Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Zagreus steps out of the river and on the bank, and immediately feels the cold seep through his feet and into his bones. It’s uncomfortable and painful and wet; the sensation almost enough to make him miss his blazing feet, or the warmth of the House.

Almost.

Thinking of the House makes him remember the people he left there, so he shoves those thoughts away before they can intrude on this moment.

Because this is his moment; no one else’s.

The mouthful of cold air he takes, burning down his throat and lungs, makes the moment all the more real. Every second of it clarifies the single idea looming over the horizon of his mind, and everything he can see enforces it. He looks around, doing his best to imprint every detail permanently in his memory, as he stares up at the sky, cloudless and blue; at the trees, muted green and frosty white; at the ground, green and soft; at the tiny colorful flowers, valiant little things braving the snow.

Then his legs threaten to give in, so he crouches down, bending forward and balancing himself on his feet.

“I’m free,” he whispers to the grass. “I’m free. I’m finally free.”

He brings his hands to his face and laughs, unable to contain his joy. He laughs loudly, uncaring if anyone hears him or thinks him mad, happy to not have to listen to people say a prince shouldn’t be so boisterous, shouldn’t be so loud, shouldn’t be so free.

He’s not a prince anymore.

He’s not anything anymore.

He’s just Zagreus.

And he’s free.

“Fuck,” he mutters, feeling the hot tears slide down his cheeks and past his chin, falling on the snow before disappearing. Habit tells him to hide them, to swallow the sobs back into his chest, to hastily wipe the tears away before anyone sees them.

But there’s no one around.

And even if there were, he wouldn't have to listen to them.

Because Zagreus is free.

He laughs again, even as more tears fall. The combination of euphoria and sadness is odd, pulling at his heart in different directions at the same time, telling his body to react in different ways.

It's a cocktail of emotions he can't remember ever feeling, but he's so glad that he has the chance now. It’s different, it’s new, and he loves it.

He allows himself to just be for a while, as he lets all the emotions wash over him, both the good and the bad.

He watches the scenery, enjoying the few wildlife quietly creeping out of the woods, passing near him. Some of them notice him and take off for the depths of the wilderness immediately after, but several others get surprisingly close before moving on. He doesn't know any of them by name, but the little brown one with the bushy tail is especially cute

It comes very close to him, watching him as curiously as he's watching it. It grabs something off the ground and skitters away, disappearing on the canopies above his head.

He's so grateful that he has the chance to witness these things now, without the threat of death looming over him, tainting his every experience. Until the threat was gone, he’d never realized just how anxious it made him that the Styx could drag him back to the House any moment.

Zagreus shivers, from the cold sinking deeper into his bones, from the habitual fear of being outside and waiting for inevitable death, and decides that's enough moping.

He wants to run, wants to climb mountains and swim in oceans and lakes. He wants to put this new body to good use and see what he can accomplish without invisible shackles binding him.

So he runs.

His abrupt movement startles an elegant animal with a crown of horns on its head, and Zagreus throws an apology over his shoulders as he passes by.

Then he laughs at his silliness, relishing that he can do such silly things and laugh at them without any reprimand.

How unfamiliar.

How exhilarating.

He runs and climbs over rocks taller than ten of his father, jumps over a large section of the river he was swimming in, and skids to a halt at the edge of a small cliff overlooking the world.

The whole of Greece seems to stretch out before him.

Of course, there are taller mountains and steeper cliffs—he can see them from here, calling to him with their peaks of ice and dark woods. Beckoning. Enticing.

Even so, this small precipice on the side of a hill is more than enough to allow him to admire the country he was born in, but never got to really see until now.

The fact that he can do this, can go out and search and explore as he pleases, still hasn't sunk in.

But now he's got all the time in the world to process it.

(He knows that at some point he will have to deal with the consequences of leaving, no matter how big or small they may be. But for this? For this freedom? He will meet any consequence head on.)

His first experience with living mortals is a week later.

He’d spent most of his first day roaming around mountainsides and the edges of abandoned farms, then the following days, he had mostly slept like the dead, ironically.

It had been frustrating to realize how much energy he spent with just a little exploring, but he knows that most of it is probably just the fact that he's inexperienced with this body and these powers. Whatever he is now is way more powerful than he was before, and if there's something Zagreus has never been good at, it's the finer control of godly powers.

That's... that's going to be a pain to learn.

After waking up from his several-day-long nap, he decides to take a dive in the closest river, just to experience water that isn't red, semi-sentient, and trying to drag him back anywhere.

The cold is a pain to deal with—literally—but he's learning. It takes some concerted effort, and a good amount of his energy goes toward keeping himself warm, but he will get the hang of it.

Soon.

Very soon.

...Hopefully.

He throws himself in the water as soon as he sees it, and the scream of surprise that follows catches him entirely by surprise.

Immediately, he pops his head back out and sees a pale-faced young woman staring at him in shock as she staggers away from the river, two wide-eyed children clinging to the skirt of her himation as they peek out at him with wide eyes.

There's a few seconds of awkward silence where they just maintain eye contact, without either of them moving. Then the woman speaks, her voice respectful, but trembling slightly.

"Forgive us, Master Spirit, we didn't know this river was yours."

Oh, this is awkward. She thinks he's a river spirit, which, well... it's better than the alternative.

After all, what is he going to say? Ah, no, I'm actually the Prince of the Underworld, but thanks to my great-great-grandparent who's partially my grandparent and now also partially my parent, I am free from the constraints of being the Son of Hades, so now I can roam free through Greece and throw myself into random rivers?

Yeah, no.

He opens his mouth to spout some bullshit about not being a territorial river spirit, and they're free to use it as they please, since he's just passing by. But something else comes out instead.

"I'm not a spirit."

What?

"I'm a god. You may call me Zagreus."

What???

Her eyes widen in surprise. "Oh, forgive me, Lord Zagreus! I did not realize—"

While the panicked woman continues trying to obtain an unneeded forgiveness for wrongs she didn’t commit, Zagreus reruns the last few seconds in his head, startled and a little bit afraid.

It's almost like his mouth moved by itself. Nothing that came out of it was what he wanted to say.

He’d intended to make up a name and an aspect on the spot, and let the mortals go on their merry way, unaware of whom they had actually met. Instead, it was like something pushed his lies away, and the only thing left to fill the space in his mouth was the truth.

Hmmm. He has an idea of what might’ve happened, but figuring that out can wait.

As he refocuses on the woman, he realizes with a start that she is kneeling on the ground and urging her children to kneel, too, her face pale and drawn with what he realizes now is fear.

"Oh gods, please don't kneel, that's completely unnecessary," he says frantically, swimming to the shore and climbing out onto the bank.

She pauses, looking at him uncertainly, one of her children already kneeling on the cold snow, and the other looking at him with... fear? Yes, that's fear on their face, as well.

How wonderful, his first meeting with mortals and he’s already making them fear him, accidentally or not. Even the children.

He— he thinks he can deal with children. Maybe? Probably? They can’t be any worse than dealing with child-shades, right?

To test this, he approaches slowly, trying to keep a soft smile on his face so he looks less threatening, imitating the way Achilles used to approach him when he was little and prone to panic attacks.

It seems to work. When he smiles, they all relax somewhat, though the young woman—their mother?—still looks nervous. Pushing past how uncomfortable it makes him that she looks at him with such fear, he offers a hand to help her up.

"Please, there's no need for that. Especially not in the snow."

She takes his hand hesitantly, and he gently helps her to her feet. Once she’s upright again, the children huddle behind her, peeking out at him with large, dark-colored eyes, big and round and curious.

"I'm sorry, my Lord. I didn’t mean to mistake you for someone else,” she says, wringing her hands.

She looks like a commoner, with her simple clothes in green and brown, and lack of adornments. What they lack in finery, though, they make up for in practicality. The clothes of her and the children are thick and heavy, ideal for this type of weather, as opposed to his thin chiton.

“Don’t worry about it. How could you know who I am if I’ve never actually revealed who I am?”

“Ah, w—well...”

“And this river isn’t mine, by the way. Feel free to use it as much as you want.”

“Thank you, my Lord. We were just going to gather some water. This river’s spring is nearby.” She hesitates for a moment, looking down at her children, then looking up at him again. “Would you accompany us? We can offer food in exchange for some protection. I understand this isn’t exactly standard, but—”

“Oh, of course. I don’t mind. Lead the way, please.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” she says, then turns around and starts walking, the children trailing along behind her.

Zagreus follows too, feeling utterly out of his depth. No one has ever called him Lord before. It makes him think of his father, which is an unpleasant thought, but mostly it just makes him feel weird. Honestly, he has no real idea of how mortals and immortals deal with each other.

He’s used to dealing with gods as one deals with family—for obvious reasons—with some healthy dose of fake respect, and sassy remarks that can be masqueraded as jokes.

When it comes to mortals, though, he’s not sure what he should or shouldn’t accept, what’s normal for interactions with them, and if he should be offering random rivers at all. What if the actual spirit from that river took offense?

And then, in a burst of clarity that almost has him giggling to himself, Zagreus remembers that he’s free.

He’s free, and no one can tell him what to do.

He can be whatever type of god he wants.

He smiles to himself at that realization, freedom slowly sliding through the corners of his mind, settling firmly into place and refusing to be dislodged. Soon enough, he won’t default to expecting the unreasonable standards set by people who never cared.

Soon enough, he’s going to get used to his new status.

One of the children looks back at him, curiosity written all over their freckled face. When he notices them staring , he gives them a wink. They smile and turn back to the front again, suddenly shy.

Zagreus hasn’t had many interactions with children in his life, but these ones are pretty cute.

They soon reach the spring, and Zagreus can’t contain his own curiosity anymore.

“If I may... how did you know I wasn’t mortal?”

She looks up from where she’s filling a waterskin with clear, cold water. “Ah, no mortal would jump into a river in this freezing weather, of course. We do not have your hardiness.”

“Oh, you’re right,” he says, laughing a little. He feels a bit embarrassed, but she’s talking as if they’re discussing the weather, and her nonchalance makes him less self-conscious about his lack of thought. Zagreus would think her completely unfazed by him if it weren’t for how she first reacted when they met.

“There’s also the matter of your eye. As soon as you looked up, I knew you couldn’t be a mere mortal.”

With a start, he brings a hand to his face, touching just below his right eye. “Ah, yes.”

He keeps forgetting his eye has changed.

Suddenly, he realizes his rudeness, and asks, “What is your name, my lady?”

She looks up as if startled, eyes wide in his direction. “Oh, I am no lady, my Lord! There’s no need for that.”

He blinks, baffled. “What should I call you, then? Woman? Wench? That’s just disrespectful.”

They blink at each other, and he sees her lips twitch, though she doesn’t laugh. Maybe she thinks it’s disrespectful to laugh in a god’s presence.

“I see you care little for customs,” she says, handing a waterskin to her children and starting to fill another one.

He leans against a tree. “Customs are a bore. After you’ve lived with them for centuries, they become meaningless nonsense.”

“I see. You would know more about it than me, of course.” She refills the second waterskin and gets up, gesturing to her children. “This is my son Dorotheus, and my daughter Ophelia. I am Acacia, at your service.”

He points at himself, laughter in his voice. “I’m Zagreus, jumper of rivers. Nice to meet you.”

The children giggle at him, and that seems to get him a smile from Acacia.

A pang in his chest gets him by surprise.

He misses Nyx.

He misses being small, able to hide behind her legs, little hands grabbing her peplos like it was the only thing keeping him from being lost. He misses being carried when he was too tired to walk, still in that period where he couldn’t maintain his stamina for long, even as a god. He misses sneaking into the garden and waiting for her to find him, knowing they would spend some time there together.

But mostly, he just misses her.

I should let her know I’m okay, he thinks, internally wincing at the chewing out waiting for him.

Acacia gestures to the way they came. “Let’s return and I shall give you my offerings.”

Zagreus nods, walking beside her this time. “I mean, I appreciate it, but you really don’t have to.”

“Lord Zagreus, you can’t go around refusing offerings. What will your followers think?”

“I don’t have any followers.”

“I thought as much, but if you want some, it’s time to start learning.”

Zagreus chuckles. “Am I that obvious?”

“A little bit. But mostly it's the fact that I’ve never heard of you, even while living in Athens.”

“Oh, you’re from Athens? How is it there?”

Her expression falls, something like grief overtaking her face. “Probably better than most other city-states. But at this point everything is falling apart.”

“What? Why?”

Her gaze goes distant, looking into something far away. “The eternal winter. The war. The famine.” She turns to him, smile so sad that Zagreus can almost feel it. “Take your pick.”

Zagreus frowns. “I didn’t know it was that bad. I’m sorry for bringing up bad memories.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Those memories wouldn’t leave me even if I wanted them to.”

A little voice chimes in from the back. “Papa died. It’s why we’re moving.”

Zagreus looks back, to where Ophelia and Dorotheus are walking behind them, bundled up in their himations like tiny walking cocoons.

Ophelia is staring at Zagreus like she’s expecting something from him, some form of reaction or maybe some words of condolence. There’s a defiance to her stance, her little shoulders held high, eyes boring into his own. Dorotheus is looking at the ground, holding his sister’s hand.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Ophelia,” he answers, not quite able to understand her exact feelings, but still sad for her.

Her eyes widen in surprise, mouth dropping open in disbelief.

That… certainly wasn’t what he was expecting. He turns back to Acacia wearing what he knows is a baffled expression.

To answer his unasked question, she smiles at him, though there's nothing happy about it.

“Widows don’t have much leeway in Athens. People were... less than pleased when I told them we were moving.”

Ah, so Ophelia was testing him. Smart girl.

“Some of them tried to stop us,” Acacia continues, “but we grabbed what we could and ran.”

“Where are you going?”

“My sister lives in Crete. It’s not an amazing place by any means, but I’ve heard they’re faring better there. I will try to procure passage for us, by boat.”

“Faring better, meaning more resources?” At her nod, Zagreus continues, “How long has this winter been going on for?”

“Since before I was born. Some historical accounts mention centuries, but no one’s quite sure.”

Zagreus doesn’t really know how the surface works yet, but he’s pretty sure winters shouldn’t be this long. He will have to look into it later.

They arrive at a small cart with two wheels, a tired looking animal Zagreus has never seen at the front, nibbling on the grass. He only now realizes they walked past the point where they met. Acacia doesn’t seem to mind that he followed them, at least, and she did mention she had offerings—though Zagreus is loath to take food from people who clearly need it more than him. Her body is far too thin to be healthy, and her children are not much better, though they certainly have more on their bones.

She lays some cloth down on the ground, beckoning him to sit. Once he does, the children follow suit, sitting on either side of him in a circle. Acacia opens a little cloth bundle, and Zagreus leans in her direction to look inside.

She smiles at him gently, like he's a curious child, and some of the tension leaves his shoulders when she doesn’t immediately scold him for wanting a peek.

"These are grass peas," she says, pointing to the bundle, where a bunch of light-colored grains sit, looking like teeth.

"They look like teeth," he says, and then immediately regrets it. That's so rude!

But the children laugh, and Dorotheus finally speaks.

"See, mama, I told you they look like teeth! Even gods think so!"

She gives them both an unimpressed look. "Teeth or not, it's food, and you better eat it."

"So you eat it like that?" Zagreus asks.

"Oh, no. They are very toxic to human consumption when raw." She pauses, giving him an appraising look. "Though you would probably handle it better. But no, we usually make soup or flour from it. I only brought it out to show you."

"It's animal food!" Ophelia says, pointing to the animal munching on grass a few ways away.

"Ah, so there's no distinction between animal and human food?"

"Well, animals usually get the... not exactly worse food, but the less nutritional ones. In times of famine we can't waste good food on animals, unless they're important, like a pack animal, or one you might kill for meat."

"But you're eating grass peas? Animal food?"

"Yes. It's the only grain we have right now."

Zagreus stays silent, digesting the information. He doesn't know what he could say, anyway. I'm sorry the surface has been shitty? I'm sorry you're hungry? Don't worry, you won't feel hungry in the afterlife?

Yeah, no. He has some manners, okay? Nyx and Achilles tried really hard, and he picked up at least a bit of it.

Acacia seems oblivious to his internal struggle, or at least she doesn't show anything on her face as she grabs another package from a big pack. Inside, Zagreus finally sees something he recognizes.

"Hey, sausages!"

"Ah, you know sausages? Good, then I won't have to explain how they're made."

"...How are they made?"

"...You don't want to know."

"I really do."

"You really don't."

They stare at each other, and Zagreus decides to trust her. She looks like she knows what she's talking about.

She hands each of them a sausage. Zagreus examines it for a while, and when he bites into it, it's dry, but tasty, probably seasoned with things he's never heard the names of. Then Acacia brings out some bread, while Ophelia passes around the waterskins, and for a while there's only silence as they eat.

Surface food has a different feel to it. It tastes... real. Solid. Not that the Underworld has ghost food, of course not, but there's something to be said about eating something made by mortal hands.

(He suddenly misses Eurydice's cooking, and her singing, and just her personality in general, the way she would click her tongue every time she realized he didn't know an ingredient, as if that was a grandiose failing in his education.)

Part of him thinks he shouldn't be accepting their food at all, when this little family could use it much more than him, but Acacia would probably take it as an offense.

When they're done, he peeks inside the bag as Acacia puts everything away. There's not much food left.

She notices his nosiness, but doesn't say anything.

"Are you leaving?"

"Yes," she answers, gesturing for the children to come closer. She helps both of them climb inside the cart, where he can see a couple of blankets bundled up in a corner. "It'll be night soon, and I need to find a safe place to camp. We will follow the trail for as long as we can. Hopefully the mountainous terrain will have mercy on us."

Zagreus still has much to learn about the surface, but he already understands that nature is not a merciful thing. Something a little bit like desperation surges inside his chest, and his brain insists on going over a list of every way they could die before arriving at their destination.

He hides his anxiety as best as he can. "Alright. Keep to the trail and I'll see you soon, okay?"

Acacia looks at him with something like suspicion. "For what?"

"Just wait. It's a surprise."

She huffs, lips pulling into a slight smile. "Most mortals would be very afraid if a god told them they have a surprise for them."

"But you're not most mortals. You're strong."

She looks surprised and pleased at his words, her face not exactly knowing what to do with those feelings.

"Most mortals would call that strength 'foolishness'."

"Somehow, I don't think you agree with them."

She chuckles. "You are very smart for a god who has only recently left the nest."

"You flatter me, my lady."

"Flattery is for the spineless and the sleazy. I'm only telling the truth."

"I... accept the compliment, then?"

"Good answer."

"Zagreus is smart!" Ophelia shouts from the cart, voice loud in that way that all children seem to be.

Some part of Zagreus still unused to being on the surface, to being free, expects someone to spring from the bushes to reprimand her, to tell her to lower her voice.

But reprimands don't come. Acacia smiles at her daughter with all the love he personally thinks a mother should have for her children, and he's overtaken by a cocktail of envy and sadness so potent it almost brings him to tears.

She must see something on his face, because she lays a hand on his arm, something he's pretty sure mortals don't go around doing to gods. Her hand has a weight and a warmth he's not used to, but it’s nice. Comforting.

"We will go now, but I'll keep an eye out for you, yes?"

Her voice is softer than it's been so far, and Zagreus is incredibly grateful to her for that, even as he's also incredibly embarrassed for being so transparent to a stranger.

But there's also some safety in it. She doesn't know him, doesn't know the good or the bad things that have shaped him—even if she can see something on his face—so if she goes around telling people a god can be vulnerable like this, no one's going to believe her.

Zagreus doesn’t really think she would do it, though. She seems to have honor, her own little code of what is and isn’t acceptable.

She’s a good person; he can feel it, though he’s not sure how.

Zagreus smiles and waves as they leave, the children shouting and waving at him with an energy that belies their frail bodies.

Once they’re out of sight, he turns around and runs back to the river, trying to estimate how many fish their cart can carry without toppling over or killing their only animal out of sheer exhaustion.

It’s the least he can do for their kindness and their food, for the little distraction they provided him with, even though he’s certain Acacia will protest.

He delivers the fish half an hour later and has his first taste of true mortal gratitude. Acacia tries to kneel for him again, clearly trying to keep her tears from falling, and Zagreus has to pull her up by her hands, thoroughly embarrassed. He can’t dodge the way Ophelia throws her arms out of the cart and hugs him, though he doesn’t try very hard, if he’s being honest. She’s half in the cart and half hanging on to him, and Zagreus has a moment of sad realization.

He can’t remember when he’d last hugged someone.

He squeezes her a bit, making her giggle, trying to ignore how thin she is in favor of enjoying the moment.

Dorotheus is shyer, not moving from his corner while he eyes the fish with a hungry look, but he gives Zagreus a big smile anyway.

Acacia thanks him again, making him feel a pleasant mix of awkward and happy about it. He’s never been able to help someone so directly before, let alone been acknowledged so genuinely for his efforts.

“I will pray to you, and make offerings in your name,” she says, adjusting her himation to cover her face better as the wind picks up.

“That’s really unnecessary. I didn’t do this to make a follower out of you.”

“Oh, I know. I’ll do it anyway.”

“But— I—” he sighs in frustration. He doesn’t know how to explain to her how useless it would be to pray to him. He’s not the god of anything. “I don’t even know my aspect. I’m probably god of nothing. There’s nothing I can offer you in return.”

“Every god is a god of something, Lord Zagreus. I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually.” She smiles with a kindness he’s not used to being directed at him. “And when you do, let me know.”

Then she picks up the reins and walks away, leading their pack animal along the trail once more, Ophelia and Dorotheus waving as they fade into the distance. They look a little sad this time, as if they know they won’t see him again.

For a moment, he has the stupid idea of following them to make sure they reach their destination, but he knows he shouldn’t.

He can’t go around interfering with the Fates too much. They might take notice. They might decide Zagreus is doing more than he should, being nosier than he has any right to be.

They might decide to undo the good things he does, and Zagreus doesn’t want to see the people he helped fall into disgrace because of him.

Forcing himself to turn around again, this time for good, is harder than it should be.

(He doesn’t notice the little patch of yellow dandelions he leaves behind.)

He doesn’t encounter any other mortals—at least not ones that seem like they would want to talk to him, anyway—for a long time afterwards, and his days and weeks start morphing together.

He sleeps a lot.

A lot.

It’s worrying; is it a side effect of having a new body? Is this new existence so unnatural that it requires excessive amounts of energy just to maintain it? Or is it just a period of adjustment? What if he stays like this forever, being awake for a few hours and then falling asleep for days on end?

What if his body gives out, eventually? This doesn’t seem sustainable, after all. Would he even be able to exist without his physical body? Would he be stuck down in Chaos’ domain too, unable to deal with the physical planes lest the world decides to erase him from it?

And what is up with these dandelions? The things just keep sprouting wherever he goes, looking bright and cheerful in all their yellowness, uncaring that Zagreus’ mood gets worse and worse every time he lays eyes on them.

After a nap that lasts a whole week, Zagreus is frustrated enough to ask for help.

He sits at the edge of a cliff, looking over a tiny village in the far distance, and concentrates on the connection he feels in his bones, in an attempt to reach out to the one being he knows will probably help him.

It takes a good while to get a hold of it. He’s still very much an amateur when it comes to dealing with energies, and there’s no one around to explain them to him. The situation dredges up the feeling of worthlessness that he’s able to ignore on the good days; it stretches from his stomach up to his throat, suffocating but intangible, a reminder of what he’s always thought of himself.

In the middle of his self-deprecating thoughts, he feels the connection expand. It’s as if he’s wiped a heavy fog from a mirror, and he can finally see through it. The picture is not the best, as if he’s communicating with something far away, but it holds. Good enough.

Master Chaos? he calls, wincing at how loud his mind voice is. It echoes through whatever non-space he’s occupying right now, bouncing off invisible walls.

zagreus

Ah, hello. It’s good to hear your voice. It’s hard to manage the volume, and this time his voice is too low.

likewise, Chaos answers, seemingly having no problem in hearing them.

Master Chaos, I have some questions.

good, I have been awaiting your questions. what is it you wish to ask?

I’m always tired, and I’m sleeping a lot. I’m a little bit worried about it. Is this normal?

ah yes, I’ve seen you sleeping for long periods of time. I have been wondering about this, myself

You’ve been watching me?

This may have been concerning to other people, but Zagreus doesn’t mind. It’s good to know someone’s keeping an eye on him, someone he can trust to be doing it out of concern, and not some misguided attempt to keep him in check, or to keep him from making a mess of things.

It makes him feel safe.

only sometimes. just to assure myself you are well

Thank you, I appreciate it.

you are welcome. I am trying to be attentive, it is good to hear I’m doing it right

Zagreus can’t help his smile, and he wonders if Chaos can feel his fondness.

I’m glad we can talk like this. I was afraid that it might not work, even when you assured me it would.

it is as I said; you are part chaos now, more than you ever were before. I remade you directly, with purpose. there is a connection between us that would be extremely hard to sever

I was wondering about that, and I can’t believe I forgot to ask... why did you keep the human part?

should I have erased it too? I was under the impression it was important to you

Well, it’s not that I hate it or anything, but it doesn’t seem to serve any purpose. The only thing it ever did was make me a little less immortal than everyone else, I guess.

I was... afraid

Afraid?

yes. afraid that taking too much from you would erase the person you are. that wasn’t what you wanted, was it?

No... no, it wasn’t. I’m glad you thought about that, because that didn’t even go through my mind at the time, holy shit.

I thought as much. the only piece that needed to go was the one from your lord father. there wasn’t a need to take more than that. I tried to keep you as you as possible

Again, I appreciate it so much, Master Chaos. Thank you so much for doing this for me. Oh no, he’s getting emotional again, and he’s sure Chaos can feel it through their bond.

and again, you are welcome. the world would have been less without you in it

It’s more than anyone has ever said to him. Zagreus chokes on a sob, tries to push it down before he blubbers all over their connection.

He finds himself staying silent for a moment, until the urge to cry subsides.

I am told it is okay to cry. you should try it

Zagreus is surprised by the laugh that comes out of him. I know, I know. I just have other questions to get to. I can cry later.

you are always full of questions. I enjoy it. please, ask

Right! So... do you have any idea why I’m always tired? Is it a side effect of the change? Will it go away?

I do not know, but it stands to reason that you are simply not used to the new you

Zagreus breathes a sigh of relief. Chaos doesn’t sound worried, so he will try not to worry, too. Okay. Next question. Were you... were you with me when I encountered Acacia and her children?

yes

Ah. I guess you were the one who didn’t let me lie, then?

correct

I see. Why?

you are new to the world, now. you must introduce yourself properly. it would not do to have the mortals thinking about you under another name. that would bring you trouble in the future

But I... I don’t want followers. I’m not a god of anything; I never was. There’s nothing I can give people.

you think too little of yourself, zagreus

Just trying to be realistic here.

I believe the word you are looking for is ‘pessimistic’

I guess we can agree to disagree?

a good solution, yes

Alright. Next question, then. Do you have any idea what my new abilities might be? What sort of test I could try? Some training exercises to suggest?

I am sorry, but in this subject I am at a loss. your new abilities are yours to find out

Yeeeaaaaah, I thought so. Thanks, anyway.

you are welcome. now, the connection is slipping away. I believe you are getting tired again

And sure enough, he can feel his muscles loose already, back hunched over in his sitting position. He groans, unsatisfied, but at least a little bit less ignorant than before.

Ugh, this sucks. I’m gonna take a nap that’s gonna last however many days, and then I’ll figure this out. I’ll keep you updated on my progress, Master Chaos.

please, do

Zagreus tries to say goodbye, but the connection fizzles out of nowhere. He breaks into a big yawn, annoyed, but unable to keep his eyes from shutting. It’s an odd feeling, exhaustion pulling him down like this. He can feel himself leaning backward, until he’s resting his back against the cold snow, but he can’t muster the energy to care much, with sleep calling his name so strongly.

He should move. Sleeping on a cliff could be dangerous, even if he’s pretty resistant to damage in general. Not to mention he doesn’t want anyone from the village finding him here. Who knows how they’d react?

It’s probably also a bad idea to sleep directly in the snow, even if his powers seem to be keeping the cold at bay.

He should move. He should... but his limbs don’t listen to him when he tells them to move, and suddenly the snowy ground feels incredibly comfortable. Cozy, even. Zagreus falls asleep right there, on the edge of a small cliff on a small hill overlooking a small village.

In the middle of the snow.

(He dreams.

Black nights and white snow. Fluffy clouds of all the colors of the rainbow. Mortal children chasing each other in a field of dandelions, so yellow and bright as to rival the sun.

Someone calling his name. Someone looking for him. Someone waiting for him.

White curls and golden eyes, slender fingers with ink marks.

Wings. So many wings.

He dreams, protected by his own mind. So protected that Sleep doesn’t find him.)

Sometimes, Zagreus wakes up crying, and he doesn’t know why. (He does. He does he does he does.)

He wakes up nine days later—how he knows the exact time he’s been sleeping is a mystery to him—under a healthy layer of snow, and with his extremities burning and sharp as if he’s been stuck full of needles.

At first it’s hard to parse what’s happening, sleep still clinging to him with tiredness deadening his limbs. Zagreus tries to sit up, supporting himself on his arms, but his hands spasm instead, sending a shock of pain right up his arms and into his spine.

“Shit!” he shouts, falling back onto the ground, snow entering his mouth as soon as he opens it.

“Ow ow ow, what the fuck, what the fuck?” he can't help but say, spitting snow back out. The ice crystals feel so cold that they threaten to burn his tongue, and that, combined with the heavy sensation of snow piled on top of him, is what gets him to move.

He climbs out of the snow cocoon slowly, painfully, unable to feel some of his toes, though at least his fingers seem to be working. The process is difficult; he’s been buried pretty deeply, which is mildly horrifying, but at least he was somehow still able to breathe.

When he’s out, the light of the moon greets him, shining bright against the rocks and the wet grass. The forest at the edge of the hill is quiet at this time of night, sleepy, the only sound the gentle sway of leaves in the wind. The village in the distance seems mostly asleep too, with only one house sporting any kind of light, though Zagreus had wondered before falling asleep how many of those houses are even occupied in the first place.

He’s noticed how sparse the population is, how people seem to be moving away from Greece in droves.

The night is quiet, and it would be a pleasant moment, were it not for the pain he’s currently in.

He brings a hand over his face and stares. His fingers are all various shades of dark red and white, and he can see a little bit of purple. And they hurt.

Gods, they hurt so much.

He has no idea what this is, has never heard anyone mention it before, but he’s sure it has something to do with the cold. If he could travel back to the past, he would slap himself upside the head for falling asleep right there.

Torn between trying to deal with this on his own and asking for help, the decision is taken out of his hands by a sound in the bushes behind him.

He gets up and swivels around, instantly alert despite the pain, and his gaze falls onto someone.

It’s a commoner, judging by the clothes, very similar to what Acacia was wearing. The man is very bundled up, looking warm inside his himation, and Zagreus feels incredibly envious of him for a split second. He’s holding an oil lamp, but even without the light Zagreus would have been able to see his weathered face, and the dog by his side.

“Ah, forgive me, my Lord, I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you alright?” the man asks, accent thicker than Acacia’s.

“I’m alright, don’t worry,” he answers, though he knows he sounds tired and frustrated. He hasn’t had much contact with mortals because most of them seem either scared or suspicious of him. This one doesn’t seem like either one.

“Right,” the man walks a little closer, bringing the oil lamp up as if he’s trying to see Zagreus’ face. “it’s just— by the gods, my Lord, that looks awful!”

Zagreus wants to feel offended by whatever the man saw in him that elicited that response, but then he realizes the man is looking at where he has his hands clenched under his chin.

“Ah,” he begins, extremely embarrassed, bringing his hands down in an aborted attempt to hide them out of sight, “you see, I... I fell asleep. In the snow. Stupid, I know.”

The man opens his mouth to answer, then pauses to take a good look at Zagreus under the meager light. Zagreus doesn’t know how well morals can see in the dark, but the man’s gaze is attentive and sharp for his apparent old age.

He takes Zagreus in for a long moment, contemplatively.

Then he says, “My Lord, would you like to come to my house? It’s a very humble place, but I have a nice warm fire and some warm drinks, so I might be able to help you with the frostbite.”

“Frostbite?”

“The injuries in your hand. There’s a little bit on your nose too.” He moves the lamp closer to the ground. “And on your toes. Ah, that one looks like it’s gone already.”

Zagreus looks down to find one of his toes is indeed missing. Huh.

The picture is... strangely interesting to look at, though the part of him that must be his shriveled up survival instincts is very, very unhappy right now. Zagreus decides the smart thing to do is set aside his miniscule pride and accept the offer. What’s he got to prove, anyway? Not much.

They move slowly, his movements incredibly hindered by the missing toes—messing up his balance far more than he would’ve expected—and the ones that are so damaged he can’t feel them, let alone move them.

“What’s your name, good sir?” Zagreus asks as the man helps him down the hill. The village suddenly seems too far away for them to ever make it, but moving towards it anyway helps keep his mind off of it. It’s helping him regain feeling, too, which is a good thing. Still hurts, though.

“It’s Theodore, my Lord. And this is Korax.” Theodore gestures to the dog following at their heels, black as the night, its sharp brown eyes watching Zagreus closely.

“My name’s Zagreus. It’s a pleasure to meet you, though I wish it could have been in less embarrassing circumstances.”

“Don’t worry, Lord Zagreus. Frostbite catches everyone off-guard at least once in their lives.”

The way to Theodore’s house is not as long as Zagreus feared; the small house is perched at the edges of the forest, a ways away from the village proper. It looks old, but sturdy, a warm light emanating from a window. If he concentrates, he can hear the crackling of a fire somewhere inside.

Once they’re inside, Theodore helps Zagreus sit in a bundle of furs by the fire. “I’ll grab some medicine and something hot to drink, to warm you up. Korax, be a good girl and keep him company, will you?”

When Theodore walks away, Korax pads forward to get a good look at him. She’s a beautiful thing, as tall as Zagreus when he’s sitting down, black fur thick and glossy. She sniffs around him, eyes intelligent in a way Zagreus has learned some animals can be, as she determines his threat level.

She reminds him of Cerberus.

“Hey, girl,” he whispers, not wanting to spook her.

She eyes him up and down, sniffs again, then brings her head closer, presumably not to bite the ever-loving shit out of him.

Zagreus slowly, very slowly, raises a hand and lets her smell it. She seems intrigued by whatever he smells like, and he recalls Achilles commenting once that some animals are able to sense beyond the physical realm. He wonders if Korax can smell the chaotic energy coming from him, or if she can literally see beyond his physical form.

Or perhaps she just thinks he’s weird.

She finally gives his hand a lick, deeming him acceptable, and he pets her with both hands, ignoring how his fingers scream in pain.

Her fur is as soft and thick as it looks. She happily thumps her tail on the floor when he scratches behind her ears, with a thump thump thump, and Zagreus is instantly caught by surprise by how much he misses Cerberus in that moment.

Before he can get all gloomy about it, though, Theodore returns with his supplies.

It’s not much; according to Theodore, the best way to deal with frostbite is to let the body heal on its own. The key is to make sure to keep warm.

“Don’t put your fingers or toes too near the fire, it might hurt more than help,” Theodore says, gently nudging his hands a bit farther from the flames.

Zagreus has a moment to think of the irony that is his life; he escaped the constraints of fire only to be burned by the cold, and now he’s finding comfort in fire again. At least it’s not the fires of hell, lava pools full of screaming souls. Those fires he will be glad to never feel again.

He muses on it for a while as Korax settles beside him, Theodore working on making a hot beverage for him.

“It’s salvia, my Lord. It helps with the healing, but most importantly, it will warm you up.”

The cup is blissfully warm in his hands, though Zagreus takes care not to touch his fingertips to it. They’re still numb, and he really doesn’t want to find out what that cold numbness will turn into when met with enough heat to boil water.

Theodore explains that the dark red and the white parts will be easier to deal with, though he might lose whatever turned black. Zagreus already lost a toe, and only the gods know where it is by now.

There’s another toe looking like it wants to fall off, hard like a rock and so numb it doesn’t even hurt like the others; instead it’s more like a block of ice. Zagreus is tempted to speed the process along, morbid curiosity taking a hold of him, though a part of him protests that removing small parts of him, dead or not, may be self-harm.

The cool thing about being immortal, though, is that he doesn’t really need to worry about his body.

He’s pretty sure he can make them grow again, anyway.

Pretty sure.

Mostly pretty sure.

The morbid urge doesn’t go away, drowning out the minimal protests of his mostly atrophied self-preservation (a relic from his human part, perhaps?), so Zagreus chooses a finger that seems mostly intact, puts a good amount of strength behind it... and flicks off the offending toe.

It breaks off like glass—or ice—and goes careening on the floor. Korax’s ears perk up at the sound, her eyes following the toe as it disappears in a dark corner, but she stays put.

“Huh.” That was kind of fun.

He looks up to Theodore, and the man is staring at him with a mixture of shock and amusement that he’s seen a few times on Achilles’ face before, and Zagreus can’t do anything else but laugh, knowing his behaviour must seem baffling and childish.

“Ah,” Theodore says, nursing his own cup of warm liquid, “I suppose that’s one way of dealing with it.”

“Sorry, that was kinda disgusting wasn’t it?”

“I’ve seen worse, my Lord. You wouldn’t believe the kind of injury people accumulate in the cold.”

“Are you some sort of healer, sir?”

“No, just some old man who knows a lot about things and has enough spare time to help.”

“What do you do for a living, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I would like to say that I’m a farmer, but farming hasn’t been the same in decades. I just try to grow enough things to feed people.”

Zagreus questions him about it, eager to understand how growing things actually works. Maybe he could start his own little garden somewhere, ward off a little corner of the world to make sure no one will be able to find it and plant all kinds of trees and flowers and vegetables.

It would be nice, he thinks, to help things grow instead of destroying them.

He thinks he might like it.

They spend a good couple of hours in conversation while Zagreus silently channels his energy into his body, urging it to heal itself.

A good many topics are covered, including the current state of the world. He’s saddened when he finds out that Theodore has lost his wife and his three children to starvation.

“It’s a slow kind of madness,” Theodore says, eyes distant as he stares into the fire, “to watch the people you love slowly waste away. It stays with you.”

“Is that why you help random strangers?”

“Yes. The cold has already taken too much from this nation. If I can help in little ways, then I will.”

“I appreciate the help, sir, but I’m a little worried you just let any stranger into your house like this.” Zagreus gives him a small smile, trying to chase away some of the darkness on his face. “What if I was an evil spirit, or a vengeful god looking for some dark fun?”

“Ah, but see, evil is only scary when you’ve got things to lose, Lord Zagreus.” Theodore gestures at his house, his clothes, the fire in front of them. “And I haven’t got much.”

“What about Korax?”

“Korax is a wild thing. She’s not a pet. If anything happens to me, she will go back into the forest and find somewhere else to make a home. I am old; she knows I’ll go first. And when her time finally comes, I’m sure she’ll come find me.”

There’s really nothing to say to that, so Zagreus lets the silence linger, comfortable in ways silences around him rarely are.

Morning comes soon enough, bringing with it cold sunlight and two new toes. Zagreus’ fingers and nose are all healed up, and he tests his fingers out by stretching them and picking things up. For his nose, he pinches and pokes it, the lack of pain suggesting it’s fine now. Everything seems in order.

Belatedly, he realizes they both stayed awake the whole night talking. He feels guilty for keeping Theodore up, but the man waves his concern away.

“I’m used to weird hours. My Lord doesn’t have to worry.”

“I really wish you would just call me Zagreus.”

“That would be disrespectful.”

“You saw me frostbitten like an idiot who’s never seen snow before. There’s no dignity left to lose, sir.”

“Then I must insist you stop calling me sir.”

“Deal. What should I call you, then?”

“Theo.”

“Alright. You call me Zagreus and we’re even.”

Theo sighs, the heavy sigh of an old man who knows he’s just lost an argument. “As you wish, Zagreus.”

Saying goodbye is difficult, again, especially when Korax whines and jumps on his legs, tail wagging with so much force that it shakes her whole body.

“Bye, girl. Be good and take care of Theo, yeah?” Zagreus gives her a good rub, enjoying the simple affection she gives him in return.

He turns to Theo and finds the man observing him. “I haven’t had much respect for gods in my life, especially when none of them answered my prayers... but for a god, you’re alright, Zagreus.”

“Okay, I know the growing toes were a dead give away, but how is it that people keep realizing I’m not a mortal?”

Theo tilts his head at him. “You really don’t know?”

“No. I haven’t talked to many mortals, honestly. Most of them run away when they realize what I am, or they get so caught up in kneeling and being respectful that it’s just impossible to talk to them. And this one time one of them even threatened me! Then there’s the weird ones who seem entirely unfazed by me, which is welcomed but baffling all the same.”

Zagreus gives Theo a look.

Theo chuckles, voice roughed up by the years. “There’s just... something about you. It’s hard to explain. You’re less flashy than what I’ve heard people say about other gods, but there’s just no hiding the otherness, I guess. Though divinity is beyond my field of knowledge.”

“Ah, well, not sure how much it really matters to be honest. Less fear and worship would be nice, though. Thank you for the help. I’ll try not to lose parts of me again.”

“See that you do. Wouldn’t want my hard work going to waste.”

Zagreus gives Korax a last pat on her head, then nods at Theo.

He turns and walks away before he loses his nerve.

It’s tempting to stay, to talk more, to listen to Theo’s stories of how the world works. Zagreus has been kept away from the surface for so long, he’s starved to know everything about it.

But he knows he needs to go.

Gods shouldn’t linger, and even though he vows not to be tied down to dumb traditions, he doesn’t want to bring misfortune to people just because he gets attached to them.

When he’s back on the hill where he fell asleep, he looks back and sees the small forms of Theo and Korax watching him. He gives them a last wave and turns around, disappearing through the trees.

This time, though, he does notice the patches of dandelions by Theo’s feet before he goes.

And he wonders.

The dandelions start following Zagreus everywhere.

Everywhere.

They were already annoying enough, sprouting without warning and then refusing to vanish, even when he tried to expunge them away with chthonic energy.

Now they’re just... there. All the time.

They sprout where his feet touch the ground, and if he dares to reach for a flower or a blade of grass, suddenly there are dandelions competing for space in his hands, literally pushing each other out of the way to be touched first. It’s gotten to the point of whenever he sits or lays down, they form a circle around and under him, as if trying to keep him comfortable.

It would be sweet, if they weren’t so annoying.

They follow him around for weeks and weeks, until one day he finally sits down and decides to deal with them.

He sits on a patch of ground relatively free of snow and waits, watching as the yellow little buggers burst from the earth as if time moves differently for them, making them grow exponentially faster than they would in normal circumstances.

Zagreus glares.

One of the dandelions sways in his direction, gently bumping him on his knee.

He glares more.

The dandelion is persistent, though. They all are.

It’s commendable, really. And way too cute. Plants shouldn’t be this cute.

He gives in and picks it up. “Okay,” he says, bringing it close to his face and staring it down like an unruly child, “what do you want?”

Then something extraordinary happens.

The little flower morphs right in front of his eyes. It closes itself to the world for a second, the whole flower head shrinking in on itself, as if protecting its delicate petals. It loses some of its shine during that split second, its lush green darkening, parts of it recoiling in on themselves.

For a moment, Zagreus is afraid that he may have killed the flower, perhaps by channeling energy into it without realizing.

But then it starts to reopen, and when it does, the yellow petals have given way to white; dozens of thin, wispy white things, looking so fragile that a gust of wind would blow them away. Each one of them is attached at the base by a small brown kernel, which he’s pretty sure is a seed.

Dozens of seeds.

It’s beautiful, actually. (He’s taken over by gratitude, again, that he gets to experience all of this now.)

One of the seeds detaches itself from the rest, the wind blowing it on his face. It lands on his nose, and he crosses his eyes to stare at it, utterly taken by its simple beauty.

~if I could get just one plant to grow, things could get a little better around here~

The voice startles him so much that he jerks back, almost losing sight of the seed as it dislodges from him.

He scrambles for it, trying to grab it in his hand before it’s lost in the wind.

What was that?

He looks at the little seed with newly found interest, urging it to whisper to him again.

And it does.

~if I could get just one plant to grow, things could get a little better around here~

It’s a feminine voice, a little reminiscent of Persephone’s. But this one sounds younger and tired, desperate.

~if I could get just one plant to grow, things could get a little better around here~

The sentence repeats over and over, faint, as fragile as the seed carrying it.

It’s a wish.

Someone wished for something, and the little seed carried it to him.

He looks at the flower he dropped on the ground in his desperation to save the little seed. Some of the other seeds have detached themselves as well, but instead of being blown away, they hover in the air near the flower.

As if they’re waiting for him.

He picks the dandelion up, floating seeds following behind it with a little bit of a delay. Some childish part of him takes over for a moment and he shakes the flower around, watching as the seeds dance after it.

“Okay,” he whispers, a little bit afraid but mostly in awe, “and what do I do with you, now?”

The little seed approaches him again, dancing in front of his face.

~if I could get just one plant to grow, things could get a little better around here~

He closes his eyes and lets instinct guide him.

The power inside him sparks to life for the first time, bright and loud, a burst of energy very different from the times he’s been using it to keep himself warm, or to heal himself, or to cross over a mountain in seconds. It twists and turns, like it’s uncoiling itself from a long slumber, happy that he’s finally putting it to good use.

It reaches beyond him, beyond his body and this physical plane, and touches down on the other side of Greece, on a lonely farm. Zagreus watches the woman looking over her vegetable garden, sadness plain on the set of her shoulders as she searches the swath of bare earth for any sign of life.

Just one plant, right?

Zagreus pushes his power into the land, the energy eager to get to work. It nestles in the soft, cold earth, taking hold of the dead roots of one of the seedlings that never broke the surface. Nothing appears to happen above the earth, but Zagreus knows it’s there, and he knows this farmer will have a little bit of a shock when she wakes up tomorrow.

Satisfied, he disconnects, falling back into his body. It’s like falling onto a bed, soft but abrupt at the same time, almost knocking the breath out of him. He opens his eyes—didn’t even realize he closed them—and finds the other dandelions gathered around him, waving back and forth as if trying to get his attention.

They must be happy, now that he’s finally figured out what they’re for. Or maybe he’s just putting too much expectation on dandelion behavior. They’re only plants after all, no matter how magical they seem.

They also seem incredibly eager, falling over each other to get to him, trying to climb his legs with their roots and stems and leaves, bumping into and knocking each other off in the process.

Ugh, he’s going to have to take care of all of them now, isn’t he?

To the surprise of absolutely no one, Zagreus gets exhausted after five wishes and falls asleep on the spot.

Well, at least this place doesn’t have as much snow. Plus, the dandelions are very comfortable.

Time becomes even more inconsequential than it ever was for him.

His time is divided between exploring, granting wishes, and falling asleep in strange places. (He does try to keep all his body parts, though.)

At one point he sees Thanatos around the base of a mountain, looking haggard in a way Zagreus has never seen before. He seems to be looking for something, or someone, and for a split second Zagreus is almost sure they lock eyes; then Thanatos looks away, as if Zagreus isn’t there at all, and he runs away before that can be rectified.

He’s torn between believing his father would send people looking for him, to drag him back, and thinking that Hades just wouldn’t care at all, and maybe Thanatos is looking for him of his own volition.

Whatever the case, Zagreus doesn’t care to be found. Hell, maybe Thanatos isn’t even looking for him. It’s not the first time Death would have to contend with people trying to run from him, after all.

Besides, Thanatos isn’t the one he wants to see the most; that one never leaves the House, though, so his wish is a waste of time.

(Ironic, that he can grant other people’s wishes but not his own.)

A training session going wrong is not the way Zagreus thought he was going to find out about his blood, but here he is.

He’s been getting antsy lately, getting random urges to have a blade in his hand. He had to leave all his weapons back at the House; he couldn’t risk bringing one or two and leaving himself open to being found through them.

He doesn’t even know if that would be possible, but he’s never been one to doubt the powers of divine tools and weapons.

It was the best choice, really, but he still misses them.

He finds himself in an open field, no farms or houses in sight, and decides to test out some of his powers. He needs to figure this out, sooner or later, and he’d rather not get caught by a surprise fight without knowing what to expect from himself.

The main problem is that he doesn’t even know where to start.

He has no weapons, has never had any type of energy training until right now, and not even Chaos could predict what he may be able to do.

So, lacking a teacher, he copies people he knows, and the random warriors he’s seen through the Underworld, and even the heroes he only read about in old books.

He tries concentrating energy in his hands, but fails. Tries making a weapon out of energy, and fails too. He even tries just moving the energy through his body, in hopes of at least enhancing his physical strength and speed beyond what he’s been able to do until now.

But he fails at that, too.

It’s not that the energy isn’t there; it is. It’s just that it seems weak, distant, unable to break the surface of his skin. It’s as if he’s used most of it already.

Which is bullshit.

Whenever he grants a wish, his powers are clearly there. He feels the wishes happening, feels it in his very core, the energy ebbing and flowing like ocean waves.

But as soon as he concentrates on anything else, nothing.

Frustrated, he punches the nearest boulder, shouting his pain to the winds when he feels something crack in his hand.

Ouch.

He looks at his right hand, already annoyed even before seeing the damage, and is caught by surprise at what he finds there.

He has two broken fingers, which is actually not surprising; the skin is broken, which is also not surprising... but there’s no blood.

No red. No sign of his mortal heritage.

Instead, what flows out of the wound is black. Black like the night, like the sea of stars inside Chaos’ domain. It glitters with tiny little stars inside, like his wound has opened a tiny portal to another dimension.

It’s disconcerting and awe inspiring in equal measures.

His blood is black now.

He stares at it as its flow slows down, the cut closing on its own. When his skin is intact again, the blood slowly disappears in the air, fading away into nothing.

It’s hard to figure out how he feels about this news. On one hand, having red blood had always marked him as other, as different, as something to be looked at with trepidation. (With disdain.) On the other hand, red blood has always been something intrinsically his and his alone, something no one else had until he found out about Persephone; and then it became a connection between them, something they shared, something he had gotten from her, almost like a present.

On a metaphorical third hand, it’s not like having a connection had made a difference to her, in the end.

He should... mourn this, maybe. Acknowledge the change, feel the pain of it, and let it go.

He should.

But running away is much easier, and he has so many distractions now—it’s hard to convince himself to sit down and sift through his emotions.

So he doesn't.

This is probably the dumbest thing Hypnos has ever done.

Dumber than the time he thought sleeping near a lava pool was a good idea, and almost lost a foot; dumber than the time he tried to pet Cerberus’ other heads and almost got chomped on; dumber than the time he tried to switch Megaera’s whip for Thanatos’ scythe to see if they’d notice.

Dumber than the time he tried to make a plushie for Zagreus and pricked all his fingers, and the thing came out all wonky and ugly. He’d buried it under a tree in his domain out of embarrassment and vowed to never let it see the light of day.

This... this takes the cake.

He floats after the black poppies, and as they go from domain to chthonic web to mortal realm, the poppies slowly morph into flowers of all types in front of him, as if the person creating them doesn’t really care about the type of flower. As if poppies were just a way to get his attention.

This is so stupid.

Hypnos will probably regret this, most likely sooner rather than later.

The flowers lead him to the surface, to a snowy white Greece, the cold biting his skin before he has the chance to ward himself against it.

He should at least let someone know where he’s going. The thought of talking to Mom or Thanatos is unbearable right now, though. Maybe he could send a warning to Dusa? Or Achilles. Hell, even Megaera would be suitable.

But he doesn’t. And he doesn’t know why.

It’d be the smart thing to do. The situation is clearly dangerous; whoever or whatever is leading him is probably the one responsible for Zagreus’ death, and he wouldn’t be surprised if they’re lying to him in order to get him, too.

But it’s such a sweet, sweet lie.

Zagreus is alive. Zagreus is hurt. Zagreus needs his help.

He wants so badly to believe it.

Part of him is screaming to get away, to flee the entity who’s even now observing him. Hypnos can feel eyes following his movements, thinks he can see shadows out of the corner of his eyes, but when he looks directly at them, they’re not there.

Another part of him seems like it’s not there at all. Numb. Unfeeling.

(Another part of him, bigger and stronger than he would like, wants revenge. Wants to grab this entity by the neck and rip it apart, only keeping them alive long enough to level the pillars of their mind. Madness is the least they deserve for what they did. Hypnos wants to watch them struggle in his grasp in the same way they probably made Zagreus struggle, wants to ask why why why did you take him away?)

This is stupid, and he’s going to regret it... but he keeps following the flowers as they take to the sky and lead him away, his wings unfurling to keep up with them. He looks down briefly, just in time to see the gate of the Temple of the Styx disappearing under the clouds.

He didn’t realize they were so close. Hopefully no one sensed him.

They pass mountains and rivers all blanketed in a thick layer of snow, everything long frozen in the fury of an eternal winter. It doesn’t take long to reach their destination, and by then they’ve covered half of Greece.

It looks like a little clearing in the middle of the woods, though it’s hard to see through the canopy of trees. The ghostly path of flowers starts descending towards it, like an outstretched hand, and as he gets closer he sees small patches of... dandelions? He’s pretty sure they’re called dandelions, though he’s never seen so many in one place before. They’re in full bloom, a bright and vibrant yellow almost painfully contrasting against the muted environment. The patches seem almost arranged in a formation, rather than the erratic patterns that flowers usually take in the wild.

It doesn’t take long for him to realize why.

There, in the middle of the dandelions, surrounded by yellow and white and dark green, is Zagreus.

Zagreus.

The breath is knocked out of him so suddenly that it's almost like his lungs collapse.

There he is.

There he is.

Hypnos is touching his feet to the ground and running before he realizes what he’s doing, blanket belatedly following after him. He skids to his knees, snow soaking his chiton, the cold seeping through his skin like it’s reaching for his heart, to shackle it with too-tight chains of ice.

His very being is filled with fear, like he’s never felt before. What if it’s an illusion? A sick joke? What if it is Zagreus, but just his corpse?

Please be alive please be alive please be alive—

Zagreus is cold and too still, and all Hypnos wants is for him to open his eyes. Please.

He has a moment of blank panic, trying to remember how to check if someone’s alive, running what he knows about Zagreus’s body through his mind. It’s too little, far too little.

He places a hand on Zagreus’ chest and waits, hoping for a heartbeat, hoping that Zagreus’ body even has one to begin with, and why the hell has he never asked Zagreus if he has a heartbeat would that’ve been weird that would have been weird, wouldn’t it—

There’s a second of shock, as every sound hushes down.

ba dum

ba dum

Oh. Oh, thank the gods and the Fates and whatever else is out there listening.

Hypnos collapses on Zagreus’ chest with a heavy, wet sigh that almost turns into a sob, and lets a few tears slip out.

Here he is.

Here he is, alive, heartbeat steady—he has a heartbeat!—and... way, way too cold.

Hypnos springs up in surprise and horror, finally registering where they are and the state Zagreus is in. He blindly feels for his blanket, roughly grabbing it and pulling it closer. With the help of the blanket’s magically-powered movements, he maneuvers Zagreus’ body until the blanket’s under him, commanding it to float to get Zagreus out of the snow.

Looking around, there doesn’t seem to be any kind of shelter. No houses, no temples. Why was he here, anyway?

Hypnos bites his lips. He needs to get Zagreus out of the cold. Normally the low temperature wouldn’t be a problem, but Zagreus has always been more susceptible to changes in the environment. Mortals can have something called hypothermia, if Hypnos remembers the name right, where someone can die from too much cold. He doesn’t want to find out if Zagreus can experience something similar.

Zagreus has always been strangely susceptible to mortal ailments, after all.

There’s no telling what hypothermia might do to him, but Hypnos has a sinking feeling that he’d die and be dragged off somewhere else. Months ago, this wouldn’t be a problem, but now he can’t be sure where Zagreus might end up. He can’t risk losing sight of him, can’t risk having Zagreus return to wherever he’s been all this time. Can’t risk losing him again.

Something is different. Hypnos can feel it in how Zagreus’ power pulses in waves along the chthonic web—where before his presence was energy and life itself, now something restless and old beats in time with change. He wonders if this difference has anything to do with the one who brought him here, but he shelves that thought for later.

Zagreus needs to be warmed up, but he doesn’t want to risk using his own abilities for that until after he knows what exactly has changed. Although Zagreus is clearly paler and wearing less vibrant colors, the alterations of his physical form on a more existential level are unclear. Hell, he could be allergic to chthonic magic now, for all Hypnos knows. It’s bad enough that Hypnos doesn’t know much about how his biology had worked before.

That’s besides the point, though. Right now, Zagreus needs help.

He gives himself half a second to mourn the loss of the red clothes, before he makes a decision.

They can’t stay here.

Hypnos grabs one of Zagreus’ hands and squeezes it tightly, relishing the feel of those fingers on his, not caring that they feel like ice right now.

Then, he pulls the veil of the mortal realm down, chthonic energy flowing through and around them, and teleports them both to his domain.

In an instant, they’re standing in his field of poppies.

Hypnos lowers Zagreus to the ground, making sure the blanket is wrapped securely around him. He’s still incredibly cold, but his breathing seems normal now. Hypnos cranks up the ambient temperature anyway, hoping that the indirect power usage won’t affect Zagreus in a bad way.

Once that’s done, he sits beside him, hand still clutching Zagreus’ much colder one.

There’s a moment of stillness, then something knocks on the metaphorical walls of his domain. Confused, Hypnos lifts his head and watches the horizon. It’s rather unusual for anyone to seek him out.

It’s the same entity from before, but at least this time they don’t barge in.

They’re knocking. How polite.

Hypnos allows the connection, and immediately asks, “What do you want?”

to see him

“If you’ve come to hurt him— ”

if I wanted him hurt, I would have kept him away from you

Hypnos shivers. “Are you threatening me?”

no. I am stating a fact. I do not wish harm upon you or zagreus, which is why I led you to him

Hypnos doesn’t know what to think. On one hand, the entity admitted they had killed Zagreus—even though they claimed to have been fulfilling his wish. On the other hand, they did lead him to Zagreus when they didn’t need to.

Not only that, they could enter Hypnos’ domain without any trouble, so they could have killed Hypnos at any point, if they’d wanted to. They could have killed Zagreus at any point, as well. In fact, it would’ve been significantly easier for them to kill Zagreus, entering his domain without his permission should’ve been much more impossible because of the extensive protections he has layered all over it.

You always knew Zagreus wanted out. Is it so hard to believe he wished for it all to end?

For once, the dark voice says something decent. Hypnos has spent the last few months putting together every conversation and facial expression he could remember, painting the horrible picture that had brought him to his breaking point two days ago. Achilles bringing up his suspicions had just been the final straw.

He had long arrived at the conclusion that Zagreus knew exactly what he was doing. Zagreus wanted to leave, permanently, and he had found a way to do it, because of course he did.

And then he left without saying anything.

He let everyone believe he was dead.

Hypnos should be angry, but instead he’s just hurt. The black hole that’s been slowly feeding on his misery stretches a little more, gobbling up so much of him that Hypnos is briefly overwhelmed, afraid he might disappear at one point.

Disappearing wouldn’t be so bad. (He understands how Zagreus feels, no matter how painful it is to be on the side that’s left behind.)

A small groan catches his attention, and his eyes snap to the bundle in front of him.

Zagreus’ face contorts like he’s having a nightmare, and for a moment, Hypnos is afraid to touch him, to use any kind of power on him. Although it’s slight, there’s a chance that Zagreus might simply disintegrate under his touch, under the barest use of chthonic energy.

But Zagreus’ face contorts even more, and he starts struggling against the blanket, almost frantically, in a way that Hypnos can’t bear to stand by and watch any longer.

He hesitates for a second, then lays a hand on Zagreus’ cheek. He gives the nightmare a little nudge. Not enough to push it aside, but enough for Zagreus’ own mind to get rid of it, morphing it into a pleasant dream.

To his relief, nothing happens besides Zagreus’ frown disappearing as he stills.

Hypnos sighs, hoping he’ll have a nice rest.

Then Zagreus opens his eyes.

Hypnos starts, blinking down at him in surprise. The first thing he registers is the new eye, and a thousand questions want to spill from his mouth, but then he stops and really looks. Zagreus seems... not all there. His eyes are cloudy, as if half of him is still asleep, but he looks up and his eyes zero in on Hypnos with precision. Like they had been looking for him, specifically.

They stare at each other for a moment, Zagreus’ eyes roaming over Hypnos like he’s never seen him before. It’s a heady feeling, having Zagreus’ gaze on him, unerringly, with purpose.

Zagreus meets his eyes once again, with something almost reverent in his gaze.

“You have wings,” he says, slurring a bit, but voice so full of wonder that Hypnos finds himself blushing.

“Yes,” he answers automatically, then he registers the question and looks down at himself with a start. He’s in full chthonic god mode, all six wings out, both pairs of arms and both pairs of eyes, so yes, he does indeed have visible wings. He reaches up with a hand to his hair, feeling for the wings there. Correction: eight wings out.

It dawns on him, then, that Zagreus has never seen him like this. Self-consciousness grabs him suddenly, shaking him roughly and making him want to hide everything he is. He shrinks a bit into himself out of habit, but one look at Zagreus’ face, and he sees the awe still there.

“You have arms,” Zagreus says, tone rising in pitch as the amazement seems to rise with it.

His unease subsides as he takes the situation in, lips twitching in an aborted laugh as he answers, “Yes.” He does indeed have arms.

“And you have eyes.”

“Also yes.”

Zagreus smiles, and even though he looks kinda drunk and half-asleep, it still warms Hypnos to the core. “You’re so beautiful.”

Then he promptly falls back asleep, head lolling back in a way that can’t be comfortable.

Hypnos stares at Zagreus’ slack face, subconsciously adjusting his neck back into a more comfortable position. Did he just...?

He can feel the ichor boiling in his veins, face burning gold, wings fluttering behind him. Something bubbles up from his chest, excited to get out. Hypnos opens his mouth to let it out and starts laughing.

He’s so surprised by it that he falls on Zagreus’ chest again, resting his forehead against black fabric as he laughs. Soon enough, his laughter turns into sobs, the tears impossible to stop once they start coming.

Hypnos sobs, loud enough that he worries he might wake Zagreus up, but the prince keeps sleeping, blissfully unaware.

He laughs and cries until his tears dry up and, for the first time in months, the black hole inside him shrinks. Just a tiny bit.

Lifting his head, he stares down at Zagreus’ unfairly handsome face, a slight smile still on his lips. He closes the distance between them and drops a kiss on his forehead, his last few tears sliding down his cheek and falling on Zagreus’ skin, staining it with faint streaks of gold.

Between a few stray chuckles, he mutters, “I missed you so much.”

Bundling Zagreus up in the blanket again, he brings him close, resting Zagreus’ head on his lap. He will watch over him until he recovers, and then they will talk. Hypnos has questions he wants answers to, and he feels like he deserves at least some of them. (He also just really, really wants to hear Zagreus’ voice. For hours. Days. Forever, really, though that may be too selfish.)

And if Hypnos keeps randomly crying and laughing while he waits, well, that's his business.

He loses track of time.

It’s easy to do that, when he’s not actively keeping tabs on the cycle of sun and moon. The fact that domains are usually static helps with that; there’s no day-night cycle in Hypnos’ domain, so it's easy to get lost if he spends too long here.

He could add a day-night cycle, though. If he wanted to.

Hm. Something to think about.

Meanwhile, Zagreus sleeps on. He looks extremely comfortable inside Hypnos' blanket cocoon, head still pillowed on his lap because Hypnos will be damned if he moves.

At some point he falls asleep sitting there with Zagreus, so he takes the opportunity to tend to a few dreams here and there. When he wakes up again, Zagreus is still asleep.

He must have been exhausted.

Has he been running all this time? Living in fear that he’s going to be found and dragged back to the Underworld? Which is incredibly possible, knowing Hades, so Zagreus’ fears are based on a strong mixture of reality and experience.

Oh, Zagreus. Even after escaping, he didn’t really escape, did he?

Hypnos runs a hand through dark hair and vows, then and there, to never let anyone take Zagreus anywhere he doesn’t want to go ever again.

A couple of minutes pass by, where a single white poppy sprouts right beside Hypnos’ knees and tries to climb it, reaching for Zagreus. Hypnos gently slaps it away, giving it a warning stare, and the poppy droops, returning to its place among the others. It still sways ever so slightly in Zagreus’ direction, though.

Stubborn little thing.

(Hypnos conveniently ignores how everything inside this space is a reflection of himself.)

He’s starting to lose himself in his thoughts when Zagreus stirs in his lap. As he watches, Zagreus' eyes open again—seriously, that eye has something incredibly familiar about it, though he’s not sure what—with much more awareness than before as he takes in his surroundings. The other eye is still the same soft green it was before, now looking significantly less unnatural and out of place compared to before his death-that-wasn’t-a-death.

Zagreus takes a deep breath, looking from Hypnos to the sky, then the far horizon and back again.

Hypnos blinks.

Zagreus blinks back.

And everything is silent for a while as time seems to come to a standstill.

Two seconds, five seconds. Then Zagreus leaps up as if burned, untangling himself from the blanket in a smooth move that reveals the kind of warrior he really is; cautious and always alert, always aware of everything, even when he doesn’t need to be.

Hypnos gets up too, so he can better meet his eyes.

Zagreus steps a meter or so away, eyes wide but face set in determination and something raw. He glances at Hypnos from head to toe, taking in their surroundings briefly before focusing on him again.

Oh. Hypnos finally recognizes that look, that stance.

Zagreus is tense, ready to run at the first show of a threat. He’s scared.

Hypnos’ heart breaks a little at that, but he understands. He falls back down onto the grass, getting comfortable with his legs crossed and the blanket back around his shoulders, wings curling into his back and around his torso for comfort.

Zagreus watches with focused eyes, keeping careful tabs on Hypnos’ movements.

Hypnos wants to ask so many things, wants to hug him and scream at him and hug him again and ask him to never do something like that again—or at least let Hypnos know next time.

But he starts small.

“Hey, Zag.”

Zagreus’ expression barely moves, but he makes an aborted motion forward, like he wants to step closer. He doesn’t move, though. Doesn’t talk. The spooked expression doesn't leave his face.

“Uhm...” Hypnos continues, desperate to keep him from running, “I found you? In the snow?”

Zagreus tilts his head. “In the snow?”

Ah. Hearing his voice is so good, when he’s not spouting sweet nothings in his sleep. Hypnos forces himself not to react. “Yeah. Something or someone led me to you. They said you were hurt.”

Zagreus avoids his eyes a little, puts a hand on his neck. “Tsk. Nosy,” he mutters, sounding exasperated and fond in equal measure.

Hypnos feels a sudden surge of irrational jealousy, and it takes considerable effort to not let it bleed out into their surroundings. His sky is still dark, the eternal promise of storm, but he’s sure he sees some clouds move closer, faster, darkening a little bit more than usual.

Back off, back off, he thinks at them.

They still, for now, but don’t leave. He’s really starting to regret taking Zagreus into the one place where he can’t hide his emotions behind a mask of pleasantries.

Hypnos looks back up at Zagreus and finds himself being watched.

He doesn’t want to put a name on the emotions he’s seeing, because it would be wishful thinking, but Hypnos feels warm at the way Zagreus’ eyes take him in anyway, like... he’s everything he wanted to see.

Hypnos runs a hand over his face, telling himself to stop projecting.

“Did my father send you?”

The question gets him by surprise. A cold, bitter surprise. Did Zagreus actually think...?

“What?” he asks, voice low. He doesn’t want to sound angry, but he knows he fails when Zagreus takes a step back. Hypnos’ heartbeat spikes at that.

“My father. He’s been sending people to look for me, right? Did he send you, too?”

Hypnos takes a moment to breathe, to calm down, before allowing himself to respond. “Didn’t I just tell you something led me to you?”

“Well, yeah, but you could have been out looking for me alrea—”

“How could I have been looking for you, when I thought you were dead?”

“...What?”

And just like that, Hypnos’ composure falls to the ground and shatters. “I thought you were dead!” He shouts, getting up and moving toward Zagreus.

Zagreus’ eyes widen in surprise and something like fear (oh no, Hypnos never wanted him to fear him—), taking several steps back, with that same, terrible, caged look returning, his eyes frantic and wild with desperate energy.

But Hypnos doesn’t stop, and he doesn’t let Zagreus put distance between them. He grabs him by the chiton—black, plain, nothing like what he used to wear—and pulls him until they’re face to face, noses touching. It’s reminiscent of his fight with Thanatos, but the feelings are entirely different, and Hypnos would never, ever hurt him.

“I thought you were dead,” he whispers, hearing his voice break. “I thought I was never going to see you again because you left and died and never bothered to tell me in advance, you asshole.”

Zagreus keeps his silence, but his face says it all. Surprise, dismay, and maybe a hint of regret? It’s a little hard to read him from this close, black and green eyes morphing and smudging together.

A hand comes up to his face and Hypnos startles as it touches his cheek, wiping away the tears he didn’t even notice were already falling.

“I’m sorry,” Zagreus whispers back, voice like the shards of broken glass piercing Hypnos’ heart.

It’s almost gratifying to hear that tone, to know that Zagreus takes no pleasure in making him and the others suffer, even though he’s the one who left in the first place.

“I thought you were gone,” Hypnos says, unable to stop talking.

“Hypnos, I’m sorry.”

“I thought I was never gonna see you again. How could you do that? How could you? You left without saying goodbye. You knew you were leaving permanently. You went away to kill yourself, and I... I...”

The hand on his cheek leaves, and soon there’s a pair of arms around him, strong, making him feel secure even as he breaks again.

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” Zagreus repeats, voice wobbling and slightly choked by emotion.

“You’re such an asshole.”

“Yes.”

“A fucking bastard.”

A strangled laugh. “Yes, I am.”

“You left.”

“I did.”

“You left and didn’t tell me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You—” Hypnos isn’t even sure of what else he’s going to say, because at that moment his tears decided is time to start flowing, and all that leaves him is a sob.

And then he just can’t stop.

He hugs Zagreus back as a hand comes up to his head, burying itself in his curls and bringing his face to Zagreus' shoulders. Hypnos is taller than Zagreus by half a head, but at this moment he feels small, fragile, like a little poppy in the middle of a storm. And Zagreus is the port, strong and firm and immovable, ready to catch him at the slightest wobble.

The arm around his waist tightens as Hypnos sobs loudly, uncaring of the scene he’s making. There’s no need for composure, even if he could manage it; no one’s here but them. Even the mysterious entity has left them for now.

He doesn’t count the time he spends there in Zagreus’ arms, doesn’t want to put in numbers this thing he thought he would never have again. He just hopes they will stay like this for a long, long while.

(They do.)

When Hypnos’ tears stop, he opens his eyes, finally registering what’s happened to his domain.

It’s raining.

The storm that has been threatening to fall, hanging around his domain like the physical manifestation of his compartmentalized grief and fear, like an ultimatum, has finally come. It falls cold and golden on them, soaking their clothes and leaving a chill in the air.

Hypnos shivers. Then he remembers exactly who he’s holding and why they’re here in the first place.

He gasps, shoving Zagreus away from him with hands on his shoulders. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize it was raining! I’m sorry, I know you’re cold, I’ll make it stop, don’t worry here take my blanket”—he takes his blanket off and shoves it into Zagreus’ arms—“be sure to cover yourself well, I don’t want you getting sick gods know how your body works now why are you smiling?”

Zagreus has had a smile slowly forming on his face since Hypnos started speaking, but now it blooms into a full-blown grin (gorgeous, it’s gorgeous), white teeth gleaming in the low light. “Hypnos, just breathe for a moment, okay?”

Oh.

It’s such a simple sentence. Hypnos, breathe. It’s not even that he’s heard it a lot, since he and Zagreus barely talked for centuries, but. But.

Oh, he’s crying again.

Hypnos absently contemplates how much he can cry before he’s nothing but a dried husk on the ground, but those thoughts don’t matter when Zagreus’ face softens like that, when he brings his hand up to Hypnos’ cheeks and tries to wipe the tears away, no matter how futile it is.

Zagreus is drenched to the bone, looking like someone up-ended a can of golden paint on him. The rain glitters on his skin, the gold sliding down the black clothes and bringing back a little bit of the flair he’s clearly left behind. Hypnos stands there and just takes it in, the way Zagreus changed and didn’t change at all, how the muted colors do nothing to dampen his kind smile and kinder eyes.

“How about we sit down, hm? You can tell me what’s been going on and I’ll tell you where I’ve been?” He ends his sentence in a question, as if unsure, as if Hypnos doesn’t want to know every little detail of how and when and who.

But most importantly, he wants to soak up the way Zagreus shines now. It’s not related to the power he’s putting off, even though he’s buzzing like a hive.

No, he just shines because he looks happy, if a little lost. It’s in his smile and his laughter, and just in general how relaxed he is, now.

He looks happy, and seeing him now makes Hypnos realize just how miserable he had looked before. Now he has something to compare it to. If Zagreus looks like this when he’s happy, then Hypnos is going to make sure no one can intrude on it ever again, because for the first time since he’s ever known him, Zagreus is glowing. He looks healthier than he’s ever been in the Underworld.

He looks free, even if the threat of Hades waiting to drag him back may never disappear. It’s just so, so much, and it’s wonderful.

He sits down and Zagreus follows, sitting beside him, turned toward Hypnos like the poppies on the ground turn towards Zagreus.

Oh, he really hopes Zagreus doesn’t notice the rebellious poppies. That’s going to be hard to explain without being honest, and being honest would be mortifying. Hypnos would rather not have to deal with that. Ever.

"So, what has been happening in the House?"

Hypnos breathes in, breathes out. "Oh, you know, nothing much. Just everyone on edge because the Prince has apparently been killed and his soul's being held hostage somewhere by something incredibly powerful that didn't even had the decency of showing its name on the ledger."

Zagreus doesn't tell him to breathe, this time. Instead, he winces, eyes skittering away and coming back to Hypnos with what might be regret.

"Yeah, uh... sorry?" he asks.

Hypnos narrows his eyes at him. Not quite a glare, but making it clear that answer is seriously lacking.

Zagreus winces again, even as his smile doesn't really vanish. "Okay, okay. If I tell you where I've been and what I've been doing, will you stop being angry at me?"

Hypnos hums, enjoying the way Zagreus looks like this is important to him, like Hypnos' anger is something that hurts him.

"Hmm, I guess we'll see." Hypnos smiles, mischievous. "Maybe I'll be more forgiving if you tell me who helped you, first."

Zagreus hesitates for a moment, and Hypnos almost retracts it. He doesn't have the right to know, per se, but he would like to. He wants to know everything about Zagreus.

And they've wasted enough time already, haven't they?

"Oh, well... it was Master Chaos," Zagreus says, with the levity of someone saying what they had for breakfast.

What?

"What?"

"Uh, didn't I tell you about them?"

"No?" This can't be. "When you say Master Chaos, do you mean..." No way. "Do you mean the creator of everything? That Chaos?"

There's just no way.

How could Zagreus have met them? Why would they concern themself with Zagreus' plight?

"Yeah, that's exactly who I mean."

Oh, by the gods.

Hypnos groans, slapping all his four hands on his face. "I threatened my grandparent."

"What?"

"I threatened them! Oh gods, Zag, I am so dead! I'm gonna be grounded for eternity, oh no."

Zagreus chuckles, unable to comprehend Hypnos' mortification. "I'm sure you had a good reason."

Well.

He did.

"I mean, I certainly did, but that doesn't change the fact that I was rude, and dismissive, and would have been even violent if I could! Oh noes, oh noes, this isn't good."

"Hypnos, I rather doubt Master Chaos would do anything to hurt you. But, uhm... why were you rude, anyway?"

"I thought they had killed you!"

"They did, kinda."

"Zag, I'm serious! When they entered my domain, I was all angry and growly and I cussed at them"—he groans again—"Mom can never find out, I'll never hear the end of it."

"I won't tell if you don't."

Hypnos takes a hand away from his face to point at Zagreus. "You! You think this is funny, don't you?"

Zagreus grins, all teeth, bright and beautiful. "I sure do."

Hypnos smiles back, helplessly, freeing his face from his hands. "Okay, it's a little bit funny."

"So what were the cuss words? Tell me."

Hypnos groans. "No."

"Hypnos, tell me."

"Nope."

"C'mon, you can't leave me like this."

"You're just gonna have to suffer. Consider it a little bit of payback."

Zagreus sighs, leaning back on his hands. "Fine, fine. I can't argue with that one."

Hypnos watches him as he watches the sky. The breeze gently ruffles his hairs and his clothes, and Hypnos wants this moment to last forever.

"Huh."

"What is it?"

"That cloud's moving kinda weird."

Hypnos looks up and, sure enough, there's a cloud in the distance. It's big and fluffy and pink, and it's moving in their direction.

Well, it's more like dancing its way over.

Ah.

Gods.

Gods and everything in between, can his mind stop trying to embarrass him for one minute?

Hypnos tells the cloud to get a grip and stay where it is. He watches the fluffy thing stop, waver in place, move a little forward again, then stop completely.

He sends the flowers another warning, too, for good measure.

When he turns back, Zagreus is looking at him with curiosity shining on his face.

Shit.

If Zagreus asks, Hypnos knows he's going to talk. He won't be able to say no, won't be able to deny Zagreus with his shining eyes and earnest questions.

But Zagreus simply watches him, a collection of feelings passing quickly through his face. Hypnos can't parse them all, but they seem fine enough.

Zagreus shifts, leans forward again, this time resting his elbows on his knees.

"You look... different."

Hypnos startles a little, caught unaware by the change in subject.

"Ah, yeah, this— y'know that we have, like, vessels and all, right?"

Zagreus nods. "Master Chaos explained it a little bit."

"Right, so what you used to see in the house was just my basic vessel. The appearance that my being chose for me when I was born. But this"—Hypnos gestures at himself—"this is the actual me in physical form."

"Does everyone have something like that?"

"You mean, gods? All the chthonic ones, I'd say."

"And the Olympians don't?"

"As far as I understand it, everyone has a vessel. A few of us just have other appearances underneath."

"So this is you?"

"Most of me, yeah."

"...Most?"

"Well, this is still a physical realm, kind of. And therefore I need a physical form. Being... erm, incorporeal takes too much energy on physical planes."

"So if we were to go to a non-physical plane, whatever that means, I could see your actual true form?"

"Hm, yeah! Though we might not wanna do that."

"Why not?"

"Zag, I don't think your body would survive the trip."

"We could just leave it behind."

"...What?"

"Yeah, when Master Chaos remade me, I could move without my body. I'm sure I can do it again."

"When Gran Chaos did what?"

"You call them Gran Chaos? Aww, Hypnos, that's so cute!"

"Shut up!" Hypnos shouts, feeling his cheeks warm up. "Answer the question!"

Zagreus laughs, bright and loud in a way Hypnos has rarely seen from him.

What a novelty.

"Okay, so I..."

Zagreus explains, briefly, what he set out to do, and what Chaos suggested instead, and what they ended up agreeing on, and Hypnos wants to simultaneously hug and slap them both.

He could do it. He has the arms for it.

But he settles for slapping Zagreus' arm over and over. "I can't fucking believe you."

"Ouch. Hearing you curse is so bizar—ouch!"

"Shut up."

Zagreus chuckles at that, allowing Hypnos his small moment of violence. Hypnos soaks the sound up like a flower in the sun.

"You know," Hypnos says, rubbing his hand where he was slapping Zagreus, completely missing the look he gets for it, "you being partly human makes a lot of sense."

"Right? When Master Chaos told me, suddenly things fell into place."

Hypnos tells Zagreus of his observations, how he always seemed more prone to the heat and the cold, and how the red blood always seemed incredibly suspicious.

"Yeah, no red blood anymore," Zagreus says. It's hard to read the inflection on his voice, but Hypnos thinks he can detect a hint of sadness.

"Wait, really?" he asks, wanting to erase that look from Zagreus’ face, but knowing he shouldn't. It’s healthy to feel the not so good feelings too. "How do you know?"

Zagreus gives him his signature mischievous smile. "How do you think? I tested it, of course.”

“...Zag, did you stab yourself?”

“Punched a boulder out of frustration, actually.”

Hypnos can't help it; he laughs. It's not even that funny, but it's just so Zagreus. After months of living in doubt and fear and the slow realization of death, Zagreus is here with him, sitting inside his domain, smiling like sunshine and being his usual playful self with very little survival instincts.

A little tear escapes the corner of one eye, but Hypnos wipes it away before it's noticed.

"Okay, so... you've been trying to figure out what's new with you, right?

"Yes! I've been trying to test my new abilities, but it's been very hard. I'm just not used to having abilities, I guess."

He sounds a little embarrassed at that.

"I can always help you."

"Really?"

"Of course! I don't wanna see you passed out in the cold again."

Zagreus rubs a hand on his neck, a subtle blush rising on his cheeks. "The cold has been really hard to deal with. If I'm not constantly vigilant, I start getting cold. I even got frostbite once!"

"What's... frostbite?"

"Oh, it's when a part of you gets so cold that it kind of dies? And you lose it."

Hypnos stares at him, horrified.

Zagreus puts his hands in front of him, as if to halt Hypnos' thoughts. "But I'm fine, I promise! I only lost two toes, but they grew back!"

Hypnos slaps a hand on his face. "By sheer dumb luck, I bet."

Zagreus laughs.

They stay there for a while, Zagreus recounting the things he's seen and done, which are not as much as Hypnos was expecting.

"What do you mean, you get exhausted easily?"

"Ah, well... I don't know how to explain, I'm just always tired. Sometimes I sit down under a tree and when I wake up I find out it's been weeks." Zagreus’ voice is low, almost ashamed, and gods, Hypnos has heard this tone of voice from him before and had never really been able to grasp what it was, until now.

"I guess that's to be expected, since you've never been trained to wield your actual powers. Have you?"

"No... I didn't really have any powers? Unless you consider the bloodstones a power, which I guess it is? Was, I mean."

Yeah, Hypnos didn't miss that tone of voice one bit; the one where Zagreus sounds like he thinks of himself as dumb, or useless, or simply less.

"Okay, so you've got new powers and no idea how to test them. I can help with that!" Hypnos offers, afraid of looking like a fool but unable to sit there and let Zagreus think bad things about himself.

"Uhm, really?"

"Of course!"

"But how are you gonna find the time?"

Hypnos tilts his head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Don't you have work to do? I doubt my father will let you leave just so you can teach me not to suck."

Oh.

"Ooooh. So... fun fact."

"...Yes?"

"I'm... not... in the House... anymore?" Hypnos says, helpless to keep the rising tone from his voice, the way he sounds so uncertain even though he's sure of his choice.

"...What?"

"I left. I left my job at the House of Hades. I left the House itself too." He gestures at his clothes, where the House symbol used to be.

He destroyed the skull clasp too, though that wasn't as much a symbol as it was a reminder of Hypnos' choices in the past, of pledging himself to the House and to Hades. He made it himself, so he destroyed it himself.

Zagreus’ eyes flit between Hypnos' face and mid section, there and back again, jaw slack in surprise.

"Wh— why? What happened?"

He sounds incredulous and worried, and Hypnos appreciates the worry even as he knows there's nothing to worry about.

"Well, after you left, things got... worse. Everyone was living on edge, angry at the slightest provocation, anxious and overworked and unable to hold any decent conversations." Hypnos stops, looks at Zagreus with what he knows is a sad expression. "Everyone was grieving, even when no one wanted to admit that you were gone for good."

The flash of guilt on Zagreus' face doesn't bring Hypnos any satisfaction.

"I just... I couldn't stay, Hypnos. I had to get away, one way or another."

"I know. I get it." And he does. He truly does. "So the mood wasn't good, and then I had a fight with Thanatos and it just... it was the culmination of everything, y'know?

"You fought with Than?"

"Oh yeah. In the middle of the hall, in front of everyone," Hypnos says, smiling at the recent memory, even as a wave of anger runs through him.

"Blood and darkness, I'm sorry I missed it."

"What, really?"

"Yeah. I've always wondered how you could stand Than being bitchy without punching him once a day."

"Oh, well... I'd rather not hurt him, as annoying as he can be."

"Hurt him?"

"Uh, yeah."

Zagreus’ eyes are curious as he stares. "What do you mean, 'hurt him'?"

Hypnos shrugs. “What do you mean, ‘what do you mean’? Hurting someone, Zag! I don’t wanna do it!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean— you mean you know how to fight?”

“Yeah?”

“Since when?”

“Since I was little, of course.”

Zagreus gapes like a fish out of water, opening and closing his mouth. Then, “But you never trained with us?”

“I didn’t want to. It was too dangerous. Mom— Mother trained me separately, but it was my choice.”

Zagreus squirms, moving across the grass while still sitting, leaning in closer. “Hypnos, are you telling me you're more powerful than Than?”

“Ah... yeah?”

Zagreus’ smile tells exactly what he thinks of this. Hypnos breathes a silent sigh of relief.

“I can’t believe I’m only finding out about this now. You and I should train together, sometime.”

“I don’t wanna hu—”

“You don’t wanna hurt me, I get it. But aren’t you tired of being idle? How long has it been since you stretched those wings? Those powers of yours?”

“A while...”

“So we should train together, and that way you can start helping me figure my shit out. How does that sound?”

Hypnos contemplates this for a moment. He doesn’t really enjoy fighting, but Zagreus is right, it has been a while since he let his powers loose. And training is not as serious as a fight, so no one gets hurt—permanently, that is.

“Alright, we can do that.”

He gets the most brilliant grin in response.

“Now?” Zagreus asks, eager as always.

“What, right now?”

“Do you have someplace to be?”

No. No, he doesn’t. People will have to pry him away from Zagreus with divine weapons, first.

“No.”

“Then no time like the present, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay. Should we do it here?” Zagreus looks around, confusion on his face. “Where are we, anyway?”

Oh.

“Uhm... my domain.”

Zagreus looks at him with that look again, that one that Hypnos can’t decipher, but that makes him feel good to be under.

He wants to be embarrassed about it, about showing Zagreus something so personal, such an intimate part of who he is, but... he’s just too tired to care. Too tired and too happy at the same time. Well, he’s always wanted Zagreus to come here, right?

No time like the present.

He spreads his arms wide. “Welcome to the House of Hypnos, and thanks for sleeping.”

Zagreus chuckles, taking everything in with curiosity shining on his face. He spins around, makes a show of looking at the trees and the sky and the ground.

Hypnos tries not to squirm.

Zagreus takes a few steps away from him, walking a little to the side, something shifting in his expression.

“Hypnos...”

“..Yes?”

“You have a field of poppies?”

Hypnos blinks, unsure of where this is going. It’s... pretty clear he has a field of poppies. They’re smack down in the middle of it.

“Yes?”

Zagreus looks at him, then at the field, then back at him. He gives Hypnos a small smile, and if Hypnos didn’t know any better, he would call that smile shy, except that Zagreus is never shy. He might be hesitant, or ashamed, or tired. But never shy.

“Hm. Okay,” Zagreus says, refusing to elaborate.

“...Okay.”

The silence threatens to stretch into awkward territory, so Hypnos beckons Zagreus closer.

“Come here. You can’t go around all wet like that.”

Zagreus steps toward him, amusement on his face. “I can’t actually get sick, you know,” he says, patting his clothes down and sending gold droplets toward the ground.

“Is that what you thought about frostbite, too?”

“Hey! I didn’t even know it existed!”

“Mhmm.”

“I didn’t!”

“Better safe than sorry.” Hypnos reaches out to touch him on the arm, but stops. “You’re not going to explode if I use chthonic energy on you, right?”

“I don’t think so? I have chthonic energy of my own, now, and nothing has exploded so far.”

“You’ve always had chthonic energy.”

“Barely, and it wasn’t even my own.”

“Semantics,” Hypnos says, sighing. He bites his lips, doubtful, but Zagreus apparently isn’t having any of it.

He grabs Hypnos’ hand and places it on his chest.

“Just do it. If I explode, you can help me piece my body back together.”

“I’d rather not see you in pieces, thank you very much,” he answers. “Though I admit I’m curious how you’re going to react.”

Then he dries Zagreus up using the least amount of energy possible for it.

A second of stillness, then Hypnos breathes a sigh of relief as nothing happens.

“See? Still intact,” Zagreus says.

“Well, excuse me if I don’t want to see you die any time soon, no matter if you can come back.” Hypnos’ voice is harsher than he wants it to be, and he regrets it immediately when Zagreus’ face falls.

“Sorry,” Zagreus says. “I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that people think I’m gone.”

“No, I’m sorry. I’m still a little mad at you, but it’s not my intention to be rude like that.”

“You can be rude all you want. I deserve it.”

“Maybe a little bit.”

Zagreus mostly deserves good things, actually, but Hypnos can’t bring himself to say it.

“Alright, c’mon then. Let’s find a place devoid of mortals and test some powers out,” Hypnos says, shifting his form to the usual one, sending his extra appendages to the background.

He absently extends a hand to Zagreus and startles when he takes it, skin finally warm under Hypnos’ touch.

He teleports them back to the mortal realm before Zagreus can see the blush on his face.

Hypnos is the most beautiful thing Zagreus has ever seen in his cursed existence.

There isn't a moment that he doesn't feel extremely grateful to Chaos for giving him a new life, but he feels especially grateful at moments like this, when his new vision allows him to see things he didn’t even know were possible.

Like the feathers made entirely out of energy that swim on Hypnos' back, even with his physical wings hidden from sight; or the shimmer in his eyes, golden and orange and other hues that Zagreus has no name for; or the way his skin stretches and glimmers when he talks or laughs or cries, lavender giving way to light blue and back again, tiny pinpricks of light dancing on his cheeks.

Or the way the air shimmers and bends around him, like Hypnos is so much that physical planes can barely contain him. Like he's ready to burst at any moment, ready to release the energy Zagreus can feel emanating from him, such raw power that it makes the fine hairs on his arm stand up.

“Are you paying attention?” Hypnos asks, snapping Zagreus out of his thoughts.

“Of course I am!”

Hypnos levels him with a stare that says exactly how much he believes that. “Zag, are you getting tired again?”

Well... “A little bit?”

“We can do this later—”

“No no no, I can do this! Just... explain again?”

They’re standing in the middle of the same field where Zagreus got frustrated and started punching random rocks. It’s a pretty place, if a little barren. He thinks he might have seen some mortals earlier, but Hypnos has reassured him that he’s put a little barrier around, so no one will see them.

“Okay, so,” Hypnos begins again, hovering a little bit in the air, “you can feel the energy when you grant the wishes, but you can’t control it beyond that?”

“Yeah. It helps me with the little things, like moving faster and keeping warm, but anything more than that is a chore. Sometimes it’s even painful.”

“Well, we usually have a core of energy inside. I guess it feels like... hm... like a ball of something warm?”

“Okay, yeah, I can feel it. Kinda. But when I try to access it, it’s like there’s nothing there. Like I’ve used it up already.”

Hypnos looks at him, contemplatively. He floats closer to Zagreus, then drops down on the ground.

Zagreus stares. “You’re taller than me?”

Hypnos blinks at him, smiling, looking a little bit incredulous. “Yeah? I’ve always been.” Then he suddenly looks uncertain, like he’s said or done something he shouldn’t. “Is that bad? Are you mad that I’m taller?”

Zagreus hates that look on his face. “Nah, it’s not bad at all. It’s just an observation.”

It’s kinda hot, actually.

Holy shit, Zagreus, get a grip.

Hypnos blushes a little bit, like he's unused to compliments, no matter how tame they are.

And maybe he is. It's not like Zagreus didn't notice the way Hypnos was treated back at the House, the way immortals and shades alike barely paid him any mind. And Hypnos just never acted out, no matter how upset he must have been.

"Okay, let's continue," Hypnos says, approaching Zagreus and extending out his two physical hands toward Zagreus’ face. Zagreus can't help but stare at the other pair of hands too, wondering how they would feel on his skin, if the ripple of energy running across them would translate to a shock, or maybe a tingle.

"I'm going to hold on to you while you try and channel your energy, and we'll see if I can spot where it's going. Okay?"

"Alright," he answers, distracted by the pair of intangible eyes watching him from behind Hypnos' physical vessel.

Hypnos touches Zagreus’ face, hands cradling his cheeks and around his eyes. His touch is gentle and warm, wings fluttering behind him, both pairs of eyes paying very close attention to him.

It would be enough to shatter his concentration, if he weren't so frustrated with the whole energy thing already. He needs to get a grip and be grateful that Hypnos has offered to help at all.

"Okay, whenever you want," Hypnos whispers, as if he doesn't want to break the stillness around them.

Zagreus closes his eyes, hoping it might help with his concentration, but he still can see the shimmer of Hypnos' true form hovering in some other plane, and yet so, so close.

If he reaches out, would he touch it?

"Zag?"

"Sorry, sorry. Doing it now!"

He reaches out for his power like he always does, looking deep into his soul for the bright core spinning inside. And, like always, it's almost empty. Just the motion of looking inside has already left him exhausted again.

He sighs, dejected, opening his eyes to find Hypnos watching him.

"Did you feel anything?" Zagreus asks, hoping Hypnos has an answer. He's so tired of feeling like this.

"A little bit, yes. As soon as you closed your eyes, most of the energy you had burst out of you, which speaks of a lack of control, but..." Hypnos brings one of his hands to himself, touching a fingertip to his bottom lip, "there wasn't much energy there to begin with, which is the strangest part."

"Why is that?" Zagreus asks, choosing not to remind Hypnos that his other hand is still on Zagreus' face.

"I can feel the power buzzing around you. It's so loud, it's like you're a beehive. That much power shouldn't just disappear when you try to touch it. I wonder where it's going."

Hypnos' little hair wings flutter as he thinks, one physical and the other there but not. Again, Zagreus wonders if he could touch them both at the same time. He wants to ask, but that would be rude. Right?

"Why do you only show one of the little wings?" he asks anyway, unable to stop his mouth from forming the words.

Hypnos looks at him in confusion for a moment, and Zagreus has to control himself not to slap a hand over his traitorous mouth. It would look silly, but most importantly, it would dislodge the hand that Hypnos hasn't retracted yet.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you have both of them, but only one of them shows, usually. For a long time I thought you only had one, but I can see the other there, so... why do you only keep one?"

Hypnos' facial expression morphing from confusion to shock is fascinating to watch.

"What did you say?" he asks, hushed, like Zagreus just told him the biggest secret in the universe.

"Uhm... why do you keep only—"

"No no, the other thing!" Hypnos touches the energy wing on the left side of his head. "You can see it? Right now?"

"...Yeah?"

Hypnos doesn't answer, but his mouth opens in surprise. He blinks, looking over Zagreus with a glint in his eyes, as if he's finally realizing something.

Hypnos' wings flutter, and Zagreus wonders if he could tell Hypnos' moods by the way he moves his wings. Maybe he could learn, with some practice.

Hypnos grabs Zagreus' face and brings it close to his own. "Zag, do you See?"

"What?"

Hypnos shakes him a little bit. "You said you saw my wing just now!"

"Well, yeah, I have eyes!"

"No, Zag!"

"'No', what?"

"Do you see my other wings?" Hypnos asks in that tone that says he already knows the answer, he just needs clear confirmation.

"Yup."

"All of them?"

"Yup?"

"All the time?"

"...Yup?"

Hypnos stares at him for one second that seems to stretch longer than it should. Then he laughs.

He doesn't let go of Zagreus, so he gets to see Hypnos laughing from very close, which should be weird. But it really, really isn't.

There are little stars on Hypnos' cheeks, and they twinkle when he laughs. From the corner of his vision, Zagreus can see the wings fluttering again, because apparently Hypnos is one of those people that laugh with his whole being, with physical and metaphysical parts.

His golden eyes are bright like the sun when they fix themselves on him again.

"I get it, now! I know what's going on! Zag, you can See!"

"Yes, we've established that."

"No, you don't get it!" He lets go of Zagreus and spreads his arms, wings following the movement.

Zagreus tries not to show on his face what he thinks of Hypnos suddenly being way too far from him.

"Do you see them? My wings" Hypnos asks, the wings flapping behind him as if trying to take off.

"Yeah."

"And the other pair of arms?"

"Yeah?"

"The eyes, too?"

"Uh, yeah."

"And you've been able to see them all this time?"

"You mean, since you've found me hours and hours ago? Yeah."

"Okay, so I'm right.” He nods to himself. “Zag, you can see through planes."

Zagreus frowns. "That— are you sure?"

"Of course. These parts of me you're seeing right now are not in the physical plane. I’m hiding them. You shouldn't be able to see any of it.”

And yet, there they are.

He thinks back to all the other weird little details he’s been seeing since he left the Underworld. How things shimmer a little too much sometimes; how some animals seem to stare deep into his soul with an intelligence that maybe shouldn’t be there, normally; how he see grooves on rocks and footprints on the earth that seem to not quite be there; how some rivers flow in ways that should be impossible.

Oh.

“Oh.”

Hypnos giggles, so cute that Zagreus is momentarily distracted. Again.

Gods, Hypnos is so distracting. He’s always been, to some degree, but now even more. Zagreus is unsure how much longer he can keep his inopportune feelings to himself.

“You’ve been Seeing all this time, no wonder you’re always exhausted. You’re constantly using your energy, leaking it everywhere.” Hypnos bites his lips. “Sorry, I should have realized it sooner, when I felt the power emanating from you.”

“You don’t need to apologize, I’m the one who should have known better. I thought... I thought it was just a side effect of being this new me, y’know. It didn’t occur to me that I was constantly using my reserves.”

He waits for the shame, for the self-deprecating thoughts, and they do come, of course; but they do it slowly, weakly, nothing compared to what it would have been like, months ago.

Apparently, admitting his failings in front of Hypnos is not that bad.

“So all this time I’ve just been using too much energy all the damn time, huh? Yeah, that makes sense, but I’d like it to stop now.”

“I can help you with that. You just need to train your control. Now that you know the problem, the solution should be easier to obtain.”

“And how do I do that?”

“By meditating!”

Oh no. No way.

“No way, that’s so boring!”

“But it’s good for you! And it will help you control your powers!”

“But it’s very, very boring, and I suck at it.”

“Says who?”

“Me; I’m saying it. Achilles tried to teach me how to meditate many times. It never stuck.”

“Okay, but you were much younger and much more impatient.”

“The only thing that’s changed is my age.”

“Not true. I remember you when you were young, you know. You have more patience now, for sure.”

“Okay, sure. 1 is bigger than zero, but that doesn’t mean 1 is a big number, Hypnos.”

“That’s the dumbest analogy I’ve heard in a while, shut up.”

No matter how much he argues, Zagreus knows he’s going to lose. They exchange a few more barbs and at some point Hypnos pouts. Zagreus throws his hands up in the air, because, see, he knew he was going to lose.

He doesn’t even mind, really, because Hypnos smiles like he won something better than just a dumb argument, and Zagreus is beginning to realize he will do stupid things for that smile.

They spend a whole week on meditative exercises, from breathing correctly to learning how to let his thoughts run without conscious interference, and by the end of that first week, Zagreus is exhausted but satisfied.

Progress is slow, of course, but some things are just slow when it comes to him. He just tries hard not to let it show how much it affects him, though he’s not always successful.

(“Sorry, I’m just kinda dumb.”

“Don’t even start, you are not dumb.”)

“Will I ever be able to shut the whole vision thing off completely?”

“I’m not sure. Some powers just simply stay active all the time, and the best you can do is control it as much as you can.”

“So I’ll always be able to See you, even if parts of you are in another plane?”

“Probably? Why?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“...Alright. Go to sleep, then.”

“‘Kay. You’ll be here when I wake up, right?”

“It’s adorable that you think you’re getting rid of me that easily.”

“Just making sure.”

“What are all these dandelions for? I saw them when I found you, and they follow you everywhere.” Hypnos asks one day, a few weeks later.

They’re standing on the edge of a cliff, watching the sun go down, after a mostly successful meditation session.

Hypnos’ pointing at the yellow flowers dotting the landscape under and around them.

“I’m surprised it took you this long to ask.”

“I was waiting for you to tell me.”

“Oh, sorry. These little things have just... been following me around,” he answers, hoping his voice doesn’t give his feelings away.

“Following you?”

“Yeah. Sometimes they turn into those... erm... floofballs? And if I concentrate enough, I can hear things from them.”

Hypnos stops, lifting his head to stare as Zagreus. He looks incredulous.

“You can hear things from them?”

“...Yeah?” he answers, unsure if that’s the right thing to say.

Oh gods, has he done something wrong again?

“Zag. Zagreus. Zag Zag Zag.”

“That’s my name.”

“Yes, it is.” Hypnos’ voice is fond, exasperated, soft, all the things in between. It’s rapidly becoming his favorite thing to hear.

Hypnos floats closer to him. “So you have these dandelions following you around, and sometimes they tell you things, and then... what?”

“Weeeell... I can hear wishes coming from them, and if I can, I grant them.”

“You grant wishes.”

“Yup.”

“The dandelions whisper wishes to you, and you grant them.”

“Yup.”

Hypnos brings his hands up to his lips in prayer form, looking at Zagreus like he wants to slap him in the arm again.

“You know... you play the stupid buffon really well, when you want to.”

Zagreus winces. He turns away so Hypnos can’t see his face. He doesn’t know what expression he’s wearing, but he feels the shame rising and tries to shove it back down.

It’s not like he hasn't thought about it.

But it can’t be.

It just can’t.

Because if it is what he thinks it is, then he has many more responsibilities than he knows what to do with. Zagreus breaks everything he touches; he can’t have this much power in his hands.

“Zag.” Hypnos’ voice is soft, and Zagreus can’t help but think that Hypnos shouldn't waste his softness on him.

“It’s just too much,” he answers, voice breaking. He slaps a hand over his mouth.

“It’s okay, we’ll work on it.”

“No, I mean— it’s just too much, Hypnos. It’s too much for me. I don’t—”

I don’t deserve it.

He doesn’t say it, but Hypnos seems to hear it anyway, because he floats closer until Zagreus can feel his warmth on his back. Hypnos lays his arms very gently on Zagreus’ shoulders, leaning into him, touching his forehead to the back of Zagreus’ head.

“Were you going to say you don’t deserve it?”

“Tsk. How do you know?”

“I’m learning how to read you. You’re not that undecipherable.”

“I’m the epitome of undecipherable.”

Hypnos’ giggles, little puffs of warm air ruffling Zagreus’ hair.

He wants to turn around and hold Hypnos close, and the urge is almost impossible to ignore, so he brings his hands together, almost in prayer, telling them to stay put and not ruin this.

“Zag. You deserve good things.”

How does something that sounds so simple manage to shatter him so completely?

His knees shake, his body wanting to sit down and shut down. Hypnos seems to realize this, because he moves away from Zagreus’ back and pulls him to the edge of the cliff, sitting down and bringing Zagreus down with him.

“So, you’re a god who grants wishes, huh?” Hypnos asks, refusing to let the subject lie forgotten, and while that might have been annoying at some point, Zagreus is grateful that Hypnos doesn’t let him wallow in his misery.

“No. I can’t grant all of them. Some of them are... it’s hard to explain, but it's like they’re too simple? As if they won’t make a difference, so they become suddenly unimportant, and the seed carrying it just... vanishes.”

“You can only grant important wishes?”

“I think so?”

“So, like... wishes that change people? That change their lives?”

“Yeah, that’s what it feels like. I’ve followed up on some of the ones I’ve granted already, and the differences were, uh... they were big. Really big.”

Hypnos hums, sharp eyes focused on him. “God of Changes? God of Change? It would suit you.”

“I’m not sure about that.”

“Oh, my bad. God of Really Big Wishes That Change People’s Lives.”

Zagreus can’t help but laugh, feeling the darkness starting to recede from his vision. “It has a good ring to it, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely not.”

He doesn’t answer; how can he, when the job the Fates have thrown at him seems so big as to be insurmountable? He breathes in, breathes out, then repeats the process when it’s clear his lungs don’t want to obey.

Hypnos doesn't rush him.

Hypnos never rushes him.

“I think the Fates chose the wrong person for the job.”

“I don’t think my sisters can predict every little thing, and I rather doubt they foresaw this.”

He looks at Hypnos in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah. Few know this, but they’re not all-seeing, and definitely not all-powerful.” A smile. “I think you might have gotten them entirely by surprise this time.”

“Huh. It’s just... who am I?”

“What do you mean?”

"I mean, who am I, to think I can change people’s lives for the better? I’m just this dude."

"No. You're Zagreus," Hypnos answers promptly, in that tone of voice Zagreus is learning to adore.

"Well, yes. But I... I never wanted to be more than that, you know? I mean, at first I thought that if I was all powerful and important, father would—" he pauses, feeling his forehead scrunch into a horrible frown that he knows makes him look like Hades.

A deep breath. "I thought that if I was perfect, my father would love me, then. He was always going on and on about my place, my responsibilities, the family's legacy, blablabla. But no matter how much I tried, I could never get a word of praise from him. I couldn't be the perfect little son he wanted. So I gave up. I decided that being as unimportant as possible would be a good way to spit back on his face."

He runs a hand through his hair, eyes watering. "I don't think I know how to be anything else other than unremarkable."

The silence that comes after is surprisingly soft. Zagreus is starting to learn that things with Hypnos are always surprisingly soft, like the fluffy clouds that follow him around, or the pretty curls in his hair.

Hypnos sighs, resting an elbow on a knee, and his head on his hand. "I know my words won't help much, but you have never been unremarkable. I don't think you're even capable of being unremarkable, Zag."

Zagreus’ smile is small, but he makes an effort for Hypnos. "So what you're saying is that I suck at it like I suck at everything else?"

"That's not—" Hypnos starts, appalled.

Zagreus laughs then, a couple of tears spilling out as he scrunches his eyes shut. When he opens them again, Hypnos is giving him a look that's a mix between exasperated and fond, a little bit of teeth showing in his smile.

Oh, he missed that look so much.

He missed it being directed at him every time he got out of the pool, Hypnos waiting to make fun of him for whatever had killed him. Missed seeing it after having his usual spat with his father, when he would turn away from the desk and catch Hypnos' eyes from across the hall. Missed seeing it whenever he brought a bottle of contraband back into the House.

"I didn't know you had such a high opinion of me," he says, wanting to sound flippant, like it's a joke. It comes out sounding way too honest and raw instead, exposing a part of him he wasn't planning to.

Hypnos seems to catch on to his tone, eyes softening even more. "You never asked," he answers, just as honest and raw, a little bit of hurt coming through.

Zagreus winces, blushing in pure shame and unwilling to hide it from Hypnos. "I'm an asshole. I'm sorry. I spent so much time being miserable that I didn't look at anything else, or anyone else."

"That's okay."

"No, it's not."

"Yeah, it is. You were hurting, Zag. When we hurt, it's hard to concentrate on the good things. It's hard not to spread that hurt around, too."

"You didn't do it, though."

"Hm?"

"You never spread your hurt around. You kept it inside, even when people might have deserved a verbal smackdown."

Hypnos stares at him, mouth slightly open in surprise. As if Zagreus paying attention to anything he did is something new.

Another pang of guilt hits him in the chest like a fist.

“I just—” Hypnos starts, falters, then, “I didn't want people to feel how I feel. No one deserves that.”

"And that makes you stronger than me."

"Zag—"

"No, it does. You know I'm right. You took your pain and decided other people didn't need to feel it. I admire that. I— I went around being bratty and callous and careless because I was angry at everything, and I hurt other people in the process. People who didn't deserve any of it."

"Yes, and I internalized my pain so much that I let people walk all over me. I think you and I need to stop comparing ourselves to one another. Let's agree that we're both a little bit fucked up."

Zagreus chuckles, and the fist holding him down loosens up a little, his breath coming a little bit easier.

The sun is a sliver of light by now, painting the sky in pink and orange and blue. It’s Zagreus’ favorite time of the day.

Hypnos breaks the comfortable silence as the last rays of sun disappear over the horizon.

“I don't know if anyone has ever told you this, but... you're more than enough.”

The words take a second to sink in, mainly because Zagreus had never expected Hypnos of all people to be the one to say them. To him.

He turns his head towards Hypnos, knowing his own expression is one of complete shock. The first rays of moonlight—too faint for normal vision, but sharp to Zagreus’ eyes—hit Hypnos just right, making his lavender skin look so light, it’s almost white. It blends in with his hair and his single wing, like the whole of him has been carved from the same material. His golden eyes always seem like they have a fire from within, glowing ever so faintly, but right now they’re brighter, and it has nothing to do with the moon.

“What?” It's the only thing he can think to say, and it's dumb, of course it is, because Zagreus always says dumb shit at the wrong time... but Hypnos' smile only widens, a slight blush on his cheeks.

“I said that you're more than enough,” Hypnos repeats, shifting to get more comfortable. The ground beneath them is cold, but Hypnos doesn't seem to feel it. “I know... I mean, I understand that maybe someone has told you you're worthless so many times that they made you believe it”—Hypnos says someone, but Zagreus hears Hades—“but that's not true.”

He takes a deep breath. “It's not true at all, because, let's be honest here for a second... you should know by now that your father is full of shit.”

Zagreus knows he's gaping, caught completely by surprise by Hypnos—Hypnos!—saying something like that about the Lord of the Underworld, but... but there's also a tiny smile that's trying to curl in his mouth, and Zagreus feels the laugh trying to bubble out of him.

Hypnos notices the shift in his expression and grins, seeming... relieved? He seems relieved, as if he had been worrying about his words, or maybe Zagreus' reaction to them.

As if Zagreus would ever disagree with insulting Hades in any way, shape or form.

Zagreus chuckles, relieving some of the tension in his muscles. “Sorry, sorry, I know we're talking about something serious here. I just can't believe you said that about my father! That's amazing, Hypnos, you just made my night.” He continues chuckling for a few more seconds, feeling the accumulated stress of the last weeks—months, even—begin to wash away from him.

He almost wants to feel silly, embarrassed to be here laughing about some simple words, but the self-admonishment is easy to brush away this time.

(It's always surprisingly easy to make fun of Hades, and at some point in the past Zagreus may have regretted being so callous about family, but now that the term family has been muddled and reshaped and transformed into something new, Zagreus allows himself to feel only a perverse sense of glee from the mockery.)

He composes himself again and turns back to Hypnos, and is caught off guard by the look he's receiving. Hypnos is still smiling, his eyes lidded, expression content. Like he's enjoying watching Zagreus. Like he's pleased that he made him laugh.

No one looks at Zagreus that way.

His stomach tightens, a sudden wave of self-consciousness that threatens to turn him into a stuttering mess. His cheeks are getting warmer, and he can only hope that Hypnos won't notice it in the dark of the night.

He clears his throat. “So, you were saying...?”

“I was saying you're more than enough,” Hypnos says for the third time that night. He shifts again, turning toward Zagreus, and Zagreus can do nothing but follow his movements, with his eyes and with his body, angling himself toward Hypnos too.

“I suppose you haven't heard that a lot, huh? I get it; I know how Hades is, and I know how our mother can be, when she doesn't realize how cruel her silence is. I guess I just wanted to tell you something that I might have wanted to hear at some point. Sometimes it's good, right, to hear that you're appreciated?”

Zagreus blinks. Then blinks again. Hypnos looks shy all of a sudden, confidence waning, but his gaze is steady. Something rushes up Zagreus' throat, almost suffocating in its intensity. His eyes burn.

He avoids Hypnos' eyes and stares at the ground for a second.

He understands what Hypnos is trying to say, and some part of Zagreus understands that it's good for him to hear it, but most of him is just incredibly overwhelmed and he can feel four golden eyes on him and if Hypnos doesn't stop staring Zagreus might do something stupid like start crying or maybe kiss him and by the gods that would be incredibly embarrassing—

A hand on his hair snaps him out of his thoughts.

Zagreus blinks at his own hands, at the half-moon indentations and the little pinpricks of black blood. His nails are bloody too. (He didn’t even notice what he was doing, and it's disconcerting to have his body act without his say so.)

“Hey, Zag.”

The voice is soft and undemanding and makes Zagreus want to look up, even though he's afraid of what he's going to see on Hypnos' face. The hand on his hair is light, moving slowly, as though afraid to spook him.

He looks up.

Hypnos' face is closer, his whole body curved forward so that he can see Zagreus' face better. Zagreus braces himself for the pity and the irritation that usually swim in people's eyes when he checks out of a situation... but they're not there. Hypnos looks concerned, but also understanding, a testament of the time they’ve spent together lately, getting to know each other again.

He smiles when Zagreus meets his eyes again.

“Hi,” he says, hand still in Zagreus' hair.

Zagreus feels the first tear falling, unable to stop his body from reacting. His mind is a jumble of half-formed thoughts and he can't seem to find the reason for why he's crying. It's not like Hypnos said anything groundbreaking, right? It's something very simple, that anyone who ever cared about him could have said to him at any point in his life. But they didn't.

Oh.

No one has ever told him he's enough. No one.

Until now.

Hypnos' other hand comes up to his cheek and wipes something away, and Zagreus realizes he's full on crying now. The shame seems to explode from his chest and cover his whole body with it, and suddenly he's too warm and too cold and the tears keep coming. Part of him doesn't even want to stop crying, because at least the emotions in his chest seem to be getting a little looser.

“Hey, it's okay. Come here.” Hypnos pulls him gently, right into his arms, and Zagreus goes oh so willingly.

It's warm, almost toasty, probably due to the blanket. But most of all, it's soft. Soft and gentle and good in a way that few things have been in Zagreus' life so far. Hypnos smells like clouds and feathers and moonlight, with a sweet undertone that must be the poppies.

The poppies Zagreus didn't even know existed until a few weeks ago.

(The poppies that he dreams about, sometimes, when he wants something comfortable to follow him into slumber.)

Hypnos strokes his hair while Zagreus’ cries on his shoulder.

“I’m so glad you’re still here,” Hypnos whispers, and the way he says here makes it clear what he means. “The world would have been a lesser place without you.”

And that’s two people, now. Two people who are apparently happy that Zagreus exists at all, and the concept is so unfamiliar to him, that he can only cry more in response.

(Something loosens up inside him, and something else falls into place.)

He stays in Hypnos’ embrace for a few minutes more, even after his tears have dried, intending on squeezing out every second he can get away with staying right here, in this pair of arms.

Oh, wait. In these pairs of arms, because he can sense the other pair embracing him too.

After a while, he leans back from Hypnos’ arms, trying to put a little distance between them, embarrassed by the way his face feels swollen and raw, eyes still stinging a little.

He can’t help but send Hypnos a smile, though, making sure to put all his silent gratitude into it. He's a little unwilling to open his mouth, because he doesn't know what may come out.

Hypnos smiles back, eyes half mast in contentment.

Zagreus wishes he were a painter, to immortalize this moment forever, to capture the way Hypnos' eyes travel over his face, like he's drinking Zagreus in for the first time; or maybe capture the way the wind ruffles Hypnos' hair, curls swaying gently, little wing flapping absently in the breeze; or capture the way his other pair of eyes stare at him, unblinking, like they can’t bother to blink when they can watch him instead.

He wishes he could capture the way Hypnos glows under the sun, like he was made to soak up sunlight and shine it back out into the world.

"You're so beautiful."

See? See? This is exactly why he tries to stay silent in these moments; because his mouth likes to betray him in the worst ways possible.

Skelly—Skelly, of all people!—told him once that his brain to mouth filter is broken, and Zagreus had disagreed at the time, but by the gods, Skelly was right.

Hypnos' reaction is slow, almost like he can't believe what he heard. His eyes widen slightly at first, then all the way, as a fierce blush takes over his whole face. He blushes as if he's made of gold, and Zagreus has to bite his tongue to not spout something even more embarrassing.

There's a few seconds of awkward silence, but... what is it that mortals say? In for a coin, in for the whole sack?

"I mean it, by the way."

Hypnos covers his face with his hands, but he peeks at Zagreus from between his fingers.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he repeats, knowing his face is burning too, but he makes sure to say his words with confidence. “I’ve always thought you were beautiful, but now even more so.”

“...You’ve said that before, you know.”

“Huh? When?”

“When I found you in the snow and brought you into my domain. You woke up for a few seconds, told me I had wings and all.” Hypnos giggles. “Then you said you’re beautiful and passed out again. I thought— I thought you were half-dreaming or something.”

“Oh gods,” Zagreus says, running a hand through his face, though he can’t help but grin at himself, at this whole situation. “Nah, I was just telling it like I see it.”

Hypnos doesn’t seem to know what to say to that. He blinks rapidly, looking Zagreus up and down like he can’t quite believe he’s real. He slowly lowers his hands from his face, still flushed golden and so, so pretty Zagreus wants to kiss him.

In for a coin...

“I want to kiss you.”

Hypnos groans, slapping his hands back on his face. “You can’t just say things like that!”

“Too bad, I just did!”

“Fine, come kiss me then!”

“Fine, I will!” Wait, what? “Wait— what?”

Hypnos laughs at him, his face a brilliant shade of gold, stars dancing over his cheeks like there’s a whole galaxy under his skin.

“I said, come kiss me then!”

Zagreus’ blinks, eyes wide in astonishment and awe. He probably looks stupid right now, but Hypnos is still looking at him like he’s worth the trouble, and Zagreus has seen that look on Hypnos’ face before.

Many times before.

He had just never connected the dots.

Gods, he’s stupid.

He grabs one of Hypnos’ arms and gently tugs at him, silently asking him to come a little bit closer. There’s not much distance left between them, so when Hypnos leans toward him, they’re basically flush to one another already.

Zagreus takes a moment to Look, to admire the parts that Hypnos doesn’t show to other people, to enjoy the fluttering of his wings in that particular way that means Hypnos is very pleased.

There are stars under Hypnos’ skin, and the air dances around him like it wants to keep touching him forever, and he looks at Zagreus like he’s glad that Zagreus is alive.

Zagreus is also so, so glad that he’s still alive. And that he gets to have this.

He grabs Hypnos by the face and brings him in.

No paint in the world would ever be able to capture this.

The days pass in a slow, sluggish pace, getting colder and colder. Greece is entering what would be its actual winter, if the nation still had season cycles at all.

“I could barely keep myself warm enough in lesser-winter, how am I supposed to do that in great-winter?”

Hypnos laughs at his silly nomenclature, the way Zagreus knew he would.

“I can teach you how to keep the warmth up for longer, don’t worry! You’re already getting pretty good at it.”

“Or you can kiss me. Same thing.”

“Tempting, but I can’t kiss you 24/7, Zag.”

“How do you know? You haven’t even tried it.”

He scores another laugh, a little bit of a giggle thrown in as well.

Zagreus smiles, satisfied that he’s the one who makes Hypnos laugh like that; like the world is not as heavy as it once was.

would kissing for the whole day actually keep you warm? Chaos asks, butting into the conversation.

Hypnos groans, embarrassed. “No, no it wouldn’t. You shouldn’t listen to Zagreus, Gran Chaos. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“How dare you, I’m the epitome of knowing what I’m talking about.”

“That barely made any sense. I think it’s time for someone to go to sleep.”

“What? No! I’m still super awak—” A yawn interrupts him, and all he can do is roll his eyes at himself.

He bundles himself up in Hypnos’ blanket, burying his nose on the soft fabric and inhaling the scent of poppies. Hypnos reaches for him, controlling the blanket to bring Zagreus’ closer to him.

Zagreus lays his head on Hypnos’ lap, his favorite place in the world.

He closes his eyes and waits for sleep to take him. He doesn’t get exhausted as often anymore, but sometimes it still gets him by surprise.

But he’s getting better at all the god stuff, thanks to Hypnos’ gentle guidance and good-natured ribbing; and Chaos’ random help, when they’re in the mood for it.

He’s slowly slipping away when he feels something other than fingers in his hair.

“Whatcha doing?” he asks, almost not awake anymore.

“Putting a poppy in your hair.”

“Hmm, ‘kay.”

it looks very appropriate. I approve

“That’s great,” he murmurs.

sleep now. my grandchild is going to teach me how to draw, and we need you to be still if we are to use you for the observation exercises

“Shhh, don’t tell him just yet! It’s a surprise!”

ah, I see. forget what I said, zagreus

“...sure...” he doesn’t even know what they’re talking about anymore, but that’s okay.

He falls asleep warm and comfortable and safe, feeling the kiss of a good dream settle in his mind.

It feels like home.