#i wonder if Thanatos can release the souls from the sword at all

[kabhi-haath-pakad-k-tu-mera]

And Death Sees No Justice

Theseus is sent on a quest to retrieve Thanatos, but it proves to be harder than he had thought. IWSC Round 5. Harry Potter and Greek mythology crossover.

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l.

Most of Theseus’s existence in the underworld has been spent in the Fields of Asphodel, weaving through crowds of lonely, sad souls that bemoan their existence. It is disconcerting at first, it had been to him when he had died a few centuries (a millennium?) ago, but you learn to ignore them with the passing of time. You have to if you value your sanity, especially if you can understand them. He wonders sometimes if this ability that has been given to him by The Unseen One really is for his benefit. It certainly feels like a curse. So many souls, millions of them, all filled with regret that has rendered them insane. Sometimes he feels like he is one of them. He probably is, he muses. Like them, all he does now is regret the decisions he had made, and wonders if things could have been different.

 Except the Lord likes to shake him out of his reverie from time to time. Once every few centuries, he is taken to The Court of The Dead by the Erinyes themselves and dropped before Hades by whom he is given a Quest. It could be anything that The Unseen One fancies—bringing a mortal’s soul, a golden apple from The Garden of Hesperides or some artefact from the mortal world that holds power. Theseus cannot fail the quest that he is given, not because he fears for his life—he already is dead, after all. He knows, however, that he would be sent to the fields of punishment for eternity if he were to fail. He shudders involuntarily upon the thought of what the Lord Hades would do to him upon failure, and he also knows that he is waiting for him to slip, simply waiting for him to give up, and thus is his punishment for trying to abduct his Queen Persephone, and thus is his punishment for being naive enough to go along with everything that Prithous had told him, everything that has brought him to this point.

It still startles him to find himself suddenly airborne in the claws of one of the Furies no matter how many times he experiences experience it. He notices not for the first time that it is Tisiphone who carries him every time, only Tisiphone, and wonders if it has it a more sinister meaning. The Lord Hades is perched on his throne while the throne beside his is empty, meaning that the mortal world is now facing the warmer months. The court is empty, apart from The Lord. Even the Furies have now left. Theseus stands silently as The Lord considers him. It is a while before he speaks.

“Theseus, son of Poseidon, you have been summoned here for a great purpose.” his voice is quiet, but it carries over in the empty court “The underworld is in need of help. I would like to ask for your help, for you to take on a quest.” 

The demigod seethes internally at the polite, honeyed words spilling from The Lord’s mouth. As if he has a choice. Hades’s face splits into a smile and Theseus knows he that he has read his mind. A moment later his smile drops and he sits up straight, looking at him with fire in his eyes. 

He speaks again, “The underworld has lost one of its most loyal subjects—Death. I need you to find him and bring him back here by hook or by crook, demigod.” The Lord leans forward at this point. “Find him, leave no stone unturned. If word gets around that Thanatos has gone missing … The consequences could be destructive.”

It takes Theseus perhaps a second to realize the implications. The Doors of Death are now unguarded. Any soul could escape into the mortal world, not only from Erebus, but also from Tartarus. He feels a chill pass up his spine thinking of Tartarus and the spirits that reside there. From the brief moments of proximity to the place he had had, he knows that the beings there are not to be taken lightly, and if they got released into the mortal world they would wreak havoc. No wonder The Unseen One is so worried. 

“Does anyone know where he is?” The demigod speaks for the first time. There are, after all, some who know plenty about the going ons in the mortal and immortal world, like the Grey sisters, the Furies or…

“The Oracle.” the answer is short and to the point. There is no way around it. “You will be led to Delphi by the Labyrinth. I have pulled in a … favour from an old acquaintance of yours. You will be guided by the thread.”

An image of Princess Ariadne of Crete, Mistress of the Labyrinth passes through his thoughts. Is she dead? Theseus hasn't thought of her in a long time. He feels a sudden pang of guilt. Had she died on Naxos? He does not voice this thought however, he doesn’t get a chance—Tisiphone and her sisters have appeared again and he finds himself airborne, flying over the fields of punishment and towards the fields of Asphodel. Tisiphone drops him onto a flat plain that overlooks the river Styx, and then the Erinyes disappear. He gets up with some effort, trying to get his bearings and looks around. The spool of thread is instantly noticeable—golden fibre a stark contrast against the dark backdrop of the underworld. He picks it up and feels the wall behind it for a Delta, which glows a faint blue upon contact and opens a hole inches from his feet. He has no way of knowing how deep it is, it's too dark to see. He jumps in anyway.

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II. 

The opening closes as soon as he jumps in, and torches that light up along the wall reveal that he is in some sort of a dungeon. He looks around and his eyes land upon the sword immediately. It is stuck inside a fissure in the wall. It does not surprise him when he pulls it out that it bears the Athenian crest. His sword—his father’s sword—comes to him whenever he is sent on a quest. Another pang of guilt wrecks through his body, followed by a surge of anger. What kind of a ruler had he been? What kind of a son? What kind of a father and husband? How is it that he had got to this? He shakes his head and sets off towards the oracle. 

Navigating the Labyrinth is not an easy task. He knows that he needs to keep his eyes peeled and be ready for anything that it sends his way—the labyrinth is evil, meant to misguide you—but he doesn’t, because he knows that it remains unresponsive to him. He also knows that Hades has something to do with it—another clever way to remind him of the life that he had lived, the glory he had had. He lets out a breath. The gods are all sadists. He takes the first right he gets to and starts dropping the thread. 

It isn't too long before he finds himself in a cave near the sea, right in the middle of it. He can hear the sound of waves crashing—the call of the sea. He feels more powerful than he has in a long, long time. This is his domain. He contemplates for a moment staying here forever. What were the odds? Thanatos is missing, he could perhaps live as a fugitive the way Dedalus did. He discards the thought almost immediately. The Furies would haunt him wherever he hid. He emerges from the cave into warm sunlight falling upon the Island of Delphi. His eyes rake across the sea for a few moments and he basks in the strength he feels—the power of the sea. Finally he starts scanning the horizon for the volcano in which the priestess resides. 

He sets off towards a mountain covered in green from which fumes are rising. He has always wondered how the priestess’ manage to live inside the volcano—an active volcano—where the corpse of Pythos rots. If he is being honest, Theseus doesn't think that Pythos is down there anymore. It had to have been millennia since he had been slaughtered. Monsters always reform, even if heroes don't. 

When he is at the mouth of the cave that would lead him inside he hesitates. He has always been wary of oracles and their prophecies. Going to one is sheer stupidity, always has been, but now neither he nor countless other demigods have a choice, since the others keep moving so. He still stands there for a few moments. There are mortals around, some with strange contraptions in their hands, but they do not seem to notice him—Hecate’s mist envelops him. He wonders if they can see him at all.

 He steels himself, finally, and enters the cave quietly. The heat is sweltering, and the toxic fumes have dried his throat before he finds the High Priestess of Apollo—the Oracle—in the right cavern. Unlike the others, this cavern is somehow cool and free of the vapours released by Python’s allegedly rotting body. The Priestess is sitting on a Tripod seat with a laurel branch in her hand, looking in his direction without any trace of surprise, as if Heroes from the Bronze Age come to her every other day. For all he knows, they probably do. The mounds of offerings scattered around make him realize that has forgotten to bring offerings himself. The Oracle doesn't seem to be bothered by this however, and motions him to sit before her, which he does. Even though the Priestess is seemingly human, looking at her sends chills up Theseus’s spine. Her aura is … eerie. 

“Ask, hero, what you must,” The oracle speaks, and her voice sounds far away, even though it is coming from the woman sat before him.

He draws in a breath and asks shakily, “Where is Thanatos? What am I to do?”

The Oracle gives a ghosty smile and somehow a mist, or perhaps it is the fumes, settles over them so that Theseus cannot see the Oracle clearly. All he knows in that moment is that the mist is forming images—a woman and a man … sitting on a throne, another woman standing a little off, and another man on the other side. The images get more clear and he realizes that he is looking at his parents, his mortal parents—Aethra and Aegeus—and the woman is the Lady of the Labyrinth Ariadne and the man standing away from the throne is Pirithous.

The voice comes from Aegeus first, “You shall move up North to the Albion’s land,”

Ariadne moves towards him and speaks, “You shall find the ones taken by an undead hand,”

Pirithous turns to look at him, “You shall befriend the one who has mastered death,”

It is his mother who speaks in the end, “And you shall fall down again when it all ends.”

Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the mist disappears and Theseus is left looking again at the Priestess, his heart racing and his ears ringing. He draws in a shaky breath and gets up, nodding at the Oracle. He turns around to leave, half expecting the Oracle to call after him. She doesn't, and he hurries out towards the Labyrinth.

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III.

The rush of adrenaline that had flowed through his body when he had heard the prophecy has still not died when he is safely inside the labyrinth. Safely inside the labyrinth. Theseus snorts. The underworld has finally been successful if driving him insane. He sits down right there and then, exhausted. 

‘You shall move up North to the Albion’s land,

You shall find the ones taken by an undead hand,

You shall befriend the one who has mastered death,

And you shall fall down again when it all ends.’

Albion’s land was where the white people lived, in the North-West, beyond even the Gaul. ‘The one who has mastered death…’ Death probably meant Thanatos. And ‘you shall fall down again with the taken's final breath.’ That was reassuring. So he had to go to Albion and find people taken by an undead hand. What was an undead hand? Someone who had already escaped from The Underworld? And one of these people had mastered Death, which was probably why Thanatos was not responding to Hades’s calls. If he had to travel so fast, it was probably best that he was travelling by the Labyrinth. But which way was he to go? He sighs, staring at the rocky walls of the labyrinth, and feels his eyes get heavy with every passing second until he finally lets them shut. 

He has a dream. This in itself isn’t unusual, but this particular dream is one of those dreams. The ones that bring messages. He hasn't had one of those in ages but he knows. He can feel it. He is on an island that he has been to before, but he cannot quite place it’s name or it’s whereabouts. There is a woman lying a little away, and this woman he does recognize. He is on Naxos. Ariadne turns towards him as if she were expecting him, but how? He had thought only Gods had the ability to call upon a hero’s soul unless … unless Ariadne had ascended to Olympus? 

She considers him for a moment then says, “Theseus, we meet again.” She grimaces. “I was told of your quest. You're on the way to find Thanatos, yes?” 

Theseus nods, only barely.

“You don’t have enough time to travel all the way to Britain—to Albion,” she continues, “It’ll be too late by then. The souls have already begun stirring in the search of the doors, they might have all escaped by the time you are able to locate his whereabouts,” She says and stops for a moment, scrutinizing him, then says, “The Labyrinth will guide you. Begin the way you always have, forward and right, and keep on towards the north. You will be led right to your destination.” She looks him over one last time. “Do what needs to be done, Theseus. Goodbye.”

And just like that he is waking up, and when he is fully awake he sends a quick prayer to Ariadne. He starts forward like he had been instructed, and goes right when he gets to the intersection. He wanders into tunnels occasionally, to check his direction and his location, and keeps moving for three days until he finally reaches a tunnel on the right that leads him into what appears to be a cupboard. 

There are people outside who are speaking in a different tongue, although he does catch a few words now and then, and he is sure that Thanatos is there somewhere around here because he can feel the energy that is radiating off him—energy that reads death. He accidentally knocks over a vial of a dark, muddy liquid and he can hear people coming towards the cabinet. The door of the cabinet is thrown open and the light, although rather dim, blinds him temporarily. When his eyes have adapted to the sudden brightness, they are looking into a young, bright green pair looking at him in bewilderment. 

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IV. 

He realizes in a few more moments that he is inside a shop in Albion, in the company of two young people of about Sixteen years of age and a few older men. The mist does not seem to be working on them for they can very clearly see him and feel his presence. All of them spring into action at the same time, hauling him out the cupboard and drawing what look like wooden sticks while speaking in a foreign tongue, some of which is directed at him. He realizes along the way that these are all wizards, like circe. It is the young girl with long, bushy hair that finally speaks in a tongue familiar to his, if a little rusty.

“Who are you?! What were you doing in there?”

“Theseus.” is his only reply. 

He doesn't answer her other question, because what is the point? He cannot tell her that he is here looking for the God of Death—they would have him strapped into a bed in a mental asylum before he could say ‘Hades’. At his name the girl’s stick lowers and she regards him. She turns towards the others and says something to them that makes them drop their sticks too, and somehow it makes him feel a little braver. He trains his eyes over all of the people present, until his eyes stop over the man with green eyes that had let him out of the cupboard. He has a scar on his forehead, and his eyes too, tragic and haunted, are trained on him. 

He notices this look in all eyes that he has gotten the chance of looking into, although in the brunette boy it is a lot more intense. He wonders what has happened to these people. The girl then says something to the boy upon which the others seem to protest but they are all ignored. The girl motions to Theseus to follow them, which he does. They get out of the shop whose sign is written in a foreign language. She takes hold of his hand and turns, and he feels like he is being forced in and then out of a very thin pipe. He falls onto his knees when the squashing sensation stops, heaving.

They are in a sort of a lounge, a royal lounge. The two sit down and ask him to sit down also, their gazes trained at him. 

“I am called Hermione,” the girl says, “and this is Harry Potter.” She stops for a moment and stares at him long enough that Theseus starts to get uncomfortable. "Are you really Theseus?” 

He nods. “I am, Hermione, and I am here on a quest.”

“How are you still alive?” This question is asked by Harry.

“I am not. I have been sent from the Underworld by the Lord Hades to find Death. You wouldn’t happen to know about it?” 

Harry and Hermione exchange quick looks and look back at him. Neither of them are surprised.   Hermione is about to speak but Theseus cuts her off.

“I know that he is here somewhere, Wizards. I need to know where.”

Harry gets up and walks towards a set of windows and looks towards him from there. “What if he was? What would you do then? And what of the souls he was supposed to have taken? Where would they go?”

Theseus is more than a little surprised at the question. The answer is obvious. They would be taken. He says as much. Harry’s eyes flash dangerously, or maybe it is just the sunlight falling on the glasses that make him feel so. He heads towards where Hermione is sitting and sits back down, and his eyes do not leave Theuses’s. Quite suddenly, Theseus can see why such young children look mature beyond their age.

They have battle scars of their own, embedded in the skin from being made to participate in a war neither of them had wanted to fight. A demonic soul for whom even the worst punishments in the field of punishment would be insufficient, who had ruined much of these children’s childhood by trying to kill them. There had been a battle, so many lives had been lost, even if they had won the war... how many families torn apart? How many lovers estranged? How many children orphaned? And then Thanatos had come to him, to serve him, for he was now his master, the holder of the deathly hallows, and they had all come back to life. A lover, a dear friend, his closest parental figure all came back. He wouldn't let them all go away now, won’t give back Thanatos. 

It is at that moment that a Redheaded boy the same age as his companions enters the room and Theseus can tell that this boy has had life restored into him. As has Hermione. The redheaded boy stops in the doorway, looking at him. Harry and Hermione look at him too, their resolves steeled, their mouths set into firm lines. He can still feel Thanatos’s presence from the green eyed wizard but now he doesn't feel so sure about completing this quest. Hades could easily employ any creature to guard the Doors of Death. How was the death of so many who were sucked into the vortex of war justifiable? How was the death of these two, who had helped this world’s saviour win the war justifiable? How was the Undead one’s killing so many justifiable? There was no revenge for them. No revenge that could ever be possibly extracted from anyone would ever balance out this. Does he really want to take Thanatos back?

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V.

He has stopped again for some shuteye when he feels the power of the Lord Hades summoning him. He cannot resist against it if he tries, and he is not foolish enough to do so. He finds himself back in the company of Harry and Hermione and a number of others which he assumes are wizards, a number of them resurrected. He sees Thanatos too, as beautiful as ever, dark and dangerous as he had been when he had delivered him on the banks of the Styx. The Unseen One is there also, with his eyes—literally filled with fire—looking, staring, glaring at him. He is sure that he has crossed the line this time. He would go to The Fields of Punishment now. It’d be worth it if these wizards are allowed to live, after all that they have been through. 

The Unseen One speaks finally after some time, “Theseus, son of Poseidon, you have willingly forsaken your quest and ignored direct orders from me to bring Thanatos to The Underworld. You shall be dealt with accordingly, but now…”

He is beconking Thanatos forward, who is trying to resist even though he too is a servant to the Underworld—to Hades. He finally does step forward and with him, the resurrected begin fading. The Unseen One is gone in a flash of blinding light and Theseus too feels himself being called back. There is no Justice done here he knows, and now until eternity, there will never be.

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A/N: There are a few things that I feel the need to Point out, please bear with me.

*Hades in this story is referred to as ‘The Lord’ (as he rules the Underworld) and as ‘The Unseen One’ (which is the literal translation of his name). 

*The Erinyes are the Furies. Tisiphone’s name means ‘vengeful destruction’.

*The sword shown here is the same sword that Aegeus had left behind in Troezen for Theseus.

*Albion’s land is what the Greeks called the British Isles during the Bronze Age.

*Gaul is what France was called by the Greeks during and before the Bronze Age.

[theonterata-moved-blog]

THANATOS WANTS A KISS @ ARES

FIRST FIVE ASKS GET A KISS, 2/5 (no longer accepting) || @darkenedsnare​

                 Ares does not understand why this has happened to him. Why it has happened to him. All of these ragged feelings course through him like a fiery inferno, enveloping him in this embrace that burns away at his senses, yet ultimately leave him feeling … alive. It is the type of elation he feels on the battlefield, with a weapon in hand and guiding his chariot through the bloodshed of war. The freedom, the outcries, the pleas for mercy - all of it yield unto him this incredible fiery feeling and release. Yet what he feels now is different. It is engulfing, yes, but it is also … confusing. He does not understand it. And Ares fears what he does no understand.

                   There is one thing he knows for certain. The context of his confusion, the person in question, is none other than the god of death Thanatos.

                    Ever since their first meeting on Olympus, the two had begun a secret and scandalous affair with one another. It had been simple, really. They would share the pleasure of the flesh in the shadows, then depart from one another. That was all it was supposed to be. It was fun. It was a little hour or two of pleasure. But the hours began to expand on top of each other. Ares lingered after it was done. He HESITATED to put his armor back on when he had to go.

                     By all the gods, what was happening to him ? What is happening to him ?

                     He no longer covets Aphrodite like he used to. He no longer visits the mortals for fun affairs in the late nights. He …

                     Why does he no longer covet his former lovers ? Why is it when Ares returns from a raging war, the first thought that comes to mind is Thanatos ? The thought isn’t even specific ! All he sees is his sharply defined face and those beautiful, dark eyes ! How is it that a god’s mind can be so easily consumed by such thoughts ?

                        Am I going mad ? Ares wonders.

                        He has little time to contemplate upon this more before he spots Thanatos strolling across Olympus’ soil. Having just come from a meeting himself, Ares had been preparing to depart to the nearest battlefield to clear his head, but seeing Thanatos has changed his direction. With such force, Ares marches towards the god of death, his stride long and powerful. When Ares reaches Thanatos, he grabs him by the arm and drags him to the nearest darkest corner, ramming him to the wall with such force, yet, all the same, such passion.

                         “ Why are you all I think about ? ” Ares inquires, his breathing becoming shallow. He feels his heartbeat accelerate. “ You’re all I see. When I step out from the battlefield, I imagine you with relief, as I’ve been gifted with the chance knowing I will see you again. That I’ve gifted you souls like a couple gifts roses. ”

                           His hands grip the front of Thanatos’ tunic.

                      “ You’ve ensnared me. ”

                          With those words, Ares’ grip tightens, and he pulls himself closer to Thanatos until their lips touch. Thanatos’ lips taste like death, though it is a taste that Ares has long since been accustomed to, since the beginning of his birth - when a sword was first placed in his hand. Thanatos’ lips are cold, but Ares’ are as hot as fire. With the contrast, the world Ares knows suddenly collapses away, leaving nothing but himself and Thanatos in its wake. They are alone together in this darkness, surrounded by only passions untold.

                           Ares removes his hands from Thanatos’ shirt to cup his face, holding it firmly as their lips mold and move against each other, made for one another. Ares cannot explain how natural this feels, how real it is. But it is. He sees stars, and the stars are not for him, but for Thanatos.

                          The passions engulf Ares whole, until he has the willpower to pull away. He stumbles backwards, breathing deeply. Olympus returns. The stars fade. But Thanatos and his beautiful eyes are still there, and Ares can only wonder if this is what madness looks and tastes like. But it is then that Ares realizes that this is not madness, at least not in the madness of Eris or Hercules. This is the madness of a passion far greater than any he has ever known before.

                            It terrifies him.