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That the daemon from the most vile depths of the underworld would darken their proverbial doorstep once more came as no surprise to Theseus, nor was it a shock that he was wielding yet another new and baffling combination of weapon and magics. This time he fought with a shield that he claimed (falsely, of course) had once belonged to the great Zeus himself, and with each baffling swing and toss of of it an arrow flew from nowhere, adding insult to injury.
“What trickery will you bring to our next bout?” Theseus yelled as he dodged a swing of the fiend’s shield. “A false song, said to be from the lyre of Apollo? Or perhaps another strange weapon, like the one that attacked us with so many bee-stings?”
“What—” said the daemon, grunting as his weapon crashed against Theseus’ own mighty shield, “is a bee? And do you mean Exagryph?”
“I mean that each weapon you weld against us is more pathetic than the last, and none will ever defeat Asterius and I! Not when we two enemies in life and partners in death have a stronger bond than any that you will ever know.” He and the Minotaur had reaffirmed their relationship recently, in no small part thanks to the fiend’s interference, and Theseus had become quite confident in it once more.
The daemon shrugged. “Okay.” And with that the damned creature from the depths turned tail and ran away—straight to Asterius, who had just completed a spinning attack that hadn’t quite landed. “Hey, Asterius!” he called. “Take this!”
It took all of Theseus’ strength to resist rushing in to help the bull. But no, this wasn’t their plan! By fighting separately, in different parts of the arena, they were better able to fight together and claim the entire space as their own.
That they only won about half of their matches against the hellspawn did not deter Theseus in the slightest. He could easily put their failures behind them while gaining strength from their victories. As for Asterius... well, Asterius found joy in the thrill of the fights themselves, not the winning or losing. And though he couldn’t see Asterius well from here, all the way across the arena, Theseus could tell that even injured the bull fought bravely on, and did not even wince as the green arrows hit his skin again and again.
Theseus dashed around the outside of the arena, ducking behind pillars when it seemed prudent and tossing his spear whenever he could manage. Now that the fiend was focused on Asterius, it was easier to get hits in on him, and though he didn’t react much to the blows they no doubt weakened him. But the plan to focus on the bull prove to be an effective one, perhaps unexpectedly wise for a mere daemon, and soon Asterius fell.
“Theseus...!” he called as he fell to pieces, the closest thing that there was to death in Elysium, when one was already deceased.
Dying here did not hurt in the same way that it did for the living (and certainly not half as badly as it had for Asterius when he breathed his last in the labyrinth) but it was a death nonetheless. Asterius’ pain would soon stop, and he would for a moment feel like he had become nothingness. Then he would find himself reborn in one of the hallowed pools of Elysium, most likely in the vicinity of other, lesser warriors who had also died in battle. The would ask for details of his loss and he would tell them, and he could have a grand time relaying his exploits as Theseus fought on in the arena.
Still, it was not so enjoyable to watch your dearest one die. “Bull!” Theseus cried out, his distress clear even though he knew well that Asterius had once again died doing what he loved, and would live again for Theseus to care for and comfort. And then, to the hellspawn who forced them into such a situation, who had spoken kindly to Asterius and then killed him with no mercy: “You will die for that! I will have my revenge—for Asterius!”
“Huh, fine by me,” the despicable creature replied. “Frankly I’m glad to see you care for him that much, but that doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you.”
“I wouldn’t dare to ask for it! You’d better fight with all that you have!”
Theseus would never, could never admit that his enemy’s techniques were slowly improving. To do so would be to imply that he felt some sense of respect for the hellspawn, and none who sought to shatter the peace of Elysium was deserving of a fair fight, nor a dignified death. But the fact remained that the fight was a challenging one. To fight with a shield as one’s only weapon was foolhardy at best, and Theseus was scarce prepared for such odd attacks, and those damned arrows...
Each blow nicked his skin only slightly, but the hellspawn pursued Theseus with a new persistence now that Asterius had fallen, and this close it was a challenge for Theseus to aim his spear properly, let alone strike his enemy. Their shields hit each other, clashing with a mighty sound, and Theseus could see a disgusting determination in the daemon’s mismatched eyes.
What did he have to fight for, anyway? He’d won against the champions several times and yet nothing in Elysium had changed. But Lord Hades had warned that he must be stopped under any circumstances, and so Theseus could not, would not, back down.
Though he was able to call on the blessings of Lord Ares himself, that alone was not enough, for the hellspawn interrupted his prayers with a call of his own: death incarnate, the very god that had taken Theseus’ soul to the gates of the underworld. A dirty trick! Perfectly suited to his enemy!
Soon it became clear that the fiends’ blessings, though clearly unearned, were stronger than Theseus’ attacks, and the king felt the last of his life drain from his body. Theseus had lost once again, and he was powerless to do anything but give in, closing his eyes and allowing himself to be taken. At least he could see Asterius again, and soon.
And yet death did not come as it should. He felt as though he was still in the arena, and yet he was not; like his body had left and only his spirit remained. But that was impossible!
“What happened?” asked the hellspawn, the sound of his voice—why was he still here?—prompting Theseus to open his eyes once more.
Something felt off.
Clearly the daemon felt this way as well, because he’d dropped his battle stance and now only stared at Theseus, frowning. Theseus had to look up to know this for sure, which was odd; it was as though the daemon standing before him had somehow become as tall as Asterius.
“Aha!” Theseus said, letting his confusion give way to excitement as he realized that he had not quite been felled and there was a clear opening, and thus a chance to turn this battle around. “So you drop your weapon! I shall—”
“Theseus, mate. Or enemy or what have you. What exactly are you going to fight me with?”
Naturally, Theseus moved his hand to call his spear to him, but the spear only sat uselessly across the arena no matter how he tried. “Have you used your powers to cripple my hands, you dastard?”
“Tell me what hands you’re trying to use.”
“Why of course it is these—ah.”
And that was when he came to the realization that he lacked hands and, for that matter, feet.
Sighing, the daemon held up Theseus’ own shield so that he could see his reflection. What looked back at Theseus was not his face, but instead a simple floating sphere, surrounded by blue flame and adorned with only a single eye.
This was the form that souls took once they were defeated as they clung onto the last threads of consciousness, but as champion Theseus was not meant to take on this shape. A defeat was a defeat, and to pretend otherwise would be a coward’s way out, so Theseus had long ago decided to not allow himself such a pathetic form. No, he would die with dignity each and every time, just as he had when he first entered the underworld!
And so to be this way—exposed, weak, pathetic—was a humiliation, and it became humiliating twice over as the hellspawn watched him with a stern, unblinking gaze. Surely he’d begin mocking Theseus any moment now, and take pleasure in this for a time until he decided to finally kill Theseus once more.
“Here.”
What he did instead, now that Theseus had gotten a good look at his current form, was hand him his shield.
“Usually the Exalted just have to touch a weapon, any weapon, to get back into fighting shape, right?”
“You... want me to get back into fighting shape, hellspawn?”
“Well, it’s more like you’re going to do it yourself anyway, so I might as well get you a head start. Maybe you’ll have to thank me for something for once.”
Theseus eyed him suspiciously (though eyeing him was about all that he could do right now). What sort of reasoning was that? “I will never thank you,” he said, but nonetheless attempted to take the shield. The effort was futile: all he could manage to do was bump into it repeatedly,
“Huh,” said the daemon.
“Huh indeed! What is this?”
“What if I just...” And without providing further explanation, he took his own shield—the one with the mockery of Zeus’ face on it—and hit Theseus firmly on the head. Now this was more like what he’d expected! Of course he’d attempt to take advantage of Theseus’ vulnerable state and ruthlessly assault him in this way.
But if the attack was meant to get the best of Theseus it failed, and caused nothing more than a ringing in his ears. First he was proud of this, but pride quickly gave way to disappointment: if he was slain, at least he’d be able to reform himself, far from his enemy and quite close to Asterius.
“I didn’t like that,” Theseus said.
“Oh yeah? I kind of did.”
“I would very much like to die, so please do it properly this time.”
The daemon scratched the back of his head, apparently contemplating at whatever level of complex thought daemons were capable of. “I did it as hard as I could. That’s usually enough? I don’t know what’s going on.”
It was more like the whimpering of a dog than the taunts of the arena, and Theseus wasn’t sure he likes seeing this side of his enemy. “Fine, then!” he says. “You can simply leave. This is no problem at all for a king to solve, but you’re interrupting my concentration, and providing an unsightly distraction.”
“I can’t!”
“Oh, you and your excuses! Your tongue as sharp as ever, and so eager to get the better of me! You may claim to be a man—”
“Hey now, when have I ever claimed to be a man?”
Theseus ignored this. “—but I understand your true nature, and I know you have some dastardly conspiracy against me. Even though you know that my bond with Asterius can never be broken, still you persist in trying to tear us apart, this time by preventing me from reuniting him in the great healing springs of Elysium! I don’t understand your methods yet, but when I do, and when I’m through with this, I will tell him the whole tale of your trickery, and we shall laugh and laugh about your foolhardy attempts.”
“Theseus, will you shut your mouth? I quite literally cannot leave.” And with this he gestured to the doors of the arena.
Finally, Theseus turned to look, and he saw that the way out was still shut tight. That made some kind of sense: the champions still hadn’t been defeated, technically speaking.
“Much as I’d like to let you prattle on in peace, I don’t think I have a choice.”
He’d never have admitted it out loud, but Zagreus found some relief in being forced to find a solution. If the doors had opened it would have been so very easy to leave Theseus to suffer, and then Father would have lectured him about how it was compromising underworld security to leave one of his most important employees as... a floating eyeball. But if he’d offered Theseus his aid when he’d had the option to leave, the king would have surely rejected it. Not having a choice made things easier.
Theseus was impossible to hate really. As much as he was a constant thorn in Zagreus’ side he was just too much of an idiot to despise, and sometimes he seemed so upset by losing that Zagreus almost felt sorry for him. Besides, Asterius clearly liked him, and the long-suffering Minotaur didn’t deserve to be stuck trying to figure out how to solve something that was possibly, maybe Zagreus’ fault.
And thus the two of them left the arena together, as one god and one eyeball-king.
“Where would Asterius wind up after I killed him?” Zagreus asked, because naturally Theseus would want to find his partner-cum-friend-cum-whatever first and foremost.
“No!” Theseus shrieked, much to the prince’s surprise. “I do not wish for Asterius to see me in this form!”
“Seriously? You act the way you do and this is what you don’t think he should see?”
“Acting ‘the way that I do’? Can you please explain?” His words were restrained and his tone just barely matched, like he was ready to shout at Zagreus again given the slightest reason to--which, to be fair, he certainly was.
“Absolutely! You’re a prick.”
“Augh!”
That was about the response Zagreus had expected, but Theseus had already driven him half mad with his complaining and he was close to finishing the job.
“How are you speaking to me without a mouth, anyway? None of the other warriors here can.”
“You don’t understand anything, hellspawn! Many of other warriors here, the ones without names and faces, are merely shadows of who they once were. They have no need for words, and made no effort to hold onto them. But I am king and champion alike, a step above the masses, and as champion it is my duty to lead Elysium in all ways: in battle, yes, but I’m also a leader and a speaker. In fact—”
“So you like to listen to the sound of your own voice so much that you’re holding onto it no matter what. Got it.”
“Do you have a problem with that?”
“You’re always full of insults for me. I’d say turnabout is fair play, on occasion.”
“I’m a hero! Of course I’d have no patience for a blackguard like yourself. You, on the other hand, should be honored to hear my melodious voice.”
“Oh, but I was! The first time. And then you promptly decided I was an unfilial fiend from the deepest pits of hell, which is technically true, and that I was here to destroy the peace of Elysium, which is decisively not.”
The conversation was going nowhere, much like their journey, and so despite Theseus’ protests, Zagreus hoped that they’d stumble upon Asterius. Though it seemed unlikely that the Minotaur would be able to help them turn Theseus back the way he belonged, he’d at least make for a pleasant companion as they searched for a solution.
And in the meantime, he’d have to listen to Theseus.
The king was talking yet again, seemingly ignorant to the fact that Zagreus had already tuned him out. Or maybe he just didn’t care.
“Who are we looking for?” Zagreus asked when Theseus finally stopped to take a breath, or the Elysian equivalent thereof.
“There is no who, only a what! And what we are looking for is a way to fix your error!”
“That sounds lovely and all, but we aren’t going to find anything like that by ourselves. Most likely we’ll need to ask around, see if anyone else has had this concern. Which of your friends should I be looking for?”
“As I’ve already said, I absolutely refuse to show this shameful form to Asterius, and you’d do well to continue asking, lest I allow my rage to rain down on you as soon as I am cured!”
“Will you stop talking about Asterius for once? I know he’s your better half and all, but he can’t be your only friend.”
“Well!”
Zagreus gave him the space to continue, but he didn’t. “Theseus,” he said, finally.”
“Blackguard!”
“You’re a king, right? Everyone loves you?”
“Of course they do!”
“So who can we find to help us out, other than Asterius?”
“Why of course! That is... ahem!”
“So you really don’t have any other friends,” Zagreus said, flatly.
“What a ridiculous assumption! I have fans aplenty, you’ve seen them in the stands yourself. I have former subjects who thank me for my skills in leading Athens when I was in my prime, and fellow shades who thank me for the entertainment I provide them now. I’m invited to every celebration in Elysium, far more than I can reasonably be expected to attend, and everyone is always glad to see me!”
“Fans. Subjects. Parties. Got it.”
Were he in the same situation, Zagreus would have been able to think of a dozen people to ask for advice, none of whom he’d expect to mock him for his predicament. (Asterius was in fact one such person, and Theseus’ concerns that it would be somehow shameful if the Minotaur discovered him like this were wildly overblown.)
“Stop thinking so loudly,” Theseus grumbled. “I don’t want to know about whatever odd insults you’re planning to hurl at me next.”
“I think that’s called projection,” Zagreus shot back. “Maybe worry about yourself.”
Theseus didn’t answer that, which Zagreus took to mean that he was right and the king simply refused to admit it.
And sohey continued onward through Elysium’s rolling fields, Theseus now deathly quiet. It soon became unnerving, and Zagreus found himself very nearly wishing that his traveling companion would speak once more. When Theseus was quiet, something seemed very, very wrong. Was this how Asterius had become fond of him when they first met in the afterlife? Hmm. He’d have to watch out. It could prove dangerous if he admitted that there might be worse things than listening to Theseus talk.
Loathe as Zagreus was to retrace his steps through Elysium, at least to the degree that was even possible, it turned out to be much more peaceful going in this direction. He wondered if all of his enemies had been re-killed for the time being, or if they’d somehow been called off when the champion was defeated. Either way, it allowed him a rare chance to really appreciate the place.
It wasn’t quite like what he’d seen of the surface. Something about the grass was too soft, and his feet didn’t singe it in the same way. There were no bare spots in the foliage of the trees, and no rotted fruit lie around them the way they did in Mother’s garden. Father always said that Elysium was better than the surface, and that was why it was a reward for heroes. Zagreus wasn’t so sure, even when he wasn’t being shot through with arrows and prodded at by spears at every turn. Something about it seemed... off.
“Do you really like it here?” Zagreus mused out loud, not sure if Theseus would continue to ignore him.
“But of course I do! If you have objections, and you can’t even fix them, you aren’t much of a god at all, are you?” Of course. He could talk if was upset. Typical. “Or is it that you can’t find anything that could be fixed, and it upsets you! My position as Champion includes helping to run the place, you know, and you’ll find that as a king I can do such a job flawlessly.”
“Do you have to interpret everything as an insult? All I meant is that it’s not quite the same as the surface, and that might seem odd for someone who was raised there!”
“And I’ll have you know—”
“It is odd, sometimes.”
A third voice joined them, and Zagreus turned to see a familiar friendly face: Patroclus, standing proud. He hadn’t seen the man on this run, and he certainly hadn’t expected to now. It did answer his question about whether he was retracing his steps through Elysium or not, at least.
“It’s just a little bit different, isn’t it? Achilles doesn’t like to complain, but I think he thinks so, too.” Zagreus smiled. “It’s good to see you, sir. I was getting lonely?”
“The meadows are empty all of a sudden. I thought you’d defeated the champion, and his troops had drawn back.” Patroclus paused and frowned, as though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to continue on. “And speaking on the champion, I thought I heard his voice just now.”
“You did!” Theseus quite nearly screeched, which sounded utterly ridiculous coming from a large floating eye. “Patroclus, my dear comrade! Won’t you help me get out of this terrible situation?”
“You two are comrades?” Zagreus asked.
“He certainly seems to think so,” Patroclus replied.
“It’s only natural that we’re comrades! He and his bosom friend spend plenty of time with Asterius and I! Peacefully for now, as they’ve refused any type of competition thus far, but one day I shall enjoy that as well.”
“Achilles seems to like them,” Patroclus explained. “I get on well enough with the bull, in appropriate does.”
Zagreus sighed. “Right. Anyway, do you have any advice for helping get him back to normal? Apparently this has never happened before.”
“What did you do to him?”
“I don’t know! I just killed him, same as always.”
“Not always!” Theseus objected. “I’ve been tricked, or cursed, or else enchanted! I was never meant to be turned into this odd form as the rabble are!”
Patroclus eyed Theseus for a moment, seeming to study his form. Then he took a good long look at Zagreus. “Stranger,” he finally said. “It’s good that you’ve come to me.”
An odd sense of relief flooded through Zagreus. “So you know what to do?”
“Oh, I have absolutely no idea. But seeing the champion in a pickle like this is extremely entertaining. You should stay like this for a while, king. It’s quite becoming.”
“You side with him once more? Just as you do in the arena at times? Whatever happened to camaraderie among warriors?”
Patroclus glanced at Zagreus, sharing a slight smile with him. “I think you’re the only one who isn’t amused. I suspect your bull friend will also find some humor in it.”
Theseus was fuming once more, though it was hard to tell with his current face. He did seem to be scowling, somehow. “Asterius will never see me like this! I would never allow something so shameful!”
“Suit yourself. You and the Minotaur do worse things in public.”
Zagreus declined to ask for any details.
To his dismay, Zagreus wasn’t allowed a chance to enjoy Elysium’s peace for much longer. Not much seemed to have changed—when did it ever?—other than Theseus having apparently forgotten once more that he was meant to be annoyed with Zagreus. Once again, the king was babbling. Not about anything in particular beyond the same sort of thing he always babbled about, though Zagreus found himself begrudgingly noticing that the champion spent more time bragging about Asterius’ accomplishments than his own.
“—and of course, at that point I told him a lesser man might have backed down, but Asterius was no lesser man! Or bull! I was in the front row of the stands, of course, so I made sure he heard me, and we made eye contact for the briefest of moments before—hm. Wait.”
Theseus was halfway through a marginally riveting story about a time the Minotaur took on five men at once who thought they might be able to collectively outfight or outsmart him when they both heard a rustling in the grasses around them.
In that moment, Zagreus felt the vague sense of being watched, and he thought he might see the air around him begin to shimmer and sway. It was a familiar sight, and judging by how Theseus stopped mid-sentence, he must have recognized it, too.
All at once, those small shimmers became somethings: Elysium’s exalted, evidently back and prepared for round two of their fighting.
“This is new,” Zagreus noted, with perhaps less gravitas than the situation required.
“Is that all you have to say?”
Zagreus grasped the Shield of Chaos from where it was was resting on his back, grinning. “What else is there to say? I’m rather perturbed that I have to deal with these blokes again, but so it goes around here.”
By this point in his journeys, attacks from Elysium’s rabble were of no great consequence to Zagreus, and before he’d left Patroclus he’d been granted healing, so he was in prime fighting shape. This wouldn’t be his ideal way to spend his time, but it also wasn’t the worst.
He ducked behind a statue, and Theseus, mumbling something, seemed to follow behind him. Some of the Exalted followed them, and Zagreus was able to pick off the first few with ease. He made a point to defeat their second forms as well, before they could respawn. They fell like normal, he noted. It was only Theseus who seemed unable to be defeated. Pity.
Zagreus ran around the perimeter of the area, bashing his foes with his shield as they came. One by one they fell, thanks in no small part to the boons bestowed on him by his family: his weapon of choice glowing purple, green arrows following his swings, and so on. At some point, he noted that Theseus hadn’t followed, but didn’t think much of it.
Of course Theseus wasn’t afraid. He was Elysium’s champion, and he could have easily defeated the foes that were pursuing him if he had only had his proper body. With only his spear he could have thrust into them like they were nothing, watching them writhe and waver until they ultimately fell. Unfortunately, he lacked his body, his spear, his partner, and any form of protection other than simply cowering underneath some fallen rocks.
Nay, not cowering, but rather forming a strategy!
“You fools!” he yelled as a few of the Exalted stared him down. “I am your champion! To take advantage of me in this state is simply obscene!”
But if they had ears to listen they refused to hear him. Soon, one of their blades brushed against him, and though it drew no blood and caused no wound, it still hurt. His pride, too, was being wounded, more than it had ever would be in a fair fight. If he could neither face his fellow warriors nor assert himself as their king, what point was there even to his existence here in Elysium at all?
Another strike from the other side! He was surrounded now, in this unsecured and unsafe place of hiding. If only he could die now, like this, and spare himself any further humiliation! If only Asterius would appear and rescue him, then vanish before he realized what a pathetic being his king had become!
“Gotcha!” came a familiar voice, and then one of the warriors that was jabbing at him let out a cry of distress, falling to pieces soon after. To his dismay, Theseus’ savor wasn’t the bull he was hoping to see, but of course the boy who claimed to be a prince.
“I thought I’d finally lost you,” Theseus muttered.
“Weird way to thank me. You already forgot you can’t die in this form, huh?”
“I didn’t forget!”
“That big eyeball of yours is tearing up.”
How utterly obscene! Unable to sniffle, Theseus willed his eyes to stop that at once. “It is not!”
“It isn’t. I’m kidding. Here, hold on.”
And with no time to decline the offer, Theseus found himself carried in the arms of the daemon.
It wasn’t as though Theseus was unused to to being picked up and held in the heat of battle, but this was different from when Asterius took him in his hands to perform their Bullhorn. The hellspawn was surprisingly warm to the touch, in the way that the shades of Elysium, even those that maintained their original forms like Asterius and Theseus, were not. And he was swift: even carrying a heavy shield in one hand and Theseus in the other didn’t stop him from downing the rest of his foes in what Theseus refused to admit was impressive speed.
When Asterius tossed him across the arena with his practiced strength and accuracy, Theseus felt powerful, like he was in control even though he had no way of stopping until he collided with his opponent or a wall. Here, he could have left Zagreus’ grip if he’d truly tried—but, weak and helpless against their attackers, he didn’t.
He didn’t enjoy being in the fiend’s grip. But just then, when he’d been afraid like he hadn’t been for as long as he could remember, perhaps he didn’t hate it.
And though he’d never admit such a thing aloud, the daemon who held him in his foul grasp was good at defeating his foes, and at defending Theseus along the way. That was worst of all!
Soon they were safe once more, and only then did Theseus pull away. “That’s quite enough,” he muttered.
“You’re welcome,” the hellspawn responded, grinning.
“I’m surprised. You can be a competent warrior as well, when you aren’t facing the likes of Asterius and I.”
“What’s that? A complement? So you are capable of gratitude.”
“Don’t get used to it! I don’t want my foe getting a big head over nothing! I would have vanquished them in half the time if things were as they should.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Have you had quite enough? Fine then, thank you! Is that better?”
The daemon tilted his head like some massive, foolish dog who wasn’t sure how to respond to praise. “You know... yeah, it is. You’re not too bad like this, Theseus.”
Silently, Theseus began to formulate an extensive fantasy about how he’d tear the daemon limb from limb when his damned body was back to normal. At this rate he would grow fond of his greatest enemy, and might even let his guard down and allow him to disrupt Elysium’s peace more than he already had. It was unthinkable! A king could never allow his willpower to waver and a monster to be befriended! Asterius aside, naturally.
“You’ll never be Asterius,” the king grumbled.
“I’m not trying to be,” the hellspawn replied. “What are you talking about?”
“Wearing the looks of a monster, but acting kind! You must have seen my unmatched bond with the same man I saw as an enemy in life, and thought that you could trick us to allow you to share that same relationship! But tricking Asterius was unsuccessful and it will be the same for me! You shall never understand what it’s like to have a friend, a partner, and a lifelong companion, all in one!”
“Do you think I don’t understand the concept of— you know what, never mind. Look, I have no reason to break your bond with Asterius, and I think you know that. I just think he’s a nice man—bull, both, whatever—and for a few seconds I thought you had a nice side, too.”
“I’m plenty nice!”
“Could have fooled me.”
Somehow, this irritated Theseus most of all. Certainly, there was no need for this daemon to like him-- but he had a reputation to uphold, one of being a king who was as kind as he was strong. Knowing that anyone, even an enemy of his, didn’t acknowledge this made him feel quite cross indeed.
At some point, Meg had told him that he was the type to make friends with anyone, given the opportunity. He’d brushed it off as an exaggeration, the way Meg used to do when she was talking about him. But then he’d found himself somehow befriending a rock, and now, even more baffling... Theseus.
Not that Theseus would ever call him a friend. But comparing someone to Asterius, even unfavorably, seemed pretty affectionate coming from the king.
As they continued their seemingly endless journey through Elysium, Zagreus pondered the king and bull’s relationship. The way Theseus talked about it certainly made them seem like their bond was more complicated than only friendship. Achilles seemed to share his suspicions, especially now that he visited Elysium regularly, and occasionally asked Zagreus how their relationship was going.
And Achilles would get a kick out of this story, once Zagreus was safely home to tell it.
Finally, just as Zagreus was wondering if he ought to just grab Theseus and carry him back to the House for his father to worry about repairing, he saw a sight that he’d been hoping for, despite the king’s protests: a pair of horns jutting out from the other side of a nearby rock.
“Asterius!” Zagreus said.
Theseus shushed him, even more loudly than Zagreus had been speaking. “As I’ve already told you, do not draw his attention to me in this state!”
“Why not? He’s your friend. He won’t care how you look.”
“It’s not that, but rather... mngh!” Theseus seemed to stumble over the words. “It’s not right for him to have to see me at anything but my best.”
“Huh.”
“If he is generous enough to give me his companionship, I owe it to him to deserve it!”
“Theseus...”
“What! Judge me if you must, fiend Zagreus! It’s better than Asterius judging me!”
“You think too much.”
And with this, Zagreus set out toward the rock that Asterius’ horns were poking out from behind. “Asterius, mate!” he called, noting that the Minotaur did not immediately respond—and then noting that the Minotaur was, in fact, only now waking up from a nap. Good for Theseus, Zagreus supposed, because his companion hadn’t had a chance to hear his voice in this body.
Asterius stirred and woke much the same way Cerberus did: first his ears twitched and then his eyelashes fluttered open rather adorably. What what little time he had, Zagreus took the opportunity to enjoy Asterius’ animalistic side, and to ponder the fact that he has never met an actual bull.
“Short one,” Asterius said, awake but not leaving his place leaning against the rock. “Why have you come? Surely you’ve not been defeated and returned to Elysium already.”
“Asterius! In all truth, I was searching for you before I left Elysium for good. Something... came up.”
Zagreus looked side to side for Theseus, but he was nowhere to be found. Damn king must have determined to hide the truth from Asterius until the last possible moment.
“Did it?” said Asterius, sounding thoroughly unimpressed. “I’m not a fan of talking for its own sake.”
“Well, you might be fond of this particular conversation!”
Zagreus had to resist the urge to point out that nobody who didn’t like to talk would be able to put up with Theseus for long. He still couldn’t make heads or tails of their relationship, and he was beginning to think that he never would.
“Go on, before I send you back to your house,” said Asterius. Tough crowd.
“I have a friend I want you to meet!”
“Do you.”
Another quick search for Theseus, and Zagreus finally saw him hiding behind a nearby statue. He dashed over, grabbed him, and dashed back—and when Theseus offered some protests, he simply ignored them. “Here!” he said, showing the odd eye-shaped king to his partner. Theseus looked as though he was inclined to cry, which stirred an odd pity in Zagreus. Fine, he could play along. “This is... someone I know. He’s not supposed to look like this, but something’s got him stuck like this. I thought about who might be able to help him and you came to mind... uh, for some reason. You seem smart?”
Asterius took a good, long look at the eyeball, and the eyeball could only take a good, long look at him in return.
“King,” he said, “what did the short one do to you?”
“Oh Asterius, it’s horrible!” Theseus wailed. “I told him I was not worthy of being gazed on by your magnificent bovine eyes, but did the fiend listen? No! Of course he could never understand!”
“How did you know?” Zagreus asked, incredulous. “He looks exactly the same as the rest of them!”
Asterius snorted. “It’s obvious.”
“No it isn’t!”
“Not to you,” Asterius replied, as though that was enough of an explanation.
Zagreus sighed and lowered himself onto the ground and put his head in his hand, so overwhelmed by this odd turn of events that all he could think to do was sit down and ground himself a little.
“I will never understand you two,” he said.
“No, you shall not!” said Theseus, and when Zagreus lifted his head he saw that Theseus had already wedged his little spherical self into Asterius’ big arms.
“The king is unmistakable to me, no matter the circumstances. Perhaps you have someone that’s like that for you, too,” said Asterius.
“Someone...” Zagreus took a moment to indulge in thoughts of Than and Meg, who both felt so far away now that he was trapped in Elysium. Would he be able to recognize them in similar circumstances? It was hard to imagine either of them getting into a situation like this in the first place. “Maybe,” he answered.
Asterius nodded. “We are not so dissimilar. As for you, king: you are striking in any form, but be assured that we’ll find a way to return you to normal.”
“Thank you, Asterius,” Theseus said, sniffing quite dramatically. “I’m glad I finally found you, despite the fiend’s efforts to tear us apart.”
“Hey now, I didn’t—” Zagreus began, but Asterius cut him off.
“To begin our efforts, tell me the story from the beginning. Alone, I only know how to solve problems with brute force, but together we may come to find a solution.”
This, Zagreus had no objection to. Together he and Theseus retold the story with only minor disagreements on the precise sequence of events (they each blamed their collective mishaps on the other, mostly) and soon they were able to provide Asterius with a good overview of what had occurred.
“I see,” said Asterius, nodding. “So you protected the king. I thank you.”
“Of course I did. Contrary to what he seems to think, I don’t have anything against him when he isn’t trying to kill me,” said the fiend.
“I’d have been fine on my own,” Theseus said.
“You would have,” Asterius allowed. “But I appreciate that he looked out for you. If what the short one says is true and you’re unable to die in this form or to revert back, staying to fight them would only cause you pain. ”
“Do you have any idea how we can fix this? I can’t leave Elysium yet, and I don’t think I’ll be able to get back into the House either,” Zagreus said, tapping his foot.
“No. But perhaps something will come up, in due time. The king and I have been granted eternity together, and our bond will not waver due to something as small as this.”
Theseus’ heart, if he had one in this form, fluttered a bit at Asterius’ kind words. He was no stranger to hearing such things—Asterius expressed his affection freely, as he had never had a reason to hide it—but Theseus never tired of the bull’s sweet administrations of language. “My bull! And here I thought you might be revolted by this form! You deserve a better partner than I, a lowly eyeball.”
“Not a lowly eyeball. The most regal one in all of Elysium.”
“Asterius!”
“Huh,” said the fiend, in his typical tactlessness.
“Do you object, daemon?”
“I think you’re both ridiculous, that’s all.”
“We don’t need your approval, short one,” Asterius said.
“Good, because it’s not my place to give it! Regardless, what’s next?”
The bull shrugged. “We search for a solution. And if we don’t find one, the king and I will find a way for him to fight in this form.” How astute, how steadfast! Where weaker men would panic, Asterius was simply able to take this all in stride, and his simple statement gave Theseus confidence that it would all work out.
“I’d like to leave sooner rather than later,” the daemon said. “I do have places to be and things to kill, again.”
“I should also like you to leave soon!” Theseus said. “And leave my dear companion and I alone!”
And so it went that the hellspwan, who Theseus supposed did deserve to be allowed to stay in their vicinity even if he’d just humiliated the king in front of his beloved partner, laid beside them, staring aimlessly into the bright Elysian sky. Theseus refused to leave Asterius’ arms now that he’d arrived in them, and the bull did not object. They quieted, and soon it became almost peaceful.
Something bothered Theseus about it. Something other than the fact that he still missed having arms with which to hold Asterius. A stirring deep within him, like there was something wrong, something that he might be able to make right immediately.
“Daemon!” he said.
The fiend, who seemed to have begun to doze off, startled. “What? What’s wrong?”
“I fear I may have wronged you—which is, of course, understandable given my miserable situation, but nonetheless must be addressed.”
“No kidding.”
Asterius raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
“What say you? Have I been unkind?”
“I mean, yeah? You hate me, you’ve made that very clear. It’s fine, I can’t win ‘em all.”
“We are rivals! Enemies! And yet... you’ve assisted me, this day or night. Saved me from harm. Helped me find my partner again.” At this, Asterius patted him affectionately on what passed for his head right now. The bull’s approval was welcome; it made Theseus feel as though he had chosen the right path.
“And so, name one way I could be more kind!”
“Um,” said the fiend, “say what?”
It didn’t seem so confusing! But then, perhaps the spawns of hell were simply slow-witted. “Tell me what I might do to thank you for your aid!”
“Well. You might start by calling me by my name.”
“Hmph! An easy task.”
There was a pause, then: “All right, do it. Call me Zagreus, and nothing else.”
“Z- Zag...” A surprisingly difficult challenge! He’d always thought of the fiend of nothing but, and now...! Ah, but, this was a challenge, and the thought of losing was even more disgusting. “Zagreus! There!”
The fiend—Zagreus-—nodded. “Good. I liked that. Now, do you think you can admit that I’m not just some monster trying to ruin your life. Or, well, your death?”
“I suppose if that was your aim, you would have done it already,” Theseus allowed. “And so we ought to extend our truce, perhaps in perpetuity.” He could scarcely believe the proposition that was escaping from his own lips, but it felt good to say. Friendly competition, he had learned over his many decades, was more satisfying than hatred. “Not that I will ever go easy on you in the arena, mind you!”
Zagreus chuckled. “Wouldn’t dream of expecting it.”
They fell into silence together again, and Theseus soon found himself lured to sleep by Asterius’ thick fingers stroking the sides of his rounded body, which was at least half as nice as when he ran them through his hair.
His sleep was short, and felt dreamless. When Theseus awoke, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
Nothing at all.
“Ah!” he said, shooting up from where he lay on Asterius’ chest. “I’m back!”
The fiend—Zagreus, Zagreus, and Theseus was too excited to be back to object to calling him this—sat up beside them. “Oh, wow,” he said, when he saw Theseus in all of his proper glory. “You really are back. What happened?”
“I neither know nor care, frankly! Things are as they should be once more!”
Asterius snorted. “The king is simple. There’s no need to know the details.”
“Right, sure,” replied Zagreus, as though Asterius explanation was inadequate. “Theseus, are you all right with him saying that?”
Theseus, still seated proudly on Asterius’ chest, crossed his arms. Truly, Zagreus understood very little! “Obviously I am! He is correct!”
“Then I guess I’ll be going now?”
“Yes, yes, run along,” said Theseus, waving for him to be gone. To his credit, he did obey, and soon they were alone once more.
“It would be good if he was able to get out now. Though perhaps we ought to follow, and fight him in the arena once more. We know how to get there faster than he.”
“No, let him go this time. He beat us fair and square.”
Asterius quirked an eyebrow at him, a subtle gesture from a man who was covered in fur but a visible one nonetheless. “You aren’t inclined to call him fair, king.”
“He... isn’t all bad, I’ve learned. Much as it pains me to admit it.”
“Sometimes even the greatest of men make incorrect judgments. I was once called a monster, too.”
“Do not compare yourself to him, Asterius! You are a far greater warrior, and handsomer as well!”
“All I mean to say is that there is no shame in changing your opinion of someone.”
“Hmm,” said Theseus, frowning. “Perhaps you are right. We shall see, the next time we clash blades with the daemon. With Zagreus.”
And if from elsewhere far off in the sky, looking down at Elysium, came the rambunctious giggle of a mischievous god, who was to say?