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Zagreus lost count of how many escape attempts he’d gone through. The Underworld was forever shifting, no chamber the same the next time he went through it; even if he had grown accustomed to defeating foes left and right, something eventually got him.
Some attempts he grew too impatient, careless, too cocky. A stab through the back, a bomb he was too slow to evade, pushed onto a pool of lava were all likely causes of his death.
He compensates for these miscalculations the next time, focusing, putting all he’d learned from Achilles into every slash, every dash. He grew stronger, cleverer, with every new attempt, getting farther.
His Father’s taunts only spurred him on--
Snow. Slash. Red, pooling over the pristine white.
--while his spear knocked him back down the river of blood.
Time, and time again.
Frustration wavered between low embers and a fire that threatened to spread the magma from his feet all through his body.
He was so close.
So close.
Every certain number of attempts (ten? or a hundred?), as to calm his own impatience and eagerness, Zagreus rested. Read: he took a little bit longer to start his next attempt, exchanging wares over by the lounge, having a drink, petting Cerberus excessively. Then he was off again.
Now, he crossed the distance through the hall on heavy feet, greeting Hypnos with a short wave and a “Back again, yes,” before he headed straight for Cerberus. He practically slumped between Cerberus’ large paws and scratched under one of his chins, hearing the thump of his back leg against the floor.
“Hello boy, missed me much?”
A small whine in reply and a nuzzle to the top of his head. Zagreus kept his arms around him, idly scratching him.
Cerberus was such a good boy. Always perking up at his arrival. He let Zagreus bury his face in his fur and muffle a frustrated scream, earning him a few glances from confused shades.
Zagreus' face stayed where it was, hands running through fur, Cerberus sniffing the top of his head and letting another small noise. Worried, perhaps.
He should go soon. Try again. This time, surely, he’d be the one knocking his father all the way down here.
But he couldn’t move. His exhaustion was like a dull ache pushing down on his shoulders, exhaustion of going through the Underworld time and time again only to have to start over. He was a god, but even death wore its toll on him. Physical, and to the depths of his soul, aching for something near his grasp and having it stripped away at the last second.
He should get up.
Cerberus was soft and warm, curling around him as though wanting to keep him there. Safe.
His eyes closed before he could stop them.
◇◇◇
Thanatos had heard Zagreus arrival: the distant cursing as he emerged from the Pool of Styx, conversing shortly with Hypnos, Cerberus whining as he greeted him.
Usually by now, Zagreus would have rounded the hall and greeted Achilles and himself--it was something Thanatos had come to expect when he was lounging around here.
Yet seconds ticked by and nothing. When he turned, Achilles had left his post and was peeking into the Great Hall, frowning slightly.
Thanatos slid silently beside him to take a look.
Lord Hades was nowhere in sight. Cerberus stood by his desk, curled around Zagreus who was motionless against the three-headed dog. Orpheus singing had grown quieter on the other end.
Shades were curiously looking over, whispering among themselves, and the few that dared come close got a faint growl of warning.
Achilles was luckier, approaching slowly, with one of Cerberus heads following his movements.
“Ah. He is merely asleep,” He said. “It explains why Cerberus is so protective at the moment.”
“Hypnos,” Thanatos called for his brother, who jolted awake and blinked at being addressed. “Did you put Zagreus to sleep?”
“What?” Hypnos looked around him, to the sleeping prince. “No, no, definitely wasn’t me--he did look pretty exhausted when he arrived though. I guess whoever this Redacted he was fighting against must have been pretty tough, huh?”
That’s one word for it.
Thanatos floated over to Cerberus. If he had to say whether he was good with animals, or not, Thanatos would probably say he wasn’t, for the most part. Out on the surface, animals had a keen sense and felt when he approached. Many fled, others growled at him, especially if he was there to take their master’s soul away. Protective and loyal even when facing Death himself.
Cerberus was not just any animal, though. He’d been around since before Thanatos came to be, and he’d been a steady presence while he and Zagreus grew up. Of course, the animal’s love was reserved mostly to Lord Hades and his son, but Thanatos was familiar enough that he didn’t growl at his approach. Two of his heads stared at him, sniffing the air.
Zagreus lay half against Cerberus chest, using him as a pillow, and propped up on one of his large paws.
When they were younger, it wasn’t uncommon to find them like this. If Zagreus had had an argument with his father, Thanatos knew he would either find him sparring his frustrations away or with Cerberus.
Just like then, Cerberus’ posture was that of protection, keeping Zagreus close and not allowing anything outside their little bubble to disturb him. That was a feeling Thanatos could understand too well.
“I know what you’re doing,” He spoke quietly, as though the animal could understand him. He held out his palm. “But this is hardly a place for him to rest.”
And it certainly wouldn’t be pleasant if Lord Hades returned within the next few minutes and awoke Zagreus of his rest. They would all like to avoid that, thank you.
Thanatos moved forward, hovering between the dog’s paws.
“Let me take him to his chambers.” I will keep him safe for you.
Cerberus sniffed his hand. Words wouldn’t get through, but his intentions would, surely.
Then, much to his disgust, Cerberus' third head stuck out his tongue and licked Thanatos face before barking his assent. Hypnos choked on laughter somewhere behind him, which he ignored like the drooly state of his features and hair. He had been given permission to pass.
Thanatos knelt by Zagreus sleeping form and settled his arms under and around him, hoisting him off the floor. Aware that he still had a few onlookers, he kept a firm hold on Zagreus as he disappeared and reappeared in his chambers. They were a mess, like always, papers and trinkets strewn about. The mirror glinted on one end of the room, parchment rolled out on the desk.
At least the bed was clear. Thanatos floated over to it and deposited Zagreus down. He leaned his scythe on the wall nearby and observed him for a moment.
Even asleep, Zagreus’s features weren’t fully relaxed, not like they used to be. His brow twitched now and then, face pinching as he dreamt. At some point, he’d clutched Thanatos robes and was holding on tight, hands bared into fists.
Even in his dreams, Zagreus was probably fighting. Who, or what, all Thanatos had were assumptions. Dreams could twist your enemies in terrifying ways.
Thanatos smoothed his thumb over Zagreus’ brow, carded his fingers through his hair. Out there, he could aid him if only for a time, help clear his path, but not against his father. Not here. He couldn’t protect him against his mind.
Zagreus keeping a hold on him prevented him from pulling back. Thanatos slid his hands over his to pry him off and Zagreus unconsciously reached out, grabbing another part of his tunic.
Thanatos could simply disappear into thin air like he always did to solve this. It'd be that easy.
Instead, he sighed and reclined against the headboard, letting Zagreus cling to him. Thanatos’ fingers found his hair again and he stroked through the messy dark strands with deliberate slowness, massaging his scalp. Gradually, the tension in Zagreus' frame eased, and he relaxed against the sheets, murmuring something incoherent. He shifted closer to Thanatos, as though seeking him, arms wrapping around his waist and snuggling against his side. Thanatos hand paused, warmth rising to his face.
Zagreus was an affectionate individual. Lavishing his friends and closed ones with gifts was common, as were passing touches here and there: a hand circling Thanatos' wrist, firm but not tight, before they parted, fingers ghosting up his arm, warm, searing; pats on the back, lingering; pressing their sides together, sitting too close, as they watched Tartarus from the courtyard.
Touches that had shifted in meaning, as time turned, touches that Thanatos wished to return in full.
He had a job he was supposed to be doing. Mortals died every day, their souls awaiting to be collected, to be put to rest and carried in Death’s arms.
Yet with Zagreus pressed against him, reaching for a presence by his side, Thanatos arms had only one place to be. Around him, pulling him to his chest, pretending that he could keep him safe and protected from anything and anyone that wanted to harm him.
◇◇◇
Zagreus consciousness came back to him in fragments, away from his dreary dreams.
These days, when he actually slept, he saw memories, or he re-played his own death, shivering cold and blinding white being engulfed by red, as the river carried him away.
Blades, lava, poison--he had died many number of ways. One would expect to have grown numb to it, being a denizen of the Underworld on top of it, surrounded by shades and the souls of the dead.
In theory, he was used to it.
In practice, his body remembered everything, and his mind played it back for him in grotesque detail and vivid feeling.
As he awakened, he gasped, his arms tightening around--something.
No, someone.
There’s a body laying next to his, dark clothing and--
“Zagreus.”
--a voice he knew.
Fingers threaded through his hair and rubbed down his neck soothingly.
“Than,” He breathed out, forcing his body to relax again. “I...what...”
“You fell asleep by Cerberus,” Thanatos said, hand resting at the base of his neck. His other hand was on the small of his back. “He wouldn’t let anyone get close.”
“Except you, it would appear.”
“...Yes. He allowed me to bring you to your chambers.”
That explained how he’d ended up on his bed. He barely even remembered falling asleep in the hall, Cerberus’ fur against his cheek and the muttering of shades all around him.
Zagreus lifted his face--and snorted.
“Your hair, um...”
Thanatos clicked his tongue, running a hand through it and musing it even more.
“Not a word.”
“Cerberus got you, huh?”
“Silence.”
Chuckling, Zagreus reached over to brush Thanatos’ hair in a semblance of order, delighting at his embarrassed face.
“There.” Zagreus lowered his palms to Thanatos’ cheeks. Mortals probably expected Death to be freezing cold at best, but under his touch, Thanatos warmed up. His eyes, yellow, ancient, with a soft edge to them as they met his gaze. “I didn’t expect you’d stay, busy as you always are.”
“You wouldn’t let me go. A clingy sleeper you turned out to be,” Thanatos said, fingers brushing up his arms and hands cradling his own. His thumb brushed Zagreus’ wrist. “What were you dreaming of?”
Zagreus hummed. No reason to beat around the bush when it was obvious.
“Dying. Fighting Father. The usual,” He buried his face in Thanatos’ shoulder, breathing in. He still retained that faint sulfur smell from their time in Asphodel. “You could have vanished if you had to go, you know.”
A huff against the top of his head.
“If you wish me to leave, I will be on my way. I do have a job I'm supposed to be tending to.”
“No, wait,” Zagreus clung to his back, pressing their chests together. “Um.”
“...Yes, Zagreus?”
Low, velvety soft, his tone. For as quick as he was to disappear, if Zagreus needed him, Thanatos’ was there. Whether he asked him to be, or not, freely given.
“Hold me, if for a moment longer,” His lips brushed the exposed skin of Thanatos’ jaw, speaking in a whisper. “And then I will go, as well.”
“...Of course,” A kiss to his forehead, Thanatos cradling him closer into his embrace. For you, anything, it seemed to echo.
Zagreus drank the comfort of it up like sweet ambrosia, letting it seep into his bones and renew his strength, his resolve.
However many times he might get knocked down, this, these arms were eternal to fall into. One beat, two beats of their immortal hearts longer, and he’d rise to try again.