Of Gods and Mortals: Woven Ties

by CestBelle13

Summary:

In the second installment of the Of Gods and Mortals series we find our heroes on the next leg of their great journey, amid the pools of Asphodel. As they traverse the scalding banks of the river Phlegathon, the duo will face many challenges - the least of which being the monsters they'll have to fight. During their adventures to the underworld, the pair must withstand the impending tragedy and inevitable trauma of reanimation and the violence that spurs it. All to the underlying stillness of something tensing to pounce beneath the ground. Yes, even in Hell the winds are changing, turning to a direction that only an unconventional combination of traits - compassion, cleverness, and unyielding sarcasm - may face head on.

Zagreus and companion have triumphed over the underworld's first great obstacle: the warden of Tartarus, but can they overcome what lies in wait beneath the Phlegathon's scalding surface? When endless violence takes its toll, will our heroes rise from the ashes? Can they manage seemingly unbeatable odds to make it to the realm of heroes? And for the love of god, does anyone know what time it is? Read on to discover the many trials awaiting the pair on their arduous journey onward to the sun.

Notes:

Hi Everyone!

I'm so happy to start posting the next chapter of the Of Gods and Mortals Series! Thanks to everyone for all the support and I'm sorry it took so long. As always, constructive criticism is welcome!

I'm planning on updating on weekends like last time, if there are any delays for future chapters I'll try to post about it ahead of time. I'm so excited to share the rest of this story with you all!

Chapter 1: Homecoming

This time I did not waken immediately. 

 

 

This time, I was anointed in burning hellfire before the oil-warmth of blood and flesh. 

This time, the agony of reanimation extended beyond the realm of the damned, to the scalding waters of the wretched and amenable and ever-unoffensive. 

And when I went in, I burned like the least forgiving tinder the world could have imagined. All was ruin, all was ash, all was memory wasted away. Such memory could only give breath to a pain-wreathed future with little promise of anything other than screaming, hateful heat and light. 

 

I must admit. 

 

The voice shook the depths around me, somehow jostling the bones I did not yet have.

I’m surprised such a tiny thing has garnered the attention of so many deities. Although –

I was startled by a pinching sensation as my stomach was drawn into being. 

– Being tied to one has its advantages. 

 

Tell me. 

 

A cool wind rushed through me. I heard the rustling of forest trees, tasted wild mint on my suddenly-present tongue. 

Why is it that the god’s offer such gifts to you? What makes you worthy of divine power?

I shook my head into the water against the cranium that rose to encase my consciousness. 

 

Nothing then? 

The river prodded me, but I refused to answer.

 

 

Nothing it is. 

.        .        .

 

Zagreus rose from the pool of Styx serenely. 

A deep breath in, followed by an exhale through his nose as a cloud of blood-tinted mist. 

 

He could hear Achilles approaching from his station in the West Hall. Hypnos floated drowsily before the pool in which his prince had just emerged. Rather than break the silence, Zagreus shook the blood from his hair, waiting for his squire to rise. 

When she emerged, she spit her blood back into the river, shaking out any jitters before blinking at the three expectant faces before her. 

 

“Well?” Achilles asked. Hypnos was already aiming a towel at her head. 

Zagreus made his way to her, taking her hand. “Would you like to tell them, or shall I?” 

Both of their friends grinned at the prince’s words. Achilles clapped both of his students on the back as they found their footing on solid ground. 

Hypnos, contrastingly, groaned in annoyance as the girl wrapped him in a bear hug, soaking his cloak. “I'd just gotten this cleaned!” 

“Yes, well—“ She mumbled through the dense fabric. “thank the heavens it’s red.” 

“I suppose…” He muttered, flicking blood onto Achilles’ face, who rolled his eyes with a good natured smile. 

 

The demigod turned to his pupils. “So you really did it? Made into Asphodel?” Zagreus just patted at his blood-soaked clothing, a smile playing on his lips when the girl turned to their teacher and nodded at him. 

“Well done you two!” The warrior hugged her then, squeezing out a gasp from the underworld squire as he lifted her into the air. Zagreus let out a bark of a laugh at the display, and the lord of the House’s voice echoed from down the hall. 

 

“Keep it down.”

 

His order was gruff, condemning any and all merrymaking for the present moment.

When Achilles sat her gently back on her feet, the girl humphed at the figure at the other end of the hall, balling her towel in one hand.

"Easy now." Hypnos eyed her, dabbing his blood-soaked chest. “We should be celebrating!” The girl let out a quiet sigh through her nose before he went on. “Care for another outing sometime soon?”

She nodded emphatically as the slumber god clapped his hands together. “I’ll keep my ear to the ground for you, Dearest.”

The Chthonic god winked, flicking the blood from his shirt back onto the girl as best he could. Achilles seemed significantly less bothered by the odious fluid dripping from his student, given that he wrapped an arm around her and led her down the hall. 

 

The underworld prince watched the two stroll down the hall, trailing blood all the way. Once they'd generated a fair distance, he spoke. “A party may be-” 

Hypnos interrupted him with a mild groan. “Worry not, my dear prince. She’ll have time to rest.” 

Zagreus studied him for a moment in silence, then he nodded at friend’s words.

“And if you’re in the mood, you might join us.” The slumber god cut him a glance out of narrowed eyes before muttering, “mark your territory and all that” with a sly smile.

“Hyp–” The prince warned. 

 

Sleep merely shook out his curls with a chuckle. “I know, I know. Protective. Not jealous.” He waved a hand at Zagreus’ attire. “Go bathe–” then put a hand over his mouth while gasping in mock-surprise. “Maybe if you get there fast enough she’ll let you wash her–” 

He was cut off by the wet slap of the prince’s towel acquainting itself with his face. When it fell, he whined in disgust. “That got in my mouth. You are uninvited–” 

 

Zagreus didn’t wait to hear the rest as he hustled down the hall. 

.        .        .

 

I approached the grand desk at the end of the Great Hall slowly, looking into the narrowed eyes of the god of the dead. I could already hear Zagreus’ footsteps approaching myself and Achilles, my brow furrowing in annoyance when Hades looked him over coldly. When the prince slowed at my side, I lifted my blood-laden towel and lobbed it at the underworld king’s face. 

 

Unfortunately, due to my teacher’s intervention, the dripping mass of cloth only made it to the desk, never reaching my intended target. But it did splatter his chiton in blood when it hit the wooden desktop. 

It’s in the little things.

 

Rather than erupt into a cloud of fury as one would expect, Hades merely grumbled in annoyance before shooting his son, who was currently snorting in laughter, a glare. “Thank you for that, Achilles.” 

My teacher tipped his head at Hades before turning to glower at me. He shoved me and Zagreus off toward our room, muttering something akin to “ -unhinged children …”  before turning back to his usual station. 

 

As we walked on, Zagreus wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Perfect aim. Let’s hope you can apply it to those knives of yours.” 

Rather than respond, I slicked some blood off my cheek and rubbed it down the center of his face, anointing his eyelids and lips.

The prince’s eyes danced and he flexed his arm around me, drawing me in closer. “You’ll have to do that with something other than blood if you want to get a reaction out of me.” 

 

My footsteps faltered at the lip of our bedroom door. 

.        .        .

 

Zagreus held the door open for his squire, thoughts already turning to a subject he’d hoped to broach upon their return. 

 

The girl slogged in with some difficulty, clothes laden as they were with blood. Laughing awkwardly at the sound of her shoes smacking against the floor, she plopped her messenger pack down then retreated behind the room divider to peel her clothes off.

The prince stalked to his bed, eyes roving the divider while he changed, as though listening to her movements would reveal some anomaly that could connect to her actions out in Tartarus. 

 

“Decent?” She called. 

“Decent.” 

 

She emerged wrapped in a towel.

Zagreus stood, his hand going out to her despite the fact that she was halfway across the room. “Actually…”

She looked at him, clasping the towel around her chest in expectant silence.

"I’d wanted to ask about how you’re doing with..."He watched her hair seep crimson into the bleached cotton while he forced the words out. “…what happened this run.” 

 

She tilted her head to the side with a perplexed smile. “With moving on to Asphodel? I’d say I’m quite thrilled, wouldn’t you?” 

Maintaining any firm train of thought was an effort. “...No, in Tartarus.” 

“Oh.” She tucked a sodden tendril of hair behind her ear, blood streaking onto her cheek when it moved. Zagreus’ eyes lowered as she rubbed one foot with the other. “Which encounter before that?”

The prince kneaded his lip with his teeth. “...What do you remember toward the end?” 

She looked at him quizzically. “I remember meeting Sisyphus, I remember seeing Artemis…”

“And before that?”

 

“Oh,” she looked down at the coarse threads of her towel, a wrinkle forming between her brows. Her heart was audibly quickening - well, for his ears anyway - and she swallowed before answering.  “ I don’t… I mean… I don’t really remember much of it…” 

 

“What do you remember?”

 

.        .        .

 

Blood pounded in my ears as the prince's voice cut through the air. 

 

"...I don’t know.” The words came out at a much higher volume than I’d intended. I winced in spite of myself. "Sorry, I just-"

 

His eyes were dripping concern like tears. “Okay, that’s okay, I just think it might be good if we–”  

“Zagreus.” There was an audible pause, as always when I dared to speak his name rather than his title. I looked down to find the towel in my hands stretched out, like my feeble human body would’ve ripped it apart if it could. “I'm sorry, but I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

My roommate's shoulders drew together but he held his tongue, as did I. Another painfully long silence filled my ears to the brim, my mind to the brink of insanity. I need to get this blood off of me.

When I looked back up I nearly jumped in surprise. Sometime between my original remark and my following thought, he'd moved toward me. And then he was there, stooping over me, toppling in both stature and beauty. His body was inhumanly still as his hand went out and carefully pushed a sodden lock of hair back from my nose - tracing my brow bone and curving down my jaw. He tucked the hair behind my ear, his thumb finishing its circuit with a gentle swipe along my cheekbone. When he spoke, his voice barely disturbed the air between us. 

“Are you sure?” 

.        .        .

 

The prince's squire blinked slowly for a moment before replying. “I am.” A ruffle of movement as she adjusted her towel. “...Thank you though, for asking.” 

 

Zagreus tipped his head to her, feeling a strange sort of guilt in the wake of her thanks given the way his body was practically singing for her, bloody or not. “If you do need to talk, I’m here.” 

She nodded again, tugging at her earlobe and avoiding his gaze. When he turned around to pull on a shirt, he heard the floor creak as though she’d tilted toward him in hesitation, then whine as she turned and walked down the tunnel. He felt a flux of emotions: worry, confusion, and relief, flush through him and ran a hand through his hair, retreating to his bed. 

 

Some things are better left forgotten. 

.        .        .

 

I waded into the tub, dunking myself fully under the water to soak off as much blood as possible before lathering my hair. When I pulled my hand away, I found blood running down my wrists in trails that twirled like elegant ribbon into the water before dissipating. I looked over my knuckles. 

No bruising. No skinned flesh. Nothing. 

My mouth hardened into a frown and I flexed my fist in front of my face. “It’s like none of it happened at all.” I muttered to myself, breath sending delicate ripples through the water in front of me. 

 

I wished for scars. 

 

Each time we returned, I hoped that by some miracle the Styx would make a tiny error, leaving some mark or blemish on my skin to signify that this was real. That the blood and hurt, the anger and pain and fear was real, but the scars never came. The only assurance my body could offer me was the fleeting image of my nightmares before they dissolved into the darkness of my mind. The rawness of my throat from screaming night after night. 

I never told Zagreus this but for the most part, I slept in the garden for a reason. 

 

The more I washed, the more uncomfortable I became. It felt as it someone else’s veins were woven through mine, coursing with power along my own. My skin itched whenever I looked at my reflection. I rubbed it raw trying to get that feeling out, and the resounding scrapes helped lessen the itching.

When I exited the bath, I made my way back to the room before wrapping myself in some sleepwear and falling into my sheets. Slumber claimed me with an unyielding fist and I fell into the respite of dreams.

 

.           .           .

 

Zagreus had fallen face first onto his bed once his squire had left the room and he did not rise until long after the other creatures in the House had fallen asleep. 

 

The youthful prince stared at his ceiling for a while, watching the false clouds move about his head as though he stood at the pinnacle of the universe. Despite their monotonous movement, he remained restless. I'll never get back to sleep at this rate. He rubbed his chin, a yawn cleaving the air in front of his face with steam. I shouldn’t have fallen asleep so early.  

He needed to work some of this energy out. He grabbed a sweat cloth and made his way to the training courtyard. 

 

After working himself to exhaustion, the not thoroughly drowsy prince moved to the small fountain near the back. He gathered cool water into his hand and slurped it up, throwing some over the nape of his neck and his shoulders. Leaning back against the wall, he ticked his head toward the doorway at the soft shuffling of mortal feet approaching from down the hall.

 

Zagreus’ roommate emerged with a satin sheet wrapped around her nearly-bare shoulders, her hair tumbling and re-tumbling down and over them. The underworld prince eyed her silently, feeling her weariness enter the periphery of his consciousness as she drew closer. He stretched out his neck while she made her way toward him, casting his eyes away from the movement of her nightdress and back up at the phantom sky. When she stood fully before him, she looked him over, head tilting to one side. 

After a moment of silence where the prince bathed in the ecstasy of her presence, the girl lowered herself to the floor. Falling to her knees, she let the sheet pool around her hips and crouched between his outstretched legs before taking the sweat cloth from the lip of the fountain. Without so much as a word, she began running it over his chest and collar bones, wiping up the excess water, her face devoid of any emotion despite the heat he could feel building in his body.

Heat she can surely feel as well.

The prince of hell lifted his hand to wrap his fingers gently around his squire's wrist. Her eyes rose to meet his and he held them for a moment before sliding his thumb up into her palm. Once she'd let go of the cloth, he pulled her hand gently and held it to his chest, just over the unwavering beat of his heart. 

She stared at where their bodies met before lifting her gaze to his. When she saw what lay there, her cheeks darkened to a shade he could see even in the underworld night. 

 

Her quiet intake of breath was all he needed. 

.       .       .

 

I had the strangest dream that night.

 

I walked through the halls of the house alone, strangely light despite the brevity of my rest. Upon returning, I found the princes’ bed empty. Hearing noise from the courtyard, I pulled a sheet around my shoulders and made my way to the training circle. 

 

Zagreus was on his knees when I saw him, running water over his hair and back from the small well in the corner. When he turned to look at me his gaze caught on the godfire lamps around him, sending green and red sparks into my eyes.

My feet brought me to him of their own volition. I knelt between his legs, helping him cool off with a fountain-dipped cloth, running it over his chest, feeling his eyes burn into me all the while. After what felt like much too long to wait with such baited breath, I met his eyes. His gaze was not searching, neither filled with mirth nor righteous anger, but held a heaviness of a sort. He reclined against the wall behind him, far too tired to withhold the feeling that suddenly doused my consciousness in something… new. The air became very thin with my hand pressed to his chest and his face so close to mine. 

Zagreus leaned down to cup my face, and the sheet I'd clasped around myself fell from my newly relaxed fingers. I shivered as my shoulders were bared to the cold of the underworld night and then his arm was around me, and his body was so warm that the chill was a welcome one.

My eyes were closing then, as I lost myself in the infinity of him, in the hum of want that the bond between us emitted like a homing beacon. I felt the silk of his forehead pressed to mine, the calluses of his hands, his thumb tracing my lips down to my jaw, then his nose nestling itself next to mine. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry, and heard him mutter. 

 

 

“Gods, you’ve no idea what you do to me.”

 

.          .          .

 

Zagreus’ lips parted in anticipation of her as he leaned forward. 

 

And forward, 

 

And forward, 

 

Until he found himself falling toward the sand of the training pit rather than his squire’s embrace.

The underworld prince shook himself awake, running a hand through his hair. Looking around, he remembered his late-night practice session, and groaned as he realized he'd drifted off before making his way back to bed. That said, his neck didn’t hurt enough for him to have been there long, and the house was still eerily silent. He looked toward the blackness of the Tartarian ceiling in exasperation, then strolled back to his room to wash before trying his hand at sleep once more.

 

.         .         .

I woke to the muted sounds of my roommate running a bath. 

When I looked down, I could just make out how I'd balled the bedsheets in my hands, my knuckles whiter than the cloth they grasped at. Taking a sip from the water on my bedside table, I rolled over and squeezed my eyelids shut against the memory of my dream. 

 

You've got to be fucking kidding me.

Notes:

Hehehe, you thought.

Chapter 2: Forewarnings

Zagreus was gone from the room when I awoke. 

 

 

I slumped against my pillow, letting loose a sigh of relief. Then, as if the gods themselves were actively constructing some comedic skit on my nightly wanderings, I heard a voice behind me. 

“Dodged a bullet, did you?” 

 

Hypnos’ mischievous grin greeted me shortly after his words.

Well, really just one god, then. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “What could you possibly want this early in the morning?” 

“Nothing, nothing…” He walked slowly toward my nightstand with his hands clasped behind the back of his head. “I just wanted to see how you were faring after your little tryst last night.” 

“What do you--?” He seemed to shimmer with delight when I rounded on him, “You were watching me?” 

 “Of course not!” He put a hand over his heart. “I would never do such a thing.” 

“You most certainly would.”

“...You are awfully grouchy this morning.” The slumber god chirped, then shrugged. “But entirely correct. Regardless, as you well know, dreams are not my jurisdiction. So no, I could not watch you. That said, your last rest was quite intriguing. I could certainly feel something…” He gestured vaguely. “... exciting going on in here.” 

 

I crossed my arms over my chest  “And how did you come to that conclusion?” 

“Mostly the little noises you were making.” A jagged grin slashed into existence below his eyes. “Care to share the fun bits?” 

 

“No. Get out.” 

 

He held up his hands in defeat, dodging the pillow I lobbed at him. “Fine fine, but I do wonder what Zagreus would have to say about it, what with that bond of yours…” 

 

“Get out. Now.” 

 

There was an abrasive crash as my second pillow flew into the open room, landing in god knows what of the prince’s battle paraphernalia.  

“Fine, spoil sport. I won’t ask him. ” He grumbled, floating toward the door. “Though it’s certainly not too difficult to guess.” 

The room quieted as a sure-footed step began to grow in volume on the opposite side of the wall. Hypnos smirked at me suggestively.

I would’ve grabbed his collar if I could, but he was too far away. “I mean it. Don’t you dare.” 

Hypnos bowed his head. “Worry not, sweet nightingale. Like the paragon of companionship that I am–” He glanced at my incredulous look.“I will withhold from temptation.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Next time I’ll have to intervene in one of your dreams myself if I get that kind of reception, Dear.”  

 

I grunted in frustration and lobbed the notebook on my nightstand at the wood of the door as it closed behind him, grimacing as his laughter echoed down the hall.

 

.         .         .

 

“Right.” Achilles barked as his pupils entered the training area later that morning. “Don your Arms.”

 

Zagreus shrugged at his companion’s quizzical look, leading the way into the antechamber. He rolled his shoulder out before hefting Stygius onto it and turned to Achilles, who’d come in behind them. While the girl cracked her knuckles and slipped on her vambraces, he called to their teacher. 

“We’ll destroy the courtyard if we go at it with these.” 

“I know.” Achilles nodded. “We’ll be practicing in the ballroom.” 

The undead squire straightened. “A ballroom? Wouldn’t the damage be worse?” 

 

The greatest of the Greeks just jerked his chin in the direction of the exit, leading them through the doorway. 

 

.         .         .

 

Zagreus watched his squire's gaze around the cavernous chamber they’d entered. 

 

One of the few rooms of the house that Nyx had not magicked the natural features from, the ballroom was a colossal cave with a flat stone floor that spanned into the darkness. 

“No light.” She murmured under her breath. 

Rather than respond, Zagreus whistled.

 

Awoken by the heir to the underworld palace, the hall began to hum with energy. Rather than the typical godfire lamps of the greater House, hulking clusters of crystals began to glow in brilliant shades of greens, purples, and reds. A polished floor of midnight blue sandstone glittered in relief of the lighting, and a small stream of blood traversed the length of the chamber, dividing it in half.

Zagreus smirked toward his companion, winking at her when he caught the look of awe she was casting about the room. The girl straightened, rolling her eyes good-naturedly before pushing forward. 

“How come I’ve never heard about this?” She stared baldly at a colossal crystal, pressing the pad of her index finger to its flawless surface. 

The prince shrugged. “Big cave. Blood river. I’d figured you’d seen enough of those in your time here.” 

The underworld squire nodded, paying his answer no mind as she skipped over a narrow portion of stream to continue her exploration. She whirled on the pad of her foot when Achilles’ cough gripped her attention. 

 

As his students' gazes came to rest on his face, Achilles of Pthia reclined against a dimly-lit crystal. Showered in soft blue light, he looked like some maddened warrior of old. Not to far off, I fear. The prince thought to himself before snapping to attention as his teacher began to speak.

“You made it to Asphodel during your last excursion. Both of you are progressing as individual fighters and as a team. You’ve done well.” Achilles tipped his head toward his students, a small smile gracing his handsome features. 

Zagreus looked over at his companion when he felt a flush of bashfulness overwhelm her. He nudged her with an elbow, snorting lightly when she tried and failed to push him back. Achilles cleared his throat once again, and both pupils stilled. 

“-But, as you move further forward, you will be faced with greater wardens and luck will play less of a factor in victory.” 

 

Don’t let Meg hear you say that. Zagreus thought, his attention shifting over Achilles’ shoulder toward the entryway as a cool breeze ghosted past his face. The underworld prince locked eyes with his teacher. 

“You two are connected physically–” Achilles pressed the side of his fist to his chest. “-and emotionally.” He straightened his fingers and tapped his heart with two of them. Zagreus felt his squire cut a look in his direction when he coughed uncomfortably, but their teacher continued. “You need to connect mentally.” He tapped his temple with those same two fingers. 

The air in the cavern continued to grow restless…and the prince of all hell felt a headache coming on. 

“- You need to practice working as a unit. Combining the might of those god-slaying weapons is the only way you’ll reach the surface.” 

“Fair enough…” The girl shifted her weight from foot to foot, eyeing the tunnel and the wind seemingly gushing from it. “How will we be doing that?” 

Achilles reclined against a stalagmite as two forms emerged from the darkness behind him. 

 

“We’ll be having some guest lecturers today.” 

 

The prince felt his squire’s unease mirror his own at the two pairs of nearly identical golden eyes that emerged from the shadows of the ballroom’s margins. The figures approached evenly, one significantly larger than the other. The darkness eventually gave way to intertwining hues of dusty greys and silvers. Vaguely, Zagreus heard the girl mutter some curse or other through his own sigh. 

The god of slumber blew the underworld squire a kiss. “Worry not, darling girl.” Hypnos ticked his head toward his twin, who’s eyes sparkled as he appraised the prince. “I’ve been told he’s a much gentler touch than he looks.” 

Zagreus’ head was already pounding from that look alone.

 

“Wouldn’t you say so, Prince?” 

.         .         .

 

The prince’s nose wrinkled at Hypnos’ inquiry, but I felt the warm caress of something… enticing… bloom in his body when he sized up the embodiment of death in front of him. 

 

Oblivious or disinterested in the present situation's subtext, Hypnos continued to address me, each word vibrating from his mouth with sensuous promise. “Besides, if you do get hurt, I will happily nurse you back to health afterward.” 

I stuck my tongue out at him and he winked before turning to the imposing figure behind him.

Amid an expectant silence Death said, voice interminably low: “Don’t tell your father about this.” 

My eyes flicked to the prince. His skin was quite literally radiating an intense red-hot light. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

 

“... So …” Achilles’ discomfort was evident in his voice. “If the… discussion– has concluded, let’s begin.” He nodded to me and Zagreus. “You two have time to calibrate a general strategy, though I would caution you against a rigid one. These two–” He took a deep breath. “Are particularly efficient in a team combat setting.” 

I swallowed. 

Zagreus nodded, jerking his head in the direction of the cave wall. I followed him there, where he clapped his hands on both of my shoulders. 

 

“This is not going to end well for us.” 

 

.         .         .

 

The girl’s mouth flattened into a thin line. “I’d gathered. But your lack of faith is duly noted.” 

 

The underworld prince looked over her shoulder at his two dear friends, one of whom fluttered his fingers in his direction, the other who’s look of intrigue was more than enough to show how much he was enjoying this. He turned back to his squire, who was mid eye-roll. 

He took a breath. “You take–”

“ –Hypnos.” Her words were nearly a snort and she poked him in the ribs, eyes alight with amusement. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave tall, dark, and handsome to you.” 

“That’s not–” 

 

Hypnos’ disgruntled voice carried from across the cavern. “You know, I can hear you. And I can assure you that what I lack in height I make up for in ferocity .” 

“I have no doubt.” She called back, patting the prince on the shoulder. “Achilles said to stay flexible. Let’s start there and adapt as time goes on.” 

 

He ruffled her hair, smiling at her exasperated groan. “Sounds good to me.” 

 

.         .         .

 

“Well, this–” I panted, rolling on the floor to dodge Hypnos’ wooden staff. “Is strangely erotic.” 

 

The staff collided with the stone where my head had been with an audible crack. I winced, thinking of the damage it would’ve done. Hypnos chuckled at my quip, looking over his shoulder at Zagreus and Thanatos sparring behind us. I took the opportunity to swipe at him with my clawed gauntlets, which he dodged gracefully. 

“Feeling left out, sweet one?” His grin was vile as a snake as he leapt back to avoid the kick I’d aimed at his stomach. 

I rose, sweat plopping from my chin to the floor beneath me. Balling my hands into fists, I lifted the heel of my dominant foot. “Well, yes, a little.” Air whooshed next to my ear as I just barely evaded another swipe. “I mean, at the very least Meg could’ve come along so I could get some attention too.” But even as I said it, something within me shirked away from the idea, I was not anxious to see the Fury given the way I’d sent her back here. 

“Oh? ” Hypnos scoffed, ducking under my right hook to shove his staff into my stomach. “Am I not pampering you enough?” 

 

I flew backwards onto the floor, landing with an audible thump. While struggling to regain my breath I heard Zagreus curse somewhere to my left. Looking up at the ceiling, I heard Hypnos catch his own breath as he approached. That’s something, I guess.  

I gazed at him through half lidded eyes as he got closer. “I may have forgotten myself. Are you alright?” He leaned over me, eyes clouding with concern. “Perhaps a moment’s rest is in order.” He murmured, pressing two cool fingers to my throat to check my heartbeat. 

I shot a hand out, digging gilded talons into his skin and drawing shimmering golden blood for the first time that day. He gasped in surprise and failed to dodge my fist, which promptly collided with his left cheek. 

Hypnos careened into the wall behind us and my eyes focused on Thanatos, who was standing over Zagreus nearby. I propelled myself forward, grabbing the slumber god’s staff on my way, and slid between my partner and his opponent. I could hear Hypnos muttering in annoyance at the dirt when I locked eyes with Death himself. 

 

His mercurial eyebrows rose in surprise, and I could hear Zagreus on the ground panting behind me, spitting what I was certain was blood onto the floor. As the cave settled into silence, the prince shoved a hand up from the ground and past my hip, middle figure standing at attention. I pointed the staff in Death’s direction, falling into a half-crouch. 

Rather than advancing, Thanatos held my gaze and called to his brother, “You’re going too easy on them, Hyp.” 

 

“Clearly.” Came the agitated reply.  

 

.         .         .

 

Thanatos didn’t so much as nod his head in response. 

 

Her breath wavered but her form was solid, staff at the ready. “Maybe you’re getting rusty.” 

 

Zagreus sputtered a laugh through another stream of blood behind the wall of his squire’s body, relinquishing his hand gesture to cover his mouth and the blood dribbling from it. When he spoke, his voice was still clearing. “ ahg– What she said.” 

His teammate’s voice wafted over him as Hypnos approached. “Alright?”

Another cough against the chilling feeling of his lung healing over and the prince stood, wiping blood and spittle from his chin. “Alright.” 

“How come you didn’t check on me?” The slumber god pouted, cupping his cheek. “That punch really hurt. I could use a kiss to make it better.” 

The girl straightened. Thanatos halted a grunt of confusion when Zagreus shook his head at him. “Step your game up and I might consider giving you one.”

Hypnos grinned in reply, but was cut off before he could fully respond. 

 

“Well ,” A voice droned from the other side of the room. All four heads turned to the demigod it hailed from, who was presently massaging his temples. “This conversation has been riveting. But if it’s not too much of an inconvenience, we might consider returning to work so that our dear prince can actually reach the surface, hmm?” 

 

The four made to stand off once more, but Achilles clicked his tongue against it. “New exercise.” They turned toward his voice. “Switch teams.” 

All three gods noted when the girl swallowed, hard. 

 

Achilles nodded his head to her and Hypnos. “You two have been prattling on this entire time. Perhaps you can turn that into a useful form of communication.” He jerked his chin to the opposite corner. “Get prepped.” 

Hypnos and the underworld squire sulked away without a word. 

Zagreus huffed a soft laugh and Thanatos’ chin tilted downward in amusement. Both deities froze as the teacher’s blindingly disapproving gaze fell on them. “And you two - this isn’t a brothel. Reign in that energy until you’re off the battlefield. And preferably behind several closed doors.” 

Both gods glared across the room as the two smaller figures howled in laughter.

 

After a moment of bickering from the smaller team and a shared nod between Zagreus and Thanatos, Achilles grunted in approval.

 

“Very good. Begin.”

 

.         .         .

 

After what felt like at least an hour, I found myself with my fists hoisted up, sweating from head to toe.

My thigh was cringing against a strained muscle and my elbow throbbed dully. I needed to finish this quickly, and as running was not an option - I eyed the doorway past my teacher wistfully - I should at least throw my weight in and try to make a mark. 

 

While my self-appraisal rushed through my head, my opponent was silent, eyeing me up and down. 

I eyed his throat and suddenly it was as though I could see the twilit veins - the pumping of gilded blood through the jugular down toward his collar bone. A small note of alarm sounded in the back of my mind as I heard Zagreus suddenly misplace his footing and go down. 

 

When I’d returned my full attention to Thanatos, the tilt of his hips had changed. “I've seen that look before.” 

I was already out of breath and not thankful for the interruption. “Yes, the party. I’m pitiful at board games, I’m aware.” 

 

Death has a way of searching a person that sets the air to chilling between them. He did it now, and a hush fell in the great room. “You seem...different, from the last time we spoke.” He murmured, lashing out suddenly with his scythe. 

I dodged to the side, the great blade just lancing through my training trousers. “Oh?” Don’t forget to breathe. “Have I gotten taller? I haven’t been recording my height on the door stop like I used to.” I exhaled, diving forward and lashing out with my gloves. He poofed away from me in the blink of an eye, appearing on my opposite side. 

“No.” He tilted his head to the side, gaze fluttering around me like a monarch on spring winds. “It’s not that…” 

 

He trailed off while looking at me and failed to notice his brother, who’d knocked the prince back onto the ground, rocketing across the room. Just as he would have slammed into him, Thanatos leaned backward slightly and the slumber god’s body became a red and silver blur before crashing into a crystal on the other side of him. 

“Mother’s tits–” He hissed, rubbing his head. 

“Hypnos.” Death barked, glaring at his brother. 

The smaller god rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, Hera’s tits.” He glowered at Thanatos, “Better?” 

 

The larger god just crossed his arms over his chest before tilting his head in my direction. I could’ve groaned in relief when Achilles came up behind me. 

“Right, right, I believe that’s two for two.”  The warrior clapped me on the shoulder, offering water. “Faring well?” I shrugged through a greedy swallow. “Right, well, that’s probably enough for today–” 

“What about me?” I turned to Hypnos, whose eyes were greater and sadder than a puppy’s.

 

He turned in my direction. “That hurt.” 

 

.         .         .

 

Zagreus looked on in interest as his companion rolled her eyes over her drink. She set the cup down, taking oa glove off before strolling to Hypnos, guiding his forehead down toward her, and pecking him just over his eyes. “Better?” 

The god snorted. “No. But I’ll take the rest of that water.”

The underworld prince felt her sudden urge to backhand the smaller god with her removed gauntlet. Thankfully for everyone involved, she withheld from the temptation. 

 

“Get your own.” 

.         .         .

 

After practice, the underworld prince watched his companions aim for the exit, his squire waiting in expectant silence. 

 

He turned to her. “Go on ahead, I have something to discuss with Achilles.” 

Her lips pursed in a curious smile, but the vice he held his emotions in must have fooled her given that she shrugged and moved along to catch up with the two retreating beings. 

Achilles’ cornsilk eyebrows rose at his pupil’s approach. “May I be of service, Lad?” 

“Actually,” Zagreus puffed a cloud of steam from his mouth, still cooling his body from practice. Achilles watched it dissipate with unwavering focus. 

 

“You just might.” 

.         .         .

 

“The Sneak, you say?” 

 

Zagreus nodded. 

“And she couldn’t merely have been unsure of its abilities–” 

 

Zagreus looked up from the fragmented crystal he was heating and cooling in his hand. 

Achilles stumbled in response to his stare. “ –Or its propensity for recovery?...”

The prince of the dead shook his head. “Maybe…” He continued on kneading the clear edge of the superheated quartz with his thumbnail. “I don’t know Achilles, something seemed wrong.” 

He tilted his head toward his teacher again. “Not so much with what I was seeing,” He tapped his chest. “But what I was feeling.” 

 

The long dead warrior scrubbed at his scalp. “And what exactly did you feel?”

The prince leaned back to stare at the ceiling of the immense cavern, dotted with tiny quartzian stars. “I wasn’t able to feel much past Ares’ boon…”

“The boons interrupt your bond?” 

Zagreus could’ve done without the alarm in his tone. “I wouldn’t quite say they interrupt, so much as…” He picked at the crystal’s point, chipping off tiny chunks that flicked down to the dirt like sparks. “... marinade…” Achilles pursed his lips, and the prince tried again. “...they flavor it.” He finally finished, though unsatisfactorily. “And they insulate it. Soften it, sort of.” 

“Mmmm.” The undead warrior did not look convinced. “They douse it with their own influence?” 

The sudden snap of Zagreus’ fingers would have startled his squire but never his teacher. “Exactly.”

 

“It seems more than just the gods’ energies flow through the two of you,” The demigod scratched his chin. “But their essence as well.” 

Zagreus nodded him on, but he shrugged. “Perhaps it is just the nature of these things. If it concerns you, you should talk to her about it.” 

The young god's tongue flattened against the bottom of his mouth. “I’m getting sick of all this talking, truthfully.” 

Achilles merely rose from his seated position and held a hand out to his pupil. “And a pity that is, given that she’ll feel your distaste for it regardless of whether you open your mouth or not.” 

The prince of the dead rolled his eyes, but took his teacher’s hand before he stood.

 

“I’ll think on it.” 

.         .         .

 

That night, I ambled into the great cavern with my hands wrapped around my shoulders. The skirt of my nightdress twisting ‘round my legs to the tune wafting around the room. 

 

Heavy and hard is the heart of a king. 

 

My breath bowed in the air, opening up into a cloud of steam. I smiled at the thought of my prince’s own breath. 

 

King of iron, king of steel. 

 

The sound was coming from the back of the chamber, the voice as sad and somber as a night wind. It chilled me further, my heart pleading, the pain I’d kept at bay since my death wreathing itself along and around the melody. 

 

The heart of a king loves everything like the hammer loves the nail. 

 

Minuscule stones in the floor sang into glowing life as I padded past them, underground moss curled beneath my feet. The tiniest trickle from the river of blood meandered its way about the chamber, just as my feet did so to its end. Amid the hushed tones of light, it was hard to make out the true shape of the person before me, and upon reaching them, I realized why. 

 

Their hair was a briar patch of tangles. Not thistle-like in nature like Zagreus’, but tangled from lack of brushing. Their skin was ashen, robbed of color and vigor, their cheeks sunken and wan. My heart cracked for them as their haunting voice doused my body in melancholia. 

 

And all that it loves is a woman. 

 

And a woman is all that it loves.  

 

When I approached they finally looked up, sounding startled. “Oh,” 

“Pardon me,” I murmured, “I hadn’t meant to interrupt. I haven’t heard anyone play music within the house until now. I couldn't help but follow the sound.” 

“Feel free to sit,” Their speaking voice was soft and lilting, piercing without being brittle. It glided through my hair like the tines of a seashell comb. “Why ever should you be up so late, my lady?” 

I shook my head, ignoring their question. "I am no lady, but I will sit if you’ll have me.” 

A quick tilt of their head. “But you are flesh and blood, are you not? You must be divine.” 

 

“I am not.” I pulled at the loose threads of my hem. “I’ve been granted flesh by a pact made with the prince, but I have no more golden blood than this river.” I gestured to the trickle of water behind me. “What of you? Are you a muse?” 

 

They blinked rapidly, seemingly appalled that I would ask such a thing. “No, and mine has long since left me, though the compliment is appreciated. I am merely the victim of a pact as well. Cursed to be rebound in flesh so that I may better pluck the strings of my lyre.” 

“Mmm,” I hummed my assent. “I am sorry for your predicament, though not for the music. You play it so beautifully.” 

“I thank you for your kindness. How is it that the prince himself made a pact with you?” 

I winced in spite of myself. “Well, in truth, the pact was more so for the prince’s punishment than mine.”

“Oh?” They lifted an eyebrow, absentmindedly strumming the lyre’s strings, dousing me in the fine perfume of a familiar melody. “If you’ll permit me to ask, what is this pact you speak of? How did it arise?” 

 

I sat on the rock opposite them, digging my toes into moss just beneath me. “Play me a story, and I’ll tell you mine.” 

 

They nodded, the movement ruffling their already movement-prone hair. “You needn’t bargain here, Lady. If ever you require auditory refreshment,” Another elusive, elegant strum.

“You need only ask.”

Notes:

Feat. the song "Epic III" from Hadestown.

Also feat. Zagreus quoting my thoughts verbatim when trying to find a good adjective to describe their bond.

Chapter 3: A Valiant Proposal

It was dark. 

And I was wet, tasting wasted rubber and shivering with cold.

 

I opened my eyes. I was suspended in endless darkness, smelling that wretched metal-salt stink I’d taken in so many times before. 

There was no sound save for the rhythmic huff and pull of my own breathing lethargically sucking in the river’s lifeblood in the absence of air. All else was a heavy, domineering quiet.

Despite the silence, I felt more than heard the swaying. The swish and ripple of something moving. Circling me. The current it cast was strong enough to whip my hair into a lazy spin. I wasn’t going to be much of a meal for it. 

A deep-chested chuckle rolled into me like a wave. I can assure you of that. 

 

I wrapped my arms around myself. It wasn’t the creature, not the cold or the dark, it was being alone. I felt my heartrate in my fingertips. 

There was a long whoosh of air. The ecstatic inhalation of something scenting me like a dog. I squeezed my arms harder before relaxing my body, letting my limbs drift, breathing in the blood of my environment. Once I’d settled myself, I asked: What is your name? 

A pause in movement. Silence. 

I prodded further. Have I offended you?

 

The dark seemed to deliberate. What do you name me, human?

Familiarity rose in me as the voice struck a chord in my memory. I narrowed my eyes as manic elation bubbled up, a shield to my unease. The endless dark.

 

And? A pair of empty golden eyes blinked into being, much, much too close. I gasped, gagging on the sluggish fluid my inhale requested from my surroundings. Again, the eyes blinked.  

I tried to recover my composure. A growing tremor. A predator. 

 

A hideous smile slashed along a ridge of spiny teeth just below the eyes. Water clashed into my feet as a tail swished to and fro in approval. And?

My lips pressed into each other, not knowing whether to smile or cry. A friend. If you’ll let me. 

 

Again, shocked stillness. Greedy, encompassing silence. 

 

I blinked and the mouth was gone, the eyes smaller and closer together. Assessing. 

Why?

 

I smiled at the nightmare god, nausea fading as his torturously handsome face floated nearer me. The thick cords of his hair trailed up and away from his head with a grace only weightlessness could create. No gold, this time. Not in his hair at least. Merely the elegance of his impossibly thick eyelashes flickering over the amber of his eyes. His hair merging into and out of the darkness behind him. 

I looked him up and down. Why wouldn’t I? You’re so kind and inviting. 

An eyebrow arced at my sarcasm. I blushed, pulling my arms close to me as his lips twitched upward. Easy now. We’re in my jurisdiction. I can feel… He leaned down over me, puffing a breath onto my face through a small stream in his lips. Everything. 

 

I gripped the retort my body had reflexively spouted into my mind with all of my teeth. Phobetor smiled as though he knew I’d thought of all the other things I’d want him to feel.

I blew a bubble from my nose in a sigh. So, Lord of terror and apparently bodily functions after 9 pm, friend or foe?

Phobetor ran his tongue over his teeth. I swallowed. They were quite sharp. 

His voice rolled over me like a hypnotic call to revel in his name. And they can be quite gentle when I’m so inclined. 

My thighs pressed into each other, but I chose not to respond. 

Phobetor smirked. Asshole. 

The nightmare god abstained from a response to that particular thought. You would call me friend, even when all others call me foe? Why?

I looked him over, kicking softly, my arms still wrapped around me. I don’t know really, I squinted in a fond smile. But I think you think the way I do. His lips pursed, I shrugged. And I think you know the difference between being alone and being lonely.

 

The dream-spinner said nothing for a moment while he contemplated. In the end, something I said must’ve hit its mark, because he nodded. 

Let’s start with…acquaintances. And go from there.

I shrugged, the movement ushering water up into my hair. Sounds reasonable to me. 

He opened his mouth before tilting his head to the side abruptly. You are beginning to stir. I must adjourn this meeting. He held a hand out, darkness morphing around it. 

I reached one of my own out eagerly and shook it, smiling. I hope you find rest before you must work again. 

 

He rested his index finger on the inside of my wrist. Smiling at my goosebumps or my heartbeat, I didn’t know. 

You are quite adept at masking your fear. I am impressed. The golden eyes flicked to my face. Perhaps one day I’ll be able to test that ability.

The nightmare god leaned down and brushed his lips tenderly against my knuckle. As he straightened, I opened my mouth to speak but fell silent as I became unbearably drowsy. I watched Phobetor’s form darken to full shadow like that of our surroundings even as his voice lingered.

 

‘Til next time, human. 

.        .        .

 

“Again.”

 

“But Father I—“

“Do not question me, Boy.”

The young prince of the underworld, only cresting the hill of a decade in age, chewed at his lip. He took a deep breath before raising his small hand once more. It shook with the effort that less than a foot of movement required of it. 

 

“Focus on the target” 

Zagreus turned, eyeing the crimson paint many paces away and holding a hand out. 

“Now!” 

His father’s tone left no room for debate, so he attempted another shot at the stuffed target across the training pit. Rather than a lethal projectile - as his father would have preferred - a small pool of blood splattered the front, blending into the other drying pools that had come before it.

Hades signed in irritation. “You must focus. You’ll never be able to truly cast out your power if you cannot focus enough to use it in the first place.”

“I am trying.” The prince bit back, wincing at his fathers responding glare. He tried again. “Why not use my fire instead? I’ve had more success with it.”

"Are you the god of fire, Boy?”

Zagreus lowered his gaze. 

 

Hades shook his head, his seemingly endless trails of black hair swaying with the movement. “Then you cannot rely on it. Others with greater gifts than your own will easily surpass you. A problem that your limited blood supply already exacerbates.” 

“Then why not use the Styx as a blood source? It’s nearly endless, and everywhere.”

“The Styx already has a god." Hades rolled his brimstone eyes. "You are the god of vitality. You must learn your power before someone comes to take that-“ he gestured toward the glowing laurels that just poked out from behind the child’s dark hair. “Symbol of authority from you.” 

Zagreus looked down at his pallid arm. He wasn't sure how much more of this his body could take.

 

Hades had noticed his look. “A prince must not give in to his weakness so easily.” 

The young prince's lip began to tremble. “And a king should know his limits.” 

Hades eyes blazed. “Step forward, and take your shot.” 

Zagreus crumbled inside, but he held his father's gaze and moved toward the target. 

Hades nodded.

 

 “Again.”

 

.        .        .

 

I fell to a crouch, elbows on my knees, panting. 

 

Joddy footsteps approached me, and I rolled my eyes. “You know,” I wheezed. “You don’t have to walk just for show.” Another breath and I swallowed the saliva rushing into my mouth. “-It won’t hurt my feelings.” 

Hypnos leaned to the side, dashing curls bobbing around his eyes like dancers. “I do prefer to stand–” an index finger jumped to attention at my glower. “-- on occasion. ” He held a hand out. I took it, grateful for the aid in rising. “And for you, my darling?” He blew a gust of wind in my face. “I’d assume any number of positions. Especially those requiring contact with the ground.” 

 

If I’d had it in me, I would’ve flicked his nose, scoffed, snorted, or otherwise offered any one of the numerous quips I’d carefully constructed to combat his. But I was tired, and Zagreus and Achilles were approaching. So I shook my head, still panting, and stuck my tongue out at him before taking the cup of water Achilles held out to me.

“That’s all for today. Well done. ” Achilles nodded to both myself and Zagreus. I nodded back, with difficulty, given the fact that the cup was uncooperative in following the movement. Some water dribbled irreverently down my chin. “And I thank you for your time, Hypnos.” 

The chthonic deity flourished his arm in a sweeping bow, winking as he caught me wiping water from my face. I withheld a sigh, and was caught in Zagreus’ curious gaze for but a moment before I let my eyes drift anywhere else. 

Achilles clapped me on the back. “Go get cleaned up.” 

 

.       .       .

 

The walk back to our room was mostly quiet, though I could feel the prince’s hellfire eyes on me the whole time.

He opened the door for me, head following as I moved past him and into the room. 

 

Then, a nudge. 

 

I recoiled at the sudden sensation of an inquisitive emotion being pushed gently into me, whirling on the spot to face my prince, who was currently removing his sandals at his desk, looking up past his jagged hairline at me. 

“What was that?” 

He shrugged, the movement easy and smooth on the rolling musculature of his frame. “A question. Though mostly I wanted to see if sending you something intentionally would work.” 

 

.        .        .

 

The underworld squire rubbed her chest, looking her roommate over. “And what would this question be?”

“You seemed–” Zagreus fidgeted with his shoulder guard, a small black clasp that Nyx had given him many solstices ago. It’d slipped down toward his back during training, and he felt more than heard the girl’s sigh and quiet footsteps before she appeared at his side. 

She said nothing, and he let his fingers fall so hers could take over. The prince looked ahead, trying to ignore how her tinkering tickled the side of his neck. “-reserved,” A brief pause in movement was the only sign of her incredulity. That, and the feeling just managing to wrap around his ribs like the smallest ribbon. One that could be ignored if not being sought out. “Today in training.”

Suddenly there was slack in his chiton, and the seamless glide of a small hand down the back to gather the excess cloth. He turned to look at her as she rounded the cotton over his shoulder, taking the rest in hand so he could undress completely. 

“Are you alright?” 

.        .        .

 

He was doing it again. 

 

I wasn’t quite sure when it’d happened, but at some point, the majority of the prince’s looks had gone from pure curiosity to searching, seeking interest. It was as if he was intent on pulling back my flesh and bone, the few layers of matter that separated the feelings flowing between us. 

“I don’t know, truly.” I shrugged, plopping onto the edge of his bed while he unwrapped his chiton. He let it fall to the floor and sat before me, bare chested. The crimson cloth against the floor of his room looked like blood. “But being beaten repeatedly is weighing on me, I think.” 

Zagreus straightened. Likely in surprise at my candor, though I couldn’t feel much from him. Somehow he’d managed to control his emotions far better than I. Of course he did. 

He nodded abruptly. “I can imagine. I’ll ask Hypnos to take it easy–” 

.        .        .

 

The girl held up her hand, fingertips grazing his shoulder. He stiffened at the sudden contact. 

 

“That’s not necessary.” Her smile was more of a wince than the genuine article. “That’d hurt my pride more than it already has been, and I don’t know how many more blows it can take.” Before crumbling like paper on a rainy day.

Though he'd only read about such rain in books that were in no danger of crumbling from it, he felt the sentiment in his bones. 

Zagreus nodded, concern clouding his mind. She either read his face or felt it slip through, because she did smile at him then. A soft, wistful ghost of a thing, frail and fleeting as morning mist - or so he assumed. “I’m okay, Prince. Thank you for the thought.” 

Zagreus nodded dumbly to her as she made her way toward the bathhouse entrance, trying not to feel entirely sorry for himself for being so useless. Watching her receding shape, he rubbed his neck to dispel any worry before staring at his softly shining hands. 

 

If only his touch would bring her the peace that hers gave him.

Chapter 4: Reciprocity

We spent several days resting and preparing for our next outing. 

 

Achilles was insistent that we both hone our craft and relax as much as possible, and it was exactly that insistence that made it difficult to do either. After several relentless training sessions interspersed with more time spent sleeping than awake, I was still exhausted. On this particular day, I was having a difficult time reigning in my gloves, who inserted their overwhelming cravings for violence into my mind whenever I donned them for battle. 

 

I shifted forward, pressing my sparring partner back a step. Looking up, I was lost for a moment in the sheer focus of his eyes on me, before his sudden jab brought me back to reality. 

Break, rip, tear, the shining vambraces sang, humming in glee when I lunged forward to land a blow on his extended elbow. Retrieve what has been taken. 

Hopping backward, my line of vision caught on their gilded filigree, hanging on the glint of the ever-deepening swirls of color in the central jewel. A strand of ruby red eclipsed the others before vanishing between the purple and green threads once more. Just above the menagerie, my reflection stared back at me, stern and focused, sweating and looking angrier than the present situation called for. I winced. Maybe the craving isn’t only the gloves’.  

“A bit distracted, are we?” 

The prince’s voice was too close. My head shot up to find him standing over me, a smirk on his face. I gasped softly, bounding backward in one smooth motion that somehow managed to avoid the hand he slung out to catch me. I felt surprise flutter through him and paused to appraise my opponent. 

The brief departure from constant movement was well received by my body. It felt as if time slowed to a leisurely pace when my attention turned fully to Zagreus. His body was already tensing to surge toward me, eyes returning to that near-manic level of focus they’d had moments ago. The backs of his fists shone in the not-moonlight, and I could see the blood, red as my own, flowing freely through each one. Even under the skin, the color was beautiful. 

 

My gaze shot up and I found my adversary to be confused and off center. I used the opportunity to lunge forward and aim for him, my right hand curving upward with his stomach as its intended destination. I felt his attention snap back to my movements and while I'd nearly landed the blow, Zagreus managed to curl away from me. His sword receded up his arm to its dormant state and he grabbed my wrist with a surprising amount of force. 

The prince shifted, throwing me down into the sand, his other arm finding my shoulder on the way down. 

 

.      .      .

Zagreus’ head was pounding. 

 

From the moment her eyes had locked on him in that queer way, he’d shifted back into some deeper level of consciousness shaped by his teacher’s training. It was a state both comforting and unsettling as he placed the word he’d use to describe how she’d looked just then. Familiar. 

As civilized thought reentered his brain, he found himself on one knee, hunched over his squire. He was holding her down into the sand. 

When his eyes met hers, he found her gaze to be similarly clouded. After a few moments of the duo breathing at each other, he saw her again, emerging from the forest of her mind like someone who’d been lost far longer than she had. 

There was that word again. 

 

She caught her breath as she came to her senses, waiting for him to relinquish his hold on her. Zagreus could only stare thinking of her speed a moment ago, poised to rival his own. What in Hell’s name was that?

 

“You were distracted.” 

 

Her words snapped his focus back to the present. The prince blushed, He must’ve spoken aloud. When he looked down at her again he found her blinking calmly at him. Her dark eyes shone with an eerie level of tranquility when she reiterated. “You were so focused on my movements that you didn’t–” She took the hand on her shoulder, touching the back of it with her fingers.

“Think of what yours should be.” 

.      .      .

 

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.” 

 

Achilles’ voice sounded to our right, the flame to light the way out of the depths I'd unknowingly waded into. I shook the cobwebs from my mind and Zagreus leaned backward off of me, offering a hand. I took it and we rose together at the behest of his strength alone. And thank the gods for it, I thought, feeling how my legs trembled. 

Our teacher nodded at us, “Well done, both of you.” He glanced at the prince. “Finding the balance of observation and action is one that all warriors struggle with. Keep that in mind.”

The undead warrior turned to me. “And you, you’ve gotten quite fast. I’m impressed.”

I bowed my head under his praise, managing a - “Thank you” between breaths. While I did my best to hide it, I could tell that Zagreus was privy to the sudden weariness in my muscles. He flexed his forearm, letting me use it as a brace to stay standing.  

 

Achilles nodded over a soft smile before addressing us both. “I recommend getting as much rest as possible before you set off in the morning. If you two gather up the training equipment, I’ll happily stock your satchel and prepare your things for tomorrow.”

 

Zagreus nodded at him, a movement which I echoed as much as I could. Our teacher bid us a quick goodbye before striding off to prepare. 

 

.      .      .

 

Zagreus eyed his sparring partner as she shuffled to the pool of water near them, then fiddled with her vambraces. 

 

She was stiff, wincing when she rose to take the gloves to their rightful place. He moved toward her, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I’ve got this, you should sit.” 

The underworld squire blinked at him for a moment, “I really don’t mind, I–” 

Zagreus cupped her cheek with his hand and searched her eyes, feeling the tension in her jaw, the warmth of her body, the rhythm of her heart rate going down. “You’re exhausted.” He whispered to her. 

The girl swallowed and he gestured at her hands, which managed to hold the gloves despite the tremors that shook them. She looked at them too, and he felt the realization dawn on her through their bond when she noticed how much equipment lay around the training pit. “Oh, alright.”She made to hand her gauntlets over, before thinking better of it - seeing as Stygius was still pulsing around his forearm. “I’ll…take these back while you finish up?” 

He nodded. “That seems like a good idea.” 

She ambled off to the corner of the courtyard, her gloves dimming as she went. 

Watching her leave, Zagreus’ brow furrowed of its own accord. While he scavenged the courtyard for loose equipment, he mulled over the concerns flitting through in his head.  We’re going out again. He thought, a small clawed hand appearing around his heart, administering a minuscule amount of pressure to the organ. Minuscule, but enough. I’ll have to keep an eye out for her. 

 

The underworld prince rolled his shoulders out, dispersing the nonsense voices in his head so he could finish the task at hand. 

 

.      .      .

 

I was combing out the sodden tangles in my hair when I heard Zagreus enter our bedroom. 

 

There were no definite changes in movement, but a queer silence settled around him. He cleared his throat before speaking. “Decent?” 

“Decent.” I replied, setting my comb down and turning toward the room divider as he approached. He leaned against the wall and I stood, pouring a glass of water from the pitcher on my nightstand. “Here.” I walked toward him and held it out. “In case you’re thirsty–” 

I started at the intensity of my prince’s complementary eyes focusing on me. His hand had moved quickly enough that I hadn't caught sight of it, then froze just centimeters from my wrist. My eyes skipped from his nearly-shining palm to his face when he whispered, “I just…” in a breathless sort of way before taking the cup gently from me. 

 

He leaned back and gripped the glass hard enough to pull the skin over his knuckles taut. I looked up at him and realized he’d spoken. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“May I…” He seemed incredulous at his own question. “See…something?” 

 

Though I could feel my brows knit together, I nodded. 

Zagreus shifted forward, departing the wall at the hip to bend down over me. I looked downward in discomfort and saw him white knuckling the glass even harder than before. The just-visible rim was turning orange in his grip. 

I thought to turn and ask what was going onm when I felt the feather-light tickle of his breath against the side of my neck. 

.      .      .

Zagreus’ squire stiffened, leaning away from him slightly as he breathed her in. He could practically feel the blood coursing in her veins as though it was his own. The mundane sound of her swallowing in discomfort shook him out of his daze and he realized their current predicament. 

“Apologies, but—” He breathed, still somehow frozen in place. 

.      .      .

“...Are you wearing perfume?” 

 

The question was so completely unexpected that I sputtered a laugh at it, and whatever spell had wafted over us was mercifully broken. “Perfume?” 

He leaned away and I found his face to be a cool pink where there was usually only sculpted white marble. “I just… you smell…different…” 

“That’s what–” I waved my hand at him “ this– was about?” 

.      .      .

 

The underworld prince shook out his hair. “No, sorry – it’s just that I’m not familiar with this scent. It smells like the garden.” 

The girl lifted a lock of her hair before sniffing it suspiciously, “You mean like… fresh air?”

“Of a sort, yes.” 

She shrugged. “I used the balm Achilles had given me for sore muscles, perhaps it’s that.” She eyed him again. “...And you’re alright?” 

 

He nodded abruptly, already feeling guilt wash over him at the fear that’d shown in her eyes when he’d moved to grab her wrist. “Yes, sorry. I was surprised.” 

“It’s alright…” She trailed off, discomfort weighing heavy in her body. “If you’d like some, I’ll put it on your nighttable.” 

Zagreus nodded, “Thank you, I may use some as well.” He murmured, forcing a smile before downing what little remained in his glass and moving toward the bathhouse. 

 

The prince of hell soaked for arguably longer than he should have. However, in his defense, he promptly fell asleep amid the soothing smells and sensations of the water. 

When he did rise, he dried out his hair and ambled toward the bedroom entrance and his bed. 

Once he made it there, he found a small jar of salve on his nightstand. One that he’d gladly have used if he’d had the energy. But given that he was half asleep, he leaned against his pillow trying to find the wherewithal to slather some on. 

 

In the end, he was unable to do so before drifting into a fitful sleep. 

.      .      .

The next morning they were prepped again and the girl seemed, for all intents and purposes, fine as they plummeted to the underworld floor. 

 

Zagreus wrapped an arm around her waist before they landed as usual, but was hesitant to let go at first. 

Her movement away from him was barred by his second of hesitation and he found himself looking into those impossibly deep eyes for the upteenth time. 

 

“Are you okay?” 

.       .       .

 

The prince of hell neglected to answer my query, rather searching my face with that searing intensity I’d come to love, hate, repel, and desire all at once.

I brushed my surprise aside and stared up at him, trying not to lose myself in the bliss of his warmth pressed so closely to me. Despite what I’d assumed would be the fiery inferno of  my afterlife, it was damn cold in Hell.

I touched his chest with my fingertips, the sensation seeming to pull him from the excavation he was conducting in my eyes. “Zagreus, are you feeling unwell?”

 

Another nudge, this one more directional than the last. 

 

I hissed, backing away from him and he released me. “Why do you keep doing that?!—” Another gasp as I tripped on an unfortunately placed hunk of underworld brick, then the haven of his arms around me once more, sure and strong and captivating. 

I stumbled over my words for the first time in a long time, looking up at him. At the severity of all the angles of his face. At the way the green godfire lamps played in the hollows of his cheeks, enlivening one iris while muddying the other. 

I arched my back when his fingers flexed beneath it. 

.      .      .

Zagreus felt the bubbly force of her embarrassment inflate between them like a rubbery shield. He could see the discomfort and embarrassment set alight in her gaze as much as he felt it pushing him back from her. 

The girl’s chest rose and fell in sharp, birdlike movements. In her fall, she’d grabbed hold of the front of his chiton, which she twisted now while she spoke. “What is that? Why do you keep–” 

He shook his head at her, leaning down as her voice receded. “Don’t speak,” he murmured, choosing to ignore how strong her hold on his clothing was, drawing his body toward hers. He braced her body with one arm, taking her free hand in his other and raising it to cup his cheek. “Send it to me.”

.       .        .

My brow bone was beginning to twitch from tensing up in irritation. “ How?” 

 

I grappled with the mix of fear and elation brewing within me.

The prince’s eyes searched the room around us as he found the words. “I don’t know, just… feel me, I guess. And I’ll feel you—“

I opened my mouth to utter some remark that would shield my discomfort, but his seriousness quelled it before my mind could craft one. Then we stood there, him leaning over me, my hair hanging down below us, grinding our jaws at each other. Gnashing and pulling against the bit that lashed us together in this insidious bond.

 

He gave in first. Fitting. Though the word entered my mind, all I felt was relief.

“Please,” His breath was hot on my throat. I didn’t know whether to be uncomfortable or aroused. Another brief internal scuffle with myself and I was sure he couldn’t tell. “Just try.” 

 

I shook my head against it, but closed my eyes to focus. Rather than letting my currently yowling feelings out, or allowing his to rush in, I actively searched for him. 

Down the fishing line of our bond I tugged and pulled until I found something solid, strong. Something sharp and quick and kind, something daring and endearing and unyieldingly defiant. Something impossibly intelligent yet hopelessly unaware, something interminably divine and characteristically hot, but something that warmed rather than singed. Usually anyway.  And begrudgingly I’d admit, it was something quite noble, regal even. 

When I found this thing, I shoved against it. Probably harder than I should have. I felt his intake of breath above me. Another shove, and his hand tightened in mine. I sighed to myself before stalking up to it and leaning into it, opening myself in return. 

And then, it gave. 

This formless divine thing, this essence of his being, it responded. It pressed itself into my consciousness over and over. I let myself be pulled toward it and breathed my question in as though whispering a coveted secret. 

 

What in the ever loving fuck is your problem?

 

The prince’s real life scoff jerked me from my sub-level consciousness and back into the real world. When I opened my eyes, I found him staring at me again. 

.       .      .

 

The flutter of her lashes could’ve blown him away like so many gusting underworld drafts. 

 

Thankfully, despite his squire’s rather rough go of it, the prince of hell felt relatively stable. “Good show. Though a softer touch would be appreciated.”

She rolled her perfectly shining eyes. “Don’t be an ass, and I’ll be as gentle as you’d like.” 

An eyebrow rose to the challenge. “Is that so?”

He felt her unease then, seeping through the makeshift cracks of the wall she’d hastily built up after retreating from his awareness. “Are you going to take the damn boon? Or is the real trial of the day how long it’ll take for me to end you myself?” 

The prince of hell sighed through his nose, gusting steam onto her before pulling her up to a standing position. 

 

“Yes. I’ll go get the damn boon, as you so eloquently put it.” 

.     .     . 

 

I nearly groaned when I saw the flare of the boon’s light around the few broken columns we’d cleared to find it. 

 

Warm and bright and inarguably red. An insatiable, greedy color, that one. 

 

The orb shuddered softly as the thought entered my mind. I balled my hands into fists, knuckles popping. My gloves sheathed my fingers and palms without having to be instructed. It felt nice, knowing someone was looking out for me. Zagreus shot me a perplexed grin at the feeling of affection that warmed us both. The metal buzzed, shining gleefully up at me.

Then, the prince’s hand contacted the glowing ball of power. In that moment, any euphoria fled the room faster than a fox with a hound on its tail. The orb buzzed, and the god of battle’s brutal form took shape in a shower of shining blood. 

.     .     .

“It seems that fate has brought us together once more, my kin.” 

 

The god of war tipped his scarlet-clad helmet toward Zagreus, then his squire. “And you, with Malphon still bound and at the ready.” His eyes shone staring down at her, and once more Zagreus felt a keen aggression rise within him. 

One that Ares surely noted, for he loomed over the underworld prince, who’d subtly maneuvered himself between the god and his mortal squire. “Temper yourself, Cousin. I bear your mortal companion no ill will.” A wicked smile graced his features. “Though I appreciate the bloodlust within you. There are few things more worthy of savagery than that which would threaten those you love.” 

 

A brief disruption of air to the prince’s lungs and both he and his squire spoke over one another. 

“That's not—”

“I don’t—” 

 

The war god pursed his lips in an amused smile before looking over Zagreus’ shoulder at his squire once more. 

“You impress me, small one. To entertain Malphon for so long.” His eyes flicked to the fists, buzzing excitedly about her wrists. “Too many weapons are so… indirect , I think. With Malphon, you are about as close to the destruction as can be.” He drifted closer, careful to remain behind the underworld prince. “I am curious what they see in you. But I’m sure we will find out soon enough, given the carnage they should bring bound to your–” Another weighty assessment, like he awaited her ascent to victory so that he may test her mettle himself. “-very capable hands.”

To her credit, the girl did not balk. Rather, she held her hand over her heart and bowed her head. “Many thanks for your praise, my lord. I am humbled by it.” 

 

“Mmmm yes well, pretty words are not necessary. ” Ares turned to Zagreus, a fond smile dressing his face as he clasped the prince’s hand, his grip smelting a handprint into the younger god’s forearm. “Bring forth carnage at my behest, and I shall continue to grace you with my favor.” 

Zagreus did not flinch at the pain, but he heard the ghost of a groan just exit the girl’s lips. At the sound, Ares grinned fully over his shoulder. “Keep your wits about you, girl. The more battle blood you spill, the less you'll have to fight in the end.” 

 

With that, Ares tipped his head to his cousin and spared another quiet glance at the rigid figure of his squire before disappearing in a flash of screaming red light.

Zagreus went to her. “Alright?” 

She rolled out her shoulders, and he felt the pain singeing her muscles. The mirrored image of the war-god’s burning handprint dwarfed her arm, encircling its circumference. Again, she did not balk, only stared at it with something like distaste. “Yeah, I’m alright.” 

 

The prince of the underworld surveyed her silently for a moment before nodding and leading her on to the next doorway.

Chapter 5: A Fleeting Favor

This chamber looked… different from the rest.

 

I followed Zagreus forward, already feeling the tension brewing over his shoulders, clutching at him like a vengeful demon. He seemed both perturbed and…relieved somehow. My eyes wove threads around the room, looking for any sign of an enemy. I was disappointed when rather than finding another strange healing chamber, they landed upon the silhouette of someone I’d been loath to see.  

But Zagreus’ shoulders did not set, nor did his stance widen. There was no greeting, and while the Fury rose to a standing position, I appraised her darkness-draped shape once more. She was tall, tall as usual, but wispy where she should have been broad. The signatures that her musculature carved out under the skin were those of sinew and bone, not flesh and muscle. Her hair floated behind her in a sub-luminous cloud rather than draping away like a gossamer curtain. My hackles rose in spite of themselves. 

Then there was the breathing. Shallow and rough, like she had something caught in her throat. Or like she’d had a hole blasted through it .

Zagreus shot me a look over his shoulder as if I’d spoken the thought aloud. 

 

If all this weren’t enough, she was also wearing green. Truthfully, that tipped me off more than anything else. Hypnos had told me once that Meg reviled the color.

A shiver went through me when I recalled the number of Furies the ancient myths drilled into my mind. Yes, among all Nyx’s countless children, Meg had two sisters. Triplets, I supposed - that’s where the significance arose. Equally powerful and vengeful of wrongdoers. Ample options for afterlife security. 

 

The fury’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts at her utterance of a single word. She gestured with her hand as she said it, then pointed to me. 

 

“..mmMMuurderrerr….” 

.      .      .

The underworld squire gawked for a moment while Zagreus engaged. “Now Tisiphone–” 

 

“Murderer!” 

The prince of hell shot a look at his companion, who seemed, unbelievably, offended by the Fury’s proposition. She held a hand to her chest. “Oh I know she’s not talking to me.” She turned to him. “It doesn’t count after they’re already dead, does it?”

Zagreus shrugged. “It shouldn’t, but–” 

“MURDERER.” 

Both companions winced at her voice, but the Fury was already in motion. 

 

This wasn’t going to be pretty. 

.      .      .

Something was wrong. 

 

Well, more so than usual, anyway. Which is saying something, I guess.

 

I fell to my knees, hacking blood onto the ground before trying in vain to rise. 

Though Megaera's sister was no gentler than she, we'd appeared to have the upper hand. That was until I’d felt Zagreus’ surge of warning, heard the lashing of the whip, and fell to the ground as my stomach was ripped open like a dress with a broken zipper.

Hang on. I stared at the floor, repeating the words silently to myself between gasps of pain. Don’t die yet. Let him finish her off.  

There was a lot of blood pooling beneath me. I could feel it, hot and oily and every conceivable type of wrong, wrong, wrong . 

 

So, so much worse than usual. 

 

My breaths grew even more ragged as I rolled myself onto my side and a new tide of warmth surged out of me. There was too much of it. I wasn’t going to last long enough. “Malphon—” I managed, cupping my innards and shoving them inside of me. “Help.” 

My gloves stalled in hesitation. 

“It’s okay.” I managed, hearing a scream of pain behind me. “It’s okay.”

 

 

The joining of a seam is usually a simple thing: two rough edges brought together by the force of successive stitching. But I had no thread, nor could my weapon compose one. Instead, I opted for a second course of action, one I’d used many times to prevent further fraying of fabric. 

A moment of pause from my weapon, to give me time to brace myself. Instead of doing so, I spoke. 

 

“Don’t stop until it’s done.” 

 

 

A wracked, empty sort of sound fell from my mouth when the burning started. My head rolled backward on the cold floor, dampening what hair was not already slick with sweat and blood. I could see the glow of my gloves behind closed eyelids, hear the hiss and sizzle of fat, an acrid smell like that of plastic melting to skin.  

I was able to just make out the shudder of the chamber before I blacked out completely. 

 

.      .      .

 

I woke to the soothing sound of running water. 

 

That, and the slightly less soothing feeling of that same water dribbling down my chin as Zagreus tried to pour it into my mouth. 

 

When I opened my eyes I nearly recoiled. 

My prince was stooped over me, covered in blood. A slice of flesh hung from his neck, revealing the bone and muscle beneath. I reached for it as much as I felt faint looking at it, but all he did was continue to clumsily tip water into my mouth. 

When I’d healed up enough that I felt only the lingering phantoms of pain in my abdomen, I pushed his hand away. He didn't comment, beginning to drink for himself while holding the loose component of himself to his neck for faster healing. I watched his bleeding recede, then cease, his pallor warming from ashen to cool alabaster.

He turned to me, blinking back tears. Or perhaps it was just water, he was running it over his head after all, washing off a veritable river delta of blood onto the floor. 

 

We stared at each other in silence for a while, the prince and I. Never, in life or in death, had I been so tired. 

My gloves had gone idle, probably having drained themselves of power to save me. That, or they were incapable of activating when I was in such a sorry state. Rather than our normal back and forth, Zagreus took my hand and squeezed it, pushing a quivering sort of feeling into me. Relief, that’s what it was. 

 

I managed to barely squeeze his back before my eyes shuttered close again. 

.      .      .

 

The prince of the underworld sat in silence for some time, watching the rhythmic movement of her chest, the tiny twitches of her hands, some of which set the delicate gearing in her gloves to moving. 

That had been overwhelming, even for him. 

 

He recalled a searing pain in his abdomen, tinged ruby red with Ares’ gift.  Then a brilliant golden flash to his left and an excruciating burning sensation. Had he not already set his final swing in motion, Tisiphone surely would have ended him then. The agony ended quickly, ceasing in time with the Fury’s head rolling onto the floor. 

Upon finding the girl’s body laying limply on the ground, the smell of burnt flesh violated his nostrils. He bit down on his jaw with force, trying to lift her as gently as possible. One of her gloves had morphed into a sort of brace around her waist, likely holding her organs in. The prince of hell tried not to succumb to the exhaustion that jostled his bones at every step when he’d carried his companion’s battered body through to the fountain chamber.

And now here he sat, staring at his miraculously living squire. Subject to a greater level of disquiet than he’d perhaps ever experienced. He sighed, turning away from a moment to wash his face in the fountain. 

 

Zagreus contemplated, then. If this quest was worth all that it was doing to her. Or, he would have, had he not passed into the shores of unconsciousness just after the thought left his mind. 

.      .      .

Standing up was a challenge.

 

I withheld a grunt at the soreness in my stomach when I tried to move. The sound must have disturbed the prince’s sensitive hearing because a hand shot out to still me. 

“Easy,” His voice was soft from sleep. Would that I could’ve tangled up in it and floated into dreams once more. “You need to rest.” 

“I feel alright,” The statement came out as more of a croak than a sentence. 

“How incredibly convincing.” His ember-glowing gaze was warming the side of my face. “By all means, feel free to traipse around at your own convenience.”

 

Rather than answering, I moved toward the fountain to sate my thirst, flicking him off over my shoulder as I went. He fell quiet for a moment and I sighed as the last of the pain was flushed out of me by the water. 

“While the hand gesture is some indication, I will ask—“His tired tone behind me was the first I’d heard of him moving. “How are you really feeling?”

“Tired." I murmured, turning to him and tapping his chest so he’d open his arms. I fell into him and buried my face against his body. “Thanks for the save.” 

He held me back, lifting my feet up off the floor in a hug and breathing into my hair. “Don’t do that again and we’ll call it even.”

I grunted in agreement against his chest. The weightlessness of my body held in his arms was a relief from the strain it’d experienced. 

 

“Sleep?” He murmured into me. Another grunt and he was tucking the both of us into a corner where we settled down and curled into each other. His warmth was a blessing for my battered body and even more battered mind, and I fell asleep to the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest against me. 

 

.      .     . 

 

When the doors opened, they were greeted by a gust of scorching air. 

Zagreus sighed, closing his eyes against the sulfurous wind. He glanced at his squire, who’d grimaced and turned from the heat once it’d acquainted itself with her face. It blew back her hair, and he could already see the blood rising to her cheeks. 

 

Once the draft passed, he glanced at her. “Alright?”

She secured her hair more tightly to her head, face still scrunched against the heat. “Yeah, I’m alright.” She looked around. “I don’t see the boat from last time. How will we get around in here?”

“Oh,” The prince rubbed his chin. “Considering that you can’t touch the lava, I’ll have to carry you the whole way.”

She shot him a perplexed look and he chuckled. “Fear not. Our barge awaits.” 

 

After a few moments of walking, the prince gestured to a pale white raft, hard and stark against the glow of the magma. His squire glanced at it in suspicion. “You’re sure that will hold you? Let alone both of us?”

“You know,” he put his hand over his heart. “I’m beginning to be offended at these quips. That boat is easily twice my length. Of course it’ll hold us.”

She raised her hand in defeat, wiping sweat from her brow. “Fair enough, let’s get moving.”

 

And thus they embarked.

 

.       .      .

 

“Prince?” 

 

Zagreus jolted to the present, having almost dozed off in the midst of warmth and rhythmic current. He looked up to see his squire narrowing her eyes at the framing of the boat, more visible on the inside than without. 

“What is this thing made of?” She ran the pad of her finger over it and chalky dust came away with her hand. 

He shrugged. “Bones of some sort, I’m sure.”

“Human bones?”

The underworld prince pursed his lips against a smile. “Most likely, yes.” 

She grimaced. “That’s unsettling.” 

“Apologies, I wasn’t aware that with all the post-death murder a bone-vessel was where you drew the line.”

“Not a murderer.” She shot him a warning look. “But fair enough.” She gazed around, a sour look still draping her face in displeasure. “At the very least it’s distasteful.”

 

The prince of hell leaned against his half of the boat, shifting the weight to its port side. He relaxed his arms on the boat's rim, watching his squire recenter herself. “I’ll be sure to bring that up with my father the next time we go on one of our famed family picnics.”

The girl scratched her neck, using the front of her shirt to wipe at sweat dripping from her face. “What’s got you all hot and cocky?”

He smirked. “You think I’m hot?”

 

She sighed deeply, fanning her face. “Compared to our surroundings? Sub-zero.”

 

.    .    .  

 

I turned to Zagreus. Sometime between this millisecond and the last he’d tilted his head to the side, pursing his lips while he appraised me. “You’re sure you’re alright?”

 

It took a moment for me to absorb his question. “I am a bit hot…”

“Ah,” the prince of hell leaned forward smoothly, rocking the tiny lifeboat to my side, leaning it precariously close to the edge of the magma. “Let me try this then.”

He braced his hands on either side of my body and bent over me, blowing softly against my face.

Immediately, I felt my temperature drop and sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “You’re welcome. But you really should try to learn more about your body.” He tapped his chest. “I got that from here, not from you.”

 

I nodded him off, relief consuming me as he retreated across the center of our meager vessel. 

 

.      .      .

 

We made quick work of our first island, snapping the bone-dry creatures Achilles’ Codex called bloodless into more meager portions. 

 

Upon completion, we found an orb of brilliant orange, the graceful arc of a wing curving within it. 

At Zagreus’ touch, the orb exploded in light, a surprisingly gentle gust of wind hitting my face. Along with it came not the likeness but actual body of one of the gods. I gawked for a blink before composing myself, something that neither my prince nor the heavenly stranger before me pretended to ignore. Though I stood behind him, I could feel my liege smile in spite of himself, a cheeky, daring smile mirrored by the deity before us. Noting the resemblance, I appraised the new god further.

 

He was slight of build and wiry. Long legs ended in feet that sprouted wings from each ankle. His head was crowned in laurels similar to Zagreus’ own circlet, but from these sprouted larger wings, the color of a sunset sky. Around his neck curled a long scarf that twisted and shifted in the wind behind him, looking very much like a flame in the night. He was tan and dark haired, with a mischievous smile and bright black eyes that drank us in at an alarming rate. I smiled back at him and he offered me a conspiratorial wink before turning to Zagreus.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, and good to see you Cous’. I’ve no message for you today, save this.” He touched Zagreus’ chest with his forefinger, and the underworld prince shuddered with the impact. 

I blew a gust of air out of rounded lips as the burn of strained muscles, hot and keening, flushed into every extremity as though I’d just run a marathon. I noticed Zagreus shake his hair out, my eyes catching on the halo of prismatic light resting just beneath the darkness in his hair. He was all fast, birdlike movement, whereas I felt incredibly still, like a sentinel waiting for the world to catch up. When my vision cleared fully, I found myself more energized than before, what could only be considered a runner’s high eclipsing my exhaustion.

 

Shaking off the warm glow I was sure we’d both accumulated, Zagreus looked at who I could only assume was the messenger of Olympus, dazed. “Thank you.” 

The young Olympian tipped his imaginary hat. “And for you, something special.” He whispered in my ear, suddenly behind me. “I’m not fond of beating around the bush, and brother dear raves about you up on the mountain.” 

Reaching around my curtain of hair, Hermes whipped a lock of it up behind my ear, securing it with a glowing orange feather. “So I’ll offer this. To put a spring in both of your steps.” He announced, words cut and quick as his movements. 

I nodded dumbly, Zagreus murmuring his thanks while shaking out his newly-strengthened limbs. He could probably shatter the ceiling now, or something of that magnitude. I thought in amusement to myself. Then I wondered what I could do. 

 

I glanced at the messenger god, who offered another wink as though he’d read my thoughts. “I’m eager to see if this picks up the pace for you two.” 

Rather than waiting for a reply, he bent into the smallest of bows before disappearing in a blazing line of light. I laughed, shaking my head in amazement. 

Zagreus approached me, tugging the feather out of my hair, and both of us gazed at it in awe. When I looked up at him with an excited grin on my face, I was pleasantly surprised to find his a mirror of my own. He handed me back the stray quill and I secured it to my bag. 

 

“I like him.”

"I had a feeling you would." 

Chapter 6: Recreation

Another, so soon? 

 

What a wretched feeling it was to waken and find a present less friendly than death itself. 

 

It's to be expected, I suppose. 

 

My heart was thumped into place by what felt like a forceful hand. I tasted sweat, the sharp cloying notes of old coins, felt a crosswind against my rapidly forming brow. 

He's never been one to wait. 

The gentle pressure of the water became soothing, if only for a moment. 

 

I have a riddle for you. 

The voice was gleeful, conspiratorial. It set my newly-grown skin to crawling. 

What has four wings, three heads, and a thousand hands to hoist all that which goes between? 

And now again, pulsing, oily, vile. I felt sick, my soul nearly grateful for the separation my flesh prison provided from this wretched watery tomb. 

 

The voice waited. As did I. 

 

Fine, fine. It conceded. If you won’t guess, I’ll have to tell you. 

It was a trick question! 

Its vigor set my lungs to heaving in the rancid not-air around me.

You would not know of this creature, that which tricks and offers and speaks in familiar tongues. He is not known to you, yet you have something of his.

A tremor blew through me like the sigh of a mountain. 

Though perhaps if you did, you would get along. If anything, a god needs his thief, does he not?

 

I felt hot tears rushing down my cheeks as I rocketed toward the surface. 

 

.      .      .

 

“Awfully kind of you to bring me this…” 

 

Zagreus eyed the god of sleep over the apple he was presently offering him. Despite the blood river’s vestiges still retreating from the scaffolding of his body, Hypnos flourished out in a bow, offering the fruit above his cloudy-haired head. “A gift for my favorite of the underworld’s royalty.” 

 

The prince of hell frowned at the smaller god. “What did you do to it?”

Hypnos straightened, abject horror written neatly along the nearly invisible lines of his face. “I am hurt that you would insinuate–”

“No, really, Hyp. What did you do to it?” 

 

The chthonic god shoved the fruit out to him. “Nothing.” 

Zagreus eyed it suspiciously as he took it in hand. He sniffed at it, dabbing his tongue on it gently. Then, he took a hesitant bite. 

It was delicious. 

 

“Wow, I’m surprised it didn’t explode or something of that nature.” 

Hypnos rolled his feline eyes. “Yes, yes, I do care deeply about you, you know.” His face split into a grin. “And now you’ll never know whether I intend to help or harm you. Have fun determining which on a case by case basis.” 

 

Zagreus shook his head good-naturedly, wrapping a bloody arm around his friend, who hissed in disgust. “Yes, I’m truly terrified. Thank you for the snack.” 

“Ugh,” Hypnos stuck his tongue out. “You’re welcome.” 

Before either god could continue the throws of their conversation, a soft light floated to the top of the blood pool, casting gentle ripples along the surface with the wind it carried in its wake. 

It was a feather, glowing orange and dancing along the water’s surface up to the stairs. Zagreus re-entered the pool to pick it up, turning when he heard a voice behind him. 

 

“Another favor?” 

Achilles had approached out of curiosity at the light and sudden draft coming from the entrance to the underworld palace. “Already?” 

"Yes. From my cousin, Hermes." The prince shrugged as a dark crown of hair followed the plume's example, rising to the surface of the water. “He said he didn’t like to “beat around the bush” or something of the sort.” 

 

The warrior shade leaned against the spear he planted on the floor beside him. “So he gave that to you.” 

“No,” The prince replied, moving further into the pool to take the girl’s hand. “He gave it to her.”

All eyes fell on the underworld squire as she steadied herself using his bulk, hacking up blood like a ghastly murder scene. Well, perhaps not quite like a murder scene, given the soft cursing betwixt each cough. Achilles grunted in surprise, nodding his head in approval as Zagreus walked her up the stairs to where Hypnos waited with towel-wrapped open arms. He engulfed her in a cushioned hug, murmuring, “And how was your return to the underworld, sweet one?” 

“I…” She trailed off, then began to muss the blood from her hair with the towel. “...it was fine.” 

Sleep’s brow furrowed. He rubbed her back softly while Zagreus and Achilles glanced at each other. “Well then,” his voice had dropped a decibel. “Seems we’ll have to celebrate that tonight, won’t we?” 

 

The girl’s head perked and Zagreus couldn’t help the fond smile that graced his lips when she spoke. “We're going out tonight?” 

“If you’d like to.” Hypnos addressed the duo together, looking between the two. 

Zagreus ran a hand through his hair. “Given what happened the last time with Morpheus…”

 

He would’ve finished the thought if she hadn’t looked at him then. With eyes as great and promising as the moon and her hair in disarray, curling up under the towel she held close to her scalp like a hood. “Please, Zagreus?” 

He looked her over. “You should do what you feel up to, but I just think that it might behoove you to rest after today…” He trailed off, waiting for some sort of quip of joke that would both exasperate and reassure him that she was alright. Instead, he got a taste of childlike excitement being held in her midriff, in the imperceptible pressure of her lips, soldiered together against a smile. 

 

“Let’s both go." She said, voice hushed. “Let’s celebrate together, please?” 

She took his hand and then there were those eyes again. The prince of hell sighed through his nose. With all the underworld at his disposal, he was powerless against them. “If you’d like me to, I’ll come along as well.” 

She squeezed his hand. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me.” He muttered, choosing to ignore both Hypnos’ chuckle and his teacher’s knowing smile while she led him down the hall. “Just be careful.” 

 

The girl declined to answer, merely tugged him on to their shared room in quiet elation.

 

.      .      .

 

After a characteristically long soak, followed by an undetermined bout of unconsciousness, I was woken by a hand on my shoulder.

 

I looked up to find Hypnos floating over me. “As much as I love watching the adorable faces you make while you sleep, Dearest, it’s time to get dressed.” He leaned down to give me a peck on the cheek. At his touch, my fatigue vanished. I rose from my bed. 

The slumber god floated back around the divider. “You too, Fire heart.” 

I heard a soft thud that sounded suspiciously like a pillow being thrown against a head of prickly hair. Then Zagreus’ answering groan, muffled by some bedding or other, was still belligerent despite its protective covering of down and cotton. Finally, there was some shuffling under the covers as I considered my options for more suitable attire. 

 

Hypnos’ tone was lofty. “Well, if you’d rather not come, you could leave guard duty to me–” Another thump and a grunt from my floating friend. “Well,” He griped, probably adjusting his clothes. “Someone’s not in a very celebratory mood.”

“Hyp.” Zagreus groaned the name. Heat blossomed between my legs at the growl to his just-waking voice. His next huff was cut off by what sounded like two pairs of lips coming together for a tender kiss, and the heat beamed to my cheeks as well. The prince chuckled, voice still husky. “Alright, alright. I’m up.” 

 

“Good!” Hypnos chirped, breaking the grip their interaction had on me. “Now get dressed, the both of you! I’ll be waiting outside. That is,” His voice suddenly turned to me.  “Unless either of you would like some help with that first part.” 

I laughed weakly, tugging a skirt up around my hips. Zagreus just chuckled, muttering, “Go.” Before a soft click told me our friend had left the room.

 

There was near silence as my roommate and I shrugged into our clothing.

“Quite a reaction to that conversation.” 

The vibration of his voice thrummed through my body. I heard the floorboards creak as the prince made his way toward the door. When he spoke, his voice was a monotonous melody. 

“What a good listener. You should try using that talent more in training, I’m sure Achilles would be impressed.” 

I clutched at the hem of my skirt when he murmured, “I’ll head out into the hall so there won’t be any further distractions while you change.” before chuckling on his way out. 

 

I grumbled to myself as I finished dressing, silently promising that I was going to do anything in my power tonight to foster those exact feelings with someone other than him. 

 

I opted for a dress instead. 

.      .      .

 

Zagreus turned from his leaning position against the wall at Hypnos’ whistle. 

 

The prince looked his roommate over evenly, gripping his emotions with an iron fist to keep them safely tethered down.

Hyp floated over to her, taking her hand and twirling her around, allowing the skirt of her black dress to billow out, showing skin scandalously high on her now battle-toned legs. The chthonic god floated behind her, wrapping his arms around the fitted waist of her dress and squeezing her into a hug. She giggled when he said, “Wow, I really might take guard duty tonight if it means I get to watch you dance in this.” 

“Guard duty?” The heat in the prince’s ever-burning body that had tempered with her laughter, flared as she caught his eye with embers glowing in her own. “I don't need a chaperone. Besides, we’ll see how long I’ll be there tonight.” And who I’ll be leaving with.  

 

Hypnos laughed maniacally at her implication, casting a demonic smile toward him. The girl followed his gaze, looking Zagreus over slowly, seemingly unimpressed. 

The prince made his way to her, tugging her dress strap up on her shoulder. “We’ll see if any of them can measure up.” He flashed his teeth in a wicked grin before following her and Hypnos down the hall. 

 

With your size, he thought, I don’t know that you’d want them to.

.      .      .

 

The chamber we entered this time was vast and drafty, more open and spacious than the last party I’d attended. 

 

Mazes of columns, broken or otherwise, lay scattered around the huge gallery. A great green fire swelled and flickered in the largest open area, with clusters of dancers weaving themselves around one another to the music. Two smaller fires, one of violet and one of crimson crackled merrily to the side, laughter and raucous noises wove their way in with the melody. 

I was already swaying back and forth to the birdsong of the pan flutes and pounding thrum of the drums when Hypnos tugged me toward that central flame. My side grew cold and I turned to see Zagreus moving toward the fringes of the room. I grabbed his wrist before he could. 

 

The prince of hell turned his ever-bright eyes on me, and I could’ve sworn twin flames, one of godfire and one of the earth, danced in his gaze. He leaned down, tilting his ear toward me. 

“Where are you going?” My voice sounded strange, lifting over before being consumed by the din around us. 

“To sit.” Zagreus pointed over to a clear space, where a gaggle of spirits were already eyeing him with the most promising kind of interest. “I’ll watch you two from there.”

I hesitated, biting my lip. Ask him to dance, a quiet voice hissed into my mind. His attention flitted down to my mouth then back to my eyes. I balked. “Are you sure?” 

“No need to be nervous.” Zagreus’ smile was a knowing one. Clearly the wrong kind of knowing, though the kindness was appreciated. “Go, have fun. Hypnos is waiting for you.” The prince tilted his forehead toward the fire, where Hypnos had already begun to dance, winding into and around the crowd before beckoning us over. 

I relinquished my hold on him slowly. “Alright, but–” Another half second of hesitation gave way to cowardice. “...you should celebrate too, Prince.” 

 

He tousled my hair in response before turning to walk toward his destination. I tried to ignore how young and stupid the gesture made me feel, out here amongst all these wild immortal beings, and trotted over to the fire. 

 

.      .      .

 

Zagreus reclined onto the moss-covered floor. He watched his squire haltingly twirl her way through a step dance, his mind filling in the spaces with the laughter he couldn’t hear. He smiled in spite of himself as she slipped and her nymph-shade teacher caught her before she could fall to the floor. 

 

He usually avoided underworld parties unless he had a particular desire to meet someone new. Many of the beings he encountered would depose him if given the chance, and were quite open about it. That said, it felt good to sample the mood of the room. His eyes trailed along the throng, watching the movement of bodies, the laughter, the skirmishes breaking out on the sides of the cavern. 

When his gaze slid back to her, it caught on the gossamer of her skirt as she twirled, tilting her head back as an arm clasped her waist to dip her. A soft smile played on his lips before he pursed them, feeling a hand graze his leg. 

 

“My my,” The creature's voice was melodic and husky. Zagreus snaked his gaze up their body, feathers softening the outline of their calves to their taloned feet. “What do we have here?”

He hedged the question, taking their flawless hand in his before brushing his lips across their knuckles. “Someone who would love nothing more than to bask in the glow of a siren’s company.” 

The siren's laugh was as enthralling as the unknown depths of the ocean. They held their jug of wine to the prince’s lips and he took a hearty swig while they positioned themself over him, straddling his waist. “Drink, for tonight water and fire have met.” When the bottle came away from his face, he saw their stormy eyes glint in anticipation. “Let us determine how familiar they can become.” 

He propped himself up against a moss-covered stone, running his palms over their legs and up their hips. His knee bent slightly when he moved and felt the heat between their legs as they began to grind on his thigh. He managed an –“I’d love nothing more.” before they latched onto his neck, tugging down his chiton to reveal the expanse of his chest. 

 

The prince gave himself fully to the pull of pleasure, only occasionally glancing over the siren’s shoulder to ensure his friends were safe. As the song wore on, he made himself intimately familiar with their body, licking the salt from them, biting into sensitive areas and relishing the answering moans pulled so tenderly from an eternal voice of longing. 

Their talons were enticingly gentle, trailing soft red scratch marks along his back and chest. He sunk his teeth into their neck, and they moaned into him when he licked the droplets of blood away. His laugh was muffled by their skin when he slid his hand between their legs and began to tease them. 

“What a pretty sound.” He crooned. They increased their pace on his leg, talons digging into his back just a bit deeper.  He nipped at their neck. “Do it again.” 

 

The prince was drinking in his partner’s moan of pleasure, savoring the shuddering response of their climax against him when an superbly unwelcome voice met his ears. 

 

“Happy to see you’re enjoying yourself for once.” 

 

Zagreus leaned back against the stone, puffing steam in place of groaning in annoyance as Meg lowered herself beside him. The siren leaned forward into his warmth, tucking their forehead into his neck before extending a hand toward the Fury. 

The prince let his fingers rove the siren’s back, shifting their thigh a fraction higher as they began to rock it against him. “Unless you’re going to join us,” The siren cooed their encouragement when Meg kissed their wrist with fire in her eyes. “please find someone else to bother.” He fisted the siren’s hair when they sucked at a particularly sensitive spot on his chest. 

The Fury considered, looking the two of them over as Zagreus’ breath hitched at the Siren’s grip on him. “I think I’d like someone to warm up with, so I'll decline for now. I only wanted to tell you,” She leaned into him, trailing her tongue along his neck and pinching the siren’s skin where it grew into their wing. “You two did well the other day.” 

“Don’t tease. ” He managed. The husk of her voice was going straight to his head, among other areas. Or perhaps that was the siren given that they'd dipped their head between his legs. He swallowed when he felt the tender caress of their mouth enclosing him. 

Meg pressed her lips to his ear, whispering “You both deserve a reward.” right as he felt the siren suck slowly up to his tip. The Fury rose just as release rocketed through his body. “Meg, ” He ground out in irritation as he came down the siren’s throat.

She merely stood over him, amber eyes glowing in satisfaction as his orgasm pulsed through him. “And there’s yours.” 

 

Zagreus’ nose wrinkled as he grumbled “Go. fuck. yourself.” between breaths. 

 

She shook her head at him, eyes catching hungrily on a group of naiad shades a short distance away. “I thank you for the encouragement, but I don’t think I’ll need to.” She paused as she made to move toward them. “I would like to congratulate your squire in person. I’ll find you when I’ve completed my business there.” 

Zagreus waved her away and the siren fell to his side, tangling their legs in his. He adjusted his clothing before taking the bottle from the ground and gulping down more wine. “Gods, I needed that.” 

The sea-spirit's chuckle wrapped around the still pleasure-weak part of him as he caught a glimpse of his squire between the chaos of moving bodies before resting his eyelids and drinking in the beauty of the night.  

 

.      .      .

 

After learning approximately 2 and a half dances from kindly shades and spirits, I needed a break.

 

Hypnos swung me around, laughing with me as he plucked me from the crowd. I followed him to the nearest source of alcohol, grabbing an extra cup of wine. 

“That thirsty, are we?” His very words shuddered with amusement. 

“I wanted to get some for Zagreus.” I turned to find the chthonic god smiling kindly at me, before his eyes caught on something over my shoulder. 

 

“Oh, I think he’s well satiated.”

 

I squinted through the dim with my weaker human eyes, generally making out something writhing in the lap of what looked like the prince. I shook my head against the flash flood of emotions - amusement, insecurity, embarrassment, relief,– clawing its way up my insides. At least he’s celebrating in some capacity, I thought, letting a sigh out to dissipate the pressure. I lifted a cup toward Hypnos. “More for us then!” 

“More indeed.” Hypnos smirked as he caught something else over my shoulder. I was going to mutter something to him about leaving Zagreus to his privacy when an incredibly deep voice cleared its throat behind me. 

 

I turned to find the god of nightmares looking me over with amusement. 

“Hello, brother.” The words rumbled from his chest toward Hypnos, but his gaze never left mine. “May I steal your dance partner for the pleasure of her company?” 

Hypnos looked to me, and I shrugged. “Very well.” He said, already floating toward a familiar crown of coily hair across the way. “But I’ll be keeping an eye on you two.” 

“I would expect nothing less.” Phobetor offered an arm to me, leading me to a clearing where I handed him my extra cup and we sipped our beverages together. 

 

“I hear that you made it past the first warden.” He said, lifting his glass just so. “A feat worthy of congratulations.” 

I dipped my head. “Thank you. But it was a group effort.” 

“Ah yes, the princeling.” He turned to the general area where I knew Zagreus lay, and where an echo of pleasure sidled into my hips from his body. “An interesting creature, that one.” 

 

“Mmm.” My tone turned flat as I sipped my wine. “And one who’s done quite well holding his own against you and your brothers.” 

The god chuckled, the sound like a panther growling. “I see you’ve heard of our interactions.” 

“And I did not find them to be as entertaining as you seem to.” 

He shook out his long locs, gold glinting amid the abyss of his hair. “My brothers like to play. If ever they should decide to truly test the prince’s limits, I have no doubt he will retaliate in kind.” 

My eyes narrowed. “And why is it that he should have to endure a test from them?” 

The beautiful deity shrugged, leaning back onto his elbows, the luster of his skin shifting as he did. “Any ruler should be tested against the strength of their subjects. Do you disagree?” 

I frowned into my wine glass, swirling the liquid around the bottom. “Maybe. But I don’t think you three have tested anything other than his patience at this point.” 

 

The god of nightmare’s laugh was the vibration of an earthquake. Several of the beings near us ceased their sensual movements to look for the source of the tremor. “You wound me with the assumption that I take part in it.” 

I shot him an incredulous look. “Don’t you?” 

His teeth shone like stars. “Only occasionally. And!-” He held a finger up the very second my lips parted. “Only in humorous but harmless interactions.” 

“Maybe you have a terrible sense of humor.” 

He shook his head, still smirking at me. “And yet I manage to laugh at you.” 

I nodded to myself. “Which is a testament to my skill with words, not your preference for amusement.” 

 

Phobetor leaned onto his side, taking my wrist and gently pulling it toward him. He eyed me over the glass, tipping the last of my wine down his throat. “And what,” He pulled away, licking his bottom lip. “Perchance, are your preferences for amusement?”

“Well.” I eyed him dryly over my empty glass. “I like drinking and dancing, and currently I’m doing neither of those things.” 

“Mmhmm.” He mused, rising to his feet. “I suppose that should be remedied.” 

 

The god of nightmares held a hand out to me. Once I was standing, he looked me over. “Come. Dance with me, I want to watch you move.” Another flicker of those copper eyes downward. “And I want to see how that pretty little dress of yours moves with you.” 

I considered saying no until I felt the surprisingly strong tug of release pull at me. I coughed in discomfort, leaning on Phobetor’s arm as the feeling rocked into me.

“Do you feel ill?” He asked, brow furrowing.  

It was an effort not to look to the edge of the room where I knew my prince was positioned. “No, no,” I smiled through my discomfort at the impossibly beautiful being before me. “I may have had too much to drink.” My voice came out a bit breathless, and I could've sworn he took a slow breath through his nose. 

 

Once the feeling subsided, I shook the echoing tingles from my body and managed a toothy grin. “Alright. Show me what you’ve got, Lord of Nightmares.”

 

.      .      .

 

Zagreus rose, stretching out the muscles in his rapidly healing back before turning to survey the chaos before him. He looked over the siren, gently warming the air around their sleeping body before strolling into the throng in search of his companions. 

 

He found Hypnos first. 

Not. With. his squire. 

 

Rather swaying and grinding ecstatically with a goddess that Zagreus recognized as soon as he approached. He tapped the smaller being on the shoulder. Both deities turned to him.

“Pasithea.” Zagreus dipped his head to her and she returned the gesture. He turned to Hypnos. “Where is she?” 

“I’ll tell you, if you want.” The god’s speech was slurred. The prince suppressed an eye roll. “But you’re not going to like it.” 

He took a step forward, heat suddenly radiating off his skin. “ Where? ” 

Hypnos waved a hand to their left, right toward the center of the dancers, and the fire. The prince flicked his friend’s forehead, hard, before stalking toward it. 

All manner of spirits moved for him despite the absence of his laurel circlet, likely because of his scowl as much as the heat searing anyone who got too close. He turned to look around once he’d reached the middle of the gathering. 

 

Hypnos had been correct. He did not like it.

 

The prince’s jaw ticked as he approached the god of restless horror. He rested a hand on the small of his squire’s back, which tensed as he came up behind her. “Hello Phobetor.” 

The god gave the slightest incline of his head. “Hello, princeling.” 

“Are you enjoying the music this night?” 

The god’s gaze turned to the girl, copper eyes gleaming with heat. “Very much so. The music, the wine, and the company.” 

 

Zagreus ran his hand in a small circle on her back once to inquire after her wellbeing. She leaned into him in a silent reply despite the twang of irritation gripping her ribs like handlebars. He nodded his head toward her dance partner. “That’s good to hear. I’ll have to try the wine.” 

“I couldn’t recommend it more.” The god smiled, taking the girl’s hand and pressing his lips to it. Zagreus felt an irritating feeling of his own constrict his chest when her cheeks warmed in response. 

Phobetor dipped his head to the two, deeper this time. “I must go, night approaches the mortal world. May you enjoy the revels ahead.”

 

With that, he seeped into the side of the cave, shadows trailing in his wake as though belaying his reluctance to leave his mortal dance partner. 

 

.      .      .

 

Zagreus rolled his eyes, grumbling, “It’s always night somewhere in the mortal world, Socrates.” under his breath.  

 

I turned to the prince, whose rage butted up between us as he saw mine. “Very nice.” The words tasted bitter on my tongue. I hoped he felt it too. 

His eyes were simmering back to some small annoyance, weighing his next words. “You shouldn't dance so close to the flame.” He said, voice tight. 

I sucked at my teeth. The high pitch sound made him flinch, and I smiled sweetly at him when he did. He pinched the bridge of his nose, but I turned and walked away before he could speak. 

 

Through the sounds of the party I couldn’t make out his gate behind me, but the warmth at my back told me he followed. When we made it to the sidelines, I smiled kindly to some neighboring shades before turning back to him. “What do you want?” 

The prince’s eyes were caught between irritation something more like distress. He shook his head slightly, opening his mouth to speak, then he held a hand out. “Dance with me?” 

His obliviousness infuriated me even more. But before I could respond, a familiar voice cut through the music. 

 

“Ah, my murderer.” 

 

I swallowed as Megaera approached me. “Dancing over my corpse, eh? Did you save one for my sister too?” 

My brain stumbled for a moment before kicking back up into motion. “I…I don’t–” The fury crossed her lithe arms, and I swallowed my discomfort. My voice came out pitifully thin. “How are you feeling?” 

Relief rocketed through my body when she snorted a laugh. “So dramatic.” 

I gasped softly as she leaned in, taking my chin. “I wanted to congratulate you.” She murmured, the words coming from deep in her chest. She pressed a perfectly velvet kiss to my lips before leaning into my ear. I blinked back the haze of arousal in my mind as she murmured. “Well done.” Before pulling back. 

“Next time I’ll have to try a bit harder.” She ran the pad of her thumb over my bottom lip, and I felt like melting into the ground before her. “Or I could just do this. It seems to leave you quite incapacitated .”

 

She chuckled again while I took several deep breaths, trying to regain my senses. Once I had, she clapped me on the shoulder, looking down at me with a seriousness I hadn’t yet seen in her. “I underestimated you. It won’t happen again. I swear it.” 

The look she gave me was open and clear, her eyes apologetic. I put my hand on her opposite shoulder. “Thank you.” She nodded silently back. 

 

A polite reply would've risen to the forefront of my mind, but I needed a bit more than sincerity to feel dignified after providing such a display.

“Although,” I murmured, turning in a circle, drawing my hand up her shoulder and down around the base of her wing. The fists that hung at her side flexed as I circled her, trailing my finger around her. “I’d be interested in finding out the depth of your other talents one day.” 

 

A sound like a tigress’ growl rumbled from her chest as I completed my circle and faced her. She bared her teeth in an smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She murmured before turning to Zagreus, whose arms were crossed. 

“Like I said, keep an eye out.” 

 

I hadn't the slightest idea what it meant when Zagreus scoffed, but nodded back.

Chapter 7: Confrontation and Relaxation

Notes:

Hi Everyone!

Sorry this is so late! Had a rough few weeks but its only 10:30 and we're back in business baby.

Anyway, here's wonderwall.

Enjoy!

They spoke little as the party waned. 

 

Zagreus could feel her irritation like a set of spines, pricking and yanking at the tangled, constricting force of his own. Her’s were in her chest, back, shoulders; his were about his head like a devil’s horns. Family resemblance, I guess. 

 

When they finally returned to the room, she spoke.

 

“The chaperoning comments weren’t a joke, were they?” 

The prince of hell ran a hand through his hair. “Initially, yes, they were.”

She sniffed, crossing her arms and feigning innocence. “And what ever could have made you change your mind on that front?” 

Zagreus shot her a look over his shoulder while he jostled off his shoulder guard and set it on the table to his left. It was smaller than his usual Cerberian guard, and fought him briefly. Seems to be the theme of the night. 

He’d needed to pretend he wasn’t a prince for a night. But the night was over, and both parties had upset the other. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to shake some sense into her or himself. He mused about the benefits of each in his mind while he disrobed. 

 

His roommate watched his movements with a remarkable level of focus. Her dark eyes cast in a green sheen when his gaze caught in hers before he turned to face the table behind him. 

“Do you intend on guarding me whenever I join Hypnos for an outing?” 

Do you intend on throwing yourself in with the Oneiroi each time? He shook his head at the thought, his immortal fingers removing the twin golden bands on his forearm smoothly. “Don’t play with fire, and I won’t have to.” 

“Unfortunately, I didn’t get the chance.” Suddenly behind him, she plucked a feather from the back of his chiton. “It seems someone else captured ‘fire’s’ attention before I could.” 

 

The underworld prince turned to his squire in a fluid, silent motion. He hadn’t even noticed her approach he'd been so focused on restraining his feelings from her. He looked down at her, eyebrows raising at the glimpse of hurt he caught before it tucked itself up under her sternum. He swallowed.

She crossed her arms. “So tell me why your playmate got to stay while mine had to go.”  

Part of him wanted to smile at the thought. It's not my fault he fled like a coward. Rather than speak the thought aloud, he leaned into the guilt he was feeling. “I didn’t mean–” 

“But you did mean to, Zagreus.” Her eyes flashed at him. Not loving, or open, or taunting. Just angry. “And you accomplished your goal flawlessly.” 

 

The prince turned from her, tugging off his chiton before sitting on the bed to pull off his trousers. “The Oneiroi are–” 

“Phobetor.” She responded, tone clipped and careful. “Not the Oneiroi. Phobetor.” 

“Yes.” He breathed, leaning back as he freed his legs. “Phobetor. The cunning and wicked god of nightmares.” He shot her a meaningful look. “Is not the equivalent of me and a siren engaging in…” 

“Don’t call him wicked.” She scoffed again as he trailed off uncomfortably. “And I already know exactly what you were engaging in while I was dancing.” 

 

He tilted his head to the side and she tapped her chest with two fingers, turning from his gaze as she did. The prince paled. “You mean you–” 

“Not all of it.” She muttered, sitting on the fainting couch across from him and pulling off her shoes. “But enough.” 

He cleared his throat in mortification and she looked up, dark eyes filling as much as her heart with something akin to shame. “I’m sorry, for that. I tried to distract myself as best I could.” 

Zagreus shook his head vigorously. “No, no. It’s not your fault. That’s just…” He blew out a breath.

“Yeah.” She sighed, taking her hair down. “It is.” 

 

The room grew quiet while the girl massaged her feet and untied her belt. She stood, and his eyes followed her dress’ drifting route to the floor. Then she was standing there in nothing but a black slip, so similar to her typical night attire. Infinitely more dazzling than the shimmer of her party dress on the polished tile flooring was the simple luster of her skin, warm and inviting. Zagreus had changed the candles in his room to mortal flame nights ago, once he’d seen how she shown in the light of his own fire. The godfire lamps didn’t do her justice. 

 

“So, explain it.” 

Zagreus shook away the thoughts tangoing in his mind at the sound of her voice. His friend crossed her arms, leaning back against the bookshelf behind her. She sounded so tired. 

He ran a hand through his hair. “Phobetor is dangerous.” 

“And a siren isn’t?” 

“Well, no–” He caught her eye. “I mean yes, but–” 

“But not for you.” 

He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs. This is not going to end well. “It’s different.” 

 

“I’m not an idiot Zagreus. You’re not like me.” He tried to bundle away how much that one hurt. “I know it’s different.” 

He rubbed his mouth, then took a deep breath before responding. “Then why bring it up?” 

“Because.” Her grip tightened on either arm. “I want to understand why you seem to think I require a chaperone when I go out,  but are more than comfortable taking me out into hell to battle monsters–”

“That’s different.” His knuckles popped as he cracked each one with his thumb. Comfortable is certainly inaccurate. 

“How?”

“ Because ghouls and mortal shades are not equivalent to deities.” 

“I know.” She bared her teeth at him. “Heaven forbid anyone here let me forget it.”

 

“That’s not–” 

 

“Then what, Zagreus?” She stalked toward him. He tilted his head up to meet her glare with his own. “Why is it so different?”

 He snapped shut the casket of feelings that irritation was intrepidly clawing open. “Because-”

“Because what?” 

His teeth groaned as he ground them together. “Because I don’t have a choice on whether or not to take you out there.” 

 

The underworld gripped the side of his bed in either hand, throat burning in the smoke that his touch elicited. “If I did, there’s no way in all the underworld I would be taking a mortal into that hellhole.” She wrinkled her nose when he jabbed a finger in the general direction of the Tartarus exit.

“Luckily,” Light was leaking from his eyes, casting either half of her body in opposing colors, this green somehow friendlier on her than the party's bonfire-glow. “When we’re out there, you have the gloves.”

“And in here I’m completely defenseless?” 

His voice dropped to a warning level, though the warning was perhaps better advised by himself at this point. “To a being like Phobetor? You’re pretty damn close.” 

 

He watched her jaw move back and forth, her heel bounce into the air, felt the swirl of anger she was trying to keep down. She was shaking her head, hair rippling down toward the floor as she broke his gaze to look at it. He saw two shimmering teardrops fall and his voice softened. 

“I want you to enjoy yourself. Dance with anyone and everyone.” He murmured, reaching a hand out toward her. “Dance with a shade, a nymph, a satyr even.” He hesitated on the last one. When he paused, she stiffened as if she felt the block between his feelings and his words. Something rose up within him at the light catching in her eyes. Me, let me tempt you into blessed depravity the way they do.

The frankness of his own desire lurched him back to the present. He tried to distance himself from it.  “Dance, dine, flirt, fuck, do whatever you want, just please consider the risks–” 

“You don’t get a say in who I do anything with.” She jerked away from his touch, looking up to bare her teeth at him again. “And I wanted to dance with you. ” 

 

Zagreus’ thoughts skittered to a halt. There was a pause as he struggled to find words, and she went on. “I wanted to celebrate with you. I just,” She took a shaky breath, and he could feel the hurt further pushing through her constraints. “I thought that we’d come a long way and I was happy and I wanted to celebrate with you. She wiped at the tears in frustration, backing away as he reached for her again. “Look, I know that this wasn’t much of an accomplishment for you, but it was for me, and I…” 

He opened his mouth to object over the creak of his heart breaking deep in his chest. Despite the poignancy of his thoughts, no words came to him. 

She continued after crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “...And it’s fine that you didn’t want to dance, but I didn’t need you watching me like I’m some child that can’t be trusted to act on their own.”

“I just want to protect you–”

“I never asked for you to protect me.” She snarled. “I don’t want you to protect me.” 

 

The prince of hell went very still, breathing against his frustration. Or was it hers? The tide of emotions flowing between them grew more volatile with each volley of words. When he looked down at her he felt a tidal wave coming on. “Then don’t do things that necessitate it.” 

 

The underworld squire barked a laugh through her tears. “Like what? Dancing? With any being other than Hypnos?” 

“No.” He hissed. “Just the ones that are inarguably more dangerous than they let on.” 

She looked completely incredulous. “You mean gods like you?” 

 

A small cloud of steam billowed from Zagreus' mouth. He took a step back lest he burn her. "What on earth are you on about?"

"You think I can't feel how much you hold back from me?" She put her hand to her chest. "In training, in conversation, in general?"

“That’s different.” He huffed, blowing what little steam remained across the room and far away from their conversation. 

“You’re right. Because you’ve decided that you’re completely harmless to me. So I should just believe you–” 

“If I have made you feel uncomfortable then I am more than willing to discuss and reevaluate.” He ground out. “But that’s not what we’re talking about here.” 

 

“But it is.” She bit back. “You decide you’re ‘safe’. You decide who's not safe to be around. You decide when to move forward despite my clear communication that I’m fine.” 

“But you're obviously not fine!”

“You don’t get to make those decisions for me.” 

The prince of hell raise his hands up as though in defeat, taking another step back as the movement let loose a wave of heat. As if the friction in the room isn’t enough. “ I’m not trying to make decisions for you, I just–”

“You just know what’s best for me.”  

 

He didn’t move, just stared at her while he tried to wrench himself from the headlock he’d somehow ended up in. He could feel himself getting hotter. The barrage of her fury surging against him like a sea storm was not helping. 

“You don’t trust me to be capable of handling these situations. Phobetor, my trauma, my healing. On my own.” 

“I do trust you–” 

“Which of your actions tonight had anything to do with trust?”

Suddenly all was cold. The room grew quiet, darkening when the underworld prince lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

She sniffled, wiping at her cheeks and turning to the divider. 

 

“I don’t care that you’re sorry, Zagreus.” 

His head shot up at her words.

“You’re putting all this pressure on yourself to protect me in ways I never asked for. Then resenting me for feeling like you have to.” 

“You don’t understand what it’s like having a responsibility to keep your subjects safe.” He eyed her retreating back, draped so elegantly in black silk. There are few things more worthy of savagery than that which would threaten those you love.

She turned to him, looking for all the world like she wanted to say something but couldn’t decide on what. He let her mull over her thoughts before repeating: “I’m sorry, truly.”

 

The girl stopped just before she was out of sight, gripping the edge of the wooden divider. "That apology is meaningless because this has nothing to do with me, it’s all about you and your sense of duty.” She sighed, stalking around the divider. “You’re the one who needs to get it together, not me.” 

 

Soot fell from the prince's face in a fine powder as he ran a hand over it. 

 

Fuck.

 

.       .      .

     

I rose to a sitting position, kneading at my brow in irritation. 

 

Absurd. This was absurd. 

 

I extracted myself from bed, trying to be quiet despite my frustration so as to avoid another surely heated conversation with my roommate. 

Gods. Authority. Responsibility. Repulsively arrogant. 

 

I scratched my throat, trying to clear it of tension. Wincing at every minuscule slap of skin on wood, I made my way to the door, intent on walking out the heat in my blood along some winding path in the garden. 

Dance with anyone, he’d said. As though that was his permission to give. As if he had some right to allot me the ability to flirt and fuck who he–

 

I stumbled slightly into an abrupt stop in front of two presently oblivious forms. One form, really, though undoubtedly composed of two individuals floating neigh but a foot from the ground. I watched as Hypnos’ elevated body drifted this way and that, a familiarly lovely head of coiled hair masking his face. 

Pasithea was wrapped around him like a python, the unblemished skin of her shoulders poking through her hair like austere mountains through clouds of morning mist. Even without looking at her face, she glowed, undeniably divine. I looked down at the arms that I’d wrapped so tightly around myself and sighed through my nose at my own impotence in the face of such power. 

At my sound, the goddess pivoted, pulling Hypnos along with her. Their floating amalgamation slid smoothly to a halt until they were just before me, each with a shoulder pointed in my direction. They surveyed me up and down, catching their breath while I stuttered over my words, trying to apologize for interrupting. 

 

At my second attempt, the goddess’ hand rose gracefully in front of me, a signal to stop. “You are tense.” Her voice was archaic despite the swollen splendor of her lips. She unhooked her legs from her lover’s waist, letting her toes drip to the floor like precious stones. Hypnos eyed me in that predatory way he had while she turned to me fully. “What troubles you, Dear?” 

I waved my hand in front of me in an effort to disperse the vapors of the question. “Nothing, just a long day, I was going to–” 

Again, another graceful command to cease the movement of my lips. Though this time, Hypnos spoke. “An argument with our dear prince, I take it?” He leaned over his lustrous companion, resting his chin on her slanted shoulder once she’d set her hip in place against the wall. 

 

I looked them over and something plucked at my heartstrings in witness of their otherworldly skin tones accenting each other. The impossible beauty of their silhouettes, the touching concern in their eyes. Their heads tilted together, silver and fuschia-tinged black mingling like perfumed smoke. I nodded. “Yes. But truly, I’m fine. I think I just need to take some time and…” 

“Unwind?” Her voice came from before me, yet curled around my head like the most sinful melody my brain could have concocted, had I the skill. I nodded again. 

“That, dear one,” She murmured. “Happens to be my specialty.” 

The goddess wafted an arm toward me as though she would rest it on my shoulder, but the god of sleep captured her graceful wrist with tender hands before she could. When I turned my attention to him, I realized Hypnos was still eyeing my nightwear appreciatively. After a moment of silence, wherein I tried and failed to recover my breath and still the heat rising within me, he spoke. 

“Would you like to?” The golden coins of his eyes flipped up toward my face. His voice was soft enough to fall asleep in. “Unwind that is?” 

I swallowed, looking between the two. Taking a deep breath, I ran a hand through my hair, a thrill rising in me at the sight of Hypnos’ fingers tensing around Pasithea’s waist in response to my movement. 

 

“Yes.” I looked them both in the eye. “I would, actually.” 

 

“And, are you…” He leaned over the goddess’ shoulder, catching her in a look, which she nodded to, looking me over with similarly hungry eyes. The heat kept rising. “Partial to any particular mode of relaxation?” 

Another nervous swallow. The rosy cheeks of the goddess before me curved into a small smile. Her teeth glowed like the moon in between the dark swells of her lips. I looked back at my friend. “Not particularly, no.” 

“And you are comfortable if our dear prince overhears this conversation?” 

“He’s asleep.” I rolled my eyes, but any annoyance was the smallest rip current tugging at the weighty tide of desire rolling into my body in the present moment. “But yes, I am.” 

Hypnos leaned forward, a savage smile slashing across his face. “Then come here, Beautiful.” 

I took a small step forward and the goddess of intoxication slid an arm around my waist, gently taking my lips in hers. The feeling of warmth, of another body against mine, was enough to push me further. After a smooth kiss, Hypnos took my mouth in his and the three of us moved to the next door down the hall. 

 

.        .        .

 

And so I found myself between two impossibly soft sources of heat, weaving through the veritable maze of pillows in Hypnos grand chamber. 

 

It was humid and smelled of incense. Or perhaps that was Pasithea, who was currently licking at the nape of my neck in a particularly stimulating way, running her unbelievably smooth hands up and down and in between my thighs.

Hypnos had claimed my mouth quickly enough, and I was pleasantly surprised to find his tongue tasting of some sweetened, drowsing tea. When we (somehow) successfully made it to his colossal bed, he sat on the edge, sliding his fingers under my slip and running them slowly up until my thighs, stomach, and waist were exposed. He ran his tongue over the sensitive skin there, running his finger tips in a decadently slow line up the side of each leg.

I signed, leaning my head back onto Pasithea’s shoulder. She took the opportunity to slide her hands under my arms and into my dress, tracing the outline of my nipples before softly massaging my chest. 

I hooked my hand around her neck, leaning fully into her embrace and pushing my hips toward Hypnos, who had begun to suck at my inner thighs. He chuckled in that airy way he had before tugging the both of us to him by my hips. 

Breathing against my stomach, he slipped his thumb under my underwear and dipped it between my thighs. When he began to flow into a rhythm, Pasithea chuckled at how I shivered under his touch. 

“I do hope you’re not particularly fond of this pair of underclothes?” She asked, and I managed to shake my head. 

The goddess ran her hands down my hips before hooking her fingers under the cloth and snapping it apart neatly on either side. I felt the delicate fabric slide to the floor, then shivered when the feeling was overtaken by the sensation of Hypnos’ lips on me. He pulled me to him, leaning back onto the bed and bidding me to follow. 

 

I climbed up over his hips, pausing when he tapped my side. “Mmm mmm.” He shook his head. “Not there, here.” He pointed at his face. 

“Fair enough.” I murmured, sliding over him before turning myself so that I face Pasithea, who had already removed his pants and was in the process of shedding her finery. 

I leaned forward, not yet to Hypnos’ mouth, and helped her unclasp the back of her clothing by reaching around her waist and pulling my mouth to hers. Her heady giggle was the most intoxicating music and the sheer silk of her skin on mine set my desire to purring contentedly within me. 

Hypnos massaged my thighs, chuckling. “I gather you’ve discovered something you like?” 

I just laughed, pulling the front of his shirt apart, bearing his chest while Pasithea pulled his trousers down his thighs and drove herself down onto his hips. 

 

.         .         .

 

Hypnos tapped my side, and helped me position myself over his mouth. Once there, he wrapped his arms up under my thighs and around. Rather than settle in to him, I watched with heavy lidded eyes as Pasithea slid herself onto him, his brief intake of breath matching in time with her moan of pleasure when she fully slid home. 

I leaned forward to press kisses to her, to feel the sweet ecstasy of her skin once more, but was jerked back suddenly by Hypnos’ hands. He mumbled something deep in his chest about evening the distribution before dousing me in his silver tongue. 

 

My sharp inhale elicited a soft huff of a laugh from the goddess before me, who was rolling fully into her own rhythm, rocking up and down on him with ease. She leaned her forehead into me, her breath tickling my collarbone, her nipples teasing mine. I hummed a moan when she gripped my hip with her hand and an airy giggle of pleasure danced through her lips to my ears. 

My moan was cut off by a sharp gasp when Hypnos dipped his fingers inside of me. I began to match our partner's pace and we danced as one over his softly moving body. 

I could feel him curling his finger against me, coaxing it deeper until he found the reaction he was looking for. I felt his tongue tracing the sweetest, most infinite of nothings onto the sensitive surface of me, his other hand matching the delicate movements with a firm grip on my ass. 

“More,” He whispered. I could feel the cum coating his lips when he spoke against me. “Please, more.” 

 

I nodded into Pasithea, who merely smiled serenely before taking my mouth in hers. If her body smelled of incense, her mouth tasted of rose wine. All sweet and bitter and rousing and needy. She traced the corner of my lip with her tongue, and I became lost in the rhythm of her body rolling into mine with every matched movement between and below us. Lost in the feeling of Hypnos seamless fingers pushing into and out of me, the current of his tongue, the pressure of his lips sucking on my skin. Pasitheia moved her hands to my thighs, her grip slowly tightening the faster the tempo. I felt my abdomen roll into a current of tensing and relaxation, using the momentum to push myself further against her and onto Hypnos' waiting mouth. 

When I felt the true pressure begin to mount, Hypnos heaved a sigh and slid his free arm closer around me, bracing my body. I could feel Pasithea driving herself forward, small whimpers prancing from her lips to mine when we kissed. As her hand tightened around the skin of my thigh, I sank into the sensation, moaning in gratification when I finally felt the bite of her nails into me, the suddenly slow and shaking movement of her body holding itself immobile to savor the fleeting sense of infinity flowing from her. Her face fell into my neck and her sighing bell of a groan was muffled by my skin. 

At the same time she rocked further and further into me, Hypnos guided her body around him. At his final thrust she threw her head back in a squeal and her nails dug even deeper into me. I watched her back arch, heard Hypnos whimper into me, saw how her thighs quivered as she held herself taut over him. Her lashes fluttered close as her mouth formed a soft o and she gripped my thigh before falling fully onto me. Their sting threw me into the blessed rotation of my own pleasure. 

I shuddered against her, leaning into her grasping hands on my hips, my stomach, my thighs. Leaning into the sleek curve of her tongue all over me. Driving my hips backward at the same time onto Hypnos waiting hand, onto his fluttering tongue, and muffled my own moan in her shoulder as I felt the euphoria run down from my body into his mouth. His tongue slid into me briefly, coaxing another gasp, lapping at me like a dog. 

 

After we were all spent, we lay there shaking for a moment - Pasithea and I crumbling into one another like the walls of a needy old house on a weakening foundation. Eventually Hypnos relaxed under us and I used the goddesses momentum of pushing away from me to tilt off of his and fall onto the mattress beside him. Pasitheaia tucked herself into my other side, and I fell asleep with my face nuzzled into her and the warmth of the slumber gods soft body pressed fully to my back.

Chapter 8: Perspective

 

Achilles, son of Peleus, savior of Greece and fighter of a thousand hoards, was growing tired of his pupils’ shit. 

 

The proud warrior massaged his temples for what must have been the fifth time in a single training session, trying to block out the incessant pressure filling the room in effect from his students’ tension. To be in battle again. He thought. To be covered in blood and piss and shit, but away from these children. 

This was the third morning in a row they’d been completely antagonistic. Each sparring circuit ended like a volcano erupting, but pert and barked, with the bite of winter's chill. The unending monotony was setting his eye to twitching. He’d always preferred spring. 

 

“Watch your arm.” The girl snapped, holding her now bleeding nose. 

“Better yet.” The prince of all hell bit out, “Perhaps dodging next time would be advisable. Or oh, I don’t know, not biting my hand!” He held up his own bleeding appendage. 

The undead warrior sighed through his nose. 

The girl's own nose wrinkled as she mocked her liege’s words. “Perhaps dodging would be advisable . Perhaps you should grow up.” 

Zagreus’ eyes began to glow in complement to one another. “I have been alive for hundreds of years—"

“Really?” She placed her hand over her heart. “I never would’ve guessed, what with all your overflowing maturity!” 

“Would you like to see some—“

 

“Enough!” Achilles barked.

To their credit, both students snapped to attention, though they leaned away from each other. The demigod ran a hand through his hair. “What exactly is going on here?”

He grunted when they both answered together, “Nothing.” 

 

His nose could bleed for all this sighing. “A whole lot of this ‘nothing’ is getting in the way of your training.” He snapped his fingers, beckoning them closer. “Come. Sit. Let’s talk.”

Zagreus nodded in acceptance and trudged over, but the girl planted her hip against the sand. 

Olympus save him. He glared at her. “Sit or stand, lass. We’re working this out either way.”

A tense moment. Then a huff and a heavy shiver through the sand as she plopped down beside him. 

 

“Now,” the warrior breathed, “what exactly is going on here?”

 

Neither being answered. 

 

The prince of Pythia rolled his sea-glass eyes, wishing for the taste of salt wind. “That’s fine. I can quite literally wait forever if necessary.” 

The girl rolled her eyes back at him, but Zagreus perked up. “Fine.” He said, shaking his head at his squire’s exasperated look. “He’s not kidding, you know. He’ll sit here for nights.”

She stared between the two men in front of her for a moment before muttering something along the lines of “Of course he would … ” 

 

Achilles shot her a look, but relief flushed through him when Zagreus flashed a smile at her words. 

The teacher contemplated their current predicament for a moment.  “You know what?” 

Both heads turned to him. 

“Figure it out on your own.”

Both pupils blinked in surprise, then looked at each other. 

The girl shrugged, “If that’s what you really want…”

Zagreus made to stand, and likely leave, before Achilles shook his head at them both. “Figure it out on your own, but do figure it out.” He smiled cheerfully at them. “For we’ll not be postponing your next run in light of these scuffles.” 

He could see the caution rise in both of them. “You’ll be leaving tomorrow, first thing upon waking.” 

 

“Tomorrow?” The girl squawked. 

Zagreus turned to their teacher. “That barely gives us time to prepare–” 

Achilles shrugged. “Too bad. And for what it’s worth, I’d recommend discussing a battle strategy. Or at the very least something that resembles a plan, to avoid any unnecessary difficulty on your part.” 

Zagreus blinked in frustration, but his jaw remained clamped shut. The girl’s, on the other hand, was slightly agape, her eyes wide in both incredulity and alarm. The duo looked each other over for a moment before speaking over one another. 

 

“I’m going to sharpen Stygius–” 

“I’ll pack a bag.”

They both remarked before stalking off in opposite directions. 

 

Achilles watched them go with a wince. 

 

Well, he thought. That didn’t work. 

.        .        .

 

Zagreus entered his bedroom quietly. 

 

He just managed to hide a smirk when his roommate jumped at his approach. Barely. 

 

The prince of hell looked his steward over while she tried to regain her composure. There was a hastily strewn pile of pomegranates to her left, bandages and balm to her right. His eyes caught on a glimmering vial of blackish liquid as she slid it deftly into a minuscule back pocket. Good to know where that’ll be. He felt nauseous as the words entered his mind, thinking of past instances of its use.

Zagreus looked up to find his squire looking at him through her eyelashes, eyeing him surreptitiously to ascertain the source of his unease. He coughed, rubbing his neck when she looked away. 

“And we’re ready to go?” 

A soft intake of breath. “Yes.” 

 

.        .        .

 

“Good, well…” The prince managed, turning from her to sit at his bed. “It does occur to me that we aren’t beholden to Achilles' direction in this matter.” The prince relayed to me delicately. “If you’re not feeling up to–” 

 

I straightened, snapping and tying away the openings to my messenger bag abruptly. “Do you mean to tell me that I lack permission to attend you in this matter,” I said, leaning backward to frown at him past the divider. “My lord?” 

 

The prince of hell’s eyes sparked with quiet irritation. I felt it rise from his heart to his collarbone, crawl up the sides of his throat. “You should sleep on it.” He bit out, waving a hand over his head. “We can talk in the morning.”

“Is that an order?” 

 

Zagreus crossed his arms. I tried to ignore the way his gaze was setting me alight in more than just fury when he leaned back against his headboard. 

“Fine.” He grumbled, muttering- “I’ll meet you at the exit in the morning.” before stalking out toward the bathhouse doorway.

“Fine!” I barked back at him. “I’ll see you then! 

“Fine!” 

“Fine!” 

 

As my liege’s footsteps echoed up the stone hall back to me, I rolled my eyes before finishing my tasks and preparing for bed. 

 

.        .        .

 

Despite my forceful assertion of the night before, I found it hard to sleep, and even harder to head in the direction of the exit when I awoke. 

 

It must've been what equated to early morning, because even Zagreus didn’t rise when I moved to change. Either that, or he doesn’t want to speak to me, I thought. Which was fair enough given that at present the feeling was mutual. 

And so my thoughts alone kept me company when I donned my satchel and made my way out of the room for some semi-fresh air before our departure. 

 

After I’d walked through the training pit and back out to the main hall, I found myself on the balcony overlooking the Styx as I had many times before. It was unsettling how quiet the house was, with only the Styx’s current to cushion the harshness of silence on my eardrums. 

Just when I’d nearly had enough, I heard a voice behind me. 

 

“He is trying to help you know.”

I sighed as Hypnos lowered himself next to me. “He only acts this way because he cares.” 

I stared at him a moment, running my tongue over my teeth. “He has an absolutely shit way of showing it.” 

Hypnos shrugged. “In this situation? Arguably, yes.” 

 

Despite my best efforts, my curiosity peaked out between my teeth, forcing my lips to move. “Not in others?”

“I wouldn't know." The god of slumber stared out at the blood river, kicking his feet. “He’s never behaved in such a way before.” 

“And that makes it better?”

“Not at all.” 

 

Quiet fell between us, save for the swish of our legs in opposite time to one another. Then, Hypnos spoke. 

“He’s never had to worry like this before. Everyone else here was bigger, older, scarier.” I glanced at him in amusement and he shook his curls out in mirth. “Yes, even me.” 

“I find that hard to believe.” 

“Believe what you like.” Hypnos leaned backward, letting his hands brace him from behind. “I have talents beyond your imagination, as you discovered recently.” 

 

Rather than respond, I looked out over the crimson water again. “It’s just that we’ve talked about this before. I can take care of myself.” 

Hypnos sat up to search my eyes for something unknowable. When he next spoke, his voice was frank. “You know, for someone so gifted at untangling peoples’ heads, you have yours shoved remarkably far up your own ass.” 

 

I leaned  away from him, struck dumb in surprise.

Which was likely a good thing, given that he continued to speak without waiting for my reply. “My darling, you are unequivocally skilled in combat to a level that very few could aspire to. But,” Here we go. “You are a human.” 

I was already nodding out my aggravation. “Truly? I’d actually forgotten. Thank you for the reminder–” 

 

“Oh cut the shit.” He said, and I nearly laughed in shock. “You’re conflating strength with worth and those are two very different things.” 

“I’m sorry,” I put a hand to my chest. “Am I not allowed to feel irritation when being surrounded by, and arguably at the mercy of, superior beings? That wasn’t in my House of Hades welcome guide, I’ll have to reread it.” 

“You are quite literally proving my point.” One of his curls was dancing in his eyes and I hated how dashing he looked while being such a complete ass. “Being stronger doesn’t make them superior.” 

 

“You”  I said. “Include yourself.” I ticked my head at him. “Understand the divide here.” I held up a finger when he opened his mouth. “One that’s perhaps been constructed, but regardless, a divide exists.” 

“Fair enough.” He held his hands up. “But the world doesn’t bend to your whim, much as we all wish it would, with those bottomless eyes of yours.” He caught me in the corner of his shining yellow gaze.

“You may be right,” I said, wrapping my arms around my knees. “But I didn’t make this divide, I was born into a world that shaped it.” 

He nodded. “I’d feel the same way.” 

“We’re in agreement then - he’s being a shithead. Excellent.” 

 

Hypnos chuckled, but didn’t look at me. After a moment of quiet, he spoke. “I think maybe the reason he is so protective of you is because you’re the first being that’s ever needed it.” 

I scowled at him. “Oh, fuck off.” 

“I will do no such thing.” He sighed, “Would you let me finish, please?” 

I stared at him suspiciously, but gestured with my hand for him to go on. 

 

He bowed his head mockingly at me. “As I was saying. All of the deities are bigger and stronger. And all of the other shades are dead.” He shrugged. “They don’t need protection. Hades drilled these ideas into his head and he’s never had a reason to use them.” 

“Until me.” 

A nod. “Until you.” 

 

He eyed me sidelong. “I’m not saying that means you should play along. What I’m saying is that you seem angrier about this than you would be if you’d given him the benefit of the doubt.” He shrugged. “And I, for one, think he deserves that much.” 

 

Hypnos let me stew in his words for a moment. I watched the river swirl below me, a blank slate of red waiting to cover my waking body like poison. 

“You’re right.” 

He blinked rapidly for a moment. “My gods, you actually said it.”

“Is that such a surprise?”

A silver eyebrow arced over his eye. “Yes, actually. It is.” 

 

I looked away from him. “I just wish he weren’t so….. ugh sure of himself and his ideals all the time.” 

Hypnos barked the beginning of a laugh before covering his mouth lest the house wake around us. “Zagreus , sure of himself? Are you serious?” 

I snorted. “Entirely.” I leaned forward at his look of disbelief. “Am I missing something here?” 

"Quite a bit apparently.” 

 

“Alright,” I sighed. “Out with it.” 

“Oh, I couldn’t make it that easy for you my dear. You’ll have to do a touch of work on your own here as well.”

“What work?”  

“Watch him and see.” 

“And that’s all you’ll tell me.” 

Hypnos fanned his face. “That’s all I have to say. 

 

We turned to one another, measuring each other with our eyes until I leaned forward toward him.

“I’m going to push you in.” 

“You will not. I just got this cleaned!”

“And what a pity. Now it’ll have to be exactly one half shade darker than its original color.” 

“It’s not the color that bothers me.” Hypnos cringed as though speaking the word set a chill through his wisp of a body. “It’s the texture .” He waved a hand ambiguously at me. “It gets horrifically crunchy when it dries.” 

“Noted.” I said, flexing each foot out over the river before I stood. “I need to go, I don’t want to keep him waiting.” 

 

“Mmmm,” Hypnos purred, floating toward me and brushing his lips against my forehead before leaning his against it. “Be safe, dear one. Keep him safe as well.” 

“I’ll try.” I breathed. “And I’ll think about what you said.” 

“Ah, who knew I’d be witness to a miracle so early in the evening.” 

I pushed away from him. “Don’t you have a job to do as well?” 

Hypnos only looked at me with a knowing smile. “I meant what I said. Look again. You may be surprised at what you find in him.” 

 

I waved my hand over my head in acknowledgement as I trotted down the hall. 

 

.        .        .

 

Zagreus awoke to an empty bedchamber. 

 

There were no signs of movement in his roommate’s side of the divider, nor was there the soft rhythm of her breath to cushion his waking mind. No heartbeat or shuffling feet, no splashes or quiet singing wafted in from the bath.

It was very quiet in his room, he realized, without another being in it. He wondered how he’d done it for so long. The silence felt so heavy now. 

Regardless, in the current situation he wasn’t sure whether to be worried or relieved, but in the end it really didn't matter. They had work to do, and despite any conflict he trusted her to be there when it came time to do it. 

 

Zagreus nodded at his mental assertion as he dressed and made his way toward the door. 

 

.        .        .

 

I approached my prince’s seated figure briskly, trying to coax some semblance of an internal defense around the swell of anxiety rising within me. 

 

When I’d made it to him he tilted his face in my direction. 

“I’m sorry,” I breathed, “I’m sorry I'm late.” 

The prince of hell’s gaze was serene, if wary, when he stood “You’re not late.” He murmured. “I’m early.”

He offered me a hand, which I took lightly, looking down at our feet when he pulled me against his side. Then he wrapped an arm around my waist and we jumped as we had so many times before. 

 

Once we’d landed, I drew back from him as quickly as my body would allow. He let me go, looking down at me with an unreadable expression before turning to the boon before us. I could feel his apprehension, but hadn't the ability to articulate the drive behind it. 

That was until I followed his gaze to find our first boon - a shockingly bright shade of mulberry - vibrating with delight at our presence. When I looked back at my companion I heard his voice in my head as if he’d spoken the words himself. 

 

.        .        .

 

You’ve got to be kidding me. 

 

The underworld heir cleared his throat rather than utter the words aloud, but he was sure his squire understood the sentiment regardless. He took a deep breath, letting loose a miniscule stream of air from between his lips before making his way to the gift before him. He noticed with relief that the girl did not follow behind. 

When he touched the orb, it bubbled into vibrant purple light like the fizz of champagne from a bottle. A great clamor of merrymaking went up around him, butting against his sensitive ears. He refrained from covering them. 

 

“Cousin!” Dionysus laughed, spilling ghostly wine on his similarly phantom-like chest. “It truly has been too long!” 

 

Zagreus’ heart swelled with affection for the troublemaking immortal, and just a tiny bit of guilt over his feelings of jeal– aggression so long ago.

Then, the Olympian caught sight of his squire and that aggression came roaring back into the picture.

 

“And you girl!” The glowing avatar swaggered across the room toward her. Zagreus followed the movement coolly with his eyes. “Any embarrassing information you’d like to relay for me to spread amongst our top-side relations?” 

Zagreus just caught the shine of her eye near the god’s waist. He could sense her apprehension, and slowly made his way closer. 

“Unfortunately, no, my Lord.” She said, her voice softer than usual. When Zagreus came to flank his cousin, he noticed a weak smile dressing her face. “He’s quite devoid of shameful qualities, I must say.” Zagreus' eyebrows rose in spite of themselves, prompting his squire to roll her eyes.

“Is that so?” Dionysus waggled his eyebrows wildly at his cousin, and both the prince and his squire looked in opposite directions. “Hmm….” The god looked between the two. 

 

“You two are having a spat, aren’t you?” 

 

Zagreus and his squire stammered in response. 

“I’ve no idea what you’re referring–”

“I’d hardly call it a spat–”

 

He shot the girl a look just as she paled at the Olympian’s unforgiving grin. “I see. It seems my brother may have more social awareness than previously supposed.” He circled the two with untamed hunger in his eyes. “Perhaps that’s why dear Aphrodite cherishes him so.” 

Something tells me that’s not it. The underworld prince caught his companion’s eye and her gaze said the same. 

 

“Anyhow,” Dionysus continued. “You two are in need of auxiliary support are you not? Let me see if I can lend you a helping hand.”

The god of wine flourished his hand and both companions were rocked backward with the force of his blessing. Zagreus felt the sickly sweetness of figs coat his tongue, warmth bloom deep within his belly and at the back of his throat. He was suddenly lightheaded and insatiably hungry. 

Once he’d steadied himself, he looked over to find his squire’s face reddened. She ran her hands through her hair as if to clear her head, and Zagreus couldn’t help but notice how the light lit up the curve of her throat when she did. 

There was a nudge at his shoulder. 

He turned to look at his cousin, who clapped him on the back before winking at the girl. “Have fun you two!” 

 

Dionysus turned to lay out on his fainting couch once more, before cautioning, “But not too much fun!” with a theatrical finger wag before disappearing into a haze of what appeared to be hallucinogenic smoke. 

 

.        .        .

 

I stood slowly, trying to shake the dizziness from my body before they entered the next chamber.

 

When I finally came to stand by my liege, I found him shaking out his hair, blinking away the fanciful confusion clouding his mind. He took a deep breath before looking at me in question. I nodded in return, and we made our way forward once more.

 

.        .        .

 

One would assume that a blessing of intoxication would be disadvantageous in circumstances such as ours. However, as many would argue, alcohol has a slew of benefits both on the battlefield and off it.

Dionysus’ boon helped nullify my sense of fear in battle, and allowed me a fluidity I rarely possessed even in my most serene moments. Being drunk also had the effect of making me slow to react, and even through my stupor I could tell it was getting on Zagreus’ nerves. 

 

“Please try to focus.” He bit out, appearing behind me to pull me against his body before a witch’s flare imploded the area where I’d been standing. 

“I am trying.” I managed, trying and failing to scowl up at him while he jerked me in a different direction. “For what it’s worth, I am less than half your size.” 

He stared at me in furious disbelief. “And?” 

“And.” I yelled over the sound of the chamber’s bell tolling our victory. “I don’t have the sheer– and frankly unreasonable – amount of mass that you do to absorb alcohol efficiently.” 

“Oh blood and darkness,” He nearly groaned the words. “You’re actually fully drunk right now?” 

“No.” I said, crossing my arms. “I’m just taking a bit longer to–”

 

I threw my hands up at his incredulous snort. “Just give me a moment!” 

 

.        .        .

 

Zagreus shook his head in frustration before stalking over to his squire. 

 

He held a hand out. “Give me that pack.” 

The girl did, even if extracting herself from the straps seemed to pose more of a challenge than usual. 

The undead prince rifled through her messenger bag before pulling out a pomegranate and squeezing it slightly, cracking the brittle flesh in two. He handed half to her, wrapping the other half in a dry cloth. “Eat.” He ordered. “It’ll help.” 

“But shouldn’t we save these for–” 

“Oh please, for Olympus’ sake, just eat the fruit.” 

 

She sighed heavily, muttering “Fair enough.” Before crossing her legs and plopping down onto the ground.  

After a long stretch of scooping and chewing, the girl sighed, shaking out her limbs. Another moment passed where Zagreus watched the light play at Stygius’ idle form of hardened ink around his bicep and he looked up to find his squire inching toward him haltingly on her ass. 

He could've thrown his face into his hands in exasperation. “What is it?” 

She pointed toward his shoulder. “You’re bleeding.” 

 

Zagreus looked down at his other arm, a trail of blood had underlined the curve of his musculature all the way down to his fingers, where it dripped on the ground. 

“Ah,” He sighed. “I am.” 

He held out a hand for her pack once she’d made it to him, which she offered before plopping down in front of him as well. She watched him wind the white fabric around his shoulder, red blooming underneath the cloth at every turn. 

 

.        .        .

 

“What?” He asked me. 

 

I focused my eyes on his face, on the ebony eyebrow arching over his red eye. “Where does it all come from?” I asked, pointing at the scarlet below the gauze. 

Zagreus looked down at himself for a moment before shrugging nonchalantly, which certainly made the stain immediately bigger, and ticking his chin toward the edge of the chamber at the Styx roaring by. 

 

“Home.”

 

I looked at the crimson current. “But you’re not the god of the Styx.”

“Does it matter?” He asked, taking my hand and running his thumb down my wrist along one of the veins there. “We all come from the same place and we all go there in the end.”

 

Blood to blood. I thought. 

Zagreus nodded as though he’d heard me, and suddenly the idea wasn’t so scary. Not morbid or looming or any kind of wrong. It just was. 

 

I rose to my feet and he rose after, looking me over. “Think you can keep it together for a few more chambers?”

And just like that all serenity fled. 

 

“Think you can kiss my—“

“Do not finish that sentence.”

“Why not?”

When I rounded on him I found the prince of hell’s eyes had begun to glow. “Because we’ve made indiscriminate progress and frankly I’m this close to killing you myself.”

 

I crossed my arms at him. “That doesn’t sound very princely of you. Shouldn’t you protect your subjects?”

 

Zagreus ran a hand through his hair. “I said I was sorry.”

“And I said I didn’t care.”

“Fine.” He hissed. “Come along or stay here. I’m moving on.” 

“Right, right.” I called, gathering the pack he’d pressed into me and hustling to follow. 

 

“I’m coming.”

.        .        .

 

Hypnos leaned against the wall behind him serenely. 

 

With Cerberus napping nearby, a minuscule line of shades voicing their grievances, and Lord Hades scribbling at some ancient scroll long enough to circle his chair, the house was rarely this quiet. He could finally take a nap.

The god of slumber stretched out in midair like a cat, lowering his eye mask to block out the light and sank deeply into his own power. 

 

For approximately less than a minute. 

 

Because as soon as he’d settled into a comfortable position, his prince erupted from the blood-pool to his right, an uncharacteristically humorless look on his face.

Hypnos lifted one corner of his mask, blinking at Zagreus with his right eye. “And how was–”

“Don’t. ” The prince ground out, stalking toward the pool stairs. When he approached his friend he muttered, “Can you please make sure she comes up alright?” under his breath before prowling down the hallway in response to Hypnos’ curt nod. 

 

As though summoned by her companion's voice, the underworld squire’s head sprung from the pool with no less ceremony than that of her prince. She flung her hair back before standing to spout a small stream of blood into the water at her feet. 

Hypnos offered her a towel. “I see that excursion went about as well as expected.” 

She puffed a small sigh from her nose, then looked up at him innocently. “How do you figure?”

“Very funny.” He said, giving her a light push toward the prince’s room. Hypnos watched her go from his usual post with patient intrigue in his eyes. 

 

The girl trod forward slowly, wringing the blood from her hair.  Once she’d nearly reached the underworld king’s desk, he flashed an insidious smile at her. “Enjoying yourself, Girl?” 

The girl flashed her teeth at him, and the king of hell blinked in shock for a moment before their interaction was interrupted. 

Not good, not good. Hypnos flitted toward her, taking her by the waist just as she hissed “Oh it’s a trip out there. You should come with us sometime, I’d be more than happy to show you–” 

 

“Nope!” Hypnos chirped as Hades' eyes simmered into something more insidious. 

 

Wrapping his arms around her, he tugged the girl in the opposite direction. 

 

.        .        .

 

I went to bed early that night. 

 

I spent entirely too much time unpacking my satchel, then combing out my hair, then pacing and considering anything under the moon. Doing anything I could, really, to avoid the guilt I’d been holding at bay since my talk with Hypnos. 

You’ve done something wrong. An insufferable voice sang within me. Helpful, to have a source of honesty in times of contemplation. However, I’d always been made to figure out what that something was on my own, so the voice itself was of limited use. 

 

I huffed a sigh. Maybe Zagreus was right, I thought.

 

I’ll try to sleep on it. 

Chapter 9: Of whits and wondering

And so somewhere amid the many dreams floating about my mind that night, I found myself standing in a tight, dimly lit chamber, with manacled floating hands drifting this way and that in front of me. 

 

I was crouched behind a pillar, eyeing the Wringers intensely, wishing very much to have a partner there to help me fend them off. 

 

Eventually, I was discovered. 

 

One of the Wringers found me, lunging forward to grab at me. While I was able to duck away, I found myself in the grasp of another bodiless appendage, which gripped at the back of my head like a vice. While the others closed in, I felt the cold hands of terror enclosing my heart. I held up the gleaming golden knife Achilles had gifted me so long ago and stabbed backward wildly at my captor, to no avail. 

Just when I thought I’d bite a hole through my bottom lip, I heard a contemplative purr. 

 

“Feeling apprehensive, human?” 

 

The pressure behind and around me slackened, and I fell to the ground. I breathed slowly, trying to regain my composure. By the time my vision cleared, I looked up to find the greatest of the Oneiroi brothers crouching in front of me, a practically iridescent smile slipping through his parted lips. “A bit of unease is understandable in your present situation.” 

He waited for me to speak while I finished mentally reorienting myself. Nice enough. I supposed. “What are you doing here?” 

The god of nightmares shrugged. “I saw the potential for fright, so I decided I’d dip in and say hello.” He held out a hand. “I couldn’t help myself," He smiled as he led me to a crumbled slab of stone. “The chance to see you so soon after our last meeting was too titillating to pass on.”  

I arced an eyebrow, wrapping my arms around myself. “Titillating, you say?” 

His insidious smile widened. “I do.” 

 

I tried to scowl at him but the way my body shook probably made it a pitiful sight. “Wonderful.” 

The god looked me over for a moment before seeming to make up his mind about something. “I suppose that potential is diminished now. Would you like to pursue another diversion?” 

I narrowed my eyes at him, pursing my own lips.  “What kind of diversion?” 

 

Phobetor snapped his fingers and a blood stained, wooden checkerboard, along with two sets of equally stained chess pieces appeared on the slab before me. “The strategic kind, perhaps?” 

I nodded to myself and sat down opposite him, still shaking out my suddenly unwarranted jitters. “Fair enough.” I held up a Bishop. “The blood is a nice touch by the way.” 

Phobetor grinned. 

 

“I knew you’d appreciate that.” 

.      .      .

 

“I, for one, think his reaction was actually quite understandable.” 

 

 

I eyed the god of unending fright in exasperation, a splintered pawn dangling in my grasp. “You’re jesting.” 

Phobetor flashed a blinding smile. “Oh, I never jest.” I rolled my eyes, placing my piece while he went on. “Poke, prod, pick? Absolutely. But I am always truthful, in some capacity at least.” 

He knocked it over with his rook. 

I leaned away from him, surveying the board. “And in what capacity are you truthful this time?” 

He tapped his fingers together, eyeing me in anticipation. “All.” 

 

“Who knew I had the power to bring you two together.” I said, stealing a knight. “I’m in awe of my own abilities.” 

Phobetor sniffed in distaste. “You’ve done no such thing. In fact, if his response is any indication, you’ve pulled us further apart than ever.” He rolled his shoulders out. The movement splaying his wings above his head. 

“I can’t blame him for that though.” He trailed off, smiling.

The next part of his phrase went unspoken, his deep voice filling my mind like a decadent liquor. 

I’d feel threatened by me too. 

 

I snorted. “I doubt that threatened is the right word, you may be confusing him with one of your usual subjects.” 

“Mmmmm,” A smile played at his lips. “I must disagree.” 

I buckled under his gaze, feeling very fragile in the face of such a clever being. “Regardless, why take his side if you despise him so?” 

He leaned a cheek into his hand, a cat toying with its prey. “Because I am loath for you to be in the wrong with him. He cares so deeply about justice.” 

 

“As do I.” I smiled in spite of myself, then frowned at the unanticipated move he made. 

“Ah yes,” He whispered, voice purring around my ears in an especially tantalizing way. “Such a soft heart you have.” 

 

“Check,” I smiled, crossing my arms triumphantly. “And I wouldn’t call it soft exactly.”

 

“–And mate.” He purred, criss-crossing the board in a glaringly elegant show of strategy. He handed my king back to me between his index and middle finger. “And what a game. You’ll owe me something now.” 

I snorted. “I’m sorry to say my virginity is long gone.” 

Phobetor shook his locs out in amusement. “When each round is unique, I care little for one’s first try at the game.” He held a hand out.

 

I rolled my eyes, placing my hand in his.“Very eloquent.” 

“Oh you have no idea how nimble my tongue can be, my dear.” He murmured, kissing the first knuckle while swirling his thumb around the second. 

At his touch, My eyes began to flutter. I sighed deeply, leaning against my chair that was now the assurance of his embrace. “Goodnight, Phobetor.” 

“Sleep well, human girl.” He whispered in my ear, the sound sending thrills through even my rapidly fading mind. 

 

I’ll look forward to our rematch some other night. 

.      .      .

The House was still asleep when my eyelids fluttered open. 

 

And damn cold too.

 

Since our argument, I’d been bundling up under a veritable mountain of blankets to fend off each night’s chill rather than allowing my roommate to do so. I’d had limited success. 

I thought to myself for a moment, trying to encapsulate my nightmarish adversary’s words before slipping my feet to the tile floor. Before I reached the edge of his bed, I saw Zagreus’ back tense, then stretch as his godly ears alerted him to my presence. Once I’d reached him, he rolled over to stare blearily at me. 

I rested my fingertips on his arm for a moment, trying my best to push an apologetic and affectionate feeling into him. 

 

He grew still before nodding at me, and I climbed over his body into the hollow where I usually slept. Crawling under the covers, he opened his arms to me and I tucked myself against him in the way I’d grown accustomed to. 

“You’re freezing” he whispered, tightening his grip around my waist. 

I merely nuzzled my face against his chest, trying to dim the piercing feeling of wanting to cry. He tilted his head down and breathed into my hair before murmuring, “I missed you too.” Along our now shared route to slumber. 

.      .      .

Zagreus awoke with his hands tangled in his roommate’s hair. 

 

Which would have been an incredibly scenic situation to find himself in had he not desperately needed a drink just then. After a moment’s contemplation and several more moments of minute movements, he was able to extract himself from the girl’s embrace and sit up. While he drank the water on his nightstand, he heard the girl shuffle around behind him. When he turned, he found her facing him, looking him over calmly. 

The prince of hell gestured at her with his glass and she shook her head. He nodded before placing the glass back down and laying down to face her. There was a breath of silence before the two of them whispered over one another. 

“How did you sleep–” 

“I’m sorry.” 

 

The prince of hell’s cheeks warmed in response to her frankness. “I was going to warm up to that part, but we can jump right in if you’d like.” 

The girl smiled at him, flicking one of his jagged spikes of hair out of his eyes. When she met his gaze again her tone was solemn. “I don’t think I’ve been giving you the credit you deserve. I know you only want to help.” 

Zagreus sighed, a stream of hot air exiting his nose. “To be fair, I was also being an ass.” 

She shrugged. “Yes, but I think we’ve covered that enough as of now.” 

He searched her face. “I just think you’re newer here than you realize.” 

“That’s probably a fair assessment of the situation.” She tucked a loop of hair behind her ear and Zagreus had to push down the slight disappointment of not doing it himself. “But I don’t know that you have a good understanding of my perspective either.”  

He rolled onto his back, staring up at the sky above him. “It’s settled then. We’re going to have to teach each other everything we know.” 

 

The girl threw her head back and laughed. “Maybe not everything, but we can start with the important things.” 

“Like what?” 

She shrugged. “Dealer’s choice, I guess.” 

 

Zagreus nodded thoughtfully. “I finished primary school ages ago, and I’m stalwartly against homework. But I can tell you stories.” 

“Alright.” She said. “You tell me yours, and I’ll tell you mine.” 

He reached a hand over the curve of his body. “Sounds like a deal.” 

 

While he took her much smaller hand in his and shook it, the prince of hell pondered a question he’d never thought to ask himself. 

 

Across all his centuries of life, Zagreus had yet to consider which stories were worth telling. 

.      .      .

 

“Happy to see you two are getting on better.” 

 

Achilles smiled up at us through a tendril of blond hair from where he was seated on the lip of the drinking fountain. His hands moved with articulate timing to an undetermined rhythm while he sharpened the knife in his hand. “I take it your excursion yesterday was enlightening?” 

Zagreus and I glanced at each other and shrugged. 

Achilles rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Fair enough, I won’t pry.” The undead warrior stood, sheathing the knife to his waist securely. “Get prepped, today we’re tackling mid-range weapons.” 

 

.      .      .

Zagreus rolled his eyes at his teacher while he evaded a well-placed lunge.

 

“And it went well?” Achilles breathed, panting lightly through his nose. 

“Quite.” Zagreus huffed, shifting forward for his own attack. “She seemed fine last night as well.” 

Achilles backpedaled, sidestepping out of the prince’s grasp. “And how are you feeling?” 

 

The prince managed a shrug, rolling out his shoulders while their dance slowed betwixt stanzas. “We’re moving forward.” He said, leaning to the right to avoid the blade Achilles had lobbed surreptitiously at his head. “She’s making progress.” He crouched to avoid another, driving forward and flipping his teacher to the ground. “I’m happy with that.” 

Achilles grunted in affirmation, shifting to wrap his legs around his pupil’s head and shoulder so that he could gain the upper hand. However, the prince’s mass was too great, and even the pinnacle of humanity’s fighting spirit had to call it. 

Achilles tapped his back twice, and Zagreus moved off of him. “Victory, so soon?” He smiled, standing to offer a hand to his teacher. 

“Don’t get cocky, now.” He took the young god’s hand and stood next to him.

Zagreus shook his head, still grinning like the devil himself. “I would never.” 

Achilles rolled his eyes, moving to sip from his clay cup nearby. Both turned to watch the underworld squire’s movements across the training pit. 

 

She’d opted to practice the spear today, and her progress with the weapon was showing. After she and Zagreus had sparred several times, she’d moved to an isolated area to practice on her own. 

The prince had no idea how long he and Achilles had been wrestling, but it was long enough to have both superhuman beings sweating and panting. She, on the other hand, was entirely serene, bereft of any signs of exertion. Zagreus tilted his head to the side slightly. Perhaps it really wasn’t that long of a match. He thought. He glanced at his teacher, who’d already clearly sunken into the part of his mind that he reserved for calculations, appraisals, and evaluations of his craft. The demigod's head followed her movements, eyebrows pressed together in concentration.

 

He glanced back at his friend. Her eyes were closed, a fragile practice spear swaying and arcing around her head. Even Zagreus was surprised at her speed let alone the grace with which she wielded it. The weapon’s path followed her breath, her body’s direction. He leaned back onto his hip, crossing his arms in approval. 

To his right, Achilles shifted to the side to retrieve a puck-target they commonly used for distance practice. Its material was quite soft, with a circular frame stretching a cloth center, a bloody bullseye painted in the middle. Before moving forward, Achilles crouched to watch her feet, brows furrowed in what appeared to be confusion. Then, he tossed the target upward like a frisbee, where it arced high in the air before falling toward the girl’s left side. 

 

Off center. Zagreus thought while he watched on. It wasn’t going to fall within her reach, even with the spear. He leaned down to sip water from his own cup, and by luck was able to just catch the girl’s movement as she pivoted around her left foot, vaulting over her left hand to slice the disk in two horizontally. She leaned away, ridding herself of forward momentum by vaulting backwards once more and flowing into a standing position. 

Once she’d stilled, Zagreus caught that her eyes were still closed, her neck arcing down toward the ground. She had her head tilted to one side, listening for any potential projectiles while she caught her breath. 

 

“Well done,” Achilles stated quietly. “Impressively done, actually.” 

 

The girl looked up, blinking away her intense concentration and shaking her head. Her eyes had a look of sinuous concentration to them, casting their typical dark brown in what appeared to be an amber glow. She dipped her head quietly, breathing “thank you”, back to her teacher before shakily moving to place the spear on the rack. 

 

.      .      .

 

“How are you two feeling about returning to Tartarus?” 

 

I let Zagreus answer first, given that I was gulping down my second cup of water in as many minutes. 

The prince nodded at me before turning to Achilles. “I feel alright to go, and if that–” He gestured to me. “was any indication, I’m not concerned for h– the team either.” 

He glanced at me apologetically while I finished my cup. I guided a vein of reassurance from the river of my being into his. I saw him relax slightly,  then gave Achilles a thumbs up over my final sip of water. 

The demigod nodded.  “Right then.” He murmured, 

 

“Tomorrow it is.” 

.      .      .

 

The next night, the prince’s hand did not waver as he took mine before our fall into the abyss. 

Once we’d approached our first door having offered our thanks to Lady Artemis, he looked at me, smiling at the determination in my eyes. “Asphodel this time?” 

I nodded curtly as I followed him in.

 

I was actually looking forward to feeling warm for once.

Notes:

In the interest of transparency I feel obligated to share that I know absolutely nothing about chess. I tried to make it as vague as possible so I could keep the scene, but if anything is glaringly wrong I'm sorry I am very tired lol.

Chapter 10: Amhrán Na Farraige

What a horrible, horrible place. 

 

 

My vomit sizzled up from the hot pad of crusted magma beneath me. Sweat dripped openly from my face, slithering down my back in time with the remnants of bile that retreated back down my throat. I don't have anything more to give. I thought in panic, tears clouding my vision. I was going to die of heat exhaustion. 

Zagreus approached, pressing a hand to my back and whisking the heat from my body with his power. I coughed in thanks, limbs shaking with exertion. As the prince decapitated a Slam Dancer with a graceful swing over my lowered head, the chamber, if it could even be considered that, I thought bitterly, spitting the last vestiges of my dinner onto the ground, shook. 

 

A powerful breeze whooshed through the area, gusting my damp hair back from my face. I sat up on my knees to find Zagreus stooped over me, blinking in concern. His face was red from exertion. 

I leaned forward, brushing my fingertips against his jaw, and he braced my shoulder with his hand, leaning heavily on Stygius in his other. “Easy. Catch your breath.” 

 

I wiped my mouth, sighing as another gust drifted past, whipping my hair into an inferno around my head. Even the prince managed a smile at the way it whisked into my face. As we cooled down, I registered a familiar flavor drifting over my tongue at every pass of air.

 

Zagreus tensed as I jolted toward an alert state. “What?” His voice was low but curt and while he looked me over with gentility, his grip on Stygius tightened, his eyes flicking to all corners of the room. “What is it?”

 

 I gripped the front of his chiton, ushering an entirely different shade of red to his cheeks. 

“The sea.” 

.       .      .

 

Zagreus’ heart hammered in his chest. “What? What do you see?” 

 

Her eyes had gone brilliant in the roiling glow of the magma chamber. The fabric of his chiton wrinkled in her small but strong grasp. A smile glimmered between her lips. 

“No,” She laughed. Almost hysterically, he thought to himself with no small amount of concern. She pointed behind him. “The sea. Look.” 

 

The prince of hell turned toward their boon, which glowed a brilliant blue, humming with a staggering amount of power. A white-hot trident seared itself into his mind from the center of the orb. “Poseidon.” He murmured, turning back to his squire.

 She nodded, weariness slowing her movements. The prince’s face set into hard lines once more. 

“Right then.” Zagreus leaned on Stygius as he labored to lift himself before pulling his squire to her feet with considerably less difficulty. He turned toward the orb, hoping that Lord Poseidon– his uncle, he realized with a jolt he was sure even his squire felt– would grace them with the wherewithal to move forward. 

 

.       .      .

 

“Hoy there, little Hades! You recognize your uncle, do you not?” 

 

Zagrues tipped his head. “Of course, and an honor it is to meet with you, Lord Uncle Poseidon.” 

“As I’d expect it to be!” The great mariner proclaimed, kneeling down to squint at his nephew. The very edges of his liquid frame spit off tiny geysers of steam to bat back the Phlegathon’s heat. “Now, let me get a look at you.” 

The prince of hell lowered himself to a knee, sinking his great sword into the ground. Though the magma held for a moment, it eventually gave under either the Stygian Blade’s weight or edge, I couldn’t tell. Bowing his head, Zagreus held his shoulders firm, but let off a jet of steam from his mouth toward the ground. I frowned, worried he'd fall before his uncle's very eyes. That wouldn't be good. 

 

“There’s no need for that now, boy.” Poseidon’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. He gestured for Zagreus to rise from his kneeling position. “It’s a feat to see you as is, there’s no need to kneel at mine.” 

The Olympian smiled then, looking at his nephew expectantly. Zagreus, however, met the whirlpools of his eyes blankly. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and I smiled, covering my mouth. 

Laugh. I tried to push the word into him as best I could. It was a joke, laugh. 

Zagreus chuckled then. A bit forced, but it did the trick given that Poseidon tousled his hair in appreciation. The underworld prince expelled an oof of surprise as he stumbled backward under the weight of untold gallons of water bearing down on his prickly hair. 

Poseidon shook his hand out, the movement flicking seawater into the magma, eliciting a louder bout of hissing all around us. “Punctured my vessel,” He muttered to himself. “Sharp little head you have there, isn’t it?” 

“I suppose so, I was the top student in all of my classes.” 

Poseidon shook out his veritable mane of seafoam in appreciation of the prince’s comment. “Well, you’ve certainly got a better sense of humor than your old man, eh?” 

“I’ve been told as much.” 

The ocean god fell silent in the midst of his sentence when I snorted in response to Zagreus’ comment. He ticked his head to the side in interest of the sound before turning fully and seeming to notice me for the first time, so far below his eye level. 

 

“And who is this, little Hades?” He loomed closer, the Sun-sculpted crows feet on his eyes crinkling. I could hear the bubbles of the ghostly water his visage was composed of gurgling over my head. It felt a bit like drowning, standing beneath him. “A cabin boy?”

Zagreus opened his mouth to interject, but I spoke in his stead. “A first mate, my Lord.” I bowed at the waist, knowing that if I knelt I would not rise again. 

Poseidon’s great laugh boomed over my head. “Is that so?” 

Zagreus shook his head in exasperation. “Arguably, yes.” 

“And a cheeky one at that!” Another typhoon of a laugh. “Well then,  it seems we’ve a lot of catching up to do, but first things first, you get yourself and that mate of yours out of that dour underworld!” The great god winked at me, and I managed a small smile. “As for me, I’ll see if I can stir things up a bit to cover your advance!” 

 

With that, he twisted into a colossal wave that crested at the roof of the cavern. It morphed back into a humanoid shape at the top, wherein the great arm of the sea god came down with all of the ocean’s fury, along with a trident of screaming white. It connected with Zagreus in a blinding light, and agony eclipsed me for a moment before it vanished, and Poseidon along with it.

I was rocked backward with the power of the great god’s boon. Where the other god's gifts injected one with a singular power, Poseidon's was one of polarities pulsing against each other. Of sunlit warmth and impermeable cold, the kind that seeps into your bones and sucks the sensation from your extremities. It was a brazenly open sky with the wind buffeting your face, yet untold miles of immense pressure. The pull of adventure, the stay of caution and fury.  It was the extension of your hand and the knowledge that its movement sent waves crashing around the world. 

It loosened and bolstered, played and thrashed. It was speed and light and salt and darkness and the smell of blood from miles away. I felt the tremors of each creature under the Phlegathon’s surface, their movement shivering through me as though I was the water itself.  And I could be. 

And I could be. 

 

This power was a call, one as old as the earth could remember. 

 

And that was when I had it. The story to tell. 

 

When the light faded from my vision, I found that both the prince of hell and myself had fallen to our knees, the salty wind around us buffeting our bodies as if to usher us forward. He stood and I followed suit, feeling much cooler though no less fatigued. 

 

He moved toward the exit raft as the boat appeared. 

 

.       .      .

 

A small hand contacted Zagreus’ shoulder, stopping him from boarding their vessel. He turned to his squire. 

 

“Just, wait–” She shook her head, hesitation burning from the dip of her waist into his body. The underworld prince tilted his head, leaning back on his sword in fatigue, and she moved to brace his arm over her shoulders. 

 

Zagreus huffed in surprise when she did, then quieted as she looked up at him over the expanse of his chest. “I know, I know we have to go, but…” She searched his eyes, for a millisecond or an eternity, he could never tell which. “Just, breathe it in. Just for a moment.” 

The prince opened his mouth to object, then stopped at the earnestness in her eyes. “I know, Zagreus. But–” She whispered. “Please, I want you to feel this.” 

 

“Alright,” He sighed, leaning on her just slightly. He felt her hips set under his weight, and he lessened her load by leaning back onto his other foot. “Alright.” He murmured, more to himself this time, closing his eyes. 

 

He felt the ever-present breeze of the chamber whip past him. The ocean’s brine fluxed into his nose and mouth. It was…refreshing. Exhilarating , he realized, it would’ve been exhilarating had he not been so tired. He leaned further into the feeling. 

The constant eddying wind was like a coy, youthful hand caressing his soul. Play, play, it said, laughing and dancing around him. He felt the pair of shoulders under his arms straighten, and he wondered how light it must feel, to be so small, so human, that one could dance with the wind up above. 

 

As though in answer to his thought, he felt a small palm press against his skin. 

 

.       .      .

 

I pressed my sweaty hand to the expanse of Zagreus’ chest, resting it just over where I knew his heart was, though both of our eyes were closed. 

 

I could feel the lightness take him, just as the wind took me when I set on it over the water. I pressed my palm further into the warmth of his body, urging it to take and absorb everything that I could give that the wind alone could not. And in doing so, I felt it all again. 

 

I can tell you stories. 

 

I felt the rush of sea air, blindingly fast and sweet and salty, mixing and tangoing on the pad of my tongue like the finest wine. I felt the scorching kiss of the sun, vibrant and bright enough to sear the edge from the colors my eyes took in. The heat of the sand burning the soles of my feet, the rustle of reeds and their bite, cutting at my ankles. The cry of gulls cut clear from my memory, and I heard him gasp slightly to hear it. It was then that I pressed further, deeper, to share anything else I might have, though I hadn’t the faintest idea how long it’d been. The time didn’t matter though, some things never leave. 

 

I felt the suck of mud at my toes, the cool relief of water enveloping me. The crush and hull of waves on a shore, a monotonous melody to the bliss of a summer day. The chill of cold water, stink of bait and tackle, the burn of bright red blood dripping from my hand, cut on the blade-like edge of a flickering fin. 

 

Further. The sounds, smells, and sensations called to me. Tell the story of song and sea. 

I conjured up the vague rumblings of a familiar voice, the high loft of a laugh and cull of an accent I was sure came quite strange to the prince of the underworld. 

Zagreus’ hand cupped mine on his chest as if to say No. not strange. Yours. 

 

As if in response, that ancient voice inside of me murmured a singular command: 

 

Come home. 

 

I pressed my fingertips further into his skin and felt our bond grow to a glow between us. Down it I sang with every ounce of power my exhausted soul could muster. I sang of the rocks and the tidepools, catching many-legged creatures he’d never seen. I conjured up the sting of a sunburn, of trailing translucent tentacles that felt like soft caresses turning to ragged lines of pink dots on my skin, of sun blisters peeling. The salt sitting on my shoulders at the end of the day, skin singing with sunlight and…

Darker… his voice seemed to call back in surprise. He’d never ended the day darker than when he woke. He didn’t even know if his skin could change color. 

Laughter. As my laughter bubbled up between us I sent a memory of more into him. Children, parents, a grandmother’s laughter. Sandcastles and towels, the chill of an outdoor shower to rinse off the sand. 

Home.

Boardwalk food, sweet and salty and spicy and tangy. The weight of an anklet I’d won from an arcade game. Holding a friend’s hand in mine, our flip flops slapping out wooden rhythms on sun-bleached boardwalk planks. 

The prince’s hand clutched at mine as I ran out of things to share. Somewhere along the trail of seaweed tangling in my legs like mermaid’s hair, I opened my eyes to find him beaming at me. At the same time, we reached toward each other’s faces and brushed tears from the other’s cheeks. He tucked a hair behind my ear, pulling me in to lean his forehead down to mine. 

 

“Thank you.” He said, “For sharing that with me.” 

.       .      .

 

“Thank you .” The underworld squire murmured, her voice a cushion on the foundation of her memories. He reclined into it in pure bliss. “For waiting.” 

“Always.” He said, mourning silently as she pulled away. “I’ll always wait for you.” 

 

“I know.” She murmured. “I’ll wait for you too.”

“I know you will.” He said, letting his hand trail away with her as she turned toward the door. 

 

“That is a bit arrogant, though.” He could hear the smile in her words as she aimed for the dock where a boat waited patiently. “Assuming that you’ll have to.” 

“Is that so?” The prince of hell rolled his eyes. Though his body was heavy, his heart was lighter than the fading air drifting around his head. He followed his friend’s path to the exit barge. 

 

“I, for one, think it’s bold of you to assume you can keep up.” 

Notes:

Hi Everyone!

The memories she shares with him may or (more likely) may not be considered canon for this fic, as the timeline she would have to be alive clashes with some future plot points in the story, but I wrote this scene awhile ago and wanted to share it because they're fond memories of mine. Hope you enjoyed!

Chapter 11: Debate and Deliberation

That may have been a bit on the nose. 

 

 

The prince of hell thought as he turned to find his squire once more on her knees, rubbing her heat-damp cheeks with sooty palms. He ambled over and offered a hand to help her up.

 

Malphon retracted in response to his gesture, rolling and clicking back up her forearms, exposing her palms and fingers to the crackling, ember-spitting air. She took his hand, bracing her other hand on the collar of her bronze chest plate for all of an inhalation before Zagreus felt white hot pain sear into the skin of his palm. The underworld prince held fast to his squire’s forearm though she jerked backward against him. He looked down to find tears running down her cheeks, her left palm marred by rapidly growing blisters full of milky fluid. 

To her credit, she did not scream or yelp, rather vetted her pain as a hiss of hot air through her teeth. Zagreus’ brow furrowed as he glanced down at his own hand, where an identical burn had appeared before just as quickly vanishing, leaving nothing but the ivory swirls of his fingerprints in its wake. Another quick glance to his squire and a wince when hers did not depart so easily.

 

A seething anger rose within him toward his father for enacting such a cruel pact. And then, guilt. He’d been casting his power to her to keep her body from quite literally boiling itself alive, but hadn’t considered that her armor would need a similar treatment. Steam billowed from betwixt his lips as he tried to reconsider how much energy he may need to expend moving forward.

In truth, the prince of hell was beginning to tire. Doubt in his own stamina was beginning to mount, blisters or no. Even a god can only be in so many places at once, and Zagreus was himself an inexperienced wielder of his power. He rolled out his dominant shoulder, sighing in relief when Stygius rolled up his arm without having to be directed. Turning back to his squire, he knelt before her. 

 

The girl rubbed at a stray tear rolling down her cheek before wiping her nose with her good hand. Zagreus cradled the other in his much larger palms, watching it shake from agony as well as fatigue. I’ll fix it. He thought, ignoring the cool note of anxiety and exhaustion riding at the base of his skull like a deadweight. I’ll heal you. 

The girl coughed as though she’d heard his thoughts aloud. “Don’t.” 

Zagreus’ eyebrows rose and she gestured to her hand with her forehead. “You’re running on empty, I can feel it.” Though his eyes held hers, the severity of her shaking was setting his stomach to rolling. “Don’t heal it, it’ll just kill us faster.” 

“Then I’ll–” 

“Zagreus,” She managed between a sniff and a brief shake of her head, to nudge a stray hair away from her face. Zagreus moved it for her. “We can’t do this every time I'm injured.” He could feel the want of tears welling up inside of her. “We’ll never get anywhere that way.” 

Zagreus couldn't recall the exact point where his hands began to shake alongside hers, perhaps they always had been. He stared at the feeble embrace wavering between them. 

 

He probably wouldn’t have noticed anyway. 

.        .        .  

  

His grip was weak around my injured fingers. 

 

Not gentle or delicate or any other word that would suggest some form of intention, but weak. He was not himself, for in order for him to be so, his strength would be beyond reckoning. Yet here we stood, breathing, shaking, crying as one, alone in our fear and turmoil and yet together all the same. 

I blinked into the light of my prince’s gaze, watching him knead at his bottom lip in concentration. I could practically watch the gears turn in his head as he contemplated. He wanted very much to heal me, to resolve any ailments and if that meant going home early, so be it. But he also wanted to trust my intuition. 

 

That was the real issue anyway. He knew I was right. 

And in that summation of our beings I could feel his exhaustion. I weighed his next to my own pain, correcting for mass, vigor, power, and all the other thousand things that differed between us, and came up empty on one side. For the first time it was his side that was bereft of substance, not mine. 

This, I could manage. He had limited strength left, much of which he would need to use to shield me from the heat in order to ensure our progress. 

The math was simple. My hand hurt, but I could manage. 

 

“Then for this run–” 

I shook my head against my own desire to return to the house as much as his words. “We can’t do this every time, we’ll never get anywhere." I withdrew my hand tenderly from his grasp, trying not to wince at the wrench of pain I felt at the movement. "We’ve got to keep going.” 

He surveyed my eyes. "You're positive?" 

A minute nod. “I am."

 

That last admission of agreement was all Zagreus needed to set himself to motion. He maneuvered around me, retrieving Achilles’ balm from my pack before nudging me into a seated position. 

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to–” 

“I’ll carry you.” He said, and despite the softness of his voice his tone left no room for argument. He set the balm down to the side before helping me shrug off the shoulder straps of my bag. “We have to get this off.” He murmured, his breath stirring the hair at the nape of my neck. “It’ll only make you hotter than you already are.”

 

He was talking about my chest plate, brilliantly bronze and equally scalding. “I can’t fight without armor–” 

“I know.” He whispered, more to himself than to me. I felt him settle fully behind me, heard the soft jingling of the buckles that secured the cuirass at my sides. A shiver went through me at the idea of his hands there in other circumstances. Good to know I’m well enough to picture that.

 

 “You’ll be wearing mine.” 

.        .        .  

 

“What?” 

 

She sounded genuinely perplexed. That couldn’t be a good sign. 

 

The prince of hell nodded without elaborating further. He managed to unbuckle her chest plate and shimmy it up over her head with minimal jostling of her body and wounds. A tiny burn was incurred upon her cheekbone as he pulled it over her head, but otherwise, she was whole. Well, somewhat whole, he glanced down at her trembling hand. But it didn’t matter, what mattered was shedding her of unnecessary layers, a task that was both delicate and nerve wracking given the state of said hand. He managed to pull her shirt up over her head, murmuring a hushed apology as he did so. She winced when the cotton brushed her wrist, but otherwise seemed fine. Once his squire was left in her undershirt, he moved to his next task. 

Zagreus shook his hair out to clear his mind while he stood, unfastening his hound-skull shoulder guard and his belt. He pulled the red fabric of his chiton from his shoulder, unraveling the top, leaving himself in nothing but his trousers. As he lowered himself back to a crouch, his movement was interrupted by his squire’s voice. 

 

“You can’t be serious,” She murmured, “Zagreus, you’ll be killed before we even–” 

“No, I won’t.” He responded, voice cut and quick though not unkind. “I’ll be fine.” 

“I really don’t think–” 

 

Zagreus took her forearm gently, searching her eyes. “This is all I’ve got.” His voice sounded soft even to him. “Can you think of anything else?” 

 

The girl blinked at him, knowing he was truly asking and equally startled to find herself coming up blank. She shook her head quickly. 

“Right,” He whispered, brushing the salve as gently as possible over her palm. “Let’s get this going then.” 

 

He could feel his squire’s eyes follow his movements as he applied the salve to her wounds. Ripping a strip from the end of his chiton now pooled by his feet, he wrapped it around her hand, careful to keep any skin from overlapping. After he’d set it in a way he liked, he brought his forearm to his mouth, snapping one of the red arm wraps he typically wore with his incisors. He glanced up at the sparkle of interest he thought he’d felt from his squire, but found her gaze to be averted, so he moved on with his work without giving it a second thought. 

 

.        .        .  

 

I wondered, then, if he had any idea of how close his face was to mine.

 

How I could see the muscle feathering in his jaw and temple in time with his heartbeat. How I noted every nick and cut peaking out in scarlet brilliance between the near invisible lines of his hands. How I could see his neck strain just a touch when he snapped his wrist brace off with his teeth. They were incredibly white, his teeth. A clean backdrop to the red of his mouth. 

Looking back, it does occur to me that my level of awareness could suggest a promising physical state despite our current predicament. That said, the alternative to being taken by his beauty was being taken by the Styx herself, so I told myself not question it too much. 

After he’d secured the cloth to my hand with his arm wrap, he leaned back. “Think you can muster the energy to nudge your friends into action?” 

 

I blinked at him in confusion before I understood. “Oh,” I murmured, holding up my left wrist closer to my face. “I can try.” 

 

.        .        .  

 

She touched the top of her vambrace gently, tapping it to waking.

And how strange it was, to see such a tool of carnage being handled so kindly. It gave him hope, if he was being honest, that there were better things in the world above, to have created a being like her. 

 

The underworld prince continued to muse over the grace of her movements while she coaxed her weapon into the present. “Malphon,” She murmured, tapping her forearm again. At the sound of their collective name, both vambraces began to shine. One unfurled into its usual place on her hand, sheathing her fingers and thumb, but the other hesitated. It seemed to shiver in contemplation until she offered guidance along the feathered cushion of her voice. What he wouldn’t give to have her address him with such gentility. 

“Brace, please."

The glove began to shine into a blinding shade of white, morphing up its user’s hand seamlessly. The fluid metal curved around her fingers, cloaking her wrist in honeyed light. After a moment of what could have been consideration, it slid into place with a soft click. Once the light dimmed, the duo admired the craftsmanship of the metal hand-brace guarding her injury with a fury only matched by its fortitude. 

 

Zagreus tilted his head to the side in interest. “And that isn’t hot to you?” 

She shook her head, a small smile setting in place. “They wouldn't hurt me.” 

“Fair enough,” He took her hand in his and rotated it gently. “Here,” He turned, pivoting back to face her with the mountain of fabric that had once covered his chest in his arms. “Let’s get you situated.” 

It was then that Zagreus took note of not only their proximity - which, admittedly, he had yet to truly grow accustomed to – but also the mere inches between her exposed skin and his own. He was close enough to see the gentle curve of her collarbone, the way her throat was illuminated by the minuscule shadows cast by her chin in the light of the magma chamber. 

 

Meadows. He remembered telling Achilles once. They’re supposed to be meadows, not wastes of fire and rock. 

He’d wanted to see one so badly, wanted to get a small taste of what lush gifts life had to offer, and now here, amid all the fiery glow that surrounded them, he felt he’d finally gotten that. Just a taste. Just enough to keep him wanting more. 

 

He swallowed, making note of the girl’s eyes on him, and continued with his work. 

 

.        .        .

  

One would think that such direct contact with another’s body heat, specifically one such as my prince, would worsen the effects of heat exhaustion. But once the air temperature rises past a certain level, it all feels the same for the most part. 

And anyhow, I’d certainly hope that my current predicament would be rare enough that this topic not be a common one on anyone’s mind Up Above. 

I leaned into him as he wrapped his arms around my back, extending the fabric between his hands so he could wind it around me. But the seamless flow of his movements was interrupted for a moment when we leaned toward each other.

That was when I felt it, really. The heat. 

 

His head just nearly flanked mine, enough that his breath tickled my ear. I became intimately aware of the way his skin, even doused in sweat, glimmered like stars below me. I chanced a quick glance upward and found his jaw to be clenched, his neck tensing leisurely as he swallowed, slowly. I pulled back, turning to meet his eyes and found his gaze to be centered on my shoulders, the closest patch of skin to his mouth. 

God, I wanted him closer. 

Before I could fall to my knees and most assuredly utter some nonsense about worship and praise and all the deviously rich things they speak about only in churches, my prince cleared his throat and continued on with wrapping my body. 

 

.        .        .  

 

She was staring at him. 

 

He could feel her eyes on him, though he was careful to avoid them as much as possible. They followed his movements wherever he went. He wasn’t sure if he’d made her uncomfortable, afraid, or amused; not that it really mattered at this point. 

The flood of anticipation rushing through him was making it difficult to tell who’s feelings were taking the reigns. In truth, the thrum of his heart had taken up the space where the heat of the chamber had originally sat. Thank the gods he was nearly done. 

 

Zagreus could have torn at his hair in both frustration and relief when he finally pulled away from her. Despite that, he simply couldn't help himself in lingering a moment more. 

He stopped short until their noses were nearly brushing, tilting his head slightly and whispering “Better?” Against her throat. The shade her cheeks turned in response was almost enough to incite some relief into his body. 

 

Almost.

Chapter 12: In Search of Protection

I was being smothered. 

Mind, body, and soul. Or what little there was of each.

 

What agonizing closeness this was. Greasy and damp and smelling of some ore deep in the pockets of the earth mankind had yet to discover.

You mean parasitize?  The river asked. Wrench from the haven it was wrought in? 

I did not answer. 

Yet you do not disagree. How progressive. 

 

I was prodded in the chest, the only part of me so far. A tapping sensation as if hard fingers, testing my buoyancy, ran up my body. I budged, but did not plummet to the depths below. 

There is no ‘below’ me, human girl. The river said. Much to the dismay of your progenitors, even the gods’ power is not endless. 

A thoughtful swirl of current. I’d been turned around to have my back appraised. Or made, really. I thought as my spine was popped into place one hard-earned vertebrae at a time. 

 

Speaking of gods, 

Suction behind me as it breathed me in. 

I don’t smell anyone new on you. It seems none of your little friends on Olympus found you diverting enough to grace with their table scraps this go round. 

I winced as an earlobe was stretched into reality from the base of my ear. 

It’s just you. 

Hot metal choked down my throat as I was propelled upward. 

 

How disappointing. 

 

.          .          .

 

The prince of hell was awake. 

 

That was, of course, as opposed to being asleep. Which by all accounts Zagreus should have been. And he had been asleep, only moments ago. 

But now? 

 

The underworld prince sat up slowly, his movement causing nary a stir of air, a sigh of sound. He looked around his room, surveying the silhouettes of each clothing mountain, armor piece, and trinket he painstakingly piled about. Everything seemed to be in order. He scrubbed his scalp with a hand, the dream already fading from his mind. 

He realized then that he was holding his breath and released it. Surprisingly, no steam rounded the tunnel of his throat to greet the night air. He looked to his feet and found a dim light showing from under his blankets, a soft red rather than his typical golden-orange hue. 

He was cold. 

 

Zagreus shook his shoulders out to clear them of jitters. His eyes flicked to his left and he was relieved to find his roommate fast asleep, bundled beneath the covers at his side. Looking down at her, he noticed that she was curled slightly into herself. She must be freezing he thought, but when he touched her she felt as she usually did, and didn’t seem to be in any discomfort. 

 

Regardless, the prince pulled the covers closer around the two of them, wrapping himself around her and for the first time, grateful for her heat. As he drifted to sleep, he pursed his lips. 

 

He could still taste the iron. 

.          .          .

 

“Achilles.”

 

His head perked up in my direction. “Yes, Lass?”

“I wanted to ask you a question, if you have a moment.”

 

The warrior nodded at me, leaning against the wall beside him. “I happen to have all the time in the afterlife. What do you need?”

I wrapped my knuckles against the face of my bright metal cuirass. “This isn't working in Asphodel. It’s way too hot.”

He blinked at me, tilting his head to the side. “Ah, yes. I’d not thought of it, given the prince’s affinity for heat.” He dipped his head. “My apologies.”

 

“No apologies are necessary!” I waved my hands in front of me to bat the discomfort away like so many flies around a decaying carcass. “I was just hoping you could point me in the direction of a more breathable form of armor.” 

The great warrior scratched his chin. “Truthfully, my knowledge of armor is rather narrow. You could ask Coeous if you’d like, he’ll likely give you a more detailed answer than I.” 

I nodded my head curtly, turning to stroll down the hall. “Thank you!”

 

He merely thumped the butt of his spear on the ground before leaning fully against the wall and assuming his post once more. 

 

.          .          .

“Armor?”

 

I nodded my head once, trying not to lose my balance as the titan gusted me with his breath. “Yes. Lightweight and breathable, preferably.”

“Mmmmmm.” He scratched at his rich hair, the dry sound of his scalp assaulting my ears. “I would think the linothorax would work the best, let me show you what I’ve got on that.”

 

.          .          .

 

Another few hours went by and I clapped my book shut with a groan. “This is going to take forever.”

 

“What’s going to take forever?”

I looked upward from my supine position, legs propped up against a line of books and hair spilling over the edge of the shelf upon which I lay, to find Zagreus standing over me, a cloth bag in hand. 

 

.          .          .

The girl blinked into his polar gaze. “I’m trying to find more suitable armor to avoid future self-inflicted burns.”

 

Zagreus hummed in affirmation. “Enhancing your practice regime may do a better job of that.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Or you could stop rocking each transport raft we enter. That would decrease the likelihood of me falling into the Phlegathon astronomically.” 

The prince of hell offered an easy shrug. “I suppose you’ll just have to sit on my lap next time.” He winked at her. “That way I can keep your body secure in any way you desire.”

She rolled her eyes.

But she smiled. He buried the thought among the cloud of butterflies rousing his stomach, she was speaking.

 

The girl shook her head good-naturedly before tilting it down toward the book in her hands. Despite how she hid her face, he could feel the warmth that rushed to her cheeks as if they were his own. But when she spoke her voice was dispirited. 

“This would help you too, you know.”

He tilted his head to the side, winding the end of the sack he held around his fingers. “Is that so?”

She nodded, returning her gaze to his face. “The less energy you have to expend keeping me cool, the more you have to fight with.”

 

Probably something I should practice as well. He thought, teeth kneading at the inside of his upper lip.  I should be able to do that without issue…at least I think so.

He looked up to find her eyeing the bag in his hand. “What’s that?”

Zagreus looked down at it nonchalantly. “Just lunch. I grabbed one of the severed heads from the lounge to eat.” He held the sack out to her. “I’m happy to share.”

Her gaze fell flat, but her mouth crinkled in distaste. “Whatever it is, I’ll pass.”

The prince of hell smiled, tugging an apple out of the bag and tossing it to her. “I noticed you’d been gone for a while, thought you could use some food.”

He shuffled down next to her while she right herself and chirped, “thank you.” Before tearing into the vibrant fruit with her teeth. 

It was an effort to bite back his amusement. “What’ve you found so far?”

The girl shrugged. “The armor Coeus recommended seems to be best.” She tapped the page she was holding, flipping back a solitary page of notes and scribbles. “But I don’t think the typical shape will suit my proportions. Besides, linen isn’t suited to infernal climates.”

 

Zagreus looked over the paper, nodding to himself while he did. “You’re going to need someone who knows how to sew.” 

She shot him an incredulous look over the apple she was now devouring. “No one here,” her words were interrupted by a loud crunch. “—can just make me a fireproof set of armor that will fit me perfectly?”

Zagreus scoffed. “Oh you’re right, I forgot, our magic seamstress is supposed to come back from her millennia long holiday, along with our resident magical spelunker who can finally show me how to punch through the ceiling to the surface.”

“Very funny.”

 

“You’re right. That was funny.” The prince of hell flashed a grin at his squire. “Regardless, I do happen to know someone who could help.”

 

“And who’s that?”

.          .          .

 

“You require Armor, my child?”

 

The goddess of night floated serenely before me, hands clasped gently in front of her. She was lithe and calm and quite literally emanating dark power and surely had more important things to be doing than this. “ I do, but I’m sure you have other responsibilities—“

She held up her hand. “I shall offer my assistance.”

Then, she turned on her heel…or more so on a tight tailwind as her feet never touched the ground, and led me back down the Hall. I braved a glance at Zagreus, who fluttered his fingers at me with an insufferably handsome grin on his face and mouthed, you’re welcome. I flicked him off before following Nyx toward the ever changing rooms near the back.

 

I followed behind Mother Night, watching how her hair ribbon spindled down from her crown like the trailing ends of the Northern Lights. The motion of her body matched the speed of the rooms rotating and whirling around us. The walls seemed to breathe along with her as she floated forward. 

I slowed to a halt somewhere amid my musings and met her eyes, holding her serene gaze as I turned around her to enter the door she’d opened with a mere wave of her hand. After entering, I found myself in a small, dark room, with pinpoints of light shining in my eyes. 

Nyx filtered in after me, igniting green godfire lamps with a graceful flick of her alabaster wrist. Looking at how her skin shone, I was unsurprised that she was rumored to be Zagreus’ mother. More than his nearly glowing pallor, he’d clearly gleaned some of the grace of his movements from his adopted mother in the stead of his birth one. 

 

As she entered, she lifted her hand slightly and torches in each corner ignited, revealing a small room with a great loom tucked away opposite the door. The pinpoints of light had been the reflection of light on metal from the spinning wheel in the center. Spools of thread were stacked neatly to one side, baats of multi-colored fiber to another. All the way in the back were stacks of fabric with quite possibly every color in the visible spectrum among them, they all seemed to emit a soft glow of unreality. I turned to Night expectantly. 

Nyx gestured to the layers of fabric. “These were early attempts at the veil that covers the House.” 

My eyebrows rose. “You mean the sky?” 

The goddess nodded solemnly. 

 

I trod closer to the stack, eyeing the ever-changing colorscapes before me. “I can wear this?” 

Nyx offered a gentle smile. “If you so desire. You’ll find my work to be as sturdy as any armor.” 

I surveyed the fabric in wonder, uncertain what I should choose. Nyx floated closer to me, gesturing to a large basket with more fabric rolled up inside of it. “Some projects are more complete than others. You may find something you like in there.” 

I sorted through the fabric gently, feeling certain of my inability to choose between such impossibly beautiful garments. The factor of size aided me by eliminating some. Among other masterpieces, I carefully placed a scarf that sliced through the air like a stream of quicksilver to the side, cutting myself on its sharpened edge in the process. A pair of shimmering gloves coated my fingers in cosmic cobwebs, floating around my hand like a cloud of stardust wandering through space. A radiant hair scarf illuminated the bottom of the basket, brilliant and colorful as the sky at dawn. I almost expected it to feel like fire at the touch, but it was surprisingly temperate, drifting from my grasp like autumn wind when I placed it to the side. 

Each piece was a flavor of home, but where nectar brought them all together in a wave over the tongue, Nyx’s workings each gave off an incandescence of their own, like a scattering of stars amid the cosmos. But to pick just one? Impossible. 

 

I considered it from another angle. Think with practicality. My eyes returned to that empty bottom of the basket—

— To find that it wasn't empty at all. The final garment in the bottom was the essence of shadow. It blended into the bottom in the overall darkness of the room. But when I held it aloft, blues and purples and greens shone with a graceful iridescence, reminiscent of raven feathers…or a familiar head of bristly hair under eternal lamplight. 

It was also a sturdy, interlocking weave. Not stretchy per say, but flexible enough to allow for a wide range of movement. I glanced at Nyx, who nodded to me approvingly. 

“That Dark Shawl was always a favorite of mine.”  She said. “Come, let us determine what other components are necessary to meet your needs.”

 

So after much measuring, snipping, and binding, then even more mending and elongating, I was left standing in what amounted to a false-chain mail shirt, augmented with an overlay of leather padding in necessary areas. It left my shoulders and joints free to move while protecting vulnerable body parts like my chest. It was also quite literally the most beautiful piece of clothing I’d ever donned. To think I’d done so for battle. 

 

I glanced at her in the colossal mirror that took up the entire wall before me. “You’re sure I can wear this out there? I’d hate to damage it.” 

Again, a small smattering of stardust as she flashed her carnivorous teeth in a smile. “I doubt that will be the case, my child. Besides, it should lend some stealth to your movements - strike a foe from behind and he shan’t have time to aim a blow at you.”

I pursed my lips against a smile. “I don’t think Achilles would find that very honorable.”

 

Nyx tucked a strand of twilight behind her ear as she adjusted a fold at my shoulder. “Ideas like honor have little use outside the convention that generates them.” I caught her eye in the mirror again. “Men can keep their honor. Death grants no man leniency, honorable or not.”

I thought of her son, then of another friend I’d encountered about the maze of the underworld, one with a smile on his face and a Boulder resting dutifully at his side.

“Not intentionally anyway.”

 

Nyx smiled fully for once. “No, of course not.”

 

Chapter 13: A Late Night Diversion

Zagreus withheld a sigh.

 

The young prince gripped his pencil such that it easily went up in smoke. He glared at the ash in his hand with all the anger his tiny body could muster, then grabbed another pencil from the cup full of extras on the desk. 

Well, it had been full when he’d begun, it was nearly half gone now. 

He held it aloft. 

 

Typical that he couldn’t muster the power to reinvigorate his blood when needed, but had an excess of heat when it inhibited him. 

“Restrain your power. This is an exercise in control as much as it is battle strategy.” His father spouted, stalking back and forth before the underworld prince.

His broad hands were clasped behind his back like a band of mortal twine around a sure-to-burst bundle of thatch. Encrusted with jewels the Lord of Hell’s fingers were, in lieu of flickering light or even tepidity - as the prince’s. On the contrary, Hades hands were not only broad enough to hoist the trove of underworld gems that adorned them, but pale and cool. 

So controlled his power is, Zagreus thought. So contained. 

Yet unmistakable. The Lord of the Underworld and current barer of its name walked with the heavy gate of a being over-laden with both might and responsibility. In contrast to Nyx’s skin – reminiscent of the luminous stars above – Hades’ respective shade was not populated with any pale color, but leeched of it. His skin was ashen, translucent even. Quietly luminous veins faded into and out of view with his every movement. The tails of his long mustache, which would surely shine in splendor under the sun, were all but twisting shadows so far below it.

Everything about his father exuded power. Not endless and untamed as Mother Night’s, but honed and heavy. Yet everything about him, from his bejeweled fingers to the theft of color left him, spoke of a foreignness to his domain. The child prince’s gaze snaked up to his father’s glorious head, upon which a splendid laurel circlet shone. 

Everything but that. 

 

“Did you hear me, Boy?” 

Zagreus straightened, holding pencil to paper once more. “Yes, Father.” 

The underworld prince tried again to write out the next line of his lesson, and again snapped the pencil in half. His frustration flared and another utensil fell to the floor as a fine rain of ash. He winced when his father’s gate gritted to a halt beside him. A great crack could be heard from Hades’ scarred knees as he lowered himself to a more even level with his young son’s eyes. 

“You are frustrated.” He said, his very breath the whisper of abundance, of violence and stoicism. “Harness your anger, let it fuel your desires.” 

“ I…can’t.” The prince of hell forced out, wiping tears from his face. “It only makes it worse.” 

 

Hades’ smoldering ember eyes softened, if only for a moment. He seemed to consider his response before speaking, and a sadness that surpassed the existing situation’s depth overtook him. But young Zagreus had looked away from his father, ashamed of his tears, and failed to observe the change in him. 

“Perhaps another method is required.” Hades muttered under his breath, even a slight whisper enough to shift his son’s prickly hair. “Come.” 

 

Zagreus followed his father from the lesson room to the west hall, shuffling to a halt before a resolute looking shade that languished there day in and out. 

“Warrior.” Hades said, guiding Zagreus forward with an unyielding hand behind his back. The shade snapped to attention, glancing curiously down at the young god before casting his gaze back up to the Lord of the House. 

Zagreus’ eyebrows rose in surprise. Rare was the being who would meet his father’s eye. Even rarer for a shade to do so. “Yes, my lord.” 

“I am sure you know of my son.” 

The shade nodded his ghostly-pale head. “Yes, my lord.” 

“Thus far, I’ve been bereft of a requirement for your…” A soft cloud of smoke trailed from each nostril. “ –talents here. Little need for killing does the kingdom of the dead contain.” Hades’ tone was brusque. “But herein I’ve discovered a use for your particular abilities.” 

 

Again, the shade glanced down at the young prince. 

“Teach him.” Hades barked, and this champion of the living blinked in astonishment. 

“Of battle strategy, Sire?” 

“Teach him the art of battle in every form – strategy, planning, and execution. Though I would appreciate,” Hades sniffed. “If you would refrain from teaching him to achieve the less-desirable outcomes of battle. Rather, how to prevent those outcomes from occurring.” 

The shade’s eyes narrowed as though he was unsure of whether or not the lord of the House was jesting. He shook his pale locks out. “And in doing so, I may find residence within the House?-” 

Hades nodded. “--And your love in Elysium, as previously discussed.” 

 

The shade nodded curtly. “Then of course–” 

“We will assess the fine print in the morning. But for now,” Hades waved his hand, and the shade began to expand into something of greater viscosity, from light and air to flesh and bone. The shade gasped, catching himself before he fell to his knees, a feat that caught the young prince’s attention with no small amount of awe, standing bent over before his newly sworn king. “It may be best for you two to become acquainted with one another.” 

The newly revitalized shade shook himself out of his stupor, opening his mouth to speak. Sadly, words failed him as Zagreus stumbled into his legs by the force of his father’s hand. He laughed uncomfortably as the pair watched the wielder of Hell’s power stalk back to his desk. 

 

“Well,” The shade muttered to himself before glancing down at his new charge. “I suppose we should start with our names.” 

He knelt before his prince, tilting his head in respect. “I am Achilles, son of Peleus and Thetis, and prince of Pythia.” His now clearly oceanic eyes met Zagreus’ uneven ones. “And you are?” 

Zagreus stuck his hand out to his new teacher, jumping at and shaking out the small flame that erupted there at his movement. “Zagreus, Sir. Prince of Hell and son of Hades.” 

 

“Honorifics are not necessary here, young man–”  Achilles blinked down at the child’s smoking fingers before meeting his clearly inhuman gaze once more. “Er, Lad.” He leaned forward. “Here, let’s try this instead.” The great warrior took his fist and pressed his knuckles gently into the prince’s chest. “Until your hand cools at least.”  

Zagreus followed the movement with his eyes before looking back up at him and nodding quietly. 

The warrior sighed. “Right, well, I don’t suppose you know of a training area? Or where to find practice weapons?” 

Rather than reply, the young prince simply took his hand and tugged him down the hall. 

 

Thus a tale of two princes - one of earth and sea and one of hellfire's light - began.

 

.         .          .

 

Suddenly, I could taste the sea. 

 

My eyes fluttered open in alarm, had I fallen in? Was this shock of cold the shock of my watery end?

But when I came to my senses, the deck below me did not sway, nor did the cold burn my skin. My surroundings were dark save for a dusting of stars glimmered down fondly at me from the ceiling of my bedroom. To my side, a wooden room divider and past that my roommate's sleeping area, from which currently wafted the smell of smoke.

 

I rose from my bed, wary, if unsurprised. 

This was far from the first time my prince had set his bedding alight. It usually worried me more for his mental state than for the room's structural integrity. And who was I to fear a fiery end? I’d met with death many times. Recently, he’d become a personal acquaintance. 

Rounding the divider and walking past the splendorous shimmer of my new gear I found my prince lying on his stomach. One hand white-knuckled his bedsheets, sending off a slender trail of ghostly white smoke. 

 

Inaccurate. I thought. Shades are blue. Maybe….bone white?  

Very creative. 

 

Anyhow, there was no chance of me pulling the bedding out of his grasp before the whole bed went up in flames. His grip strength alone made the very idea laughable, never mind his current lack of consciousness. He’d failed to wake at my movement, something incredibly unlike him.  

Well, I’ll have to find some way. I eyed the quiet orange glow emanating from his palms onto the comforter he held. And preferably quickly. 

I thought back to my earlier sense of submersion. I could throw water on him, but that would be incredibly unpleasant and I was loathe to wake him after he’d missed so much sleep. Instead, I sat next to him and Zagreus - bless him - rolled toward me, balling the covers even farther into his fist.

I held back a huff of exasperation and amusement before frowning at his furrowed brow. Leaning down, I ran my thumb over his forehead a few times. To my surprise, the light in his extremities dimmed slightly. I could no longer see the veins running through his forearms like intrusions of metal within heated rock. A quick stroke of the cheek and the light died still more. 

I stretched my hand out to run my fingers over his knuckles, wrapping my hand around the back of his much larger one. The tension in his body melted in my palm as Zagreus sighed in his sleep, rolling fully onto his side. In his movement, his arm moved over and curled around my legs. 

 

Thank the gods he’d cooled, or that would’ve been extremely painful. 

 

Lifting his forearm with both hands, I moved it off of me. The trail of his fingers on my thighs left my body singing for him. 

I needed to go on a walk. 

 

.         .          .

 

The garden weather this night was balmy and clear. No phantom clouds to obscure the almost-sky. I smiled to myself as I ducked under the trailing leaves of some drooping saplings and made my way down a winding path in a new direction. 

Here and there breezes flitted past me through the leaves, laughing and ushering me forward. I followed them, intending haste and enacting imbalance. I tripped over a jutting brick on the ground and nearly lost my footing. Stumbling forward, I found myself standing in front of a great pool, rimmed in sculpted stone and encrusted with moss. The pool was so vast and the water so clear that the stars glimmered up at themselves. It was beautiful. 

The friendly breezes from earlier tangled around me and I could practically hear their laughter. The murmur of the trees, the eddying melody of their branches creaking to and fro, it was all so perfectly reminiscent of home. And oh, did I miss my home. Another tickle of wind cast out sinuous ripples in the pool and I smiled in spite of myself. 

As if of its own will, my foot dipped into the water. 

 

It was warm and accepting, refreshing as summer rain. The bottom was surprisingly soft beneath my feet with algae. Gripping my skirt around my thighs, I waded fully in, long dead koi trailing dutifully in my wake. Moving further toward the center, I found not coins but countless precious stones, gleaming and shining like still more stars in the restless underworld night. I felt another gust of air nestle itself between my shoulder blades, ushering me forward. I laughed, happy to oblige. 

Tripping and traipsing over the bodiless souls of the fish, I turned in a circle, taken by the night. It took my hand and twirled me around, gracing me with the softest brushes of air, water, and warmth. An infinitesimal yet fervent taste of what I’d missed, so far below. 

Along with the thought came a rush of emotion that I hadn’t realized I’d been holding within me all this time. Suddenly I was staring up at the not-stars, twirling in a circle, laughing and crying and holding myself and hoping, hoping, hoping they could be real, if only for tonight. 

In my haste to continue spinning I made a regrettable choice in footing and fell. 

Directly on my ass, I might add. 

Right as I heard a tell-tale knock of something heavy being set onto the stone path. 

 

I rose from the pond drenched to the bone, hair floating around my body in a ring of dark tendrils, to find an intricately sculpted, twilit hand extended before me. I slid mine into it and allowed myself to rise at its behest. 

When I did, water streaming down my body – in a not altogether unpleasant way considering my nightgown was plastered to me – I looked into the smiling, gilded eyes of Death himself. 

 

And laughed.

.         .          .

 

Perhaps she’s finally cracked. 

 

Thanatos mused as he blinked in surprise at the girl’s show of humor. Her laugh bubbled out of her like the cheerful babble of a waterfall, and he couldn’t help but be taken in its current. His skin tightened beneath his cheeks and his teeth once again greeted clear air. A soft exhalation huff buffeted the girl’s dripping face, and when he looked down, her look of utter shock only made him laugh harder. 

Her eyes lit up like fireworks and she covered her mouth to hide a smile. As she stepped up onto the lip of the pond, he gave her a once over, not letting his eyes linger on the crowding of damp fabric around her body. “What under the earth were you doing?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again before finding the words. “You know, I was going to say dancing, but in truth I haven’t the slightest idea.”

 

Thanatos made a show of stepping back to appraise her. 

“I would consider falling to be a more accurate description.” 

.         .          .

 

I narrowed my eyes, my grip on his wrist tightening. “You’re not wrong, but—” 

 

I tugged at his arm with the intention of pulling him in.

And was rewarded with little more than a soft tilt of the head and a shimmering flutter of silver hair. “Nice try.” He murmured, amusement lacing his tone. “But you’re going to have to be stronger or quicker than that if you want to—“ 

I yanked at him again, and again he didn’t budge. 

 

This time, his eyebrows furrowed. “That is a bit rude, you know.” 

I shook my head, relinquishing his hand to wring out my hair back into the pond. From my vantage point on its stone lip, I was able to look him in the eye. “Perhaps.” I shrugged, “Or perhaps it’s a bit of fun.”

Thanatos ran his fingers through his hair, another soft smile rising and vanishing from his face like the tide. “Maybe…” he floated up until he hovered just above the pond's edge next to me. After peering into the water, he turned to give me a conspiratorial look. 

 

“May I join you?” 

.         .          .

 

The girl blinked twice, the very lines of her face falling into a dumbfounded silence. 

 

“If you wanted to join in the falling, you could’ve let me—”

Thanatos rolled his eyes with a sigh, shaking his head. He noticed her gaze follow the movement of his hair before flicking back to his face. 

Death once more offered his hand to her.

 

“May I have this dance?” 

 

.         .          .

 

I would have scoffed in disbelief, but I had a better idea. 

 

I delicately took the hand held out before me, then wrenched my body back toward the waiting pool. 

Rather than falling forward like I’d hoped, his other arm flowed under me. Thanatos dipped me back far enough for my crown to kiss the water before pulling me up and holding me against his chest. 

“A well placed attempt—“ My heart skittered to a halt as I was caught in those currently deadpan golden eyes. “But you forget,” He was cool to the touch. I told myself that was the source of the shivers running through my body. His arm slid further around me and he pulled me close enough to whisper in my ear, “I have a twin brother.”

Death pulled back, observing the blush I could feel creeping up my cheeks in amusement. 

 

“If there was ever a way to catch me unaware, it was trained out of me at an early age.”

 

.         .          .

 

The girl’s dark brows knit together. “That sounds exhausting.” 

 

Thanatos blinked in surprise at her response, whisking her into a spin with the eternal winds at his disposal. She clung to him tighter at the movement and he was reminded again of how thin the layers of fabric between them truly were. 

Zagreus would kill him if he found out. 

Mostly for not inviting him, but nonetheless.

 

“It can be,” he said on the tail end of a sigh. “But its uses outweigh the toll it takes.” He began to guide her into a slow waltz and she haltingly followed, chuckling at the feeling of wind tickling her feet. 

“Truly?” She said, dark hair flying about her head as she spun out from him. Her eyes caught in the not-light, and Death quietly drank in her vigor. Her gleaming locks, the flutter of her heart, the warmth pulsing under her skin. 

“For the most part.” he breathed, pulling her into him and tilting his head down so that their foreheads brushed. “Though I try to find time for myself to let my guard down.” 

 

.         .          .

 

“Only with yourself?” 

 

I was beginning to shiver, held so close to his cooler body, mine already damp to begin with. 

“Not always,” he murmured, releasing me to drift amid his vapors.

When I turned to look at him again he had tugged the gold-trimmed cloak he wore from his shoulder and wrapped it around my own. He rounded off his thought while he bundled me up in it. “Sometimes more tranquil company is a relief. When they aren’t acting like the brother in question, at least.” He shot me a meaningful look before letting himself float to the lip of the pond again. Once he stood solidly on it, he held a hand out to me. 

Rather than take it, I glanced down at the water. “Might I try something?” 

 

Thanatos tilted his head to the side, “of course.” 

 

.         .          .

 

Death watched as the underworld squire took his hand as a guide and stepped down onto the surface of the pond.

 

A smile played at her lips when her toe just coaxed a ripple from it. With his cloak draped around her shoulders like morning mist, she twirled and danced on the balls of her feet, ushering delicate reverberations across the glass-like water. 

Thanatos watched her in interest, utterly taken by her movements, the sound of her gasps and giggles, the sparkle in her eye. I’m beginning to understand what Zagreus sees in her. He mused, taking her hand in his when she sought to return to the earth. 

“It is a marvelous power,” she whispered as he pulled her down to him. Her hushed complementation doused his skin with her breath and he looked up into her eyes, taking her waist once more. Once she’d descended to eye level, a flush of amusement went through him at her red cheeks. “The wind, I mean.” 

“Of course” He tried not to smirk while he said it and nearly failed. “It is a favorite of mine.” 

 

Her feet graced the ground beneath them with contact and he tilted his head to a bench tucked away near the corner of the garden plot. “Care to sit?” 

The girl nodded, pulling his cloak close around her. He thanked the gods silently as he sat for the extra covering, the white of her dress and its closeness to her body were beginning to become quite the distraction. 

The girl tucked herself in between his hip and the end of the bench, wrapping herself more firmly and eyeing him up and down. “What are you doing here tonight? Haven’t you work to complete?”

Thanatos leaned back against the armrest behind him, mirroring her posture. “I do actually get breaks from time to time, believe it or not.” 

She nodded, the movement tempting a poof of hair to pool around her makeshift collar. “If I may ask; what is it like, taking people?”

 

He cut the girl a glance and she shrugged. “You said you’d be happy to talk about yourself sometime. Humor me.”

A brief pause before he answered. “What part of it?”

Her eyes rolled upward in contemplation. “If you provide peaceful death, are the spirits you take expecting you?”

He shook out its silken hair. “Peaceful may be a misnomer. My jurisdiction encompasses non-violent ends. But that doesn’t mean someone who freezes to death in their sleep expects to see me upon waking.” 

 

.         .          .

 

I nodded in thought. “And did you know from birth what your role would be?” I wrinkled my nose. “Do gods even grow?” 

Death smiled, shaking his head again. “We do, just slower than humans.”

He gestured around us, “Some of us spring up from natural sources without the need for development, others age and grow like the blanketing of snow overnight, slowly and with uncertainty.”

I nodded him on.

“Regarding your first question, No, I did not. Though my talents did play a part.” He reached out into the water and cupped his hand around a koi spirit. It sat in his palm serenely. “I've been told I have a gentle touch.” 

 

I hummed in affirmation, withholding a blush at the idea of being touched by him. “Would Zagreus attest to this?”

Death’s smile developed some bite. “He could, though gentle is not a word I would use to describe our typical interactions.” 

I snorted, covering my mouth when I did. “That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.” 

He smiled to himself, letting the koi soul drift back into the water, the most secret, coveted smile I’d ever seen. I took the opportunity to appraise him silently, endeavoring to mask any awe his beauty inspired in me. “What’s the hardest part of what you do?” 

I would’ve expected him to think, but be answered immediately. 

 

“Taking children from their parents.” 

 

.         .          .

 

Thanatos looked up to find the undead squire's gaze softer than when he’d left it. He siphoned some of the constant pressure his role propelled from his body.

 

“It’s hard, trying to explain what’s happening…” He trailed off. How to explain this to a young shade herself? “They’re usually quite frightened.” 

“I can imagine.” The sadness in her eyes opened a door in him, long shut and barricaded. “Where do you take them?” 

He shrugged, grateful for the change in subject. “I bring them here. Lord Hades did change some things from the way they’d been before. There’s a children’s quarter in the house now.” Her eyes shot up in surprise. “They play there in groups with older shades to look after them until Charon ferries them off to Elysium. They’re never alone that way.”

Her humph of surprise shook the cloth she’d cocooned herself in.  

Thanatos tilted his head to greet the bats above them.“He’s not all bad you know.” 

“I’m sure.”

Death shrugged. “I mean it. He’s a real ass in some ways, but he tries in others.”

She huffed. “Well he is a god, being complicated is sort of in the rule book.”

 

“Is that so?” 

 

.         .          .

 

Watching Death purse his lips had my mind going to all sorts of places. 

I really needed to get a hold of myself before I threw myself into some poor deity’s lap.

 

Rather than reply, I nodded to him. 

“Then tell me, how am I complicated?”

I looked him up and down, already smiling as I thought of the word. “Broody. ”

Thanatos ran his hands through his hair. Bracing an arm next to my hip, he leaned down to whisper in my ear. “And here I thought you were going to say mysterious.”

 

“Oh please.” He pulled back, locking eyes with me. I trailed a finger down his stomach, savoring how his eyes narrowed in appreciative surprise. “Your curiosity drives you, plain as day.” Among other things. I thought to myself when I felt his breath hitch. 

The god of death leaned back in his seat. He eyed me up and down for a moment. 

“I like you.” 

I pursed my lips against a smile. “Ditto.”

 

After that we largely fell silent, enjoying the night air and each others’ company. Not long after our conversation ended, I bid him farewell, cold as I was with my sodden clothing. I made to hand his cloak to him before I left, but he waved it away. 

“Keep it, for now.” He said, looking away from me. I noticed his cheeks darkening a shade and realized another reason he’d want me to cover myself.

Ignoring the kettle of embarrassment squealing in my mind, I offered him my thanks before heading back to the room and returning to sleep. 

 

.         .          .

 

As Zagreus awoke, the feeling of his teacher’s hand in his gradually faded. 

 

He blinked up at the ceiling for a breath before turning toward his squire’s side of the room, from which soft exhalations could be discerned. He thought about the new battle-wear she’d carefully hung on the wall, excitement swelling her cheeks, and looked at his hands. 

A fine layer of ash lined every crevice, evidence of some mid-dream exertion or other. He would’ve sighed at the holes in his sheet if he’d been able to tell which ones were new. 

The less energy you have to expend keeping me cool, the more you have to fight. 

Zagreus glanced at the room divider as he carefully made his way out the door, hoping that their bond hadn’t grown to a level of sensitivity that would rouse her to his movement. When the door clicked shut behind him, he rolled out his shoulder before turning in the direction of the garden. 

 

He needed to practice. 

Chapter 14: A God's Power

Notes:

Hi Guys!

Yes, I'm still kicking! I know it's been awhile, but the change from Grad school to the real world has really been kicking my ass. And truthfully, this fic has been fighting with me every step of the way, too. I'm at the point of reminding myself that done is better than perfect here, so bare with me while I find my muse and beat her into submission. It may take awhile, but I don't plan on giving up on this story!

Several hours passed and Zagreus sighed, wiping sweat from his upper lip. The water sizzled from his softly-glowing hand and he chuckled ruefully. 

“Longer, but not long enough.” He murmured to himself, eyeing the candle he’d swiped from the lounge on his way out and more recently, scorched to hell and back amid his efforts. He smiled as an inviting breeze cooled the back of his neck. 

“Need some help?” 

 

Before he could turn, a pair of dusky grey arms encircled his waist. Stars seemed to glimmer amid the fingers that ran up his chest to his chin, tilting it gently to the side. Zagreus leaned backward into the comforting embrace of Death before turning to tilt his head on Thanatos’ shoulder. “If you’ve any advice, I’d be grateful for it.” 

Thanatos brushed his lips gently against the prince’s forehead. “On candle lighting?” 

“No,” Another heavy sigh and Zagreus propped himself up on the tree behind him as his lover shifted to face him fully. “I’m trying to increase my endurance.” 

Than’s golden eyes followed his hand as he gestured toward the candle. So still, even in motion. the prince thought . Death had a way of inciting anticipation in those around him. Exhilaration or fear, the prince was uncertain, but the effect he had was undeniable. Well, the effect he had on Zagreus anyway. 

“For what purpose?” 

“Asphodel is ill-suited to mortal bodies.” Zagreus replied, watching how the light played on his lover’s skin while the chthonic god planted one hand on the opposite side of his lap and leaned across his legs. He continued, conscious of the golden eyes that traced his lips’ every movement. “I have to manage my squire’s body heat and fight.” He met Death’s gaze. “I can’t do it. I don’t have enough power.” 

Thanatos tilted his head to the side. “Your power is tied to the realm.” He tipped his head toward the prince’s, where a softly glowing circlet typically peeped out between his crags of hair. “It is essentially endless.”

“Then I can’t harness it.” He ran a hand through his hair, biting his lip. “I don’t know how to control it.” 

Thanatos leaned forward, resting his shimmering forehead against Zagreus’ stark one. “You’ve made great strides since I’ve known you.” He murmured, brushing away a stray tear from the prince’s cheek with his starlit thumb. 

“It isn’t enough.” Zagreus tilted his head into the older god’s hand. “I’m tired, Than.” 

“I know.” Death whispered, stroking his lover’s cheek before leaning in and dressing his lips with a tender kiss. 

 

“How do you do it?” Zagreus asked, wiping another tear from his face. “The wind?” 

“I’ve had a long time to practice.” He murmured, leaning back onto his hand and wafting a soft breeze onto his prince. “In time, it’ll become second nature to you.” 

“And how did you practice?” 

“I fell from the sky quite a bit.” Thanatos shrugged. “And I was late for work a lot. Thankfully, newly-dead human souls typically aren’t in a rush to go anywhere. ”  

Zagreus managed to smile at the ground between his legs. “Yes, but how? How did you gain such proficiency with a force of nature?” 

 

“I danced.” 

 

Zagreus looked up from his musings. “Excuse me?” 

Thanatos nodded in response. “I danced with it.” 

The underworld prince rolled out his shoulders. “And should I dance with fire?” 

“I doubt that.” Thanatos began, looking up at the ceiling. “You’ll have to gain a feel for it.” He wafted another thread of air between them. “Once you do that, you’ll know how to commune with it.” 

 

“Okay, now you’re just showing off.” Zagreus swatted a leaf away from his face, coaxed down by the melancholy wind. “How should I get a feel for it?” He muttered, looking up at the sky as well. 

Thanatos didn’t answer, rather he added his own musings alongside the prince’s. “What is fire at its core?” 

Zagreus glanced at him sidelong and he continued. “I realized that I viewed the wind as a form of something else.” He held up a hand, twirling his finger in a circle. “Movement. Pure, reactive movement. The first thing I thought of was dancing. So that’s what I did.” He opened his hand away from his face, casting a gust outward. “So, what is fire? At its core.” He glanced at his companion. “The first word that comes to mind.” 

Zagreus thought for a moment. “Heat.” 

He nodded thoughtfully. “And where does heat come from?” 

The young Olympian pursed his lips. “..... Fire ….?” 

Death coughed over a laugh, and Zagreus shoved against his chest playfully. “No, no, it’s okay–” he began, “Let’s start again. What is fire?” 

The prince leaned forward and tipped his forehead into the older god’s shoulder. He sighed, murmuring, “Warmth.” against his skin. 

“Aahhh,” Thanatos tapped the bottom of his chin gently, bidding him to tilt his head upward. He lifted the prince’s face to his, leaning forward until their noses brushed each other.  “And where does warmth come from?”

“Energy.” Zagreus breathed, moving to feel Death’s kiss for himself.  

Yet Thanatos denied him, holding his opposite hand between their respective mouths. “And how do you make energy?” 

Zagreus brushed the tip of his tongue against Death’s fingertips, smiling in satisfaction when the older god’s eyes narrowed slightly. He leaned forward, taking Thanatos’ wrist and pulling it down to his chest. When he was close enough to taste the heat of his breath, he whispered, “Would you like me to show you?” against his mouth. 

 

Thanatos kissed him then, drawing a line of heavenly sensation down to his collarbone before pulling back. “You’re close. Keep going.” 

“Well it’s difficult to maintain a clear line of thought when you’re–” Zagreus’ mouth snapped shut when his partner took hold of his face, squishing his cheeks together. 

“Keep going.” He said frankly. “Or I’ll wait.” 

The prince of hell sighed in annoyance, ushering a large cloud of steam through his nose and into his lover’s face. When the fog cleared, a silver eyebrow had risen in a graceful arc. “Well? Where does energy come from?” 

Zagreus leaned back onto his hands, glaring up at the not-sky. “Movement, friction,” He cast a look in Than’s direction, earning a good-natured eye roll. “It’s vibration and vigor and…” He thought, “And… Life… I guess.” 

 

“Okay,” Thanatos nodded him along. “So fire is a form of energy. And energy comes from places like the sun, movement, and living creatures?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, there you have it.” 

Zagreus motioned him forward with a hand. 

“You’ll have to practice by making a creature somehow. I’m sure your squire would be open to the idea of assisting.” 

“Oh for Night’s sake!” He shoved into him and Thanatos pulled him into a secure embrace. “You’re worse than your brother.” 

“Shhhhh,” Death breathed, pressing kisses to his mouth. “I have a reputation to uphold.” 

“As do I.” Zagreus murmured, pushing him down onto his back and pressing his lips against Than's . The taste of him was of something akin to the sky; wind and rain and lovely starlit evenings. He propped himself up on one arm as he slid his opposite hand down the panes of Death’s chest and tugged the shoulder of his chiton down. With his chest now bare, Zagreus moved to unclasp his belt, but Thanatos pulled him forward, twisting him to the ground. 

 

He untied Zagreus’ sleeping trousers, slipping his hand beneath them. The underworld prince gasped at the feeling of a strong hand between his legs. 

“You’ve been working quite hard.” He purred into the prince’s ear. “You deserve a break.” 

“While I’m -” a soft gasp. “Appreciative of the offer I really should– ffuck.” Zagreus hissed when Thanatos paused his movement, squeezing him slightly and nipping at his neck. 

“What was that?” 

He rolled his eyes, then dug his fingernails into Death’s shoulder blade when he licked away the pain his teeth had caused. “Nothing, nothing.” He breathed.

“Good.” Death cooed. “Now let me illustrate one mode of creating heat.” 

“Hold on, that was my– mmm.” His eyes fluttered closed when Thanatos’ silken tongue trailed the length of him. His mouth slid slowly down until Zagreus could feel the chill of it on all sides. He dug his fingers into the grass beside him, his other hand going into Than’s silken hair. 

As Death increased his pace , Zagreus’ core tensed and leaned upward in anticipation. By the time he was nearly finished his body was shaking in need. Thanatos planted the flat of his palm on the prince’s stomach and pressed him gently back into the ground, murmuring “Easy.” The cool of his skin established a focal point for Zagreus to wrap his consciousness around. He took a shuddering gasp, letting out a low moan as Thanatos took him in hungrily. Finally, finally there was a release, one that left him trembling from exertion more than the cold.

 

As the prince’s shudders slowed to a standstill, he opened his eyes to find Death staring openly at him in admiration. Few were the instances that Thanatos was caught with his heart on his sleeve, and Zagreus was touched at the tenderness he saw in his gaze. He looked him over, tracing his lavender-tinged lips with a thumb while the chthonic god stroked at his cheek. After a moment, the prince pulled his lover closer, pressing all the affection he could muster into an all-too-fleeting kiss. 

When they’d pulled away from one another, Zagreus ran a hand down Than’s chest. “May I…” 

“I’m quite alright.” Death murmured, still looking into his eyes like he’d lost something very valuable there. “That was more than enough to satisfy me this night.” 

“In that case,” Zagreus smiled. “Feel free to pursue your satisfaction with me as your accomplice anytime.” 

Thanatos smiled softly, pressing another kiss to his lips. “You are a darling, you know.” 

“I do, but you’re always welcome to remind me.” He sat up, rubbing Death’s twilit back as he rose with him. “And thank you, for the advice.” 

Thanatos leaned into him, resting his forehead against the prince’s. “These things take time, Zag. Don’t lose heart now. In fact,” He pulled away slightly to meet his lover’s eyes. “Maybe trying to do this alone is the problem.” 

 

Zagreus smiled while Death re-tied his trousers like a true gentleman. “What do you mean by that?” 

 . . .

Several days passed and we were preparing for our next expedition. 

 

Well, I was. I wasn’t really sure where Zagreus had gotten off to if I was being honest, I rarely saw him at that time. Outside of training, that is. 

 

“Must we repeat past mistakes, Achilles?” I asked, massaging the area between my eyebrows. 

 

A voice sounded to my right. “Oh? Is my darling girl scared?” 

I scowled at the god of slumber. “Scared? No. Tired of being beaten to a pulp? Absolutely.”

Hypnos only shrugged matter of factly. “Have you tried dodging attacks instead of allowing your opponents to land them?”

I shot Achilles a look, who merely shook out his mane of hair with a smile. “The intention is to prevent future mistakes, not relive past ones. Now, prepare yourselves.”

 

I made for the opposite side of the room to prep as well as pout, but Achilles clicked his tongue in disapproval. He pointed at me, then jabbed his finger toward the ground. “You. Stretches. Now.”

My eyebrow twitched in irritation but I held up my hands in defeat and sat down to stretch my calves. “Where is the Prince, anyway?”

“He’ll be with us shortly—“ Achilles began, trailing off when Hypnos jerked his head toward the entrance of the ballroom. 

“Speak of the devil.”

 

I followed Hypnos’ gaze, ignoring his self-congratulatory smirk. Across the room Zagreus was stalking toward us, a great floating shadow just behind. 

“—and he’ll bring a friend.” Sleep pursed his lips in a smile, crossing his arms as Death approached. “Hello, Brother. “

Thanatos tipped his head to us three. “Hail, Brother.”

The two gods embraced quietly but with purpose. The quick hug, wherein one stooped and the other stretched, was bereft of any thoughtless movement, implying that the show of affection was a common occurrence. That they, undying beings of wind and stone, would shift and bend their flawless bodies to lend to the other’s comfort, to be able to share such small contact; that they would take the time to embrace on another in such a way, made my heart ache for a family I had not seen in a very, very long time, blood or not. 

I put my hand over my heart in spite of myself, looking up to find Zagreus staring at me, his gaze soft and empathetic. He too had a hand over his chest. We realized our mirrored postures and some small humor rippled through the current of pain coating the inside of my belly. I coaxed a fragment of warmth into him and caught the reddened tips of his ears through his thicket of hair before turning away with a smile. 

 

Hypnos floated back to me, taking my hand and pressing a small kiss to my hairline. I squeezed his fingers and leaned against him while our new arrivals completed their own stretching. “Grief,” He said. “such a single-minded companion”

“Hugs,” I replied. “Such small but potent gestures.”

 

As the two entered the inner circle of the room, I turned to my teacher. “Where would you like us?”

Achilles gestured at the deities dwarfing even his commanding frame. “The Prince informed me that he has other plans, so he’ll be organizing today’s practice.”

“ Intriguing .” Hypnos cooed, wrapping an arm around my neck and leaning his head against mine. 

 

I looked at Zagreus expectantly.

.      .     .  

 

“Right.” The prince of hell pulled a candle from his bag. “Thanatos will be the formal instructor today, but I’ll explain the reason behind today's practice.” 

So, he walked each party through his plan to maintain the candle’s light throughout practice. Throughout his explanation, his squire crossed her arms, nodding along with his plan. When he’d finished, she tilted her head to the side. “But wouldn’t practicing on me be the better option? Maintaining homeostasis is more complex than keeping a flame alight.”

Thanatos shook his head. “We’re not focusing on that just yet. The goal is to maintain a level of exertion to the point that it becomes second nature. Complexities will come later.”

The girl shrugged, but the questioning air her movements carried told Zagreus she thought they were oversimplifying the issue. She looked at him once more and he nodded, a glow welling up inside of him when his assertion immediately laid her concerns to rest. The trap door of trust clamped shut any potential misgivings, and he was left with a small swell of pride and endearment watching her. 

She turned toward him with a questioning smile at his sudden surge of feeling. He would’ve responded had their new instructor not spoken. 

 

“Shall we begin?”

.    .    . 

Stupid, stupid gods and their ludicrously unnecessary abilities. 

 

I watched my opponent dance to and fro before me, clearly buying time for me to catch my breath. With the suggestive curve his dove-grey lips had taken to, I could practically spit. He was showing off. He was peacocking, at a time like this!

In the essence of fair treatment, it should be mentioned that a “time like this” was in reference to my current physical state and not our immediate surroundings. 

 

I was going to vomit. 

 

I could feel it coming on. And while I was sure Hypnos had been spared the displeasure of the feeling, any human being is painfully aware when that time actually comes. It was coming now. 

 

Bastard had kicked me in the stomach. I wrinkled my nose at his heedless smile and groaned, turning to my teacher who, as another mortal, had clearly attended the look on my face and extended the kindness of finding me a bucket. 

When I did finally release my trauma-induced reaction, Sleep’s entire demeanor shifted. “My gods, are you alright?”

I refrained from answering as I was still…engaging in my bodily requirements...but over the noise I was making I could hear Zagreus and Thanatos approach. The prince’s voice was the picture of urgent worry. “Is she—“ 

“Fine.” Achilles interjected, rubbing my back. “She’s alright.”

All talk fell away as three gods and the greatest warrior known to man all stood witness while I unwillingly gave up my breakfast as a casualty of battle. This really is hell, isn’t it?

I glanced incredulously to my right as Zagreus released a bark of a laugh before covering his mouth. The look he offered me was apologetic, if amused. 

“What?” Hypnos was glancing between the two of us. “Something happened didn’t it? What did she say to you?”

Zagreus only held up his hands in a show of innocence. I declined to respond at all, busy as I was with downing the cup of water my teacher had offered. 

 

After letting my stomach settle and watching the resident deities clean up, my bunkmate and I turned to the door. I nearly missed the interaction, or I would have had I not felt a flux of disappointment from my prince. As we’d walked toward the door, Thanatos had indicated toward the corner of the room, once illuminated, now dark.

Somewhere between our battle finishing and our effort to leave, the candle had gone out. 

.    .   .

Zagreus rolled onto his opposite side, folding his pillow up under his head. 

He’d been unable to sleep this night, and the necessity for rest before their excursion in the morning was not aiding in his efforts. He sighed before sitting up and running his hands through his hair. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against the covers and ran his hands down to his neck. 

Additional guilt compounded the original emotions circulating within him as he heard his roommate rise from her bed. Once she approached, he turned to her with an apologetic wince. “Sorry, I—“

She shook her sleep-rumpled head slightly before sitting on the edge of the mattress and squeezing his hand. She didn’t speak but searched his face. “Do you—“ her voice was rough and she coughed before continuing. Gods, what an endearing creature. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head, “Do you?” He asked, placing his hand just below her collarbone. She covered his with her own. “Grief is heavy.” She said, “Loss doesn’t ever get lighter. Some days it’s just easier to feel it.”

 

He nodded, and for the first time the prince of hell realized that despite his domain, he was woefully ignorant of loss itself. In that way, at least. In that moment, he wanted to tell her how much she meant to him. How much her friendship had changed him, how his love for her could cushion the weight she carried. Instead, he just tucked a stray hair behind her ear. 

The girl pointed to the place next to him. “May I?”

He smiled, she was already climbing over his legs. When the underworld prince tugged her up against him and held her close, his fear didn’t disappear. But hers rose to flank it, and that made it lighter somehow. The shard piercing his gut didn’t dislodge, but it became coated in the comfort of her, and the knowledge of their similar feeling. The burden, though great, became a shared one, and all the more bearable.

 “Always.” He murmured into her hair. 

And thank you.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Of Gods and Mortals