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Chapter Text

“Do not visit me again.”

The words ring around his head, echoing and repeating until they become nothing but white noise.

If Zagreus could erase them from his mind, he would. Not as disobedience, no. Just so he wouldn't have to remember his own mother telling him to go and never come back. For his safety, she said. For her own, too.

Selfish, is the accusation that crosses his mind as he regains conscience. He opens his eyes to a sea of blood as black as tar in the dim light. The pool seems to hold him down for a moment, blood so thick it resists every motion, but soon he's finding the stone under his feet and climbing up the steps. His limbs feel heavy with a kind of exhaustion that doesn't go away even once free of the pool.

An exhaustion he's very familiar with.

He doesn't bother shaking the blood off and just stands there, watching as it falls to the ground and fades out into nothingness. The liquid is fake, of course; not even his father would be so crass as to keep a pool of actual blood around the place, though Zagreus has never figured out why he would have a fake one in the first place.

Every time he asked such questions, he was met with 'you don't need to know these things', 'why don't you go bother one of your teachers?', and 'if only you were this interested in your studies'.

Hades has never encouraged curiosity.

Still, even though the blood is fake, some sort of magic Zagreus can't quite grasp, the smell itself is realistic enough to bother him. Some might find it funny that the alleged God of Blood doesn't like a recognizable aspect of his own domain, but Zagreus can't help the grimace every time the metallic smell fills his nose, leaving behind the taste of iron and something alive in his mouth.

Almost as if he devoured the creature, instead of merely killing it.

Perhaps it's only a matter of time until he gets used to it; to killing living things. Ares certainly makes it sound easy, pleasurable even. Like it's something to seek out rather than avoid. Zagreus doesn't feel like it's his place to judge, but he's also unwilling to reach that state of numbness. How long does he have before the lives he takes—even if they're rats and satyrs and nuisances in general—just stop registering as such? Will he start to enjoy it at some point?

The thought of killing the living creatures at the edge of the Underworld morphs into the thought of doing this again and again and again. Get out of the pool, greet whoever's around, ignore his father on the main desk, go to his room, pick a weapon, slay monsters and champions and people that were so evil in life that they morphed into unrecognizable nightmares after death, reach the surface, look into his mother's eyes just to see the way she shifts her gaze away, as if pretending that he's not there might change anything.

Rinse, repeat.

Again.

Again.

Again and again and again.

Just the thought of doing this for hundreds of years is enough for Zagreus' heartbeat to spike, his breaths coming faster, his blood racing as if he's just finished a fight. Swallowing, he closes his eyes and does his best to rip himself away from those thoughts. Now is not the time, and this is one of the worst places for a panic attack. He can feel the weight of all the eyes on him, and like it or not, the shades will talk. Bad enough he can never get a moment's peace from any of the other gods in this place; even the shades have no qualms with getting up in his business.

To distract himself, he focuses on the feeling of his lungs expanding and shrinking for a moment, eyes staring blankly at some point on the floor.

It takes another minute after he calms down for him to realize he's been standing there this whole time, looking at the floor like a weirdo. Normally, he would've made a joke to the nearest shade about looking for ghost prints or something, while moving swiftly away to hide his embarrassment. This time, though, Zagreus can't find the energy to care. Lifting his gaze, he sees his father down the hall, giant desk impossible to miss. Hades isn't looking at him, but Zagreus knows his arrival has not gone unnoticed.

He forces himself to take a step, then another and another, until his feet automatically move him forward, so used to the path that he doesn't need to think about it anymore.

The warm yellow light of the fires hits a few shades mingling about, their green forms swaying gently in the air. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a few of them turn to him as he passes by. Quiet whispers too faint to make out fill his ears like white noise, adding to the cacophony of the House.

“Welcome to the House of Hades!” Hypnos' voice is loud and bubbly as Zagreus approaches, his golden eyes gleaming as he grins at Zagreus.

“Hey, Hypnos.” The sound of his own voice surprises him a bit, mouth moving without his consent. He sounds steady enough, which is a relief.

“You died by”—Hypnos looks at his ledger—“by Natural Causes, again? Oh my, maybe you should just avoid whatever that is, next time!”

Zagreus would normally smile right now, offer something back, some little quip or a sincere thanks, but he can't muster the energy for it. He doesn't know what his face is doing, but he feels it must be blank as he answers, “Yeah, I... would love to do that, actually. But I think the natural causes like me too much.”

It's the best he can come up with, and it falls flat on the ground at Hypnos' feet.

At this point, Hypnos usually smiles even if Zagreus was less than funny, in a show of his seemingly endless good spirits, telling him whatever other nonsense he thinks Zagreus may want to hear. But this time he doesn't. Instead, his smile falls, almost disappearing completely, and Zagreus thinks he sees a flash of worry on his face before Hypnos wipes it away.

He feels the beginnings of guilt and shame rise up from his stomach to his throat. He's so out of it that even Hypnos has noticed. That doesn't bode well for his chances of hiding it from anyone else. Gods, he really can't do anything right.

Hypnos seems at a loss for words, so Zagreus dredges up a small, sincere smile for him and leaves him there, making a beeline for his room. He ignores his father and everyone else he passes... except for Nyx, because Zagreus is not rude, no matter what his father says.

“Child,” she says to him as he passes by, voice smooth and controlled as always, that feeling of gentle darkness sweeping over him and cradling him gently. Nobody can make him feel quite as loved and treasured with a single word as she can. (Not even Persephone.)

He wishes he could appreciate the moment more, but he needs to hide before he starts losing himself to painful thoughts again.

“Nyx,” he answers back, knowing he doesn't control his own voice as well. By the slight tilt of Nyx's head, he knows he fails at hiding the tremor in his voice and hands, but to his relief she doesn't question him on it. One of the things he loves most about her is that she knows when to leave it well alone. He appreciates it more than ever when she allows him to pass without stopping him.

The corridors are well-lit and tastefully decorated. He's especially proud of the result, since he's the one who's been paying for the renovations, but they still make him feel claustrophobic.

Sometimes, he swears they move, closing in on him like a giant hand.

It's not a new feeling. Zagreus has been dealing with it for as long as he can remember, always fighting away the feeling that the walls want to swallow him up, that the ceiling might fall at any moment and trap him under it. After being under an open blue sky, even though the time was brief, Zagreus can now compare the two clearly in his mind, and he longs for the freedom of the open air and humid earth under his feet.

He would even welcome the bitter cold that seems to cover everywhere but his mother's grove.

“Do not visit me again.”

When he'd seen her last, her brows had been furrowed, lips twisted in worry. At first, he'd thought it worry for himself.

His hopes were destroyed when she demanded that he never return, trying to explain in that even voice of hers how much danger he had put them in.

At the time he'd been foolish and hopeful and worried for the mother he had just met, but now he could tell that the wrinkle in her brow had been mostly frustration, at him and the prospect of being called back to the Underworld. Maybe she didn't want her duties as mother and Queen. Maybe she didn't care as much as she said she did.

As for the worry, that had been for herself.

His brain, unbidden, runs over the differences between him and his mother; a train of thought that he can't help but have every time he's in her presence, or soon thereafter, when the memory of her is still fresh in his mind.

She's a mixture of bright, soft colors and appears delicate in a way he never could, not with what he inherited from his father. While his skin is fair, Zagreus knows what he looks like, how his hair is so dark it almost absorbs the light from his surroundings. His clothes are blood red and smoke grey and bone white. His one green eye, the only real thing he has from his mother, looks completely out of place next to his red one.

They look so different, he and his parents. Almost as if... almost as if he wasn't meant to be at all.

There's a half second where he thinks he might break down, but the tears dry before they even form. It's an old pain, this feeling of rejection and abandonment. He's usually able to manage it because he's lived with it for so long, but today it's excessively sharp, like talons squeezing his heart.

“Do not visit me again.”

It's not that Zagreus isn't accustomed to rejection. During his childhood his father was never really present except to berate and belittle him, to remind him that he wouldn't amount to anything if he didn't handle his responsibilities, but also completely skipping in teaching his own son how to properly deal with things. And even when he'd thought Nyx was his birth mother, she'd begun to distance herself from him as he grew up.

He still remembers the day she asked him to call her Nyx instead of mother.

That request had hurt so much more than she probably realized, though Zagreus would never tell her that. Wanting to spare her the guilt, but also not wanting to bare his heart.

Deep down, he knows that part of him will never forgive her.

Unsurprisingly, he doesn't encounter anyone on the way to his room, since the shades aren't allowed inside the inner wings of the House. The silent halls are well-illuminated, walls lined with old portraits of old heroes and old paintings of old artists, all watching with frozen eyes as he makes his way to his room.

Once he steps inside, Zagreus is almost tempted to keep going directly to his courtyard, grab whatever weapon he feels like wielding next and simply lose himself in the throes of battle, the way he's so used to. He's done it so many times that he can almost completely shut off his brain and fall back on muscle memory instead of paying attention.

It's tempting. Numbing the pain with mindless work is nothing new to him.

"Do not visit me again."

This time, though... maybe he can lie down for a while. Just until the feeling of run away run away run away subsides.

He takes a long look in the mirror, ignoring how his clothes mark him clearly as belonging to the House, and then steps towards the bed.

Gods don't need sleep. It's one of the perks of divinity, being able to simply keep going forever with only brief intervals of rest here and there, the type of rest that consists of sitting down for twenty minutes.

But Zagreus learned long ago that sleep is a good escape, especially when he doesn't dream and can spend his time in immaterial darkness, mind mostly unaware of the passage of time.

In the secret corners of his mind, places no one would ever see, Zagreus often wonders if a dreamless sleep could be compared to death. He's wanted to ask Hypnos this question many times, but the thought of revealing his innermost feelings like that is terrifying. Besides, no one needs to know how often Zagreus thinks of his own permanent demise.

(And maybe Zagreus doesn't want to see Hypnos' expression fall with concern, doesn't want to give him more to worry about when he's already plenty busy.)

Zagreus takes off everything except his pants and lies down, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor as he pulls the covers over his head and wraps himself in a tight cocoon. He does this so rarely that he forgot how comforting it is to hide beneath the blankets and pretend the world can't touch him.

He closes his eyes and hopes for a dreamless sleep, long and quiet, and wonders if Sleep himself can hear his wish from down the hall, amidst chatting souls, a booming voice, and mortal wishes.

Many hours later, he wakes up feeling surprisingly rested. It isn't until after he's dressed and warming up with Skelly that Zagreus realizes he didn't dream at all.

He should've started his next run already, but Zagreus still feels like something is holding him even though he rested. It's as if heavy, intangible chains are pulling him down down down, keeping him locked in place. He can feel Skelly's gaze on him, curious but not judging. Zagreus is grateful that at least someone hasn't found him wanting (yet).

He dangles his feet over the edge of the cliff as he contemplates his next move, the rock rough and warm under him. Everything in the Underworld is warm—he thinks he might be sick of it. Tartarus stretches out in front of his eyes, green hues and orange light dominating the majority of the view, though he can see some colorful lights winking away in some far away corners. If he concentrates hard enough, he can almost hear the screams.

“Hey, boyo. Not gonna go rushing out the door today?”

Zagreus doesn't jump, but it's a close thing. Turning around, he sees Skelly standing a little ways away, watching him. He doesn't have much facial expression, seeing as he's basically all bones, but Zagreus has become really good at reading his tone of voice and identifying the glints in his eyes.

“Hmm, maybe later.”

“You're not tired, are you? Can gods get tired?”

Zagreus smiles, going for something sincere and bright, but fake; so, so fake. “We can, sometimes. But I'm just not in the mood right now.” Zagreus is absolutely exhausted, actually, but not on a physical level. That would be much easier to deal with.

There's a pause, as if Skelly is seeing through his lie, but he doesn't call Zagreus out on it. “Hmm, then I guess you should go and rest! Should be at your full potential when you jump down there, huh?”

And with that, he turns away, leaving Zagreus alone to watch the way Tartarus twists and distorts in the distance.

It's hard to say how long he stays there. It's hard to say how long it's been since his last escape, actually. Time is inconsequential for a being like him, his perception altered by the fact that time can barely touch his life.

Life, he scoffs mentally. This isn't life. I'm not living. I'm just... here.

The weight of it falls onto his shoulders all at once, the way things usually do, pressing him down into the dirt and stone as if to bury him forever. He hides his face in his knees, instead, and tells himself he's not going to cry.

It doesn't really work; the tears fall almost before he realizes they're there, sliding down his face, almost sizzling in the hot air as they roll down his cheeks. A sob threatens to escape, but he slaps a hand over his mouth and chokes it down.

I just don't wanna be here anymore.

Some thoughts have a way of burying themselves deep inside the mind, carving out their own little space bit by bit, taking root like a particular stubborn plant. It's far from the first time Zagreus has had thoughts like this, has felt like this. Each time, the feeling has been stronger, larger, taking up so much room in his chest that it feels like it's pressing down on his lungs and suffocating him with its intangible presence.

Things had gotten easier for a while, when he had found something to do, a goal to strive for. Something to keep his mind occupied, away from the dark places it likes to go.

And then Persephone had rejected him, told him never to return, forbidden him from seeing her again. What was the point of running around his father's realm and wreaking havoc, being almost torn in half, if the only thing awaiting him in the end was a mother that didn't want him and an unavoidable demise that seemed to relish in the way it sucked him under?

Pointless, that's what it is. The whole thing is pointless.

Just like me.

He finds Thanatos in his usual place, leaning against the railing, watching Tartarus far below them.

Zagreus thinks twice before approaching, unsure of how to pose his question without raising any suspicion. He really doesn't feel like dealing with Thanatos' sour mood and cutting words right now, but he's here already, and he rarely sees Thanatos in the house at all. Achilles giving him a concerned look from his station spurns him on.

He moves forward automatically, eyes on the floor until he reaches his destination. He leans on the railing too, but his gaze is unfocused as he looks out.

"Zagreus," Thanatos says, voice toneless. He looks at Zagreus from the corner of his eyes, but Zagreus doesn't turn to face him like he always does.

"Hey, Than... can I ask you something?"

"Of course. What is it?"

"Can you kill a god?"

He can only see Thanatos in his peripheral vision, but it's enough to catch how he flinches at the question, in shock.

"What kind of question is that?"

Zagreus takes a breath and holds it in a little bit longer than normal before he lets it out and turns to Thanatos with what he hopes is his usual smile. "What? It's a valid question! Haven't you ever wondered if you could kill a chthonic god? An Olympian? One of the lesser deities walking around?"

Thanatos crosses his arms and frowns at him. "Contrary to you, I have more to do than think about things like that."

"Humor me."

"Why do you want to know?"

"C'mon Than, even you must know what curiosity means."

"Yes, of course I know! Don't imply I can't be curious!"

Zagreus forces out a chuckle. "Sorry, sorry. But seriously, humor me, please. I've been going back and forth and can't decide, so I came to the source. You are death after all."

Thanatos sighs, closing his eyes as he gathers his patience. It's a familiar sight, though it cuts Zagreus deeply every time. It's just a simple question, even if he's asking it for not-so-simple reasons. Does he really have to act like it's so difficult to answer him?

"I... don't believe I could, no. I can only kill that which is mortal, so..." he shrugs. "If I were to try to kill a god, I suppose they would just regenerate, like you do."

"...I see. Makes sense, I guess. We wouldn't be gods if it was so easy to destroy us."

"Indeed. Are you done with the weird questions now?"

"Yup! Thanks, Than."

"Hm, you're welcome. I'm going back to work now." And he puffs away in green light, leaving Zagreus and his thoughts behind.

It's honestly the answer he expected, but disappointment still settles in his chest.

Maybe it's for the best. Zagreus is pretty sure Thanatos would have refused his wish, anyway. There's only one other person he can think of who may have a solution that they'd be willing to follow through with.

Waving to Achilles, Zagreus steps back into the main hall, mind so preoccupied with his thoughts and what he needs to do next that he almost misses the voice calling for him. Completely unlike what he's used to, the voice is tentative and quiet, so it takes him a few seconds to register that it belongs to Hypnos.

He turns to see Hypnos beckoning him forward, an uncertain smile on his face.

Curious, Zagreus approaches with a smile. "Hey mate, do you need something?"

"Ah, it's nothing really. I just, um, I-I was wondering if you had a good sleep?" There's a dark gold tint to Hypnos' cheeks that Zagreus can't remember ever seeing. “I know it was almost two days ago, but this is the first time I've seen you since, and I just wanted to know cause, you know, it's my responsibility to give people a good rest when I can, even to those who aren't mortal and—"

"Hypnos, breathe." Zagreus interrupts him, somewhat overwhelmed by the lack of pauses and the sheer volume of information.

Hypnos stops, the golden glow on his face getting stronger, and Zagreus has a moment of clarity. What he's seeing is Hypnos blushing.

"Ah, sorry, sorry, I got carried away. I wasn't sure if asking would weird you out, so I wanted to explain, though of course you haven't forgotten that I'm the God of Sleep, right, so I guess my explanation wasn't necessary—

"Okay, I'm gonna need you to breathe again, starting now." Zagreus interrupts again, feeling slightly guity.

Hypnos stops again and takes a deep breath, but pauses afterwards without continuing, looking uncertain, blush still there.

Seeing this, Zagreus decides to have mercy and asks, "So, you made sure that I didn't dream?"

"Ah, yes! Most of the time I can feel wishes related to sleep and dreams, and I do my best to grant them when I can. It... usually works? Not always, though."

Zagreus blinks. "How could it not work? Isn't sleep your aspect? Doesn't that mean you control all of it?"

Hypnos looks surprised for a moment, and Zagreus wonders why before realizing he has never asked Hypnos how his powers work. Actually, he's almost never asked Hypnos any questions in general, let alone asking the other about himself. A stab of guilt pierces him, and he quickly shoves it away before it shows on his face.

“Well, I could control every facet of a person's sleep, but that wouldn't go over so well.” Hypnos says hesitantly, fidgeting a bit in nervousness.

“Why's that?”

Hypnos rearranges the ledger in his hands, scratching his feather against a finger and leaving an ink mark there. “Well... sleep is intrinsically tied to the mind, so messing with it too much could put someone's mental wellbeing at risk. I'd be a very incompentent god if I did that on a regular basis, so I have to be careful. Putting someone to sleep needs to be more suggestion than command, unless I want to irreversibly scramble their mind.”

“But... didn't you put the whole House to sleep that one time?”

“Oh, yeah, but that's different. It's okay if it happens sometimes, it just can't happen every time. Sleep commands in moderation, and all that. If it happened every time, that would be too much for anyone, especially mortals.”

“So... if you forced enough power into someone's mind, you could essentially drive them mad?” Zagreus asks nonchalantly, trying to pretend like his interest is purely curiosity. He's sure he succeeds. Mostly.

Even so, Hypnos still tilts his head at him, perhaps unsure why Zagreus has a sudden interest in this subject. “Ah, y-yeah, I guess? Or, if they're causing trouble, I could just make them sleep forever!” He smiles widely, spreading his hands. “That way they don't bother anyone, but also don't get hurt. That's the best conclusion to any serious conflict, right?”

Zagreus hides a wince at the path his thoughts are taking. “Yeah, you're right.”

“So, like I said, I don't directly command the mind to be dreamless, but I do suggest it. If the target isn't super tense or anxious, it usually works! I'm glad it worked for you.”

Hypnos' blush has gone down, but Zagreus feels warm all over, as if he's the one who's going to start blushing at any moment now. It's... comforting, to know that someone cares, that someone was listening in, even if it's just a part of their job.

I'm gonna miss you, Zagreus thinks, and it takes everything in him to keep from recoiling at the thought, to not let his face show what his mind decided to throw at him. He flexes his jaw and forces it to relax.

“Ah,” Hypnos looks to the side, where the queue to speak with Hades is getting bigger and bigger, “time to get back to work. I'll talk to you later!” He throws a last smile at Zagreus before returning to his duties, coaxing the shades into standing in line.

Zagreus tries to smile back at him, but he's not sure he succeeds. He pivots towards his bedroom and walks away, distracted and discontented.

It takes him another two days (according to Hypnos—seriously, Hypnos is apparently the only person in the House who can reliably keep track of time, and that's such a simple but amazing power, Zagreus is in awe) to resume his escape attempts.

He still feels lethargic, pulled down by something that weighs on his heart and drags at his lungs, but the restlessness bites at his feet and bids him to run.

Zagreus is always running, but somehow he never gets anywhere.

Despite the restlessness, stepping onto the courtyard takes more effort than he expected. He picks up Varatha and Hypnos' purse, waves at Skelly, and throws himself through the portal as fast as he can, unwilling to let hesitation sink in. The pattern is familiar by now, so Zagreus allows himself to retreat into his mind and let muscle memory take over. After the first chamber is cleared, the only remaining sounds are the whispers of the shades and the flowing of the Styx. Taking a step towards the door, Zagreus hears the sudden discordant tone of a Chaos gate opening right in front of him.

Glancing down into the pit below, he admires the way the purple light almost seems at home amidst the green and orange so prevalent in Tartarus. Zagreus doesn't have the luxury of seeing much purple down here, though he can see where Nyx got her hues from.

The not-smoke that permeates the gate dissipates before it can reach his face, but there's still a faint smell of... something. He can't put a name to it, wonders if it's something from the surface to which he has no access to. It beckons him closer, tempting him to take the leap, but Zagreus isn't sure he wants to see Chaos right now.

Thinking of Chaos reignites those other thoughts that try to drown him in guilt and uncertainty and sadness. After days of inactivity, he really just wants to move.

He steps around the gate and can't help but feel that someone is watching him. Maybe it's paranoia, maybe it's Chaos, maybe it's his own shadows and demons dogging his feet at every step. He wishes they were tangible, because then Zagreus would only have to turn around and thrust Varatha forward, catching them on the tip of the spear bathed in lightning, and leaving behind only charred remains.

Then again, maybe his demons would resurrect just like he does, coming back again and again to haunt him. Forever.

The word forever almost chokes him, even though the letters didn't even form in his mouth. He shakes his head to rid himself of such heavy thoughts and steps through the door.

Zagreus has no clear idea of how long he takes to finish a run. Each one feels like both achingly long hours and mere minutes, chambers and shades and rewards blending together in a horrific amalgamation of what his life has become. He's never bothered to count the seconds, at first too afraid to see how much time each attempt took, and then too focused on reaching his goal to care. Now, though, what he doesn't want to know is how much time he has before having to step into the House again.

It's funny how a place can change so much without anything changing.

Despite how his relationship with his father has always been bad, Zagreus never stopped calling the House his home. It used to bring good memories. There were the times he stayed in Nyx's domain alongside Thanatos and Hypnos, who were both older than him by some years, but all of them still young enough that playing together was fun.

Then Megaera and her sisters moved in, and even though Zagreus never had much contact with Tisiphone and Alecto, training with them at the training grounds was always a highlight of his monotonous childhood. (Even when he lost.)

The hours Achilles spent drilling into him every combat stance and battlefield strategy were a precious memory as well, even if Zagreus had been too young to remember most of it.

Even just mundane things, like watching the shades glide around or Cerberus chase down the occasional wretch that managed to sneak into the House, had been pleasant. He used to love sneaking into the garden, wondering where all the vegetation had come from. There were more things as well, some good and some mediocre, but all of it had been pleasant, at some point.

It's hard to pin down when that began to change, though Zagreus suspects it was just a matter of time until he grew up enough to start questioning some things. Getting no answer for his questions was absolutely half the catalyst that triggered his restlessness, and he imagines the other half might just be the type of person he is.

Too curious, some have said. Nosy, others criticize. Never shuts up, a complaint courtesy of his father.

All true, probably.

Perhaps this was always his destiny. To question too much. To want more than what he's been given. Thanatos had said once, that Zagreus has no idea how good he has it. That may be true, but that doesn't change how empty he feels inside despite his many privileges. Doesn't change the fact that no matter how homely the House was at some point, now the main feeling it evokes in him is an urge to run, fast and far away.

Maybe trying to find his mother was more of an excuse than he would like to admit. Not that he wasn't happy he found her, of course he was glad he did, but a large part of his motivation was to get away from a place that felt more suffocating every time Zagreus stopped a second to look around and realized he had looked at the same walls and the same people for centuries.

He blinks back into the present, finding himself entering the chamber right before where Megaera's posted. Charon stands there the way he always does, staring into nothing, but Zagreus feels the other's eyes on him anyway. It's not a heavy stare, thankfully, and Zagreus' shoulders lose some of their tension.

He looks at the available boons, gleaming away, overpowering the centaur heart in the middle with their shine. Then he looks at the door waiting for him, promising darkness and a fight.

He turns his head just enough to catch a glimpse of the Styx to his right.

Hmmm.

“Say, Charon.”

“Hohhhhh...” Charon says, still as a statue.

“If I jump into the Styx, it won't kill me, right?”

“Hahh...”

“Thought so. If I let the current drag me, will it take me to the House?”

“Guhhhh...”

Zagreus was pretty sure that was a confirmation. “I see. Thanks, mate.”

Then, Zagreus does something he's never done before. He jumps into the Styx.

As the waters close over his head, he hears Charon utter his version of a shout, hears the shuffle of clothing and flap of a cloak, but then he goes limp and let's himself get dragged away by the red waters, and he hears no more.

The trip by river is surprisingly long, the path longer and more meandering than it seems from the stones of Tartarus above. It just goes to show how lost in his thoughts he was, that he drifted through the whole first part of the journey without even noticing.

He sees the House in the distance and idly wonders how he's going to get in. He knows he usually ends up there somehow after dying, but isn't sure about the actual route or if he just appears indoors rather than traversing the river. Then, the Styx pulls him under with a force comparable to an Elysium champion, and Zagreus can do nothing but go along with it. The waters stir him down and to the left, until suddenly he's being thrust upward into the darkness.

As a god, he can hold his breath really well, but that doesn't mean it doesn't get uncomfortable. At some point, after holding his breath for long enough, his lungs inevitably fail, his heart stops and he dies, though he's not entirely sure how or why a god can die that way when they don't even need to breathe.

But this time, that doesn't happen. The Styx is fast and strong, and instead of his expected death by drowning, Zagreus breaks the surface of the pool as the current pushes him up and out. He takes a huge gulp of air, warm and smokey but still welcome.

A shade looks at him weirdly, but Zagreus pays them no mind.

With only his head above the water, he goes practically unnoticed by the people farther away as he takes a moment to look around.

As he predicted, he’s in the main hall of the House of Hades, where he always wakes up after dying. Hypnos is manning the line, cheerful voice loud as it echoes across the hall, reaching the pool without distorting. His father, far down the hall, has his head down, writing furiously on a piece of paper that surprisingly hasn’t caught fire yet. The yellow light that fills the place is almost welcoming after the long ride on the river of blood.

Then every thought settles back down as Zagreus remembers exactly why he doesn't like this place anymore.

With a quiet sigh, he climbs out of the pool and steps forward.

Hypnos meets his eyes over the heads of two small shades, and they smile at each other in greeting, though Hypnos' smile seems subdued. The two shades have moved on by the time Zagreus gets to him.

“Welcome to the House of Hades!” Hypnos says, looking down at his ledger, “and thanks for dy— huh?”

“What's wrong, mate?”

Hypnos’ expression is that of puzzlement. “You... didn't die?”

Oops. “Er... no?”

A pair of golden eyes meet his over the ledger. Hypnos looks like he wants to ask. Then, his eyes dart to the pool and back again, and an hesitant look settles on his face.

“Ah, well...” he starts, voice low but slowly increasing to a normal level, Hypnos clearly trying to navigate the unexpected situation. “I'd say better luck next time, but if you didn't die, then nothing really bad happened, right?”

For a second, Zagreus thinks back on how weird he must be acting lately. He's always had strange thoughts and ideas, but rarely the will to put them in motion. The biggest uproar he's ever caused was his escape attempts, actually.

If Hypnos’ reactions are anything to go by, Zagreus must be doing something beyond expectations and far beyond his expected behaviors. Well, aside from jumping into ancient rivers.

And isn't it sad, that Hypnos seems to be the only one to notice? Or maybe the only one who cares enough to say something. Either way, it’s disappointing. Everything in this place is disappointing.

Ah, no, that’s unfair. Zagreus knows other people care about him. It's just that maybe they don't care in the way he wants them to, with the intensity he wants them to, and that is just as saddening.

He smiles at Hypnos, suddenly grateful that the other didn't ask for details. “Yeah, nothing happened this time.”

“I— I mean, you still failed to escape, but it's not like you haven't escaped before, so I'm sure you can do it again! You just have to, uhm, not die and not come back alive without escaping!”

“I'll keep that in mind, Hypnos.”

“Alright! Glad to help!”

Zagreus walks away without looking at anyone else, but he feels a heavy, golden gaze following him until he's out of sight.

Today is a day for him to be watched by a lot of unseen eyes, isn't it?

He goes ahead and starts another run after exchanging Varatha for Stygius, but keeping Hypnos' purse. (Not that he has been using it, but he hasn't been using any of the others either, so in the end it comes down to what he wants to carry. The jingling of coins, when he moves to knock a wretch into a wall, reminds him of who's waiting back at the House for him, while also providing some mildly entertaining background noise to the repetitive screams and groans of Tartarus.)

This time, when he enters the chamber right before Megaera's, Charon is facing him for once. There's no eyes for Zagreus to pinpoint the direction of his gaze, but he knows Charon's watching him.

“Hey Charon, thanks for the tip the other day. The trip was fun!”

Charon stays silent, but Zagreus doesn't feel any judgment from him. In fact, he even thinks he might actually be picking up on some... amusement? So he pauses a moment, pretending to evaluate the items on display... then grins at Charon and starts walking backward toward the edge of the stone. Charon turns his body in Zagreus’ direction, as if to keep him in sight, but doesn't make any move to stop him. Zagreus sends him a little wave as he jumps again.

No sounds of surprise follow him, but Zagreus still chuckles as he floats down the current.

He washes up on the stairs of the pool with a faint smile on his face, and Hypnos raises a brow at him before looking down at his ledger. When he finds what he's looking for and realizes Zagreus didn't die again, both eyebrows go up and Hypnos shoots him another glance.

Zagreus is in good spirits, so he grins at Hypnos as he passes by.

Hypnos hesitates for a second, but then he smiles back, waving cheerfully.

Zagreus gets to his room and goes right to the courtyard. Skelly shoots him a weird look as he walks past, but doesn't comment.

He loses count of how many times he repeats the process. Fight his way to the last chamber before Megaera's, say hello to Charon, hop into the Styx, let the waters haul him back. He takes a few breaks here and there, and the cycle becomes his new routine for a while.

At one point, when he takes a break after finding a bottle of ambrosia, he bumps into Magaera in the lounge, and she shoots him a nasty look.

“What do you think you're doing, Zag?” She asks, eyeing the bottle in his hand, but they both know that's not what she's asking about.

“I don't know what you're talking about, Meg. I do a lot of things; you're gonna have to be more specific.”

She's drinking something weirdly green, gripping the cup in her hand tightly. “You know exactly what. Do you think I have the time to stand around waiting for you to show up at your leisure? When was the last time we fought?”

“I'm not sure. It's hard to keep track of time down here, you see.”

Megaera is completely unimpressed, but Zagreus has dealt with her for so long that her foul mood doesn't really affect him. Not anymore. (He learned not to let it affect him.)

“I know you're making your way through Tartarus, I hear the shades talking about your presence down there. And yet, you're always back at the house without ever passing through me.”

Zagreus smiles at her. “I've just been more careless lately. Why, are you worried about me?”

She scoffs. “As if. I'm worried about my work accumulating while I wait to do my babysitter duty.”

“Hm, I don't plan on going past you for a good while. You can take a break.”

“And let Lord Hades flay me alive when he finds out you passed through an empty chamber? Yeah, of course.”

“So grumpy, Meg. You should liven up a little,” he says, turning around and starting to walk away, smile firmly in place.

Megaera slams a fist on the table, startling the shades around her. “Listen here, you little shit!”

Zagreus almost falters in his steps. He should be used to violence by now; used to doling it out and receiving it. But there's something about Megaera's little display that reminds him too much of someone else, and he almost flinches, almost shows weakness in front of everyone in the lounge.

Thankfully his mask holds and his body obeys him, so Zagreus simply walks out. Nyx is passing by the same hall, but he only nods at her. He's afraid of what might come out if he opens his mouth.

He debates going out to the courtyard and working off his anger, or maybe starting yet another run, but after five in a row he would like a break. (What a weird thing, for a god to want to rest.)

As he walks through the main hall, his father calls to him before he gets more than a few steps away from the desk.

"Boy."

Zagreus keeps walking.

"Boy, I'm talking to you."

Something slams down hard on the desk, and Zagreus just barely hides a wince at the noise.

"Zagreus!" Hades shouts, voice magically booming throughout the hall, bouncing off the walls and making sure everyone present knows what's happening. If there's something his father has always liked, it’s to berate Zagreus in public.

Zagreus stops, turning around slowly and leveling a blank stare at his father. Normally, he would give a mocking 'yes, father?', or maybe a quip about how his name is more effective than epithets, or maybe even a disrespectful bow. But this time he only stands there, looking back at the Lord of the House.

They stare at each other for a few moments, tense. Hades obviously expects Zagreus to break the silence first, to wilt under the hard stare and give him a proper response or apology for whatever he might’ve done wrong.

Zagreus doesn’t, and Hades clearly hasn't realized how much he's changed because he waits several minutes longer as if Zagreus not saying anything in the first few minutes will change if he gives him more time. The image they're presenting in front of everyone in the hall must be hilarious to an outsider.

After a while, Hades is the one to break the silence, displeasure clear in his voice. "I am told you keep coming back before fighting Megaera. Is that correct?"

"Do you not trust your sources, father?" Sometimes Zagreus wonders if they could ever have a normal conversation without fighting, or without tension permeating every word. To date, he can’t remember it ever happening.

"What do you know of trust, boy?" Another staring contest, then, "Answer the question."

"Yes, father, that is very much correct. Your sources are good, congratulations."

Hades sighs—more of a huff, really—brows furrowed so low his eyes are tiny pinpricks of light contrasting against his gray face. It's a heavy stare, and it's not like Zagreus is unaffected by it. It's just that he's learned to pretend really well.

"Do you think the others have time to stand around while you go gallivanting across my realm?"

Ha. Zagreus almost chuckles, but restrains himself.

"You could always give them a break. I'm sure they'd appreciate it. They work so hard, after all."

"Contrary to you, it seems."

"Indeed, father."

There's a slight pause, as if Hades wasn't expecting Zagreus to agree with him. Which is fair, since disagreeing with his father is one of Zagreus' favorite pastimes.

"If you have decided to stop your foolishness, then at least Megaera and the Hydra can go back to their usual work."

"Or you could have done that from the beginning and just let me go through."

"So that you could work even less? I don't think so."

Zagreus shrugs, turning and giving his back to Hades.

"We're not done here, boy," his father says as Zagreus starts walking away.

"Yes, we are." We're more than done, father.

"Zagreus! You come back here right this instant!"

But Zagreus keeps moving down the hall, towards Hypnos. Even though the distance between Hades' desk and Hypnos' station is quite big, it's not far enough away that Hades can't see exactly where he’s going. Zagreus smiles at Hypnos as he gets closer, even as Hypnos eyes him warily, eyes going back and forth between Zagreus and Hades.

"Getting in trouble, are we?" Hypnos asks when Zagreus is within hearing range, trying for humor and falling on worry instead.

"You know me, Hypnos. I'm always getting in trouble, even when I don't want to." It's supposed to be funny, too. But it's also too close to the truth, and they both know it.

There's a handful of seconds where they just stare at each other, and then Zagreus lifts his hand and shows Hypnos the bottle.

Hypnos' eyes grow large, and he quickly looks around before forcing Zagreus' hand back down.

"Don't just go around showing bottles, Zag. You know Lord Hades doesn't permit them inside the house!"

"I know, but what's he gonna do, anyway? Shout at me? That happens all the time already. Send more wretches my way when I try to escape? I can deal with them. Express his disappointment? I mean, did you hear the conversation he and I just had?"

Hypnos bites his lip, and Zagreus smiles, waving his unoccupied hand. "Don't worry about it. Besides, how many times have I brought you and the others illicit beverages? No one has gotten in trouble for it, it makes no sense that it would start now."

"Yes, but your father is a little bit more mad at you than usual. 'Waste of resources', he said."

Zagreus leans forward, smile widening, a little bit of good humor shining through the numbness. "Yeah, but you have to admit it's funny."

Hypnos chuckles, then slaps a hand on his mouth. "I mean, kinda? Maybe?" he says, trying to sound uncertain, but Zagreus can hear the laughter he can't hide.

Hypnos adjusts his ledger and feather and casts a quick glance around the hall, nervous habits, before turning back to Zagreus. "How are you doing that, anyway? I mean, it's not like you're taking a dive in the Styx, right? That would be silly! But then again, how would you be able to get into the pool if you don't use the Styx—"

“I'm taking a dive in the Styx, you're right.”

“I— what?”

“You're totally right.”

Hypnos blinks at him. “Really?”

“Yup.”

Hypnos' lips twitch, once, twice, before he regains control.

“Ah, I see. So you just jump in the river and let it bring you back?”

“Yeah. You should have seen Charon's reaction when I did it the first time. I mean, I didn't see his reaction either, but I bet it was funny.” Zagreus grins and Hypnos smiles, giggling quietly, eyes still roaming the hall.

Zagreus had just come to give Hypnos the ambrosia and go, but... he was planning on going to see Chaos soon, so he might as well enjoy the company of one of the only people who seems happy to see him every time.

“Say, mate. Why don't you come to the lounge and enjoy this bottle with me?” Zagreus waves the bottle around again. He sees Hypnos’ eyes widen when he notices it isn’t nectar this time.

“Ah, right now? I'd love to! But... I'm kinda working? And I think Lord Hades is still looking this way...”

“C'mon Hypnos, you know you won't get in trouble. Leave any fallout to me.”

Hypnos takes a long look at his ledger, then at the line of shades that's basically moving by itself. "I don't want you to deal with the consequences by yourself, Zag."

That's... well, that's incredibly appreciated. It's a novelty, really, to hear someone say that and actually mean it. But Zagreus knows his father will take it out on him only, no one else, so the point is moot.

"I appreciate the concern, Hypnos. But we both know how the punishment is gonna be doled out, so... just come and spend some time with me, won't you?

Hypnos takes a look at Zagreus and the puppy eyes he's doing his best to keep on his face, and groans. “Alright then, I guess I can do that. Mayb—”

“Great!” Zagreus doesn't give Hypnos time to back out, grabbing the edge of his blanket and pulling him along towards the lounge's hallway entrance (honestly, one of the best things Zagreus spent gems on). He looks to their left very briefly and, sure enough, his father is looking at them, face thunderous. But he doesn't say anything, just as Zagreus predicted. He's probably going to go on and on about it later, which is fine, as long as Hypnos doesn't get dragged into it.

(And no matter how awful Hades is, Zagreus suspects he might have a sweet spot for Hypnos. Otherwise Hypnos probably wouldn't have held his position for so long, right in the direct line of sight of the master of the house.)

“By the way, Zag, Thanatos was looking for you,” Hypnos says, as he lets Zagreus guide him through the shades.

“Was he?”

“Yup!”

Zagreus hums, choosing not to say anything. At some point in the past, even before the beginning of all this, Zagreus would have been happy that Thanatos was looking for him. There was a time when the thought of Thanatos sent something warm down to his stomach, made him all nervous and excited. Even when he’d started trying to escape, he’d still felt guilty that he hadn't talked to Thanatos about it in advance. He couldn't help how happy he’d been when Thanatos found him.

Now, though, the thought of standing in front of Thanatos while he berates him for yet another thing he's done wrong is unbearable.

Just thinking of Thanatos' monotone voice spouting some bullshit about work and responsibilities—the only things he seems to talk about, ever—makes Zagreus purse his lips in visible displeasure, which is something he tries really hard not to do. He doesn't know how Hypnos takes Thanatos' reprimands with a smile every time. The worst expression he's seen on the other’s face was Hypnos frowning a little bit, but that was more out of hurt than actual anger. Honestly, he doesn't know how Hypnos hasn't punched Thanatos in the face yet.

Thinking about Thanatos (and Megaera, and Hades, and—) threatens to crush the sliver of happiness he's managed to find lately, so he kicks those thoughts out and finds a table for them both. Megaera is still there, glaring at them, but Zagreus ignores her and tells Hypnos to do the same when he shifts nervously.

Despite everything, they spend some good time together, talking about silly things for probably much longer than Megaera or his father liked, but Zagreus was ignoring them, so it wasn’t like he’d know either way. Zagreus is pretty sure this is the last time he’s going to spend together with Hypnos, so he makes sure the conversation is light and funny, something good for Hypnos to remember him by.

After they part ways, Zagreus does another run and finds himself getting antsy.

He's suddenly eager to get on with his little plan—never mind that he doesn't even know if it'll work—but he still makes time to grab five more bottles of ambrosia. One for Achilles, one for Nyx, one for Dusa, one for Skelly, and one for Cerberus. He pretends the hardest he's ever had to, to hide that what he's really doing is saying goodbye.

With Nyx and Skelly it's easier, he just hands them the bottle and exchanges a few words with them. Nyx would never drink in the lounge, and Skelly tells Zagreus that he prefers to drink alone. Dusa barely stays long enough to give her thanks, all nervous and jittery before darting away to the rafters. Cerberus wags his tail and they play for a little bit, but soon he yawns and Zagreus let's him go take a nap.

With Achilles is harder, since they usually take the time to sit together and talk. But if there's one thing Zagreus has learned in all the centuries he's been alive, it's how to be a good liar. It's a must, if you intend on living in the House of Hades. So he lies through his teeth, smiles like everything's alright in his world, pays attention to Achilles and his cues, making sure he's playing the role of spoiled prince and endearing charge just right.

Achilles and the others are none the wiser, and by this point the guilt is easy to ignore.

Everything, except the emptiness inside him, has been surprisingly easy to ignore.

Before his last run, Zagreus does a basic sweep of the House. He doesn’t stay long enough to fall into conversation with anyone, but he smiles and waves and jokes, committing to memory the faces he would like to remember for as long as he lives, which hopefully won’t be long at all.

Then he steps through the portal in his courtyard with a silent, mental goodbye.

Chaos' domain is calm and quiet, a serenity that one wouldn't normally associate with the word chaos. It's definitely one of Zagreus' favorite places in the world, even though he hasn't seen many. The only sound is a soft, low, continuous hum that permeates the place, almost like chaos itself is singing in the background. It's a strange thought, but one that seems to fit, and Chaos themself had appreciated the idea when Zagreus shared his impression with them.

He feels Chaos' presence across the room, violet light dimmer than the Olympian boons. Not because Chaos is weaker, but because, no matter how strange they might look, they are not as flashy as the Olympians.

Zagreus can feel a pair of eyes—or many pairs—watching him, some curiosity in the air, but instead of going for the boon to chat with them, he walks to the edge and sits down. He’s tempted to put his legs on the water, but also uncertain of what might happen to him if he does.

If he's going to do this, he's going to do it right.

He takes a breath and holds it in, exhaling slowly and rehearsing in his mind what he wants to say.

“Master Chaos... would you mind terribly if we talked for a moment?”

For a moment there's no response, though Zagreus feels the weight of that multi-eyed stare get heavier, because apparently Chaos is always interested in whatever he can't predict, and Zagreus has been counting on that. He has the egg with him, too, in the hopes that its presence might give him some courage, or that it might aid Chaos in what Zagreus is about to ask, or even that Chaos will take the presence of the egg as a sign of trust.

“Son of Hades,” Chaos says, suddenly in front of him.

Zagreus jumps a little and hears a slight chuckle that resonates inside his head. Chaos' layered voice is music to his ears, one of the few he's been able to hear without cringing or feeling like he needs to flee. (It's not hard to stay away from the voices that do get to him, though, since most of those people never seem to want to be in his presence in the first place.)

“What is it that you wish to talk about? I admit I did not foresee this deviation from the norm.”

“Forgive me, Master Chaos, but today I won't be taking a boon, if everything goes accordingly.”

“Oh? And what is it that you might want to take in its place? I am curious.”

“I was wondering,” and here Zagreus finally looks up into Chaos' purple eyes, the ones on his face, inscrutable in their neutral expression, “this might sound weird, but... would you be able to kill a god?"

It's not the type of question one simply utters out loud, especially not in places occupied by gods and minor deities. But Zagreus figures that, out of everyone, Chaos might be the one to take the question seriously and also as a joke, if only to indulge him out of pure curiosity.

Chaos hums, for a split second harmonizing with the sound in the background.

"Do you wish to kill a god, Son of Hades?"

Zagreus ignores how Son of Hades makes him feel. At first he had had no desire to find out what Chaos would do if Zagreus appeared to be antagonizing him. Then, as Zagreus got more comfortable in their presence, he hadn't wanted to dredge up an explanation for not wanting to be called that. And now there's no point in saying anything, because hopefully he won't be the son of anyone at all.

Scratching his neck, he lowers his eyes for a moment, wondering how to proceed.

"Perhaps?"

"Hm." Chaos brings a hand to their chin, holding it slightly between fingers, their eyes never leaving him. "I suppose I could, though I am not the only one. You certainly know what your uncles and aunts have done to the Titans."

"Ah, yes, I know that... but the Titans aren't really dead, are they? As far as I know they were just ripped apart until they couldn't regenerate, but they're not gone. Right?"

"Indeed, that is the case, if you are referring to death as the cessation of being. I suppose your ancestors can be summarized as being out of commission."

"A very painful out of commission."

"Yes."

"Well, I was thinking of something more permanent."

"Do you mean a mortal death? A being going from one phase of life to the next?"

"That could be really interesting, but I don't think gods have an afterlife of their own."

"Indeed. I am glad you realize that. It would be foolish to hope for a heaven or a hell of some kind when your life is forever."

And ouch, that hits right on the question even before Zagreus asks. He almost suspects that Chaos knows his true intentions here, but then he remembers how unpredictable he apparently is, and that's what he's counting on this time; hoping that Chaos is surprised enough, entertained enough, to grant Zagreus his wish.

Chaos waits for him, unblinkingly, perhaps because they're beyond such mundane things.

For a moment everything is silent, save for the hum in the background. Chaos lowers themself in front of Zagreus, curving forward as if to observe him better, feet disappearing in the water-not-water. It seems like it doesn't touch them at all. He wonders if the water is just an illusion, or if Chaos is just too out of the ordinary to touch anything material. Or maybe the water isn't something physical at all?

Ah, Zagreus thinks, wincing, feeling the shame rise inside his chest, I'm stalling.

Going 'round and 'round with his thoughts, avoiding thinking about what he came here to do. He's spent so much time thinking about it, planning his words and actions, saying goodbye to the people who matter, and now, when he's finally got a real chance, he almost wants to back out.

He still remembers the first time the thought crossed his mind.

It had been a good day, overall. He had trained with Achilles only for an hour, his little body still not used to so much exercise, and then he had gone to show off his newly acquired skills to the twins and Megaera. (It was easy to find them, back then. Thanatos and Hypnos were always together, and Megaera was never far off. Even when her sisters still lived in the house, she always preferred to spend her time away from them.)

After their play fight, with everyone on the ground panting, Nyx had approached and urged everyone to go inside and clean up. Zagreus was the last one to leave, and as he passed through the door of the training grounds, he’d flinched away when he saw his father standing there.

Hades had leveled a stare at him, barely dipping his head in the process, as if Zagreus had been unworthy of even that small movement. That’s not something that he had realized at the time, though. It’d taken him decades to grow up and understand all the little ways that Hades despised him; but at the time, that sort of thing barely registered in little Zagreus' head.

“You still need to practice more. If you're not good enough, then there's no reason for you to be here,” Hades had said, voice even, emotionless.

Zagreus remembers feeling shocked, even though those words were nothing new. Every time Hades opened his mouth, there was a small part of Zagreus, tiny and fragile and foolish, that hoped for words of love or encouragement, or even just acknowledgement. Every time, he was let down. That time had been no different.

And yet.

As Hades had walked away, Zagreus’ teary eyes following him, the only thing that had gone through Zagreus' head was then maybe I should have never been born in the first place.

He remembers blinking in shock at the thought, almost not understanding what it entailed. Death was such a foreign concept to his little godly mind, but his fists had been shaking, training sword faltering in his grasp and almost falling to the ground.

Nyx, who had been simply watching, had come up to him and put a hand on his head.

“Let's go inside, child.” Her voice had been the same even tone she always used, but Zagreus had still felt comforted by her presence, by her hand, by her words. Nyx had been a safe place, back then. (A safe place that hadn't lasted long after that, but at that point she was still a huge presence in Zagreus' little world.)

Back in the present, Zagreus blinks as he brings his hand to his lap, twisting his fingers. “So, would you be able to unmake a god?”

Chaos shifts, as if rearranging themself. “By unmake, do you mean to cease to be, then?”

“Yes. To unravel their existence as if they were never there.”

“Hm.”

Chaos blinks at Zagreus, and he holds their gaze. It's difficult because Chaos always seems to know more, seems to look into his soul and peer at all his little secrets and desires. That's not actually true, because Zagreus trusts Chaos when they say they can't predict him, but the sensation is unnerving anyway. Still, Zagreus maintains eye contact, determined to impress the importance of his question.

“You bring me the most interesting questions, Son of Hades. I believe it would be possible, yes.”

Okay, here it is. Deep breath.

“Then... would you be so kind as to do me a favor?”

“I shall do my best. What do you wish for?”

“Could you unmake me?”

Another silence. Chaos' other eyes slowly turn to him as well. Even the symbol on their forehead, usually static, seems to be observing him somehow.

“Unmake?”

“Yes.”

“Not 'kill'?”

“No.”

“A permanent state?”

“Yes.”

“That is very drastic. What an unusual favor you ask of me.”

“I am aware, Master Chaos. I promise I wouldn't ask if I hadn't thought about it for a long time.”

“May I ask why?”

The truth?

Chaos is maybe willing to do something irreversible simply because Zagreus asked... so yes, the truth.

“I'm tired.” He buries his face in his hands, feeling the lump in his throat. “I'm so tired of all of this, Master Chaos. I just want to rest.”

“...I suppose the form of rest you speak of cannot be acquired from the God of Sleep?”

Oh, the words and the memory they bring forth hurt, though Chaos has no way of knowing that.

Hypnos didn't need to grant Zagreus' wishes, didn't even need to pay attention, it's not like gods sleep much. And yet, he did. And Zagreus, for a split second, had considered asking Hypnos to put him to sleep forever. He flinches, imagining the look of horror on Hypnos' face, knowing he's the one who would have put it there.

Selfish, he thinks, and almost laughs at the irony of it all.

“No. It can't.”

More silence. Then Chaos sighs, something they don't do very often. “May I propose something else to you?”

Zagreus almost says no. The word is on the tip of his tongue, furious and sharp, pushing to get out. After all the preparation and the mental conversations he's had with himself, he just wants this to be over and done with. (And preferably before he loses his nerve and backs out.)

Still, he lifts his head from his hands and says, “Sure.”

“What if I were to remake you, instead?”

“...Remake me?”

“Yes. You are made of a variety of pieces, and from everything you have told me so far, I believe some of those pieces might be the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have chthonic parts from your father and, I suppose, from Nyx as well, if she did what I believe she did. And then some part of you is olympian, and an even smaller part is human.”

“Human? Part of me is human?” The thought is strange; he doesn't like or dislike it, but there is something world-shifting in finding out you're partially mortal.

And yet I can't seem to make use of that mortality, he thinks ruefully.

“Yes. Your birth mother is half-olympian, half-human. That is the reason you have red blood. I believe it is common in mortals.”

Persephone had never said anything about that, but it's not like they had a lot of time to talk… and it's not like she seemed all that interested in telling him about herself, anyway. They spent most of their precious minutes talking about him. Maybe she was always going to ask him to leave, from the very beginning, and him knowing more about her would have just made it harder. It's an uncharitable thought, but Zagreus has spent a lot of time lately realizing they don't really know each other at all.

And how can you love someone you don't know?

“And you said I have something of Nyx's, too?” he asks, eager to be distracted.

“It is only a small part of you, but I believe it's what allowed you to be brought back to life after you were stillborn. The essence she must have given you probably restarted your heart. It is most likely the reason you take to the darkness so well, since neither your father nor your birth mother have a knack for it.”

Zagreus always thought the reason the darkness resonated with him was because of Nyx, and it seems he was right, just not in the way he had thought. The love he feels for her swells in his chest, but is soon taken over by guilt and shame and the ever present feeling of run run run.

“I see. So what would you do exactly, Master Chaos?”

“The only one of your parents bound to the Underworld is your father. Nyx can come and go as she pleases, and Persephone has also never been affected by the boundaries, even when she seemed displeased with the atmosphere.”

“You met her? When she was here?”

“No, I've never met her directly. But I do like to spy on my children, from time to time.”

Everyone is my child, young Zagreus, Chaos had said once. Zagreus still had a hard time wrapping his head around that.

“Alright, so I'm bound here because of my father. What now?”

“I will extricate that part from you, and we will see if that solves your problem.”

“So I would, essentially, not be his son anymore? You would take his… essence from me?”

“Parenthood is not only about who came from whom, as you well know. But when we speak of gods, there is more to it than just the ichor that runs through their veins, or blood in your case. Children take on their parents' energy as well.”

“Energy as in…?”

“As in the very components of their being.”

“Oh.”

“It's what separates divinity from mortality. All the gods you've met appear to have flesh, no? But theirs is just an illusion of sorts, something they unconsciously pick up when they're born. It is… a defense mechanism, shall we say, that allows them to have a form in the material world.” Chaos floats lower, as if they're sitting on an invisible chair. “Mortal flesh is entirely material, and therefore cannot be changed at the user's will. Well, not that many gods change their appearances either, except for your uncle Zeus.”

“So gods and mortals are fundamentally different.”

“Yes, but not so much that they cannot reproduce. You are proof of that.”

Zagreus didn't come to Chaos for a biology lesson, but he would be lying if he said this isn't one of the most interesting conversations they've had.

It's also enjoyable to talk with someone older, who knows way more than him, without feeling dumb. Chaos has always responded to his questions with the utmost patience, sometimes even amusement, without making Zagreus feel bad for not knowing all the answers already, or for daring to ask in the first place.

“So even if you take his parts away, I'll still be connected to him?”

“What I meant is that even if I take away everything inside you that came from Hades, that won't change the fact that he raised you. You cannot erase those experiences.”

Ha. Raised. Haha.

“Ah, yes. I wasn't actually worried about that.”

Chaos nods. “Very well. Then if everything has been explained, shall we begin?”

His heart beats fast and loud in his ears. Zagreus suspects that if he was less god and more human, he would be sweating from sheer nerves. But there's a part of him that's excited for this; a chance to keep on living without being bound to one single place.

“Master Chaos, what if it doesn't work?”

“It most likely will. But if it doesn't... I will honor your original wish.”

Zagreus has some difficulty reading Chaos' tone of voice most of the time, but he thinks they almost sound sad. Still, it's a relief to have someone willing to help him, even as they're clearly unhappy with his choice.

“Thank you, Master Chaos.”

Chaos inclines their head. “Now let's begin.”

“Alright. What should I do?”

“Come into the water.”

“Oh, okay. ”

The memory of jumping into the Styx flashes through his mind and Zagreus smiles to himself, finding what little humor he can while his breathing comes in short bursts. He's shaking a little, unable to hide his nerves, but Chaos doesn't comment on it.

He stands up and walks toward the edge of the stone, where the black and violet water shines back at him.

Until he had breached the surface some time ago, the only other times he had seen the sky at any time of day was in old paintings and old books. He had read about the night sky, how the stars were infinite and bright and beautiful, and he had seen glimpses of it on Nyx when she moved just right. But he’d never seen it in person.

The ocean in Chaos' domain looks just like the paintings, just like Nyx's hair wings.

He moves forward and sits at the edge, legs up. There's a moment of vertigo, where he feels like he's going to fall into an endless sky. But then he puts one foot into the water, and the sensation is so weird that it distracts him from the thought. It's like nothing he's felt before; the water is not really water, though it moves like it, when he compares it with other waters he's experienced.

The Styx is definitely water, although magical in nature, and it actually soaks his clothes even though it disappears the moment Zagreus touches whatever is in the pool of blood. The pool itself is something other, a heavy liquid that acts like blood, dense and suffocating.

Chaos' ocean almost feels like nothing.

Zagreus slowly lowers one leg into it, and then the other. He can see the water moving around him, reacting to his presence, but the sensation is like smoke, something silky, gossamer. Something so light that it's almost not there.

Taking a deep breath, Zagreus closes his eyes and can't help the way his mind travels to places and people.

He has made a concerted effort not to think about his mother since their last conversation, but now all the minutes they spent together twist inside his thoughts.

An unbearable sadness threatens to drown him for a moment. Sadness for all the moments they could have had, if the Fates had only allowed it. For all the hugs he didn't get, for all the accomplishments he couldn't share with her. For all the hours they didn't spend in the garden, while Persephone taught him how to take care of flowers and fruits. For all the times he lay in bed wishing to hear just one single I love you from the people who raised him.

For all the centuries they spent apart, unaware of each other's existence.

Before he can start second-guessing himself like he knew he would, he jumps.

Zagreus has felt a lot of physical pain in his life.

It's par for the course, when you're a god. And when you're a prince. And when your father believes you're ready to train at twenty years old.

Gods age differently than mortals, so Zagreus has no idea what the equivalent would be, but he remembers being small and afraid. The training swords on the training grounds were so heavy that Achilles had made one just for him, small and of light wood, suitable for a child. It took him decades to recognize the look on Achilles face during those first years. Regret.

Later, much later, Achilles had confided that some human children also started very young, just like Zagreus.

But just because something's tradition, doesn't mean it's right. Always remember that, lad, Achilles had said at the end of one session.

Zagreus had taken it to heart, like most of what Achilles said, because he was half-father and half-brother and half-hero.

Those first few years were filled with pain, from sore muscles to broken bones, scrapes and bruises and open wounds. Then he started training with Thanatos and Megaera, occasionally Tisiphone and Alecto, and the pain had multiplied tenfold. He usually sported a parade of bruises and cuts by the end of training sessions, but at least the others weren't much better.

When he started vying for his freedom, he admittedly wasn't prepared for the different level of brutality that awaited him. He learned fast, though. Strike before they get a chance to hit you, and if it hurts, it means you're still able to move, so move.

Dying is, unsurprisingly, the most painful thing Zagreus has ever gone through, because to stop his godly body from functioning, people need to hit him hard. He's been hacked and slashed and cut into pieces more times than he can count now, by strangers and friends alike.

So yeah, Zagreus knows a thing or two about pain, and he usually bears it well.

This, though? He wasn't prepared for this.

He has a handful of seconds to open his eyes and admire the black, starry void around him, hints of purples and violets winking in the distance. He can breathe and he can move. He imagines this must be what swimming in a cloud feels like.

And then the pain comes.

It starts on his skin; something that feels like fire burning the hairs on his arms, the peach fuzz on his cheeks, the hair on his head. It gets inside him, lighting up all nerve endings like he's just been dropped in lava. Except lava isn't this cold and doesn't hurt this much.

It eats his muscles like a hungry creature, chomping on him and tearing him apart, piece by little piece.

It hits his bones, as if trying to suck the marrow out of them, or maybe suck the bones themselves out of him, turn him upside down until all that's left is a grotesque mass of limbs and blood.

He's unaware of what he's doing, the agony so intense it's impossible to concentrate on anything else. But he's sure that if his mouth still works, then he's definitely screaming. Not that anyone would hear him down here, at the edge of the Underworld.

When it seems like it can't possibly get worse, it hits something inside him. His core, his soul, his energy. Whatever. The name doesn't matter; what matters is that this, this is the worst pain he's ever felt, and probably will ever feel, and some part of his brain desperately screams no no no stop please stop! over and over again.

Another part of him thinks, fuck, this better be worth it.

And as abruptly as the pain began, it stops, as if it was never there, and it takes something from him when it does.

Something so close to what he is and who he is that he mourns it, reaches a mental arm in its direction, but he can't touch it. Whatever the pain took, it's forever beyond his grasp now, and all it leaves behind is some terrible ache that has nothing to do with his physical body.

But something is new here. The hole that should have been in his being is full. Full to the brim and overflowing with something old, something powerful, something endless.

Zagreus opens his eyes and stares into infinity, into the immeasurable eons of time and space, the vastness of the cosmos that he suddenly knows exists beyond this realm, beyond this little round piece of rock where everything he's ever known lives.

He stares into infinity and infinity stares back.

He reaches for it, some desperate, childlike part of him wanting to feel safe, to be held. To his relief, it reaches back, cradling him in its never-ending embrace, a thousand limbs and a thousand hands, gentle and warm and careful with the new life it has created.

Infinity tells him rest now, so Zagreus closes his eyes and allows himself the oblivion of sleep.

He dreams of stars he's never seen, and a field of poppies he's never been to.