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There is something almost enchanting about Zagreus, you think.
At one time or another, he has had the unique honor of holding a special place in the heart of all who reside within the House, from Megaera, to your mother, to your brothers; from the hero Achilles to the House’s servants, to even Lord Hades himself, before all of this started.
Sometimes you feel that it is only upon his death, and subsequent return, to these halls that they ever truly feel alive, for lack of a better term. He is regarded with such affection, despite his many blunders, that you wonder if he was born under the blessing of Aphrodite herself. You know that cannot be the case, but the sentiment somewhat makes you feel as though you are less of a fool for risking everything just for the chance to see him; to keep him from harm as much as you are able, your worry for him outweighing your resentment of his actions.
It is a cruel twist of the Fates that while no mortal has once succeeded in bribing, threatening, or persuading you to deviate from your duty, to stray from your eternal post, the whims of a careless princeling have brought you squarely to heel. You doubt Zagreus is even aware of the power he has over you, aware of the power he has over everyone here, and you think that cluelessness might be part of what makes him so dangerous.
Even now you are loyal to him above all, you choose to stand watch over the River Styx, waiting for him to return home rather than attending to your duties. The mortals can wait a little longer, in fact you think that many of them would be grateful to you for even a few more fleeting moments with their loved ones before they depart, a notion you once had little patience for, but recently you have gained a new understanding.
You catch a glimpse of a mess of dark hair from your vanguard at the balcony, and a sense of palpable relief washes over you. For a short time, at least, he will be here, he will be amongst his true family, he will be safe from the pain that is surely being inflicted upon him out there. Once he’s done shaking off his death, you’re certain he will come for you, as he always does after you’ve gone to his aid out in the Underworld, as if his paltry gifts can mend the wound that’s formed within you, festering alongside the knowledge that he desires, ultimately, to leave all of this behind. To leave you behind.
Sure enough, it is not long before you hear the soft sound of bare feet on cold stone, but you do not acknowledge his presence until he clears his throat and offers confirmation that yes, it’s you that he’s here to see.
“Thanatos…?” his voice is gentle as he comes to stand beside you, and when you tilt your head in his direction, you note that he has a bottle of nectar gently held in one hand. Predictable, but you feel conflicted nonetheless.
“Prince Zagreus,” you greet him, meeting his formality with formality, and he takes it in stride, his smile easy and kind.
“Found this on my travels and thought you might like to add it to your collection,” he says, and you scoff quietly, wondering how he cannot understand that you would take his company over material gifts any day or night or whatever time it is down here. Perhaps it isn’t that he cannot understand though, perhaps it is that he simply does not care.
“I suppose there is no point in refusing this, is there?” you reach out and take the bottle from his hand, your fingers brushing his, and you think you detect a hint of smugness in his expression at the fact that, for once, he doesn’t have to force this upon you.
“Not on your life, mate,” he shrugs a shoulder, coming to rest his arms upon the railing of the balcony. “Or un-life, I guess? Immortal life? Un-death? Whatever, you have to add this to your stash, for that party we’re throwing one of these days.”
“You say that as if you have any intention of returning,” you grumble, staring at the red waters of the Styx. “Each time you leave, Zagreus, you leave in the hope that you shall never again lay eyes on not only these halls, but those who reside within them.”
“Than…” he’s staring at you, you can feel it, and you refuse to meet his eyes.
“I don’t know why I’m saying any of this, it isn’t as if it matters, if it were possible to change your mind then we wouldn’t be in this situation.”
“I’ll always come back, you know that,” his voice is lowered now, as if in fear of being overheard.
“But would you do so willingly? Or do you only return here because you physically can’t remain on the surface? If you weren’t tied to this place, would I even… Would I ever even see you again?”
He falls silent for a moment, before uttering a strained: “I don’t know.”
It’s salt on the wound, and you long to disappear, to leave him as he leaves you, but these days it’s more difficult to be angry with him than it used to be.
“What’s she like? Your mother?” you ask instead, and his face softens.
“She’s… great? She’s so different from anyone here, Than, so different from Father, from Nyx,” he looks up towards the ceiling, recalling his time on the surface. “Father lied to us both, she didn’t even know I existed, she thought I was dead, and nobody told her about me, they let her live in grief, they let me believe she abandoned me! I still have so many questions for her, I have to get back up there.”
“Then do so,” you scowl, slipping the bottle of nectar into one of the deep pockets of your robe. “What are you waiting for?”
“I-” he starts, before grabbing at your robe, as if sensing your imminent departure. “I wanted to see my old friend, what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing,” your voice feels suddenly less steady, and you tilt your head to look at him, the warmth in his eyes making you want to run your mouth, spill your heart. “But are we even still friends, Zag?”
“What?” he jerks, genuinely taken aback. “Of course we are? I never wanted you to get mixed up in all this, you know that, I never wanted anyone to be punished because of me, all I ever wanted was answers, Than, to meet her.”
“You can’t have been that naive, your choice to leave was always going to divide the House. There was always going to be the need to take sides.”
“And have you… taken a side?” he questions, and you press your hand to your face in frustration and shame.
“My loyalties have fallen where they have always fallen,” you mutter, feeling as if you’re being laid bare for the prince to pick at as he so chooses. “I have risked everything for you, my station, my duty, my place in his House, everything I am, everything I have worked for, and you’re asking me if I’ve taken a side.”
“I’m… sorry,” his grip on your robe falters, and instead he finds your hand, brushing his fingers against yours softly. “Thank you.”
“I shouldn’t have said any of that,” you sigh, your skin prickling where Zagreus touched you. “I have to go.”
“The dying just don’t take a break, huh?” he jokes, and when he risks a quick squeeze to your wrist, you grit your teeth. “I’ll see you out there then, won’t I Than?”
“We’ll see,” you say, cold, but the warmth in your eyes causes you to hesitate, to shift out of the grip he has on your wrist in favor of finding his hand, of squeezing it in yours. “Of course you will, I have to pay you back for the last defeat you handed me in our little competition, after all.”
“Yeah you do,” he squeezes your hand back, before releasing it, and you feel suddenly so very empty. “See you later, Than.”
“Goodbye, Zagreus.”
And with that, you leave him, incapable of saying anything other than goodbye, even knowing that you’ll see him soon.
The princeling holds a special place in the hearts of all who call this House their home, and you are no exception.