases to a halt. Zagreus notes that the sound has not only stopped in the room, but from the House itself. Hades and Achilles are done…speaking. Not that Zagreus would call any interaction with his father a proper conversation, any attempts to speak to him was a futile exercise that ended in a screaming match. 

For a terrifying, heart-wrenching second Zagreus thinks his father walked in, deciding after eons to haunt the lounge with his presence. 

Blessedly, it is not Hades that steps forward, but Achilles. He looks so small in the room, his form out of place among the grandeur of the House’s ornately carved columns and walls. 

Poor Achilles. Even with his contract reworked to allow him some time in Elysium, he still has to return back here. Zagreus has not had time to ask him how his trips to Patroclus have been going lately, and he has not seen him in Patroclus’ chamber in any of his recent endeavors. 

As his mind wanders, his eyes settle on the finer details of his mentor. Things he did not often notice about the once famous warrior. The way his face wrinkles along his mouth, the tight furrow of his brow. He notices Zagreus and Megaera leaning into one another, and gives a polite wave. The corner of his mouth tugs upward in the process. He wears a smile much more frequently now, but the expression still never seems to meet his eyes. 

At least not while he was in the House. 

The thought of that brings a sting behind Zagreus’ eyes. A man that fought so hard and loved so fiercely, condemned to a fate apart from the one he holds most dear. In servitude, no less. 

Megaera snaps her fingers in Zagreus’ face, bringing his attention back. “Well, you think you got it now?”

Got it? He blinks at Megaera, processing. Connecting. 

“Love is dangerous in our world, isn’t it, Meg?” Zagreus sighs, clenching his fists in his lap, forcing the nails to carve into his palms. “Mortals think the worst that can happen to them is death, but they don’t realize that the real suffering happens after. We don’t get happy endings.”

“No, we don’t. I like to think that the two of us together have made it this far by sheer luck alone. That, and the fact that I like to keep you at a healthy distance.” Megaera prods his shoulder with a pointed finger. “It’s easier to pretend it’s just physical sometimes.”

“Oh, just pretend? So you really do lov–”

“Don’t push it, fool, that’s the most you are getting out of me for a while. I have to wait until you forget so you don’t grow an even bigger ego than you already have.” Megaera leans back in her chair, creating distance between the two of them. 

“And you are sure that this is okay with you, though? For me to…love someone else?” Zagreus’ mouth is still adjusting to the way the word sounds. All he knows is that hearing it out loud makes his heart pound.

“Yes, because it’s very ridiculous of you to think that I didn’t know about this beforehand. For one, you are so obvious, Zag. And two, he and I discussed his plan before he went to see you, actually. It took a lot of convincing, but he was so smitten I was able to persuade him in the end.”

Zagreus slams his hands on the table, pushing himself out of his seat. “Wait, you two talked?”

“This might be news to you, your highness, but the House doesn’t revolve around you. Yes, we fucking talk,” Megaera sneers.

“I mean about me! I just didn’t think you guys would talk…about me.” His eyes blow wide. “Did you say that you persuaded Thanatos?” 

“Again, yes. And I’m getting tired of you all doing things their way. The emotionally repressed, Chthonic ‘Nyx taught all her kids to be’ way. Be direct. Like me. Like what you usually do, when you aren’t being a fool.” 

“Nyx actually gives good advice, if you’re willing to listen.” Megaera scoffs at his statement, but he continues. “She does. She told me…well, she implied in her own way that I have to be the one to seek out Than this time. He has put all the effort into seeing me and building our relationship back up, it’s time for me to return the favor.”

“Really? And how’s that going? Any luck finding him lounging around in the Underworld? That sounds just like him.” 

Zagreus knits his brows together, pouting. Megaera gives him a pitiful look, her metallic gold eyes softening their gaze for a second, before settling back into their piercing glow.  

“You want my advice this time? Yes, you need to be the one to start this conversation. And if you can’t magically find him, you need to bring him to you.” She leans closer, elbows resting on the table. “You are obviously in love with him.  Be upfront, none of this bullshit uncertainty. Tell him how you feel.” 

Bring him to me? How in all the realms could I—oh. 

*****

“I can’t find him!” Thanatos wailed, peeling back the unadorned cushion he called a bed. “It doesn’t make sense, he’s always right here!” 

“Child, you will be perfectly fine without this attachment. No physical object should have a hold on you in such a way.” Nyx hovered in the doorway as the gods searched Thanatos and Hypnos’ room. Zagreus is unsure if her words are meant to be flippant or soothing, her words delivered in the same tone as always. “The toy was simply meant to be a comfort in the early days of your existence, as you acclimated to being. It serves you no purpose now.”

“I don’t care! I want him!” Thanatos snapped, harsh enough to make Zagreus’ shoulders jump. 

The prince froze, watching helplessly as Thanatos collapsed to the floor, knees scraping on the ground. He throws his head into his hands, digging nails into his scalp. Hair that was now always carefully brushed back behind his ears was pulled over his face, acting as a shield to the world around him. 

Nyx folded her arms over her chest. It is a calm, methodical action, but with an undertone of malice that continued to make Zagreus’ skin crawl. Hades was the only being that he had seen yell at Nyx. 

He had only seen his father do it once.  

“Thanatos—” Nyx’s voice does not rise in volume, but the power of it shook the room, rattling a small pile of coliseum-related trinkets Hypnos hoarded on his side. 

Zagreus had to act. Fast. “Than! Come help me look outside, maybe Mort was dropped when you returned to the workroom.”

Before parent or child could comment, Zagreus darted over to Thanatos. Thanatos shook his head, more strands of hair cascading down over his eyes. Zagreus had to ignore his request, for both of their safeties. He grabbed Death’s wrist and dragged him along behind him as they exited the twins’ room. 

Zagreus strutted through the House—Thanatos in tow—with confidence, shooting a look to any passing by shade that gave them a second glance. He did not guide Death over to the workroom, instead marching him over to the West Hall. Somewhere that he deemed was a safe distance away from the gods’ bedroom. 

He stops in front of the railing overlooking the Styx, the rush of blood loud enough to cover up Thanatos’ cries.

“Hey.” Zagreus finally released his grip. Thanatos’ free hand immediately shot back up to his eyes, wiping his tears. 

“I know it’s silly, I—I—I miss him. I don’t have many things. I don’t want many things. But I—” Thanatos hiccuped, struggling to catch his breath. 

Zagreus’ arms flung around Thanatos’ back and crushed him into a hug. His hands met his elbows as he enveloped himself as tightly around Thanatos as he could manage, head burying itself in Thanatos’ neck. 

“It’s not silly if it’s important to you. Mort was special, and you are allowed to be upset that he’s missing.” Zagreus mumbled into Thanatos’ skin, hoping his words were clear, because he was not going to pull away. “You are allowed to care.”

Thanatos heaved, a sob retching through his whole body. He was unable to hug back, his arms squeezed between their chests from the intensity of Zagreus’ embrace. However, Zagreus felt the way Thanatos burrowed himself closer, resting his forehead on the crown of Zagreus’ head. Wet tears soaked into Zagreus’ hair.

They stayed like that for a long time, until Thanatos stopped trembling and breathing regulated. Even then, Zagreus held on, refusing to leave Thanatos to stand on his own.

Gods be damned, Zagreus was going to find that fucking mouse or die trying. 

*****

Zagreus made it all the way to the Temple of Styx, and through every room available to him, before he dared take Mort out of his pocket. He hoped the battles would have used up enough energy to quiet the anxiety in his body, but his muscles still buzz, in sync with the pulse of blood pumping its way through his body. It is like he is on fire.

Despite his best efforts, Zagreus had not been the one to find Mort. Somehow Thanatos had found his childhood toy again, all these years later. Zagreus never asked how. He was too stunned by what Thanatos did next to even think of inquiring.  

Thanatos handed Mort to Zagreus. He placed that stupid, wonderful plush mouse into Zagreus palm with as much tenderness as one would handle a newborn. Thanatos had given Mort to him. Gifted him. Permanently. After Zagreus had tried to leave the House—leave Thanatos—behind. He had been trusted enough to hold on to a piece of Thanatos’ heart. 

Hopefully, Mort would forgive Zagreus for his breach of trust. However, Zagreus did not take the absence of both Charon and Cerberus from the Temple as a good sign. 

“Thanatos.” Zagreus whispers, the toy in his hand instantly trembling. In the blink of an eye, a bell tolls and Zagreus is bathed in cerulean light. 

“Zagreus?” Thanatos enters the Temple of Styx with his scythe held high. His muscles are taunt, ready to bring his weapon down the moment he arrives. He blinks, taking in the surroundings, his posture still held firm. “What’s going on?”

“I…ummm…was hoping we could talk?” Mort squeaks from the force of Zagreus’ grip. The sound only gets louder as he forces his muscles to relax. 

Thanatos is clearly not pleased. 

“You what?” Thanatos gasps. The scythe’s blade comes down, slicing into the stonework. His body is knotted and tense, veins visible on his arms. “You summoned me here for this?”

The questions felt like daggers slamming home into Zagreus’ chest. Fuck, he knew he should not have done this, he might pass out. He was woozy, eyes glazing over and heart pounding too fast. 

“With Mort?” Thanatos growls out the name. He leaves his weapon poised in the ground as he approaches Zagreus. A small mercy. 

“Than, I am sorry. I tried to find you, but I couldn’t—”

“And you didn’t consider that I did not want to be found? That I was keeping myself busy specifically so I didn’t have to see you?” Thanatos pauses, face scrunching up in disgust when he receives silence in return. “Well? Answer me.”

Zagreus is weak in the knees, Thanatos looming over him causing all previous confidence to evaporate.  “I did. I really did. I suspected that you were avoiding me, after I—after last time we spoke. I’m sorry to do it like this, but I really think we should talk about it. Now that you’re here.” 

A pained look flashes across Thanatos’ face. He takes a deep breath, dragging his hands up his face and through his hair. He meets Zagreus’ eyes, a brief glance, then settles his gaze back down to their feet.  

“You want me to talk? Well, Zag, I needed space. What I thought was between us,” he waves his hand at Zagreus, “is clearly not there. And I—I need to come to terms with that, alright? But thank you though for dragging me down here, because I think it’s helping me get over it.” He ends the sentence with a scowl, pushing the last few words out through gritted teeth. 

“I don’t want you to get over it.” Zagreus takes a step forward, landing on a shaky and unsteady foot. “Than, I love you."

Thanatos’ head snaps up, mouth open, saying something Zagreus is sure is important. The words do not reach Zagreus’ ears. With another step forward, he falls to his knees, clutching at his abdomen. He pulls a hand away for inspection, anticipating the streak of red splashed across his palm. 

He did not expect a sickly green to come with it. Blood and darkness, in what room did he get poisoned? He has been slowly dying this whole time, life force draining along with the sad remnants of his dignity. 

“Zag. Zag!” Thanatos voice, even as he shouts, barely registers above the drowning roar of blood in Zagreus ears. 

*****

Zagreus bolts upright, pushing his hair out of his face as he emerges from the…Styx? 

He stares directly into his own reflection projected from the Mirror of Night. An object hung from the wall of his bedroom. 

Blankets are flung off his body and drape across his lap as he swings his legs over the side of the bed. He feels unsteady on his feet, sore muscles screaming at him to lie down. A rare occurrence, but not unfamiliar on particularly painful deaths. Not that it matters, he was in the middle of something important, he needs Thanatos.

“Sit down, idiot.” Thanatos hisses at him, a hand reaching out to push on his chest.

The prince obeys instantly, flopping back onto the bed. He rests his hands between his legs, gripping the edge of the bed like an excited child. 

“Than! You’re here!” Zagreus firmly believed that he had seen Thanatos for the last time. 

“I had to make sure you woke up. You were still unconscious when you floated out of the Styx.” Thanatos towers over him, arms folded across his broad chest. “I was starting to think you had found a way to actually kill yourself for good.”

“If only getting rid of me was that easy, huh?” Zagreus grins coyly, but is met with a frown. 

Despite the way Death glares at him from above, he is looking oddly exposed. Almost vulnerable. Zagreus scans Thanatos for a moment before it clicks. 

Thanatos does not have his armor. Instead, he is dressed plainly, stripped down only to his chiton and pants. It is a rare sight for the workaholic, one that makes Zagreus’ heart skip a beat. 

How long have I been asleep?

But that is not the question he needs to ask. Even more importantly is: How long Thanatos has been waiting for me to wake up? 

A flicker of torchlight catches Zagreus’ eye. The light reflects off a metallic surface, shining brightly into Zagreus’ corneas. Thanatos’ gear—scythe, gloves, and all—neatly arranged in the corner of the room, by Zagreus’ lyre. The instrument has been dusted, arranged properly next to a stool, ready for practice. A far cry from the usual upturned brass, which Zagreus’ has a habit of knocking over in frustration when he cannot get a note right. 

He looks around his room. The mirror has been wiped of fingerprints, the scrolls and quills stacked neatly on his desk. 

Clearly, enough time has passed for Thanatos to tidy. 

Zagreus’ eyes settle on the god himself, looking consciously off into the distance while Zagreus inspects his work. Even unencumbered, Thanatos looks exhausted. 

“Are you okay?” Zagreus asks, voice thick with concern. 

“Tsch! That is not a question that should be directed at me, considering the state of you.” 

Did he look that bad? Zagreus’ eyes drift to his door and he considers ignoring Thanatos’ commands in favor of storming his way over to the scrying pool. Thanatos must sense Zagreus’ intent, because he leans closer, blocking in any hope of Zagreus weaving around him. Damn him for knowing the prince too well. 

Thanatos wraps his arms around himself, the muscles in his arms tensing. “Don’t even try it. You look like hell, Zagreus, that’s all you need to know. Stay here and sleep.” 

Then he turns, reaching to grab his things. 

Zagreus bolts to his feet, but the momentum is too much for his body. He crumbles, falling forward. Before he can collapse to his knees, strong hands grab under his arms and force him down to the bed, on his back this time. 

“Ugh! Seriously, why can’t you listen, just this once?” 

“Please, don’t go,” Zagreus pleads, reaching for Thanatos, then stopping himself. “Sorry. You can go, if you want, but I really want you to stay.”

“Now you do?” Thanatos yells, his arms unfurl from his chest, but his hands are still clenched into fists. 

“Thanatos.”

“I thought we had something. You—we—fuck! Just fuck!” Thanatos calls out, more to the world itself than to Zagreus. “We were flirting like ridiculous mortals over your endless supply of fucking drinks and I thought we were going in a different direction than this. Then you turned me away. 

“Which is fine! It should be fine! You have every right to make that choice,” he sighs, exasperated and loud, “but then you use Mort against me to get my attention and you die in front of me. Which was again, upsetting for everyone involved, because when I get back to the House to find out that you’ve been going around to everyone trying to find me! I didn’t even think you’d want to see me, Zagreus. I don’t know what you want from me.” His words end quietly, a thick waver of uncertainty in his voice. 

The confusion, the angry, all of it resonates deep with Zagreus. He has barely figured it out himself, the line between them so blurred. A burn of shame that he dumped that indecision on Thanatos’ shoulders weighs on his chest. 

“I didn’t want to rush into anything. I was not sure what I wanted from the House, if I even wanted to stay here. I was smothering you with gifts in an attempt to try to rebuild what we had, which sounds even stupider when I say it out loud. But I wanted so badly to have you again. As a friend that is, at least I thought, because then I—I didn’t want to push you—“

“Push me? I was here! I was ready for—for this! Us!” Thanatos’ brow creases tightly. The pinch of the bridge of his nose that follows does not seem to help relax his muscles in the slightest. “I care about you. Even though you are absolutely infuriating, I care about you. Spare me the excuses, Zag. Tell me what you were thinking, honestly.”

“I love you, Than.”

“I have realized that by now, thank you,” Thanatos grits out. 

Zagreus reaches both hands towards Thanatos again, pausing in front of the god. He lets his hands hover, inches from Thanatos’ own. Palms open. 

An invitation. 

Thanatos' fingers twitch, and Zagreus prays that it was not a flinch, like the last time he ached for contact. Oh gods, what has he done?

Thanatos accepts. One hand, hesitant, but willing, is placed in Zagreus’ waiting palms. He should be grateful, take what he has been given. Except the prince has always been known to push his luck, and trying to deny that instinct was what started this mess.

He tangles his fingers into Thanatos’, bringing the cold hand up to his face. Gentle, but insistent, brushing his lips against Death’s knuckles. A slight gasp, barely audible above the beating of Zagreus’ heart, escapes Thanatos, but his hand stays. 

Zagreus focuses on the chill against his skin, the way it sends shocks down his spine. Thanatos is powerful, strength reflected in his hands. The one Zagreus cradles is heavy, toned with firm muscles from eons at work. Yet, still Thanatos finds the time to be well polished. His skin is soft, his nails shapely and smooth. The kind of care Zagreus was too impatient to bother with, but adored witnessing in Than. Memories of Death—sitting in Zagreus’ room, complaining about work while he meticulously filing and painting each nail—warm Zagreus’ face with a flush. 

Zagreus dares to flit his gaze upward to Thanatos, mix-matched eyes meeting perfect, honey irises. Thanatos has been watching him. Miraculously, silence finally finds Zagreus’ brain, allowing words to flow without a second thought. 

“You were my best friend, I trusted you with everything. I saw our relationship come crashing down because of my actions, when I left the House to find my mother. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you again.” He takes a breath, knowing the next part will be harder. “I’ve loved—still love—others, but the way I’m drawn to you is so different from anything I’ve experienced before. It’s…different because I have so much history with you. I have a lifetime of loving you, and, quite frankly, I love you more than I know what to do with, Than. That scares me.

“I have seen what that kind of love does in our realm. Achilles. Orpheus,” Zag pauses, but he has to admit the truth, “my father. They were destroyed by their feelings. They brought hell down on those caught up in it with them, and it has tormented them ever since. I can’t do that, not to you.” 

Thanatos moves his hand from Zagreus’ grasp, and Zagreus has no choice but to let him. Zagreus pushes his eyes closed and their fingers untangle, exhaling the sensation of prickling tears out of his system. He has no right to cry. This is what he wanted at first, isn’t it? 

No, I want him. But maybe this is for the best. 

“Than, I’m sorry—“ 

Death’s chill returns as his hands settle on either side of Zagreus’ face, cupping his cheeks. Zagreus does not have time to open his eyes, to understand the emotions running through Thanatos’ mind, before the god’s mouth meets his. 

Blood and darkness. 

Thanatos’ mouth was heavenly. It was softer than it had any right to be, given how much the god frowned. But the way his lips slot so effortlessly against Zagreus’, enveloping his bottom lip, pressing the faintest hint of teeth against delicate skin. Perfect. Breath-taking. 

He struggles for air when Thanatos pulls away, lungs expanding far too quickly, leaving him dizzy. Eyes fly open to meet the face of Thanatos mere inches away. The god’s head tilts. Curious, as if posing a question. Or waiting for an answer. 

Had that been his response to everything Zagreus had said? A moment’s hesitation followed by a kiss that left Zagreus seeing stars? 

“Wow,” Zagreus said stupidly. Nothing else comes to mind. 

“I hope you know that you are the Underworld’s biggest idiot, Zagreus.” Thanatos lowers his voice to a whisper, emphasizing the prince’s name in such a way that a shiver runs through him.

“You say that, but you seem okay. You aren’t angry? Upset?” Zagreus fumbles with the words. 

Thanatos speaks, slow and calculating, “I am upset. I was. First at myself, for thinking that I had overstepped a boundary between us. I thought I had misread the signals, and that what I wanted was something entirely my own. Then at you, obviously, for your incessant inability to leave things alone.”

Zagreus opens his mouth to protest, although no arguments come to him. Not that Thanatos was going to let him speak anyway. Death runs his thumb across Zagreus’ mouth pressing in until the prince closes his mouth. Zagreus feels a familiar spark of submission shoot straight to his core. 

“I know you, Zagreus, longer than anyone else. You are reckless and hot-headed. You jump into a fight like a child being given a new toy to play with. And you run your mouth enough to make even the most patient beings cross with you.” The corner of Thanatos’ lip curls, not enough to be called a smile, but unfortunately the effect on Zagreus’ burning arousal is the same. “So much so that I was caught off guard at the idea of you actually taking your time. The most impetuous god in the Underworld suddenly decided to slow himself down. For me.”

Thanatos slides his thumb off Zagreus' mouth, resting it on the prince’s chin. 

Zagreus’ mind hums, desperate to regain his knowledge of language. “Thanatos. Than. I want this so much, but I screwed up. Royally, unforgivably screwed up.”

“Absolutely, but I forgive you, Zag. I do.” 

“You are so precious to me. My feelings for you are not impulsive. Shocking, I know.” Zagreus adds when Thanatos raises an eyebrow. “But gods, Than, I’ve thought about you for so long. When I actually had my chance, I panicked. What if I fuck this all up and hurt you again?”

Memories race through Zagreus’ mind, images of Thanatos’ past blending with the god standing before him in the present. The one he’s comforted, the one who’s comforted him. His friend, running behind him as they escape from mischief, teasing him for his crush on Meg, crying as he walks away from the only home he’s ever known. 

Thanatos’ hand loses its grip, the firmness of his touch turns tender, as he cradles Zagreus’ jaw. “We both made our fair share of mistakes in life, but If I had the choice between pushing you away out of fear of what could happen or enjoying every second of you that I have? I would choose you, always.” 

Zagreus’ chest blooms. With warmth, with adoration. With longing for a man that is centimeters from him and standing much too far away. 

He wraps his arms around Thanatos’ waist, and pulls him down. Although, there is little force behind it. It is not a feat of Zagreus’ strength, as Thanatos lets himself be guided, knees resting on the bed as he rests his weight on Zagreus’ lap. 

“Than.” Zagreus buries his face into the crook of Thanatos’ neck. 

“You are spending too much time with your shades. We are not mortals, Zag. We do not fall into the whims of the Fates as easily, and cruelly, as they do. We are not set to become a tragedy. And,” Thanatos rests a hand back on Zagreus’ cheek, pushing him away just enough for Death to see his face, “you are not your father. You can be stubborn and angry, but you are also kind, more so than any god I’ve known. There’s a reason all the shades look to you for compassion, I suppose.” 

Zagreus stops fighting the fall of tears. If he was going to cry, so be it. He had the weight of Thanatos above him to keep him steady, and the god’s touch to offer him more comfort than he ever deserved. 

“I love you. So much.” 

“I love you too.” Thanatos mumbles the words against Zagreus’ lips, pressing their mouths together for another quick kiss. 

When Thanatos pulls back, his small smile slides down into a confused pout. “Why are you looking at me like that, Zagreus?” 

Zagreus grins widely. “Give me a second to process here. You have just made me the happiest little god alive.”

“Take your time, I have no plans of leaving anytime soon, if that’s what was on your mind.” 

“I am surprised that you are still here, actually." He plants another  kiss on Thanatos’ lips. "I rarely get to enjoy your presence for this long without you proofing away.” 

Now there's the classic Thanatos frown. “Tsch, I don’t poof, it’s a teleport.”

“If you say so, I owe you some grace after the emotional ordeal I put us through.”

“Hmm, that’s probably the smartest thing you’ve said all night, Zagreus. Although, it seems you need a little help deciding which of your impulses to act on again.” Thanatos’ hands press against Zagreus’ chest, giving a gentle squeeze to the muscles there before drifting down. 

“I—Than,” Thanatos halts his descent, waiting for Zagreus to finish, “If you are not ready, we don't have to.”

Thanatos scowls, a frustrated sound rising from low in his throat. “Zagreus! I do not know where you got the idea to treat me like something fragile.” 

Zagreus keeps his promise and bites his tongue, holding back a comment of the bleeding heart Thanatos he remembers from their youth. How he still sees the god in front of him as the most precious thing in the room, something Zagreus would do anything to protect. 

Thanatos lowers his head into the crook of Zagreus’ neck, breath tingling the skin as he speaks. “I’m ending that idea right now. I am here and I am done waiting for you.”

And he bites down. 

Zagreus’ jaw goes slack as he moans. The bite was not painful, barely enough to leave an impression on his skin—something he was all too familiar with in previous experiences—but the suddenness of it jolted him. Thanatos, being forward and taking what he wants, was a gift Zagreus would never be able to repay the universe for. 

Thanatos quickly follows his nibble with a series of kisses, open mouthed and warm on Zagreus’ neck. Zagreus gets a small lick as a warning, before the god starts sucking what he knows will become noticeable marks into his flesh. Another moan falls from Zagreus when Thanatos’ scrapes his teeth against the fresh bruise. 

“Fuck,” Zagreus breathes out. “Than, fuck.” 

“You act like you’re the only one with desires.” Thanatos breaks from Zagreus’ neck, trailing his way up Zagreus’ jaw and settling by his ear. Thanatos grinds his hips, providing blissful friction to Zagreus’ already aching cock. “I’ve wanted you for ages, Zag.”

Zagreus thanks the vice grip Thanatos has on him for keeping him upright, or he would have collapsed. The finely manicured nails of one hand dig into Zagreus’ shoulder, the other clinging fiercely to his belt. 

“I need you.” Thanatos moans into Zagreus’ ear.

Zagreus grabs Thanatos’s neck, pulling him back down into a kiss. If only his hair was still long, Zagreus could have weaved his hands through those strands, guiding Thanatos with a firm grip alone.

Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise, as it freed Zagreus from any distractions as he started peeling off every pesky layer of fabric that kept them apart. He allows only a moment to breathe when an article of clothing is removed. A physical separation forces them off each other as the fabric slips over their heads, but he is right back on Thanatos the second he is able. 

At some point in this process, the two of them had worked their way properly onto the bed. Zagreus now lies flat, head resting on his pillow as Thanatos weight presses into him. Zagreus could cry when Thanatos sits up. He reaches for any and every part of Thanatos he can reach, hands settling on the god’s waist.

It is nice to get a look at the dark, almost graying flush blooms on Thanatos’ face. If the fire burning in Zagreus' own chest is any indication, he can assume that his own blush, a vivid scarlet, is even more apparent against his pale skin. 

Thanatos’ eyes also dart up and down the length of Zagreus' body, taking in every inch of bare skin. Perhaps they were more similar than he thought. 

He can't speak for Thanatos, but a large part of Zagreus' ogling is directed at Thanatos’ cock. It is a shade darker than the rest of Thanatos’ skin, standing out even more against Zagreus’ pale abdomen. Zagreus’ jaw drops at the sight of it. The length. His mind was already overwhelmed with how it would feel inside him. How deep it would reach down his throat, how far it would be buried inside him. 

The sensation of Thanatos’ fingers tracing along the lines of Zagreus’ pectorals snaps him out of his—soon to no longer be—fantasies. His muscles spasm at the touch, the parts of the prince’s skin that are always exposed feeling intensely intimate when Thanatos drags his nails down. He stops at Zagreus’ stomach, an inch away from the source of Zagreus’ heat. 

Thanatos’ eyes meet Zagreus’ and the faintest smile ghosts Thanatos’ lips. The only indication of his thoughts before Thanatos’ fingers dive down further, teasing the tip of the prince’s cock. 

Zagreus should not as loud as he is for such little contact. Thanatos’ touch is feather-light on his skin, more exploring than relief-bringing. Beads of pre-cum collect on his fingertips as Zagreus twitches into his hand. 

“Please, Than, please.” Zagreus does not even know what he is begging for, but he hopes Thanatos will figure it out for the both of them. 

Thanatos laughs. The chuckle makes Zagreus dizzy, blood rushing away from his brain and straight to his dick. It is a hearty laugh low in Thanatos’ throat, tilting higher in pitch the longer it goes on. The more comfortable Thanatos gets. 

Gods above and below, just bury Zagreus now. He has reached mortal heaven. 

“Of course, Zagreus,” Thanatos purrs, his hand wrapping around Zagreus’ cock.

Oh, this is exactly what Zagreus did not know he needed. Firm and confident strokes, pausing in between for Thanatos’ to rub against the tip, smearing more pre-cum against his palm. Zagreus is squirming under Thanatos, bucking his hips to get more of the friction. He could lose himself so easily to this alone, just the drag of Thanatos’ hand. He wants more, needs more of him. What if he…

Zagreus scrambles a desperate hand off of Thanatos’ waist to wrap around Thanatos’ cock. Death has so far ignored his own need, despite the fact that it is resting adjacent to Zagreus’ own. He has been leaking as well, a small pooling forming on Zagreus’ abdomen. 

Thanatos practically wheezes when Zagreus’ takes him in his hand. Zagreus regains enough sense to check in, jolted by the reaction. “Is this alright? Can I touch you?”

“Yes!” Thanatos exhales, drawing out the word as he breathes. Pretty golden irises disappear as his lashes flutter closed, head rolled back to his shoulder blades. 

Zagreus brings their cocks together, rubbing Thanatos in sync with the strokes the god gives him. The prince’s other free hand wraps behind Thanatos’ head, drawing him out of his stupor and into a kiss. Their lips crush together this time, rather than glide. There is desperation rather than adoration, although there is plenty of that to go around. Both of their mouths are open, panting into each other. Moaning the nicknames they first gave to each other.

“Zag,” Thanatos breathes out, continuously trying to bring their lips together. 

Zagreus moans, “Than,” and reaches his tongue deep into Thanatos’ mouth. 

Thanatos must use all his strength to pull away, because Zagreus’ hand is nearly ripped from the god’s neck, the wind knocked out of him. 

Zagreus gasps, light-headed. “You alright? Than, do you need anything?” 

There’s a thought stuck on Thanatos’ lips. Zagreus’ can feel the heat of Thanatos in his hand, the way his cock jumps as his eyes scan across Zagreus’ beneath him. Zagreus is not the only one aching for more.

Zagreus’ skin sings in anticipation. He does Thanatos the favor of speaking desires aloud for the both of them. “I keep some oil in the draw—“

“I want to ride you.”

Zagreus is stunned, flabbergasted, blessed. Not the outcome he was expecting, but one he will absolutely not complain about. His voice wavers, heavy with need. “Yeah?” 

“Don’t make me say it twice,” Thanatos groans, a hint of annoyance in the tone. “And don’t look so surprised! It’s all your fault.”

Zagreus takes his turn to laugh, a familiar wrinkle forming between Thanatos’ eyebrows. Thanatos glares at him, swatting at his chest, which only sends Zagreus into a further fit of giggles. 

“My fault for what?” He reaches up to cradle Thanatos face, indulging in a long held impulse to rub the tenseness of Thanatos' expression. thumb rubbing a sharp cheekbone. “Being insufferably attractive? Having a big, hard—“

“Need I remind you that I can poof away from here at any given time.” Thanatos flicks away Zagreus’ hand, shifting off his lap. He leans over to Zagreus’ nightstand, grabbing the promised bottle of oil kept inside the drawer, and lands back with a huff. 

“Are you going to let me take care of you, or are you going to be stubborn about it?” Zagreus is pushing his luck, especially for someone whose cock bounces at the thought of being knuckle-deep in the god straddling his hips. Would he even survive the tightness of Thanatos clenching around his fingers? What sounds would he make if Zagreus found the right spot inside him, hammering his fingers into him over and over.

Thanatos slicks his own fingers with oil. 

Dammit. Zagreus curses his smart mouth, but quickly changes his tune to appreciation when he realizes all his attention gets to be spent on the slack-jawed look on Thanatos’ face when he pushes two fingers into his own ass. Eager, isn’t he? 

“Thanatos, you’re gorgeous. I hope you know how pretty you look right now.” Zagreus means every word.

Thanatos whines, burying his head in his shoulder at the praise, depriving Zagreus of the ability to look him in the eyes, though that does not stop his focus from wandering. The cool flush on Thanatos' cheeks has spread to his chest, highlight how his pecs flex with effort. Silky strands of hair stick to Thanatos’ temples, framing his eyebrows as they furrow in a mix of concentration and pleasure. All of him is perfect. 

Zagreus settles for mumbling his awe under his breath for now, simply enjoying the sight of Thanatos bouncing on his own fingers. Stretching himself open to take Zagreus. 

The prince’s hands roam freely, with Thanatos too focused on fingering himself to chide him. Zagreus mimics the motions of Thanatos’ earlier explorations, trailing fingertips across defined muscles. Thanatos’ skin is icier than before, the areas of his blush as frozen as the entrance to the surface. He shivers as Zagreus settles his hands on his chest, fingers pinching his nipples. 

Without warning, Thanatos’ other hand slams down on Zagreus, pressing him into the mattress. 

“Enough.” Thanatos grabs the prince’s cock once more, this time to line it up with his slick and waiting hole. 

Before he can lower himself down, Zagreus’ hips sputter against his will, pushing inches of his length inside the one spot of Thanatos that is delightfully warm. 

Thanatos’ nails carve welts into Zagreus’ muscles as he whines. “Fuck, Zag! I haven’t—not in—shit, just give me a minute.”

“Sorry, I’m so sorry. You just feel so fucking tight, Than, holy shit. You feel so good.” Zagreus’ muscles cry out at him to hold Thanatos by the hips and snap into him, again and again. He is grateful his mind knows this is not about chasing his own pleasure. 

“Wait.” Thanatos’ voice is cold. 

This is a command. 

Zagreus tightens his grip on Thanatos’ waist, freezing his hips in place. He tightens the muscles in his abdomen, willing every part of his body to obey.

Thanatos glares down at Zagreus, his irises barely visible through thick, silver lashes. He raises an eyebrow and presses his free hand against Zagreus’ chin, pushing the prince’s mouth open. He keeps them there for what feels like an eternity, waiting for Zagreus’ response. There are no quips, no playful smirk. 

Thanatos grins, flashing teeth like a predator looking down at his prey. “Good boy.”

Zagreus whimpers. He wants to be good.

Thanatos starts to move, raising himself off Zagreus’ cock and slowly lowering himself back down. He repeats the motion, setting an unhurried pace for himself. While he rides Zagreus’ cock at his leisure, the prince continues to whine. A whine for both at the sensation of Thanatos' wet heat enveloping his cock, and at the agony of not being able to ram himself into the god’s core.

But he had to be good. He could be so, so good for him. 

Thanatos exhales a long breath, failing to hide a chuckle. “Is that really all it takes to get you to listen? All this time spent arguing, and I could have just fucked you into submission?”

Zagreus is nodding before the question is even finished, eyes watering with the effort he’s putting into obedience. “Please, you can tell me what to do. I can be good for you. I promise, I—”

Thanatos shushes him. “You are doing so well. Here,” Thanatos grabs Zagreus’ hands, which are currently in a vice-grip on the bed sheets, and guides them to his cock, “you can touch.”

When Thanatos lets go, Zagreus' hand remains, stroking gently. 

Thanatos moans, “That’s it. Good boy.” In return, Thanatos grabs a fistful of Zagreus’ hair, down to the scalp. His head tingles with prickles of pain and pleasure as Thanatos pulls, and then slams himself down on Zagreus’ cock.  

The pure sight of Thanatos, throwing his head back with a groan, was already too much. Too perfect. Zagreus has to close his eyes, or he is going to lose it. And he has to stay controlled, because Thanatos asked him to.

Thanatos develops a ruthless pace now, lifting himself completely off of Zagreus’ cock, and snapping his hips down, taking him down to the hilt with each thrust, pushing his cock harder into Zagreus' hand. The prince's name falls from his hips when he lands, a steady stream of cries and moans echoing through the bedroom and directly into Zagreus’ skull. 

“Zag, shit, Zagreus. You feel incredible. You’re doing so good for me.” 

Zagreus doubts he will be able to think of anything else ever again. He can only nod furiously, biting painfully into his bottom lip as a constant reminder for self control. Thanatos had not told him to move, other than the hand moving up and down his cock. He has not given him permission to return the thrusts the way Zagreus' body is screaming at him to do. 

“Zag? Fuck me. Please, you can move. Just fuck me, fuck—“

Zagreus snaps the instant he is allowed. He buries himself into Thanatos’ core, and then another want takes over his thoughts. He needs Thanatos closer, needs to feel every part of him that he can. 

Zagreus thanks some fucking god for his strength, because he is able to wrap one arm around Thanatos waist, another around his thigh, and flip them both. 

Thanatos lands against the mattress hard, air expelled out of his lungs from the force. Zagreus settles his arms underneath Death’s thighs, hiking the knees up as he presses their bodies together. Thanatos welcomes him in, completing the loop by wrapping his legs around the small of Zagreus’ back, hands still winding their way through the prince’s hair. 

Zagreus allows a half second to appreciate the fluster on Thanatos’s face, the way his crimson sheets contrast so beautifully against the cool tan of Thanatos’s skin. Then his mind is on a single thought only, slamming his hips into Thanatos. Worshipping him. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Zagreus’ thoughts bleed out between them. “You are magnificent, Thanatos. I love you. Fuck, I love you so much.” 

Zagreus sets the pace now, driving his cock into Thanatos with as much power as he swings a blade. The same skills allow him enough dexterity to snake a hand in between them, wrapping his hand back around Thanatos’ leaking cock. Nothing coherent leaves Thanatos’ lips, only sounds of ecstasy and the occasional babble that Zagreus can only assume is supposed to be his name. 

Zagreus rambles back. “I love you, Than. Than.” 

His orgasm builds too soon, but it is a miracle he lasted as long as he did with Thanatos clenching around him and filling the room with his moans. A tight cord of heat tenses in his gut, threatening to unravel with each thrust. 

“Than, I’m so close. Can I—I want—“

Thanatos has no words to respond with, but his ankles lock together, keeping the two of them joined. Thanatos’ back arches, bringing his chest flush to Zagreus’. Then he screams, a clear and distinct, “Zagreus”, and his warmth spills between their stomachs. 

It is all the permission Zagreus needs to let go. His throat is raw, straining to cry out a last prayer to Thanatos’ name when his vision blurs. The cord inside him is cut, and he releases inside Thanatos. His Thanatos. 

His forehead falls onto Thanatos’, the two of them struggling to fill their lungs as they inhale the same humid air the other just expelled. 

“Fucking hell,” Thanatos finally says for the both of them. His limbs are still entwined around Zagreus, now pulling the prince’s full weight on top of him. He makes no attempt to move, content with their position.

“I think that about sums it up, huh?” Zagreus allows his body to sink into Thanatos, knowing that the god is more than capable of holding him, and would make it known if he wanted otherwise. He lets his head fall into Thanatos’ neck, making weak attempts to lay kisses against sweaty skin. 

“We could’ve done that this whole time?” 

Zagreus lets out a weak, tired laugh. “Remember that next time you’re mad at me. I’m bound to do something stupid again in the next week or so at least.” 

Thanatos hums in agreement, tightening his grip on Zagreus’ back. His nails scratch Zagreus’ scalp drawing the prince’s attention as he speaks. “Hey, remind me to thank Megaera for her advice.”

“You mean her helping both of us confess?” Zagreus’ raises a brow. He would also have to thank Megaera later. 

Thanatos’ fingers lower, mindlessly tracing the shell of Zagreus’ ear. “That too, but I’m referring to the conversation we had while you were unconscious.”

“Oh.” Zagreus’ heartbeat quickens. 

“She said it’s not her style, but that it might be more fitting for me. I’m inclined to agree, considering how reactive you were to it. Don’t you think so?”

Good boy. 

Zagreus' face burns, he tries to wiggle out of Thanatos grasp, but to no avail. Thanatos’ grip on him is strong, and shows no sign of letting go anytime soon. Zagreus flops uselessly back into his god’s embrace. 

He swears Thanatos giggles in his ear as he settles back down. Zagreus groans, “You are going to be the death of me, aren’t you?” 

Death is definitely laughing, Zagreus can feel the air on his neck and the tight muscles of Thanatos’ grin against his skin as he chimes, “Oh, I certainly hope so.”