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Zagreus defeats his father without much fanfare. He fights to see the surface, not to test his father’s defenses in the underworld. Those few precious moments on the surface before his body gives out on him and the Styx sweeps him back to the House.
He’s sure Hades knows, especially when he gets frustrated with the Pact of Punishment and fights through the underworld without signing it, just so that he can escape without much difficulty. He’s done it too many times to be very hampered without his father’s extra measures and challenges to keep him contained.
But it has been a while, and he misses his mother’s garden, and the way the light reflects against the snow, and the fresh mountain air as he travels as far as he can before Natural Causes drags him back down to the Styx. So he had disabled the Pact and escaped easily—easily enough that he hadn’t even needed to call on Thanatos with Mort.
He pulls the stuffed rat out of his chiton at the thought, then, with a quirk of his lips, calls out. “Thanatos?”
A flash of green and a bell tolling heralds his partner’s arrival. Thanatos glances around to see no enemies before he turns back to Zagreus with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve already defeated your father, I take it?”
“Well, yes,” Zagreus says. He shifts from one foot to the other, causing a fresh waft of steam to rise from the ground as the movement of his feet dissolves more snow. “I thought that—maybe—you would be amenable to accompanying me until the Styx takes me?”
“You thought you would call on Death, pull me away from my duties with a companion I gave you to call on me for help in battle, just so I could stand with you until you die again?” The whole line is delivered in a cutting, dry monotone.
“Well, yes?” Zagreus repeats.
Thanatos sighs and lets his scythe vanish. “All right, then,” he says. “I can accompany you for a bit. I’m already here anyway.”
The grin that stretches across Zagreus’s face hurts his cheeks a little for how wide it is.
As they walk, Zagreus rambles about his previous visits to the surface. He’s spoken with them to Thanatos before, often and at length, but it’s different when he can actually point out the specific things he speaks on like that rock over there is where I saw a family of odd, hopping creatures and here is the cliff I fell off of a few escapes ago. Drowning had not been the most pleasant death.
In return, he learns the names of the creatures he saw (rabbits, Than tells him). Thanatos informs him of the proper names of several of the plants that they pass, and points out some birds in the sky (Zagreus had seen them before, but had no name for them until now. One had tried to take his eyes out, once, and caused him to trip and hit his head. A particularly embarrassing death).
Every moment Zagreus prepares for a sudden fall, or accident, or even the gripping pain of his insides failing—but it doesn’t come. Does he usually survive this long? Is having someone with him warping his perception of time so far?
It is when they reach his mother’s cottage that he knows for certain that something is different. He hasn’t gotten so far since she was still on the surface with them, her Life supplementing his own health and keeping him there longer.
Apparently Thanatos is making the same connection as him. “Are you usually around for so long before you return to the House?”
“I should have expired horribly by now in one way or another,” Zagreus responds idly even as his footsteps quicken, betraying his rush. Instead of melting snow, his feet burns through the grass in small patches. Without his mother there to exert her godly influence on the surrounding area, they don’t grow back immediately.
Entering the garden is still entering a small patch of paradise, however. Blessed by springtime, bright flowers grow and plants flourish. Even without anyone to tend to her cottage, life thrives.
“It’s still so beautiful,” Zagreus murmurs, brushing his fingers over a swath of waist-high grain.
Thanatos seems almost mystified by the beautiful space. “I didn’t even know this existed,” he says, eyes taking in the colorful flowerbeds and the sweet fruits hanging from tree branches. “I haven’t seen verdure like this in years.”
“Is it not like this in other parts of the world?” Zagreus asks, curious.
“No,” Thanatos says. “It’s—winter, everywhere. The harvest is never so plentiful. It must be your mother’s power.”
The thought brings a smile to Zagreus’s lips. He does so love it here. He’s sure he’s never been up on the surface for so long, and while he wants to know why this of all times is different, he wants to take advantage of the time he has. Appreciate his surroundings.
He picks a pomegranate from a tree. “She even grew them up here!” He says, delighted as he breaks it open to taste the fruit inside. It’s not much different from the pomegranates of the Underworld, truthfully, but it’s all the sweeter for being food from here rather than there.
“Try this,” Thanatos says, offering a small red fruit that he picks from a vine near their feet. “Strawberries. I’ve always liked them the best.” A light blush stains Thanatos’s cheeks, as if he’s embarrassed to admit that the Lord of Death has something so mundane as a favorite fruit .
But he admits it anyway, for Zagreus’s delight, and Zagreus adores him for it. The strawberry itself is ripe and sweet on his tongue, and he grins widely at the flavor. “It’s wonderful, Than. Nice to know that even you can enjoy things about the surface sometimes, despite being such a grump.”
The gentle ribbing is a bit too much for Thanatos, it seems. “I can’t stay,” he says abruptly, straightening from his crouch near the strawberry bushes. “The bell tolls.”
“You’ll come back later?”
“I’ll find you,” Thanatos promises, then disappears with a flash of green.
Zagreus bends down to pick more strawberries, but it happens almost immediately. A sharp, blistering pain in his chest, causing him to fall to his knees. He clutches at his chiton, coughing until he spits blood into the grass. As his heart fails him and he dies, he hopes that he did not fall on any of his mother’s plants.
When he climbs from the pool moments or an eternity later, shaking blood from his hair, he can’t help but mourn the surface all over again. He had been there so long this time, it had almost felt like maybe he could stay. Maybe the mortal world could accept him.
He feels a bit silly now that he’s died again. He knows he can’t survive on the surface. Nearly a hundred attempts and he hasn’t before, so why should he now?
Then again. He hadn’t ever survived that long before, either.
He doesn’t stop to talk to Achilles at his post, and he zips right past his parents and Hypnos. He’s planning on going straight to the courtyard and starting another run, just to see if maybe the next should be the same, when he catches sight of Nyx at her normal post.
“Nyx,” he slows as he approaches her.
“Child,” she says. “You’ve appeared much longer after your father than you usually do. Did something happen on the surface?”
He chuckles a little. Of course she would notice. “You could say that,” he agrees. “I was wondering if you might know why, perhaps. I usually die within an hour or two of making it to the surface. Sometimes minutes, if I’m especially unlucky. I can’t imagine why I would survive so long, this attempt above all others.”
Nyx looks contemplative. “Did you perhaps do something different than usual on your run?”
“No, but it was quite convenient. I invited Than to walk with me this time, since I assumed it wouldn’t take him away from his job for too long. I ended up sidetracking him for much longer than either I or he had intended, I believe.”
At this, a look of understanding dawns upon Nyx’s face. “Would I be correct in assuming that your death came for you after my son had to return to his duties?”
Zagreus furrows his brow, thinking back. “Well, yes—almost immediately, in fact. You don’t think Than had something to do with my survival, do you?”
“That’s exactly what I think, child,” Nyx says. “You are tied to the Underworld, and therefore cannot be away from it, so you cannot be on the surface. It follows, then, that if you could take some piece of the Underworld with you, that perhaps your life above ground could be extended. I cannot imagine anything more of this place than Death itself.”
Zagreus’s eyes widen as the implications hit him. “So, if you’re right, Thanatos being with me can extend my life on the surface?”
“Possibly indefinitely.”
He feels a bit like he can’t breathe. “Oh,” he says.
Nyx lays a hand on his shoulder, causing him to jolt out of his minor trance. “Speak with him about it. I’m sure he would not begrudge you requesting the occasional accompaniment along the surface.”
“I will,” Zagreus says. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
“Good luck, Zagreus.”
Finally excused from the conversation, Zagreus dashes straight into his room to consider the implications. And then he dashes straight through it and into the courtyard, grabbing Exygraph on his way through. He’s always been better at thinking while he fights.
Once again, he skips the Pact of Punishment, wanting to get through rather than truly put his father’s defenses to the test. He smashes through Tartarus, Asphodel, and Elysium as if he’s being timed anyway.
He feels the anticipation rising up in him as he destroys satyrs in the tunnels of the temple. He’ll have to summon Thanatos once he gets to the surface, of course, and hopefully he won’t be too busy or annoyed with the interruption to his work to hear him out. And then. Well, what then? Thanatos is busier than anyone Zagreus knows, apart from perhaps Lord Hades himself. He’ll never have that much time to accompany Zagreus on the surface. Zagreus will never truly be able to stay up there.
But Thanatos makes time for Zagreus when he can, and he’s offloaded some of his work to Hermes and Charon when he’s needed a break before. Zagreus could see so much more of the world if Thanatos is willing to indulge him.
Please let him be willing.
“I hear you found a way to stick around on the surface, boy,” his father greets after he bribes Cerberus with his customary treat. “Be sure not to abuse Thanatos’s free time. He’s one of the only ones around here that ever gets anything done.”
Irritation wells up in Zagreus, despite having worried the same just minutes before. His father just has a way of getting under his skin. “If only you could beat me, you wouldn’t have to worry about it,” he taunts, loading his weapon.
His father’s response is a shout and a charge. The fight is relatively quick—blessed by Ares and Athena both, Hades is hard pressed to withstand the strength in which Zagreus hits, unchallenged as he had been in this run.
Surprisingly, almost as soon as Hades is claimed by the Styx, a telltale bell tolls and the snow reflects green.
“You weren’t in the garden when I went back,” Thanatos greets with his customary lack of any greeting whatsoever. “And you were already gone from the House when I checked, so I figured I should wait up here.”
“Ah, sorry,” Zagreus winces. He didn’t consider that Thanatos might be looking for him, rather than the other way around. “I died soon after you left. Almost immediately, actually, and then I spoke with Nyx. She had some…rather enlightening things to say, and then I just wanted to get to the surface as quickly as possible again. I was going to call you as soon as I escaped.”
Thanatos floats closer, his toes almost brushing the ground. “You spoke with my mother? What of?”
Zagreus is getting antsy just standing in one place, so he starts walking down the well-trodden path to his mother’s cottage as he speaks. It’s a testament to how many times that he’s made the journey that there is a footpath in place; albeit a small one made by only one soul making the same repeated trip.
“I brought up the fact that I lived so much longer that time. You were right. I should have died by then.”
A hint of pain crosses Thanatos’s face. He’s never loved it when Zagreus refers to his repeated deaths with such irreverence, even when he himself references them on occasions. “And she had a theory as to why?”
“Yes, she did,” Zagreus responds.
He falls silent after, opting to continue the journey to his mother’s cottage instead of finishing the conversation. Thanatos, who has always been patient and valued the silence of shared companionship, doesn’t bother to push the conversation. Between the two of them, Zagreus has always been the impatient one. He will speak first and both of them know it. For now, Zagreus appreciates the melting snow as they get closer, the way his footsteps get quieter as the sizzling snow gives way to small patches of burning grass once again. One day he will learn to control better what goes up in flames.
They aren’t quite to the cottage when Zagreus speaks up again, unable to hold his peace. “She thinks it’s you.”
Thanatos comes to a halt, causing Zagreus to spin around to catch sight of him when he almost keeps walking. The dawn’s light backlits Death Incarnate. When the sun fully rises over the horizon waters and the cliff he’ll be in perfect silhouette, a gorgeous recapturing of the power he holds in the mortal realm. “Me?” he asks, small in a way that the way he portrays himself does not suggest.
“I am tied to the Underworld,” Zagreus says with a shrug. “You are Death. With you close to me, it seems the Fates are appeased. Haven’t you noticed that I am still alive, yet again?”
“Yes,” Thanatos breathes, drifting closer to where Zagreus stands. His toes don’t quite brush the snow. Zagreus knows it’s because he’s more sensitive; the cold is uncomfortable to him in a way Zagreus doesn’t experience with his own burning feet. Thanatos reaches out to touch his face, fingertips skating over his cheekbone. “But—I never have so long with you. I can’t keep you up here.”
Zagreus lifts his hand to cradle Thanatos' against his face. It’s cool—Zagreus has always run warmer. “I know,” he says.
He does. It’s the problem he’d been pondering half of his last journey to the surface. He wants to stay up here as long as possible, experience as much as he can, he truly does, but Thanatos’ work never ceases. He can’t blame his love for his work. He would never try, and only wants to be sure that Thanatos doesn’t feel as guilty as he might without reassurance.
“I’m sorry,” Thanatos starts, but Zagreus cuts him off.
“Don’t apologize,” he insists. “I don’t mind, truly. That I could be up here longer than usual even sometimes, that I could evade the Styx long enough to view more of what the world has to offer, maybe even travel with you a bit—that’s enough for me.”
Thanatos sighs out a shaky breath. “Thank you,” he says.
“There is no need to thank me for what you do for me,” Zagreus murmurs.
He reaches up to wrap his free hand around the back of Thanatos’s neck, pulling him forward into a kiss. As always, Thanatos melts into him beautifully, sinking down into Zagreus’s arms to press more tightly to him. He lights upon the ground and ceases cradling Zagreus’s cheek only to wrap his arms around his waist, pulling him close.
Thanatos is not warm; he is Death, and it reflects in his physicality. He is quite cool in Zagreus’s arms, which surprised him at first but is now a point of comfort. Still, while there is realistically nothing different about kissing him in the mortal world compared to below, it feels different to Zagreus. A special experience he won’t often get to have.
Zagreus trails kisses to the corner of Thanatos’s mouth and then his jaw before kissing him again, properly. He sighs against Thanatos’s lips, satisfied. Regretfully, it’s not nearly long enough before Thanatos begins to pull away, extracting himself from Zagreus’ arms.
“Need to go?” he whispers.
Thanatos sighs. “Soon,” he says. He slips his hand into Zagreus’, then tips his head toward the cliff behind him, where the sun is beginning to set the sky alight with reds and oranges as it rises. “Watch the sunrise with me?”
The smile that Zagreus gives in return is enormous. “Please.”
They sit next to each other off the edge of the cliff, shoulders pressed together and hands clasped as the sun rises, colors shifting from red to orange to blue as the darkness fades. Zagreus had watched several sunrises on his first trip to the surface, but he has to say that this one is the best.
“I know I have to leave soon,” Thanatos finally says, after a long silence of being in each other’s presence. “And I’ve never liked the sun. It still hurts my eyes, and I continue to dislike it up here—but it’s better, with you.”
Zagreus grins, lifting Thanatos’ hand to press a kiss to the knuckles. “It’s always better with you,” he says.
The eyeroll he receives in return is truly just a habit—he knows he is loved.
And on his next trip, when he escapes and beats his father again despite the difficulties he faced with the Pact of Punishment in effect again, Thanatos is waiting for him once again with a smile on his lips and a hand outstretched.