Chapter Text
When Sisyphus died, he raged. This wasn’t how cheating death was supposed to go, he had needed more time. So, he raged against his bounds, raged against the toil he was set of hefting the blasted boulder, raged against the Furies’ whips. He cursed and he roared as he struggled to roll the giant boulder just. One. Step.
It took a month, then three before he got the boulder up that bloody first step, and then he howled and raged more as it tumbled back down that one step. His roars echoed in time with the crack of the whip he hardly noticed for once, in the blind anger he felt at his fruitless task. But he tried again. And again. For months and then years his rage fuelled him towards pushing the boulder, until he managed to make it up ten, and then eleven steps. He began to feel a certain sense of something, an accomplishment. He flinched at the sting of the fury’s whip again, fumbling his hold and swearing as the boulder tumbled back down below. He sagged.
“Hurry it up, shade,” Mistress Alecto barked, grinning in vicious glee as she cracked her whip down onto his back, revelling in his cringe. Sisyphus struggled to his feet.
***
Over the next decade, Sisyphus struggled on. He had gotten further than ever before last time, but now his back seeped with new wounds, and he knew he would falter this time long before his record of fourteen steps.
“Come on, you big rock, just another step,” he huffed as he shoved with all his now-considerable might. He had mostly stopped thinking about his rage these past few years, now veering into grim focus at his task. He gave a mighty shove, only for the boulder to catch on debris from a previous tumble down and shift sideways out of his grasp. “No!” He gasped, pointlessly trying to cling to the boulder as it slipped back. If Sisyphus had been paying attention, he might have noticed the figure hovering nearby, watching him with golden eyes, and he might’ve known to be afraid. For even if Sisyphus himself had not greatly wronged the incarnation of Death himself in his mortal life, mortals tended to fear his figure with good reason.
***
Around thirty years of hefting the rock up hill had caused a fundamental shift inside of Sisyphus; instead of seeing the boulder as something to fight against, he realised he could get further in his attempts if he envisioned it as working with his burden. And so, Bouldy was born.
In his thirtieth year of punishment, he managed to get to step thirty, a poetic irony that Sisyphus couldn’t help but feel slightly proud of. He imagined that Bouldy’s smiling face was proud of him too, as he huffed and strained to push Bouldy’s impressive girth up to the thirty-first step. However, just then Mistress Tisiphone appeared into the room, uncoiling her whip in silent preparation. Sisyphus’ arms began to shake at the phantom sting of the inevitable pain about to begin and he cursed as he began to slip back. Sure enough, at the first crack of the whip against his recently healed back, Bouldy slipped from his fingers and thundered back down the way he came. By the time Sisyphus had caught back up with the rock, wounds seeping red blood from multiple lashes, he heaved a great sigh and patted Bouldy's side. “Not to worry, Bouldy. That one was my fault,” He rasped out reassuringly. It had been some time since he had spoken other than to scream and was still getting his voice used to the idea.
Yet still Sisyphus did not notice the silent watcher in the shadows of his chamber. He was too focused on restarting his attempt and trying to ignore the Fury’s presence as he reassured Bouldy that they’d get it this time. Unseen, Death’s brow furrowed. Perhaps in anger, perhaps in confusion, and then he vanished.
***
It took fifty years for all of Sisyphus’ great anger to be fully exhausted, dimmed to not even the occasional burst anymore. He had long since given up the idea of bargaining with the Furies, or even later, begging for a relief from punishment. Hhe only recently started using his voice again to whisper encouragements to Bouldy, which was really for himself as well. Idly, he wondered at how he used to have the mental energy to curse and rage as he would lumber up the hill with his burden. Now all he felt was tired. He flinched at a whip crack against his already beaten back. Okay, so I feel pain as well, He thought wryly to himself, huffing a little in amusement. He redoubled his efforts to shove Bouldy a bit further.
“Keep your efforts focused on the task, shade,” Mistress Megaera demanded. “You haven’t bled enough for the suffering of even one of your victims yet.”
She was the only fury who really mentioned any of the atrocities he’d committed in life, and Sisyphus had to wonder at the truth of her statement. She would know obviously; she was a god. Sisyphus took stock of his trembling legs, his cut and bleeding hands and the long gashes on his back that burned with fiery pain. Fifty years of this doesn’t equate to one victim’s suffering? Not for the first time, he regretted the actions he took in life, but now not simply because of his own punishment. I can’t imagine the pain I must have inflicted…
Sisyphus’ palms scrapped against Bouldy, struggling to gain grip with the blood soaking Bouldy’s face. “Sorry, Bouldy,” He whispered to the rock, long gotten over feelings of foolishness at talking to what was essentially a rock. Yes, now all he felt was tiredness. Tiredness and pain, as his strength finally gave out at step twenty-one.
***
These days, thoughts of his victims consumed him. He saw his scarred hands and had to resist the urge to purposely scrap them against Bouldy. He may deserve the pain, but Bouldy didn’t deserve being further stained with Sisyphus’ tainted blood. He saw in his mind the various atrocities he had committed, and he felt certain there was no forgiving them. He must be correct, or else he wouldn’t be in Tartarus right now. He stretched his arms above his head, just to feel the sting of his back, reopening wounds that seeped anew before he set to his task once again. He thought of all his many human victims, who he would never manage to suffer enough for. And in the darkest of times, he thought of the one god he had made into one of his victims. If close to one hundred years of torture wasn’t enough to fulfil the suffering of one mortal, how did that measure up to the suffering of a god? Sisyphus greatly feared the answer.
Through his slowly growing self-hatred, he toiled at his task, starting to look forward to feeling the sting of the Furies’ lashes, something to break the monotony and to make him feel like he is at least doing something to atone. During one particularly intense session with Mistress Alecto, Sisyphus noticed a figure standing nearby out of the corner of his eye as he pressed Bouldy further up the incline. He managed another step up and twisted his head slightly to see more clearly. His eyes widened and he flinched as he felt the sting of Alecto’s whip followed by her cackle as he beheld Death.
His insides turned to ice. Lord Thanatos watched in silence as Alecto brought the whip down again, and Sisyphus hurriedly dropped his gaze to focus back on his task. Is this when he would take his revenge? Sisyphus was under no illusions; while his current punishment was for the mortal victims he had wronged, he knew that the sin against Death himself was still unpaid. Dread built up within him and his whole form trembled. He grunted, trying to fix his hold on Bouldy, but it was no use. He was knocked aside as Bouldy tumbled down from the twenty-fifth step, lying still a moment as he was paralyzed by fear of whether the silent watcher would cease to be silent, until Alecto grew bored and began to lash his back and legs.
“Get up!” She hissed through clenched teeth, and he hefted himself up, keeping his head lowered and refusing to look near where Death dwelled.
“Sorry Ma’am,” He replied shakily, as he climbed to his feet. He knew he would pay for his speaking in blood; Mistress Alecto hated to hear him at all, but he couldn’t help reaching out for even small snippets of conversation, regardless of the blood price. By the time Alecto had finished venting her anger upon him, Death had vanished.
Sisyphus noticed from then on that Lord Thanatos would appear occasionally in his chamber as he toiled, sometimes with Furies present, sometimes not. Even with no Fury present, Sisyphus would continue hefting Bouldy in the vain hope it may help quell Death’s anger. He never looked directly at Death, fearing that would be the catalyst for him to finally approach and exact his vengeance but he needn’t have feared, for Death always left without saying anything. Still, Sisyphus knew a reckoning would come.
***
Over time, Sisyphus came to feel at peace about his eternal labour. He still had a large amount of self-hatred, but no longer did he allow himself to wallow. It served no purpose to wallow and anyway, he has his assigned punishment to help him feel like justice has been exacted. He hoped his mortal victims had a measure of peace now too and that his punishment would bring them some satisfaction and measure of closure. He struck up more conversations with Bouldy and the Furies, though he was careful to remain respectful to the gods who graced his presence. He knew it couldn’t be pleasant to have to deal with the worst of mankind, with people like him all day.
With Bouldy, he could be more friendly, and he found a kind of happiness in his situation now. Sometimes he would talk to the shades who wondered his chamber, enjoying the company while he took a few minutes rest from his punishment. In the absence of the Furies of course. He had all the time in the world to suffer, he figured. It wouldn’t matter if he talked for a moment between whip cracks and Bouldy-pushing.
Having reached a peace with his punishment for the sins he wrought against mortals, he began to ponder more and more of his sin against Death. He felt over-wrought with sadness and regret, thinking of his mortal self’s selfishness and lack of care for others’ suffering. And while he was now paying for his sins, he felt there was still one debt unpaid. Maybe it wasn’t possible to ever pay it, but the fear he used to feel when Lord Thanatos graced his presence was being quickly overshadowed by a frustrated wish to get it over with. He couldn’t dwell in suspense forever, and he more than anyone knew that Death deserved his due from him.
***
Although his life was considerably more jovial now that Sisyphus had decided to be so, he remained silent in Death’s rare presence. Lord Thanatos did not appear anymore when the Furies were present, a change that Sisyphus wondered at, but could find no reason for in his own admittedly limited understanding of how gods thought.
Then came the faithful day everything changed. Sisyphus was taking a break and chatting to some shades passing through, when the chamber door opened and someone new came through. Sisyphus looked up in surprise.
“Hello there!” He called to the man who just ran through the door, panting as though he had run very far. He looked at him sharply, seeming surprised to be addressed. Sisyphus took pity on how tired he looked. “You seem like you need a break, friend. You’re welcome to take a rest here if you’d like.”
Relief passed over the man’s face, mismatched eyes lighting up in a welcoming grin. “Hello, sir. Thank you very much for the generous offer, I could really do with catching my breath.” The man casually walked closer, and Sisyphus found his own smile grow in response to the man’s cheerful demeanour, a rare thing in Tartarus.
“Think nothing of it,” Sisyphus responded gently. “The Furies shouldn’t be back for a little bit yet. Something’s been keeping them rather busy of late. I’m Sisyphus, and this here is Bouldy,” He tapped Bouldy affectionately, then stuck out a hand in welcome. The man shook his hand, looking wary at the mention of the Furies as most do, but smiled in return none the less.
“Nice to meet you! And to meet your friend of course.” Sisyphus’ smile widened into a grin, genuinely charmed by the lack of judgment in this young man’s voice. He knew how he looked to most shades. “My name is Zagreus. I’ll be out of your hair shortly, I’m carrying onwards through Tartarus,” Zagreus responded, settling down to sit a moment with his legs folded gracefully under him as he began to take controlled breaths that Sisyphus recognised from when he gets Bouldy past the fifteenth step.
Sisyphus’ eyes widened. This stranger was going to try and escape Tartarus? Well, he hoped the Furies wouldn’t be too hard on this Zagreus chap once he was caught; he seemed like such a polite young man. Out of sympathy for Zagreus’ future pain, Sisyphus found himself reaching behind Bouldy.
“I understand it can get a little dull around here, just make sure to watch yourself! I have some supplies here if you wanted to take some with you, to help with the journey some.” Sisyphus held out an array of supply he had no need for but that managed to find its way to his chamber sometimes.
Zagreus looked startled. “You’d really do that? Thank you so much!” He reached out and selected some food from Sisyphus’ hand, seemingly not inclined to take more than that though Sisyphus had meant to give him all of it. After all, it’s not like he’d ever see this shade again, the poor chap.
“You’re very welcome!” He cheerfully placed the other supplies back behind Bouldy for safe keeping. “I must say, it’s nice to chat with another person around here! The Furies don’t particularly enjoy my company, though I can’t blame them. And the other shades are not over-inclined to conversation.”
Zagreus munched on his food thoughtfully. “You’ve been here a while then?”
Sisyphus pondered that. “A couple of centuries, give or take a decade I expect. Are you new to Tartarus?”
“You could say that.” Zagreus stood and began to stretch his legs and arms. Not one for sitting still for long, it seemed. “Thank you again for the rest and for the food! Hopefully I’ll be distracting the Furies pretty soon, so you can take it easy a little while longer.” Zagreus shot him a boyish grin, which Sisyphus reflexively returned.
“I wish you luck, friend,” He called cheerfully as Zagreus left the room. Sisyphus noted just before the door closed that Zagreus’ feet seemed to be aflame. He blinked in surprise, about to call a warning but the lad had already gone. Ah well, he probably already knew; it would be very hard to have feet on fire and not notice, he suspected. Maybe it was a part of Zagreus’ own punishment. Sisyphus winced in sympathy; that seemed like a horrible punishment, especially if it never went out. At least he got his own breaks from the Furies whips, when they were called elsewhere for a time. No wonder Zagreus didn’t want to stay sitting still for very long with his literal feet on fire.
As though summoned by his thoughts, the chamber door banged open again.
“Mistress Alecto!” Sisyphus greeted cheerfully from his place beside Bouldy, as she stormed into the chamber with a characteristic scowl. “You’re just in time; I managed to get to the fifty-seventh step today.”
Alecto growled. “Do I look like I care as to your stupid step count, shade?! I’m here on other business. Have you seen Prince Zagreus pass through here?”
Sisyphus blinked in surprise. Prince? What were the odds of there being two Zagreus’, he wondered. “Well, I’m afraid I don’t rightly know, Mistress. What does his highness look like?”
Alecto snarled and uncoiled her whip with a snap, though Sisyphus was largely unphased. Alecto was eternally in a bad mood.
“The Hades’ kid has black hair, different coloured eyes and feet that are on fire. He’s the bloody Prince of the Underworld, a god, you ignorant fool; he’s difficult to miss.”
Ah. Oops. Sisyphus really wished he’d had that information fifteen minutes ago. He could only hope his highness wouldn’t take too much offence to the familiar way he had greeted him before, without any of the respect due to a god, much less the Prince of the Underworld himself. Well, the prince had seemed to be avoiding the Furies, so he might be more forgiving towards Sisyphus if he played this one coy. At least until he understood a little more about what was happening here.
He allowed the confusion he was already feeling to come into his expression. He shook his head regretfully. “Forgive me, Mistress, I haven’t seen anyone of that description around here. Though I was pushing Bouldy for a good bit, so maybe his highness could’ve snuck by.”
Alecto frowned. “Get back to it then shade!”
“Of course,” Sisyphus replied agreeably. He turned to begin his toil once again, hearing Alecto snap her whip in preparation and approach closer. Well, at least the prince had seemed nice, even if Sisyphus had misstepped direly. He hoped Prince Zagreus managed to find whatever he was looking for.