#shades: its your sister prince zagreus

[tangtangtato]

It's actually kinda hinted from Hades but the idea zag not knowing IS SO FUNNY

I think my favorite aspect of the Hades II announcement is the idea that, somewhere in the underworld, a very thunderstruck Zagreus is demanding, "What do you MEAN, I have a sister?!"

[smallraindrops-blog]

May I please request a Zagreus and fem!s/o where s/o is a river nymph of Styx? I really don't know where to go with that but I think it's an interesting prompt. Please and Thank you.

Where We Will Begin Again

Zagreus x Female!reader

Warnings: kissing, no beta.

Word count: 1.6

Notes: Hey Anon, thanks for the fun prompt! I really hope you like it! ❤️ ❤️

Sometimes it was impossible to know when you started and the Styx ended.

You learned the rhyme of the river, and how it hid your mother’s heart away in its depth. Of the mortal blood that flowed and of Charon, his boat was ever steady among the wailing.

You followed him sometimes, tracing his path from behind. You never got close to the land though, you just watched from afar as shades talked to the looming god.

One time you got close enough to touch his boat, the wood smooth against your fingertips. You gasped when you heard a groan from above and yanked your hand away, your guilty hand curling against your chest. You looked up to see his eye staring down at you and you froze, staring back at him.

Then he reached down, placing a gentle hand on your head, uncaring of the blood that surrounded you. He groaned, and maybe it would have been nonsense to anyone else but you heard his words. ‘Be good, little one. Return to your mother and sisters.’

Then his hand left your head, fingers marked by blood. You nodded and with one last look back toward the boatman who tipped his hat at you, you returned to the embrace of the Styx.

~

You have been content.

You had been more than happy to attend to the river and to your mother's heart, to wave Charon on after he let the mortals off. You liked the mortals, their stories and the quiet way they rebuild their lives.

You have your sisters to care for, weaving the same tales your mother told you as you guide them along the river.

But…

You knew of the prince, how could you not?

Even his attempts to break his ties to the underworld had reached your ears. You knew every time the Styx had claimed the young god, the power of a god filling the river in a way no mortal could.

“What a fool, just dying over and over again. And for what?” Your little sisters muttered as the prince floated down the river, watching him with confused eyes.

They were young, their hearts still whole. Unlike your mother’s. Unlike yours.

You said nothing as the river had sent him your way, the water calm as it carried his form.

You thought about your mother’s tales, of Achilles’ mother placing him in the river to try to save him from his fate, her lips muttering prayers, tears spilling from her eyes.

Of when Hypnos had made Hera swear to give him Pasithea’s hand in marriage, his golden eyes were hard and desperate, not a warrior but willing to be one for her.

Of when Lord Hades and his queen had taken their wedding vows, different souls but whole when together, their voices low and tender.

You stopped him for a moment when he drifted past you with gentle hands on his face. You studied the prince of the underworld, at the line of his jaw, the fan of his dark lashes and his messy black hair.

“I think.” You said carefully. “He might have his reasons.”

And with a caress on his forehead, you let Zagreus go.

~

“An oathkeeper.” A voice said behind you, low and reverential.

You whirled around with a gasp, still knee-deep in the river. You haven’t heard someone call you that name in a long time.

You blinked when you saw the prince standing at the shore, his sword in hand. He looked just as surprised as you did. He had been fighting, his bottom lip busted open and you saw the bruises all over his body.  Even far away as you were, you saw the strength in his form.

You said nothing. What could you say to this god before you?

Even beaten and worn down, he looked like a prince. Straight back and proud, he stepped into the shallow water with you, water lapping up his knees but he stopped there. His mismatched eyes - and how odd, you’ve never seen eyes like those before even among gods-  held your stare and only then were you able to find the words.

“Your Highness.” You said, and you cursed at how weak your voice sounded.“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“My apologies for scaring you.” Prince Zagreus gave you a boyishly sweet grin, and you forgot for a moment that he was a prince, and not just an excited boy. “I never thought I would see, let alone meet one of the river Styx’s daughters.”

You tilted your head, watching the god before you. “Well, your highness. Here I am. I must say it doesn’t look like it will be long before you will join the river once more.”

Prince Zagreus gave a rueful laugh, “I look that rough, huh?” Then he gave a cheerful grin, “At least I don’t look as bad as the other guy does.”

You laughed quietly. “I suppose not, your highness.” Your eyes swept his form, and you thought of how he looked before. His face peaceful in his rest, made whole once more. You thought how hsi skin felt against your hands. Of the smile he graces you with now.

You picked up your skirt, bunching the fabric between your fingers and moved closer to him. He almost reached for you, as if fearing you would trip but the river held you steady.

His fingers curled back, and he said nothing. You offered a grin, a small one. Then you cupped his cheek with one hand then leaned close. You brushed your lips against his other cheek. “A second chance, your highness.”

He gasped at your soft kiss, at the power of the styx.  His hand found your wrist, his hold was gentle even with his rough fingertips.

You pulled back with a smile, took several steps back into the river and before he could call you back, you were claimed by the river again.

~

Your sisters gathered around you when you returned home.

The prince had made his way past the Hydra, a feat no one else had done before.

Yet he had.

They whispered among themselves, eyes bright and soft giggling between words but you stayed quiet, your fingers curling into your tunic. You waited for the call of the river to come for you, to attend to the prince once more.

You did not tell your sisters of the blessing you granted him.

~

He found you again, somehow.

You stared at him as he joined you in the river again. You shoved away the warmth you felt bloom inside your gut and clasped your hands as you waited for him to get closer.

“I don’t think you know how much I owe you my gratitude, daughter of Styx.” Prince Zagreus said in a low tone, words only for you and him.

You only nodded with a curl of a smile. “It is no trouble, your highness.” You almost turned away when he held out a hand. “Wait, I got you something.”

You blinked at the bottle he held, round and golden. Nectar. You didn’t reach out for it, unsure what to even say.

You have never been given such a thing before.

“Please. I know it’s not much of a gift.” Prince Zagreus said but you shook your head, your hands curling over his.  And your cheeks warmed when you realized how smaller your hands were against his, at how different you and him were.

“It’s perfect, your highness.” You whispered as you took the weight of the bottle into your hands. You ran a finger over the bow, smiling even at the doubtful look he gave you. “Truly, it is. Thank you, Prince Zagreus.”

“Zagreus. Please. Just Zagreus.” He grinned at you, and you couldn’t help but blush at it.

“Zagreus.” You agreed quietly.

~

Your mother whispered to you when you returned to her. Styx was ancient, even among gods and her mere presence carried weight.

“Are you sure about this, child? He may not stay. Such as a bird, trying to be free.” She said. It wasn’t meant to be cruel but you flinched at her words.

You curled around the bottle of nectar, biting on your bottom lip. It was foolish. It was nothing to a god like him but you never even saw something like this before.

Nor anyone like Zagreus.

Your mother sighed, and placed a gentle hand on your head.

“Remember you can always return to me, to the river, to the flow of mortal life.” She whispered and with that she was gone.

~

You were alone this time when the river sent Zagreus your way. You hurried over to him, his body carried by the river.

He looked like he was asleep, almost childlike in how sweet he looked. You smiled as you held his face between your hands. You brushed his black hair out his face as you whispered a prayer for him.

“Oh. It’s you.” He slurred. His voice was warm and fond. Your eyes snapped to his and he was staring at you. Like you were the one to save him. Like there was no one else but you. His hand reached up and cupped the back of your head. You gave in to the gentle pressure and leaned down.

He kissed you, a soft and chaste kiss. It only lasted for a moment before his hand dropped back into the river.

“I will come and find you.” He promised as he fought to stay awake. You shushed him gently, like a mother would a child “And I will be here waiting for you, Zagreus. Never doubt that.”

He smiled before darkness claimed him.

This time you didn’t let go, you guided him down the river yourself, only letting go when you got close to his home.

You watched the river claim him and you knew you would wait centuries for him.

~

Later when it was you and him, his hands covering yours, he swore an oath. His forehead against yours as he spoke low and sweet, his eyes never leaving yours.

With body, soul and heart, I return to thee.

[yandere-sins]

The Exception

My friend let me try playing Hades on her switch and well... I kinda liked it. Namely, I liked all the characters, so my brain went like “what if they were yandere” and I had an idea for this story that I threw together this morning before working on the Fox Wedding (: The latter isn’t done yet, but this sure is, so who knows, mayhaps some of you will enjoy it! Just tried to answer the question how we could get Thanatos to whisk us away.

Characters: Yandere!Thanatos x Reader Warnings: Yandere, Blood, War, Wounds/Impaling, Major Character Death (???) or well dying, I read into greek history for almost an hour but if I gotten something wrong then so be it

Thanatos had seen enough of the world to know that he didn't want to stay on the surface forever. 

The current battle spreading before him was a mere reason to sigh deeply as he watched bodies fall left and right, their souls soon leaving to a better, or perhaps worse, place. It was mandatory he stayed, but Thanatos was well aware of which side was winning and which was losing. It was his duty and his work to know these things, even though it didn't make the fighting any less futile in his eyes.

Letting his gaze wander over the battlefield, he watched the red splatters on the ground, heard the crushing sounds of iron against iron and the cacophony of fearful and devastating screams. He still couldn't believe Zagreus would want to come to such a place. A place where there was futile fighting and too much light, but perhaps, it was a world that fit the Prince of the Underworld, as he was the same, even if Thanatos only recognized this fact bitterly. 

Finally, the battle was closing in on its end, just like the hundreds of people that found their death because of it. The ones who weren't dead yet slowly but surely started to hesitate and retreat. Even as the personification of death, Thanatos reckoned that a pointless death was scary, even though so many humans chose it over desertion. Their death was inevitable, preordained by Thanatos sisters. Still, he had seen many hold on to the last sparks of hope that they could escape Thanatos' grasp. 

And then, on the other side of the coin, were those that practically would have offered their life to Hades and fought to the end.

You weren't an exception. Yes, your quest and pride were your downfall, and by the gleam in your eyes Thanatos could tell you knew. You knew and recognized that you'd die. However, as if you were spiting him personally, you still continued to fight ahead of everyone else, gaining questioning glances from your comrades and contempt from your enemies, which you pulled to the ground one after another and sending them to hell. 

Many before you had this overzealous compulsion to make that best out of their inevitable demise. Thanatos would admit that yes, most had a good reason for it, like saving their family or fighting for their own life. Others simply lucked out on the gift of pride and ignorance, forcing themselves and occasionally many more lives with them into the deep, dark pits of death. 

What was your reason? Thanatos wondered. 

He still had time before he needed to take action, he could allow himself a short - minuscule, really - different thought than his upcoming work, and you presented yourself so nicely to him as the incarnation of death waited for the end of today's battle. It wasn't often that he had the leisure to let his thoughts wander, so Thanatos intended to use these few seconds, which would fall under the radar, to still his curiosity.

By the looks of it, you weren't an inexperienced fighter. Or perhaps, you were just a farmer judging by your muscles. Surely, you seemed enthusiastic about your task, so were you fighting for something more significant than the glory of your country? Family? A loved one? Thanatos couldn't help but be curious about what your drive was, as he had seen so many reasons, yet they were all the same. Perhaps, yours was new?

Even so, you were graceful as you swung your sword around. What did he know about footwork, but at least, yours seemed to pay off as you weren't dead yet. When one of your foes managed to smack off your helmet, Thanatos believed that was it, but alas, you regained your strength, charging at the very same attacker. 

In a way, fighting was like an elaborate play. The only difference was that neither of the parties knew the other one's move. The person reacting better was the winner. He couldn't find joy in watching wars, but even Thanatos had to admit that it was a joy watching you. Even if you lacked the enthusiasm as the heroic shades that lingered below, like Theseus, had, you fought a fight worth mentioning in the books as well. 

Every move you made, Thanatos could see the calculations in your eyes, that keen shine reflecting in them. The sun seemed to break through the clouds just to reach out to you, making your armor sparkle in its rays. Yes, you were a formidable human, and Thanatos caught himself thinking that it was a shame you were fighting even if you looked so beautifully while doing it. 

Taking another deep breath, he could see the swirls in the air left by it. While the winter wasn't affecting him, no matter how little clothes he wore, Thanatos felt a second of pitiful understanding for everyone who had to fight in those conditions. Undoubtedly, the cold armors, freezing hands and weapons, and frozen ground were another nemesis for every soldier out here. Even if their bodies stayed warm from adrenaline and running, it certainly was another reason many of your human bodies gave out quicker, merely submitting to their fate. It was fair enough for Thanatos. It meant his work was over faster, and judging by you being circled and the other soldiers at your side beginning to see the end coming towards them with long spears and sharp swords, it was all over soon. 

You had fought bravely, that much he could give you. Perhaps you had impressed him enough to put in an unusual good word for you with Hypnos, who'd pass it on to Hades himself, granting you a shot on being put into Elysium. But your fate had long been decided, and as you fell to the ground, the battlefield erupted in victorious screams, announcing your time of death. 

And also, his start of work. 

As the winners retreated one after one, happy whenever they found a friend that survived too, Thanatos passed by them and onto the battlefield instead. Unseen by the human eye, he began his duty of reaping, one soul after the other, as mangled and frustrated over their death as they were, following his orders as he shushed them away. Usually, some pleaded and bargained with him for another shot of life, but even if Thanatos had wanted, there was no way for him to help them. But that day, everyone seemed awfully aware that there was no negotiating nor mercy waiting for them as they looked at his figure, frightened and frustrated. A pointless battle, with meaningless deaths, brought forth the self-pity in them, but this wasn't the first battle Thanatos tended to, so he felt nothing akin to that. It also wasn't his duty to take care of the souls gathered here, as it was Hermes' job to lead to them. 

He had something very different on his agenda. You. 

It was unfortunate for both of you, but when he reached you, you had yet to breathe your last breath. One eye slowly and in pain, opened, the other one damaged from the blow to the head you had received. However, as you looked at him, serene clarity laid in your gaze, and you recognized him, mayhaps by the giant scythe he carried around. Your stare was clear and less afraid than he expected you to be when acknowledging him, but you closed your eyes as a cough overcame you, hot, red blood dripping down your lips. 

"Guess that's it," you croaked, and Thanatos could only stare. Conversing… wasn't his strong suit, and there wasn't exactly a reason to talk to you.

"Are you going to kill me?" you continued, undeterred by his silence, and Thanatos weighed his actions. "No, of course not," he eventually spoke, shaking his head slowly, the hood on his head shifting along to his movement. 

"Ouch, that's cruel. You'll just wait until I die like this?" 

Your words were nothing he hadn't heard before, and he didn't feel offended by them. However, he didn't expect your lips to briefly curl into a smile, adding a jesting notion to what you said. Even that wasn't new, but… it struck a chord inside the usual stoic bringer of death. "I can't end your suffering," Thanatos explained, hoping you'd simply know about the unspoken rule that he couldn't harm you. 

"I think, I get it," you heaved, feeling worse by the minute. "You are just making sure I know I am supposed to die here."

That assumption wasn't wrong, even though there had been more playing into his service than just that. Too many kept trying to escape their fate, and sort of, Thanatos was just checking and cleaning up what would be left. You still had some time before your organs would fail and finally take you to the grave, different from the other souls that were already leaving for their new home. 

"No, you will die here," he retorted firmly. 

"I could," you chuckled, followed by another painful cough. 

"Don't test me, Mortal."

In between deep breaths, you allowed yourself a short laugh. Just like him, you were probably aware that there was nothing worse that could happen to your situation, so his threat was just a way he hoped to shut you up with. In silence, he watched over you, until eventually, your eye opened up again. This time your gaze was searching for him - or something really - but your sight had already begun to cloud. No matter how proud and achieved you are in life, in the face of death, everyone looked the same.

 "I think I did a good job. You know, fighting. Thought that if I already had to do it, I might as well give it my damn best."

More coughing. Thanatos watched the puddle of blood around you grow by the second. The spear inside your body must have been stirring up your insides the more you talked. Thanatos had expected something like this, you, young as you still were, had been led by the belief that doing your best could make up for the fact that you'd die. "But in the end, it was worth nothing, right? We lost after all."

Thanatos could only stare as he wondered what you expected him to say. He came here, knowing your life would end here, so really, the hope you had put into yourself didn't have the same disappointment to him now as it did to you. And yet, as he listened to you, seeing your body battered up with cuts and bruises, for the first time in centuries, he felt something akin to pity for you, and you specifically.

"Why did you fight then?" he asked, perhaps against your expectations. 

"Why? Because they told us too. The King ordered us to fight this battle, and only he could have known how many soldiers our opponent would bring."

"You could have run." Thanatos tried to stay as detached from you as possible, though it didn't quite work, your words taking their influence on him. "Can you?" you retorted before letting out a long sigh. Death was near, literally as well as figuratively. 

"Can you run from your duties? You don't have to do this either, do you?" 

"I do--"

"Really?"

There was no immediate response this time, your question justified, despite your little mortal soul undoubtedly never understanding the burdens on the shoulders of Gods. The world would stop if they all decided to not continue their work and fulfill their duties and expectations. If Thanatos stopped, no one would die anymore, and but the suffering of everything would never disappear too. 

"Dying sucks," you whispered, turning your head away. 

"I reckon," he muttered indifferently. Not like he could talk about it from experience. It must be painful, dreadful, and, depending on the circumstances, frustrating too. Right now, though he couldn't imagine the extent, you must have felt so hopeless and so, so scared. There wasn't much other reason for your banter.

"Thanatos… I always thought it was a pretty name, even if everyone feared it." Regaining his attention after finding himself momentarily lost in thoughts, he looked down at you again, watching as your eyelid closed slowly. "Say what you want, but you can't blame them for fearing death, and alas, me."

"Perhaps if they talked to you, they wouldn't be so afraid."

"Meaning you don't feel so afraid anymore?"

A smile danced over your lips once more, a truly unusual sight for a soul so close to their end, and especially after talking to him. Hypnos often teased Thanatos with being too formal and dutiful to be amusing, and Hades beware, comforting. Though he didn't care for his twin's words, yours did make him feel... happy. 

"Let's go then," you whispered, and Thanatos kneeled down, his hand falling to your wrist, listening to your pulse. Even with the feeling of your heart still desperately pumping blood through your body, only to lose it through your wounds, you didn't utter another word afterwards. You undoubtedly were dying, but perhaps, for now, you were merely unconscious as your lungs didn't stop reaching for air, and your heart used all your strength to function. 

Once more, the sun broke through the clouds, shining down right at you two, bringing Thanatos into the predicament of being blinded as it reflected off your armor. Perhaps he understood it now. Understood how unfair it was that someone like you, innocent and kind, was doomed to die out here. How awful his job on this day was, forcing him to take you to Tartarus and put you before the judgment of the god residing there. 

So what if... he didn't. 

He couldn't heal your wounds, nor make you feel better. But what he could do is battle the fate, earn the scorn of many, but at least, even if he took out the spear from your bloody body, you'd live. You'd live to tell your tale, and who knew, even he could apply some bandages, so maybe you'd recover some. 

It was a risk, and one Thanatos did not like taking, nor found pleasure in executing. But you couldn't refuse to come to this battle, whereas he, perhaps, after all these years, could refuse to do his job once. For your sake, and unbeknownst to him at that time, for his own even more.

His scythe disappeared in favor of Thanatos grabbing for the dreadful spear. Never before had he experience the kind of sound a wound could make from so close, and by the gods, he hoped he never would again. It was just your luck that you were unconscious, or the pain would have perhaps killed you faster than your wounds.

Leaning down, he scooped you up, his hand sullied with your blood and the dirt on the ground. The snow wasn't cold when he touched it, but your body was warm in his arms and still alive. Your threat of fade wasn't cut yet, and he wouldn't do it. With you in his arms, he stepped back, looking into your sleeping face before he retreated from the battlefield with a quiet, "Let's go."

No, the surface wasn't a place Thanatos liked to linger. It was too loud, too wrong, and too bright. But to see your smile, lively and happy, one more time, he didn't need to stay above ground. Where you were going, it was dark and, at times, lonely if you weren't a being born there. But you'd also be safe and alive for as long as you wished to.

And Thanatos would be with you, even if everyone would turn against him and his decision, for all eternity if he must.

[demonprosecutor]

FROM THE EYES OF THANATOS

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11

thanatos was not a being who strayed far from his station in life, he was someone who was wedded intimately with his work, and could not find the time to dally them away. however, there were extenuating circumstances, always has been - and they always, infuriatingly, began with zagreus. hades never really spoke about his son beyond irate murmurs of his disruptions of the ill-begotten peace or, more recently, of his subsequent escape.

he cared not for the deeds of zagreus. not when he had bested the furies. not when he defeated the lernean bone hydra, not when he had defeated the champion of elysium or defeating the god of the underworld himself. other gods would have roared their joy and delight at the virility of their offspring, praised their achievements with ambrosia and nectar flowing freely.

but that is not what hades did. all he did was hunch over his desk, scrawling over endless piles of scrolls for a work that never ceased. beyond that, it seemed that hades had washed his hands of his offspring, leaving him to do what he wished in the world above.

if he wished to debase himself and pursue fruitless heroics like the offspring of the olympians - do so, he did not care.

------

“you do not seem remarkable.” thanatos spoke into the open air, startling the mortal groundskeep who pattered around the small kitchen with a chicken in their arms.  they flinch, enough that the hen is able to squirm free and cower underneath the table with a fearful cluck!

the apple trees shuddered outside shied away from the clouding sun, the wind trembled. thanatos knows the matter of his presence, knows that wherever he steps, silence follows - for peaceful death was often quiet. the air felt far colder than before, in spite of the midday sun. and all the mortal could do was bow their head respectfully. “lord thanatos.” they were soft-spoken, words feathery that hardly rose above the curls of smoke from embers smouldering. their eyes remained downcast, pinned firmly on the ground and unmoving.

if thanatos was a lesser being, he could’ve mistaken the mortal for being a statue - if not for their living colour and the subtle rise and fall of their breath. 

“do you wish for me to fetch prince zagreus? he is resting in his room.”

conversation was hardly the tool of his trade, and many would be hard-pressed to elicit more than succinct sentences or monosyllabic responses. a conversation with a statue would glean more than one with thanatos. “no.”

confusion halts the mortal’s reverence, tilting their head up to stare at thanatos, straightening in place, spine unfurling like a sapling freed from the throes of a hurricane.

to his eye, the mortal was unassuming. plain-looking, boasting no beauty that would make poets weep, nor with a voice that could charm sirens. they were, unequivocally, average.

gods always gravitated towards the remarkable, yet here the groundskeep was, an antithesis towards a previously cemented notion. they were not aggressive, not brave, not out-spoken, nor overtly clever from their brief interactions (he unspooled their life like a scroll, reading their memories like prophecy). nothing about them made them stand above the nameless masses. 

yet word flows freely from one shade to the next, word of the new destiny that his sisters, the Fates, were unravelling. that was the thing about mortals, they may have their destiny predestined, but the paths that they take to that eventual end can differ and sometimes, they could change their destiny.

not like them, not like the gods - both freed and trapped by their divinity.

nevertheless, this sort of inanity was a gift, he supposed. the eyes of gods were rarely kind ones and to scorn one of them... well, the countless tails of minor deities and mortals being turned to nameless monstrosities to be slain by upstart heroes.

the mortal shifts in place uneasily, their hands clasped behind their backs, but with the way their muscles shifted under skin told thanatos that they were grasping their hands together uneasily. they were not used to this manner of scrutiny.

there was a part of him that disliked the mortal, that despised that secret jealousy that was born from: what was so good about the surface world? gods were a prideful and jealous folk, and thanatos was no exception to the rule, he simply hid it better than most. 

“do you wish for tea?” the mortal asks carefully, rocking from heel to ball of their feet, they do not smile, but their eyes speak of kindness. it’s an offer that surprises, but one he did not simply have time for.

besides, the nourishment offered in the mortal realm often paled in comparison to the immortal one.

the hen, which had gathered its courage, plucks at the flowing reaper cloth that clung to his form. a nameless rage befalls over him, and it is with one fell swoop, blood splatters in an artful arch on the floor, over the mortal, staining their chiton with spots of crimson.

he was not prone towards acts of unwarranted violence like this, but it was a substitute of what he wanted to do to the mortal. thanatos hides his shame of calm lost with an impassive expression, expression not shifting with the aghast and terrified look that the mortal gave at the way the hen fell lifeless. its soul shuddered as it shed its flesh vessel, flickering like the dying of a candle.

without further word, death incarnate disappears with a flash of light and the ear-splitting sound of a bell.

------

zagreus finds him, hours later near the river. time had always moved so strangely for gods, and what appear to be hours for mortals was simply minutes to his kind. death had always been inextricably drawn to life, vice versa, and he knows - the moment the grass shifts, the air whispers, that he was found.

“you didn’t have to do that, than. you didn’t have to... frighten them, threaten them.” thanatos does not turn around, content on staring out at the expanse of untamed woods, something that he was sure that lady artemis would find delight with hunting in.

his grip on his scythe tightens, “my presence is threatening enough. besides... i did not do anything much, it was time for their pet to die anyways.”

the prince stands next to him, shorter, but presence imposing enough. he looked angry, displeased with what he had done. “you could’ve waited! you didn’t have to kill it in front of the groundskeep - what’s wrong with you? you... you’ve never done this before, than.”

thanatos purses his lips, “you are a coward, zagreus. running away from your problems, running away from home,” running away from me without a goodbye.

“so take it out on me!” zagreus thumps his chest, flames flickering at his laurel wreath, teeth bared, “not on the damn mortal who couldn’t even lift a finger to fight back!” his hands flex, as though ready to fight back.

and it was that moment that truly hurt than. was zagreus truly prepared to leave them all, to wash his hands of the underworld? just for this world, and his mother and that mortal.

oh blood and darkness, how humiliating. was he... was he jealous?

his pain must have filtered through his mask; for zagreus had frozen, expression dropping in surprise. “than--- wait.”

but it was all for naught, thanatos disappeared in a familiar flash of light and shriek of a bell, leaving zagreus cursing quietly.

[toushindai]

and here’s another Hades ficlet. Spoilers for the Murder Death Kill update in this one--it was written effectively in response to it--and there’s also a brief, glossed-over mention of sexual assault wrt the parts of Sisyphus’s backstory that he hasn’t shared with Zag yet.

[ Read on AO3 ]

*

Megaera is pacing. She doesn’t like to pace, but it alleviates the boredom and the aggravation and the insipid suspense all at once, so until Zagreus shows up this time, that’s what she’s doing. If he shows up here this time. But now Lord Hades has called Tisiphone and Alecto in, because no matter how hard Megaera tries she can’t seem to knock any sense into Zagreus (what else is new?) and the idiot needs to be stopped. So, he’s going to meet her sisters at last. That’ll show him for his curiosity and his stupid crusade.

The meeting with Hades had been unpleasant. Megaera knows better than to take Alecto’s contempt personally—had known better than to respond to her youngest sister’s mocking laughter as he’d explained the situation. She knows better, but the fact that she just can’t seem to rise to competency in this task still galls her. Humiliation and self-disgust boil together in her stomach, and so she paces.

She’d tried, on her way here, to let off a little steam against Sisyphus. He’d been halfway up the hill anyway. A few strategic lashes had him stumbling, and then all it took was a little push to send his pet rock tumbling down over him, crushing him to death on its way back to the bottom. Megaera verified that his mangled corpse wasn’t breathing and then snapped her fingers. At the foot of the hill, the sigil that bound him to Tartarus began to glow. Sisyphus reappeared, blithely cracking the muscles in his neck, and Megaera shoved the butt of her whip up under his jaw.

“You’ve been telling the Prince sob stories,” she accused the shade. “He came home and tried to tell me I’m too hard on you.”

“Ah.” Sisyphus swallowed, his smile shifting from optimistic to humbly polite. “Forgive me, kindly one, I may have bragged a little the last time he came through.”

“Bragged?” Megaera laughed. “But wrapping those chains around Thanatos was hardly your proudest moment. Don’t you want to tell Zagreus about the rest of it? About Tyro, and your dear, sweet children?”

Then his smile was gone entirely. “To be honest, I’d prefer not to,” he confessed, vulnerability in his face.

She held his eyes with hers for a long moment, tormenting him with his own discomfort until he swallowed again.

“What do you want from me, Mistress?” he asked. What would convince her to keep the rest of his crimes to herself, he meant.

She removed the butt of her whip from beneath his jaw and gestured with it towards his boulder. “Back to work,” she ordered. “And stop socializing with the Prince, or I’ll make sure he loses interest in friendship with a worm like you.”

It was one of the more inane threats she’d ever made, but it seemed to do the trick. Sisyphus bowed deeply and then cracked his knuckles. “Understood,” he said, and obediently turned his attentions to his boulder once more, muscles straining as he began his slow ascent. Megaera watched him struggle for a moment, and then moved on.

She has no faith, frankly, that he will do anything differently the next time Zagreus wanders through. For all she knows, they might be chatting right now, Sisyphus regaling Zag with the bit about the coin and utterly forgetting to mention that time he raped his niece so that her children would dispose of his brother. He doesn’t deserve mercy. Zagreus is naïve and ignorant to think that he does.

He’s naïve and ignorant in a lot of ways, each more infuriating than the last. If—or when, she supposes—he runs into her sisters, she’s certain that he’ll greet them very prettily and cordially, even if context should make it clear that they’re there to kill him. Either of them will quickly disabuse him of the notion that friendship might be possible. The thought makes Megaera grind her teeth without knowing why. Jealousy, she supposes—her natural vice, a sharp territorial urge tainted with fondness. Alecto is just eager to do violence, and Tis is Tis; neither of them will bother to understand Zag’s crusade, not why it’s important to him and not why it must necessarily be thwarted. Megaera thinks he deserves better than that. It’s not a rational belief, but she forfeited her ability to be fully rational about him long ago. Stupid of her, really. But what’s done is done.

Megaera looks towards the door to her hall, which remains resolutely shut. It’s been a while; has he run into one of the others? She closes her eyes and strains her ears, trying to pick up some clue of what’s going on in the rest of Tartarus. Will he hesitate to kill her sisters? Because they’re her sisters, or because he wants so desperately to be everyone’s friend and with them he doesn’t have a shared history, a growling half-matched frustration that sublimates into barbed but familiar antagonism? If he hesitates, he’s dead. And if one of them manages to kill him, Megaera supposes, then Hades is right to give up on her.

As she wrestles with that thought, though, she hears a distant scream of a familiar timbre. Alecto. The sound resolves into one of wrath and aggravation, and then Megaera hears —stupid redblood piece of TRASH thinks he can just saunter in here and kill me, aaAARGH—

Turning her attention towards the sound—towards Alecto’s hall—Megaera raises her eyebrows in curiosity. (Maybe, very slightly, in amusement.) So, it’s Alecto he met with. And the battle went in his favor.

Her sister rages on. I’m going to paint the walls with his blood the next time he gets here, I’m going to ENJOY it, I’m going to have fun with this damn assignment even if it IS all your fault, Meg, and YOUR BOYFRIEND CAN GO TO HELL!

And with that, shouted loud enough for all of Tartarus to hear, Alecto quiets. Megaera finds herself smirking; finds herself picturing, unkindly, Alecto with Coronacht’s arrows through her throat or spitted on Varatha’s business end. She imagines what Alecto’s enraged smile will look like, rather than her cocky one.

“He’s my ex,” she corrects her absent sister, and settles in for a longer wait than what she’s used to.