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He should have known from the moment he realized Chaos took a blood price for an audience with them; he was doomed.
They would grant a powerful boon for a price: a curse.
The first time he triggered their curse on purpose it was after a successful fight. He hadn’t lost any life essence and stood staring at a group of golden vases before taking a basic swing at them, a lancing pain ripping through Chaos’ mark. He recognizes the usual pain and healing in immediate succession. He is cut; and healed as the blood spills from his body. The pain chased with pleasure. His skin tingles begging to be torn again.
He gasps, a bead of sweat cooling his hot skin. Would he dare to do so again? No, surely there would be no reason for him to do so.
The next time he curses himself, he dashes to the corner of a room; a single numbskull and him. He swings across, not quite making contact. Sharp stinging pain alights across his back and arm. Blood splatters on the stone below his feet. He clenches his jaw at the ache of his wound closing. Again. This time he hues it in half, almost disappointed at how quickly it was slain. He only had one more chamber of this curse.
The third time he purposefully flays himself slice after slice. Each sudden searing pain blurring his thoughts, there is blood all over the floor. He would slip if his feet didn’t burn it away.
The voice of Chaos echoes around him, “How amusing.”
His breath hitches at the thought of them, he imagines them sending each scorching slice. His mind is occupied, and his training takes over and he clears the rest of the wretches with ease.
Once their curse lifts, the weight of Chaos’ influence changes in clarity and power: a visceral feeling moves in him.
He has only moments to enjoy his new found strength before he freezes in horror; a Chaos gate sits in the ground. Never before had their gates spawned so quickly in succession. Eyes seem to follow them around the room as he easily strikes down his foes.
Had he been caught?
The twisting sound of a gate to the abyss being opened and then the sound of a choir of voices, “Come to me…”
He considers only a moment before jumping into the abyss. The toll extracts its sharp price as he falls to the stone, his breath shuddering. He wets his lips. The black and shining abyss is empty except for the distant stars.
“I’ve sensed an increase in your body temperature. Your pupils are rather large.”
Their many layered voice observers. “Such is the impact of my child Eros.”
Zagreus spins, disoriented. The enormous form of Master Chaos leans an elbow on the platform he stands on. Had they appeared there to purposely startle him?
They lean forward, their earrings swinging gently and the explosion of color behind their head seamlessly following their every movement. “Respond.” The layered multitude says.
They noticed. No use in hiding it now. “It might be my enjoyment in coming to see you or the effect of your curse, Master Chaos.” He feels hot blood coloring his cheeks.
“The effect of my curse causes pain and injury. Your reaction to it is paradoxical.” He could occasionally hear hints of emotion within some of their voices: intrigue.
Their curses often lead to pain, injury, or even death if Zagreus miscalculates. The pain of triggering their power was a sweet one, turned sweeter still if they commented on his carelessness.
“I would enjoy seeing what other stimuli you have a paradoxical response to; based on what I have observed you would enjoy this as well. Respond.”
The golden halo illuminates the edges of their wings casting a shadow where he stands under them.
He wants to hear that melodious laugh as his blood spills. He would gladly submit to their experimenting, but who was Zagreus to the Primordial Originator?
“Hm.” Their hum draws his gaze up from his own feet. He sees them lazily watching a single finger circle around Earth as it gently spins following their movements.
“You forged a bond with me, Zagreus. While I know everyone, few know me.” Master Chaos shifts facing him fully and moving their enormous hands palms up on either side of him. “I grant this possibility to you alone.”
All of their multitude of eyes watch him for a moment. “There is much for you to consider. Return when you have your answer.”
They vanish; their gates open with a twang, and the usual array of boons is left in their wake.
He picks their most punishing curse and leaps back to the underworld.
Zagreus is in the void once again, he is held in their palm. He is regailing them about a bird he saw. Amusement radiates off them as Zagreus gestures and attempts to explain how it swooped down to snatch its prey from the ground. Excitement is brilliant in Zagreus’ eyes while mirth drips off Chaos.
“Would you like to know more about this aspect of creation?” They appear to roll a speck of dust between their fingertips.
“Of course!” In hindsight he should have known that they tend to speak literally.
The tsunami of information hits hard. He gasps, mouth open. The mental strain is all consuming. Processing the pressure of knowledge in all forms. His muscles are frozen in place. Shallow breaths come unbidden.
As Chaos tilts their head, their earrings reflecting what cold starlight illuminates this realm. But Zagreus’ two-toned eyes focus on something distant and shine with glassy emptiness. They bring a large hand across his field of vision. Zagreus stares off into the distance.
“Mm.” They drop him.
Zagreus instinctively reaches out for something to grab onto and lets out a yelp, his eyes wide. Chaos has him safely in hand once again.
“Your startle reflex is working.” Their tone low and even.
Zagreus recalls the flickering murmurations of starlings. He remembers the evolution of the feather, and understands for a moment the pneumatic structure of their bones. He blinks and Master Chaos is looking down at him with an unknowable expression on their face.
A large hand gently wipes Zagreus’ mouth and flicks his spittle into their black ocean. “Yet another price you pay. I wonder how much is too much.”
Zagreus flushes, bringing a hand to his mouth as Chaos moves back.
“Any price is worth it to see you, Master Chaos.”
“I have expressed my opinion on flattery before.”
“It is not flattery, Master Chaos. Simply the truth.”
“Any price then? There is the boon I have wished of you.” They interlace their long fingers.
“I have seen bodily suffering through Ares’ prayer and ancient practice. I have not experienced the pleasure of suffering I believe exists particularly in you, Zagreus. Have you come to a decision?”
“I have, Master.”
_
He is bound in gray smooth vine-like cords, his movement restricted. Restraint quiets his ever-turning thoughts. There is nothing except Master Chaos. They explore his skin, their fingertips are cold and he shivers. Another hand drifts down his stomach and side. This touch is burning hot. He squirms in place, but he cannot (and does not truly want) to escape their touches.
Burning hot and icy cold fingertips, palms drive him to madness. Each touch leaves him guessing, awaiting their next. Nails scratch down his back, red hot lines are raised there. The sensation stings, but it is not nearly enough.
Zagreus wants, but words are already more difficult to grasp. He tries to shape the words. Chaos can hear him —even those pitiful attempts at asking are enough.
Not a lash. A curse. For each touch he would share his essence, his life blood, his divinity. It was perfect. Then they stopped. He was left adrift in nothingness. No anchor of Master’s touch or gravity of their presence.
“Master Chaos?” Complete silence follows a long moment.
“I am here, Zagreus.” They reach a hand toward his chest, their fingertips hover above his skin. “You accepted these terms.” One of their many voices seems intrigued.
“Please…Please touch me.”
A light cool brush against his skin followed by a stinging pain as a few drops of blood slide down his chest. They brush his jaw, his thigh, his wrist tiny ruby drops swelling up following Chaos’ fingers.
Zagreus pants his want evident. He goes to that place where there is breath and rhythm. Where there are no words and he is free. He shivers.
They push a fingertip into his bicep and trace down the muscle there. Opening his body to share his divine domain with the origin of all things. The sharp stinging and the warm feeling of his blood are utterly overwhelming and he gasps, his body shaking.
Again their power undulates down his body. He’s moaning and choking back cries. He could come like this. Beads of blood drip off his fingertips. Each breath and beat of his heart pushing his blood into the abyss, into Chaos themself.
Eyes fluttering shut he deliberately pushes himself into their touch, his mouth hanging open, sharp breaths leaving his lungs. A gash opens on his back painting his skin red before healing. The dull pain chased with sparkling pleasure.
An echoing laugh surrounds him and fills his senses. Masters’ surprise is palpable.
Chaos is speechless. Zagreus’ divinity drips off him into their dark ocean. They can sense each part of him divide and blend further until it is difficult to tell where they end and where he begins. This is a game they like.
It is in a small way similar to before when they were alone and at the same time together with everything that was to come.
“Maaster Ch…chaos, thank you.” Zagreus’ tongue sounds thick in his mouth.
This small god of blood had already given so much. They end their curse and kiss him, closing every eye to experience the touch alone. Zagreus kisses slowly drunk on experience.
“And I thank you.”
—
Fingers curl around his cock. A wet mouth surrounds him. Slick fingers work him open. He can’t help but whimper, their fingers filling him each time so perfectly.
He’s begging now but without words that make any kind of sense. On and on until he can’t even speak. His body shakes and spasms.
When he comes to he’s sitting at their feet. Fingers card through his hair. It is warm, at Master's side. He tucks his chin into their thigh. His mind is blurry, soft. It is safe here and he is brimming with thankfulness.