#hades game x Reader

[rae-pss]

masterlist

˗ˏˋ꒰ 💭 ꒱ . . . i was merely bored during class, so here you all have a silly romantic drabble with characters I believe match it.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 💭 ꒱ . . . 178 words, fluff, lowercase intended.

delicacy. that was the word that best defined how he looked at you, touched you, loved you. he did everything with caution and subtlety, with an irrational fear of harming you with the slightest of a wrong move on his part. 

his words, few or abundant, made evident the love that he alone possessed for you. almost as if an adoration of your name was given by every sentence that came from his lips. 

his actions, slow and gentle or quick and fleeting, left a warm feeling, a desire for more loving touches between the two of you. 

his love for you... infinite like numbers, like time, like the universe itself. the passion he felt was deep like no other. a clear devotion to your person that could only make you blush like nothing else could ever do. 

he could be one of the most dangerous, most unpredictable beings and whatever one may say; but, for you, he was a mere lover lost in your undeniable beauty, one he was so determined to worship that he couldn't be deterred. 

alucard (hellsing), lucifer, diavolo, barbatos, solomon (obey me), ares (hades), hades, poseidon, beelzebub (snv/ror), alt gabriel (mandela catalogue), malleus (twst), chrollo (hxh), childe, (genshin impact), akaza (kny), fyodor, dazai, mori, jouno (bsd), risotto (jbba), satoru, sukuna (jjk)

[idyllcy]

every time i look at you, i keep turning red

word count: 7.0k || inspo: The Dismemberment of Zagreus

warnings: nsfw, smut

summary: shade or not shade? minor goddess or goddess?

Past the gates of Hades and the river Styx, Elysium sits. An endless paradise of homes and greenery in a seemingly desolate land. It was always Zagreus' third stop. He hadn't paid much attention there, Asphodel previously wearing him out. Zagreus wonders not much about the land itself. The prince needed to get past it, avoiding traps he's lived through too many times to count and fighting past foes. He stops occasionally at safe spaces of people he's talked to and always leaves nectar behind as he knows he's going to return. He never makes it that far into the temple. It takes trials through hell and back to escape. It takes time, he finds. So sometimes, he rests in the fields, in a place he knows is far away from whatever traps of death within the realm of Hades himself may await him. A place where no dirt can cut into his skin and damage it.

It was a strange place. The shades wound him, though they didn't pierce the skin of the shades. Skin? The body. The souls, perhaps. The realm of Elysium was never meant to reside in as a godling for long. Though, he had seen multiple souls retain their human form here. It was amusing to him. It had been the closest he had ever been to talking to living people. He wonders if there are any new ones. It was weary, meeting the same people over and over again in the realm. He seldom sees people end up here anymore.

A sigh slips past his lips as he lays down in the green.

He resides in a paradise built for only the best of the best; people whom the gods favored heavily. Since the first three times he had visited his mother, he hadn't stopped to breathe in order to get back up. He fought, raced, and hurled in order to get to where he needed to be. He had to see his mother once more. She hadn't returned with him, and he had unanswered questions he needed answers to. Yet, as he finished with Asphodel, he supposes a quick rest in the grass could not kill him. Well, he wasn't exactly alive either. And, if failed, he would simply return to where he started. It was a cycle he had grown used to, though he fought tooth and nail to make it upward each time.

Zagreus is not expecting to meet someone new on the fourth.

He spots you in the distance, white chiton draping over your shoulders, wrapping snugly around your figure.

A young maiden. You looked no older than him.

He wonders by whom you were favored, but he pauses at the sight of the familiar color. It seemed you had received a blessing in the form of your hair. The streaks of color remind him of his own mother, and he wonders just what you've done to please the Queen of the Underworld so much. You don't notice his stare, but you notice the sword stuck to the dirt, reaching to pull one out of the ground. He wonders if you'll get cut by one. His eyes trail over your hands, and he takes note of how rough your hands seemed to be. They resemble those of his mother's. Perhaps you had been a farmer who worshipped his mother especially much.

The blade doesn't cut you, but you fail to pull it out. He watches newfound determination paint over your features, and his lips part at the sight. You pull the weapon out in two tugs, falling onto the ground as you do. The red on the surface of the blade cracks into green as you pry the sword out with your bare hands. Zagreus can only observe in a mixture of fear and awe. You, a dainty maiden, had pried a weapon out of the sod as though it were a pomegranate. You sat there, staring at the craftsmanship, enthralled by its beauty as he were enthralled with yours. You hear him shuffle, and he leans back into the grass.

Zagreus doesn't understand why you don't approach him nor run away, but he takes it as a greeting. He might see you more often. Perhaps he'll see you on his next quest upward. When he hears you shuffle out of range, he stands up, the wounds on his body healed to some extent. His exhaustion is rested, and he sets off to meet his mother again. Perhaps he'd ask her about you. It was strange to see hair that reminded him so much of his own mother. He wondered if the color had the same texture as his mother's. Ah, but it wouldn't be so kind to compare you to his mother, now would it? Perhaps he missed his mother. That's why he had stayed a little longer to pay attention to you. It would leave him with his next death. There was no other reason.

When Zagreus reaches the surface, his mother shakes her head at his questions. She had no favored child. There must've been something wrong. Perhaps he had seen things while hurt from battle. As Zagreus falls back into the Styx, he wonders if you really had been a desperate hallucination. It had been years since his father had ruled anyone into Elysium. If not blessed, then what was it? Perhaps you had done something during the time that you were alive.

You were a mortal goddess. One of healing, he supposes. He closes his eyes and hears someone shuffle toward him, pressing cold hands onto his skin, and a cooling sensation flowing through his body. When he opens his eyes again, the figure is gone, the wounds on his body mended. There's no ache in his body, and he notices the ambrosia left next to him. It was strange. Had you really been a goddess, you wouldn't be able to die. Perhaps you had fallen out of worship and grown forgotten by the people who once served you.

Zagreus keeps the ambrosia in his pockets. Maybe he'll give you one once he returns.

The fifth time he lies in the field, he doesn't have as many wounds, but he closes his eyes anyways. Perhaps he could catch you. When he feels as though he's waiting an eternity, he hears the grass rustle. Once the footsteps stop next to him, he grabs the hand that's pressed to his back. "Got you," He smiles. You struggle in his grip, and he can feel you grow warmer. "I won't hurt you," He sits up, keeping your wrist in his hand, taking note of how dainty you were compared to him. Your wrist seems small in comparison to his hand.

You blink at him owlishly, fear visible in your eyes. "Prince. M-my apologies. I didn't want to wake you, though I was worried the wounds would cause problems if left alone. Please don't send me to Tartarus..."

Zagreus sputters. "I assure you, fair maiden, that is not the case. I simply wanted to meet my savior. Perhaps you are a godling as I?"

You shake your head. "I am not. The blessing of Apollo's healing was simply placed on me. I am but a minor deity compared to the Olympians."

"So you fell out of worship?" Zagreus loosens his grip on your wrist. You don't seem like you'll leave if he does.

"No," You shake your head. "My mortal body was destroyed in a fit of rage from my father... My prince, how is it that you're able to touch me? I thought shades could not be touched."

"Elysium is a little different from such rules," He mumbles. "Thank you, for the ambrosia, fair maiden."

"It was but something expected," You mumble, standing back up. "My apologies for holding you back, my prince. I heard you are on your way to Olympus."

"That's not entirely correct," He stands up with you, towering over you almost. "But thank you for your healing, fair goddess."

"The Olympians wouldn't be happy with that title you call me," You mumble shyly as he presses a kiss to your hand. "Go on, my prince. May you continue on your journey with the blessing of a minor deity such as I."

Zagreus smiles gently. "I thank you for the blessing, little goddess."

Zagreus climbs back to the overworld for the fifth time.

On the sixth, he has no injury. He's growing better at climbing, yet he still stops by the meadow where you reside. He wants to see you again. Of the few shades that could touch him, he seemed to like you the best. Your fingers were cool against his skin, and he liked the way you warmed when he complimented you. He likes the way you turn dark from his touch. You were tiny compared to him. He was already short compared to both his parents, but you were even smaller. It seemed you were an even lesser goddess compared to him. He liked the feeling of your hand in his. Ah. He'd have to ask mother what that feeling was. His chest was warmer than the gates of the underworld.

"Lovely maiden," Zagreus presses your hand to his cheek, relishing in the cold of your fingers. You feel divine on his skin. As though Nyx herself had blessed you, your skin was cold as his foster mother's. He liked the feeling of your skin on his.

"My prince," you mumble. "What time is this? I feel as though you've climbed for centuries by now."

"Maiden," He whispers. "That is simply because there is no morning here."

"Ah," you mumble. "The days feel long, even in a paradise such as Elysium."

"I can see that," Zagreus smiles. "Well, I shall be on my way now."

"Yes, my prince," You bow. "Please stay safe. May the blessings of a minor deity as I assist you along the way."

"Thank you, little goddess," He presses your fingers to his lips. "I shall see you in my next run."

Zagreus finds himself heavily wounded on his seventh run. His mother had told him to consider talking to his father properly, and he had fallen dead to the overworld again. Ah, he had forgotten to inquire about the warmth from you. He recalls the words of his mentor, though, wondering if that was how his father felt around his mother. Would he have to move you forcibly to his room? No. That would make him the same as his father. He wouldn't like it.

Neither of you speak while he's injured, and you press your palm to his skin. The cold that spreads through his abdomen stings, though it brings him comfort as well. He has grown used to the cold from your hands, and he wonders if you could press it to his hands to heal them as well. Calluses and rough patches of skin from handling weapons have long plagued his fingers and palms. It was a strange feeling, though it has grown to be welcomed. There is something about your touch specifically. His hand reaches for your face as you start pulling away.

"Goddess," He mumbles, pressing his fingers to your cheek.

"Tis your seventh run, yes?" You mumble, leaning into his touch.

"Yes," He breathes, his breath catching in his throat.

"How many more, my prince?"

"I don't know," he presses his thumb on your bottom lip, swiping across it. Your lip seems small compared to his thumb, he can only imagine how small you would be compared to his hands once he lifts you. Ah. No. He couldn't afford such thoughts. He had barely known you, yet he held such affection for you. Perhaps you had treated him just as you treated everyone else. He didn't know a dead heart could race so fast. "Until my mother returns." He purses his lips. "Though it will only be temporary rest. I don't feel as though I belong here, you see."

"Mm," you hum gently, lashes fluttering to get a better look at the prince. "I'm sure you'd have fun, my prince."

"I do," He smiles. "And I get to see you, my fair goddess, each time."

"How flirtatious of you, prince," You mumble, skin warm again.

"Only with you, my fair goddess," He smiles. "This is for you to take," He places a bottle of ambrosia in your hands. "Until I meet you next time, goddess."

Your skin warms from his ministrations. "May the blessings of a minor goddess as myself keep you safe on your journey."

"A kiss, perhaps?" He smiles, cocking his head to the side gently. "If you don't desire it, then it is fine."

"If the prince desires it," you mumble, using his shoulder as leverage to pull yourself to his cheek. You press your lips to his neck for a moment, and Zagreus finds his skin growing red. He turns to stare at you, the blush visible on his skin. You stare up at him, doe-eyed and smiling. "Then I shall fulfill it."

Zagreus wants to defile you.

The thought comes up suddenly as he stares down at you, and his heart shakes erratically in his chest. Maybe it wasn't a heart. Perhaps it was the blood rushing to his head. Yet, as he watches you fulfill whatever he desired, he couldn't help but wonder if you'd give yourself to him. His hand reaches for your lip again, brushing the bottom lip. You stare at him, staring quietly. Ah. He's been staring for too long. Hopefully, you don't mind it.

"My apologies, little goddess," Zagreus lets go of your face gently. "I shall be on my way."

"May the blessings of a minor goddess as I protect you along the way," You bow, and Zagreus heads out to his mother again.

Zagreus pauses while in the colosseum, a recurring thought plaguing his mind. It would be nice to find you after the fights, though he would have to return again. He wonders how far your healing properties can go. Perhaps he could find you once he climbs the next time. He still needed to convince his mother to return to the underworld with him. Once he does such, he'd be able to leave much easier. His father being distracted would also permit him to spend more time with you while he climbed to the surface. Perhaps he could somehow convince his mother to let you roam around the underworld with him while he traveled upward. A companion along his way would be nice. You could heal him when he needed it as well. He'll talk with mother on the matter.

While on the surface, his mother follows him with more questions. Zagreus wonders if it would be possible to remain on the surface for longer. Perhaps he'd build up an immunity to the sun, and he'd be able to stay out for longer. He should bring you up sometime. Though, it seems you didn't exactly die, so you'd undoubtedly be capable of escaping from the underworld. His father would be greatly angered at such a thought. Letting a goddess that fell out of worship escape the underworld? How foolish of a thought.

"My prince," You stare at him as he steps toward you.

"Goddess," He smiles. "I've come to seek advice, since you seem to have seen more than I."

"A lie," You hum. "But let us see if I shall be of assistance to you."

"My father's chambers," Zagreus swallows, and he pauses. Should he be telling you of such a vulnerable room? No. Even if he were to keep it a secret, he wouldn't know the answer until his mother responded to him. "Do you know of the former queen? My mother?"

"The goddess Persephone?" You tilt your head. "It had been a legend, as many of the people believed you were the son of Nyx, but I suppose you wouldn't be escaping to leave if your mother were here."

"So you do know," He mumbles. "My father has a portrait of my mother hung up in his room, still. After so many years."

You tilt your head to hear more.

"I do not understand why."

"It is love," You smile. "For one does not go so far or so to keep a fragment of someone unless they are in love."

"Is that so," Zagreus mumbles. "Would you like to meet mother?"

"My body is supposedly bound to Elysian," You smile. "Unless the prince was considering abducting me?"

"I do not see why not," He shrugs. "Tis tradition in this house." He smiles cheekily. "As my father had abducted my mother."

"But you do not love me," You watch him as he presses the back of your hand to your lips. "As your father loves your mother."

"I would move you to the office of Hades myself if I could," Zagreus nods, and you press two fingers to his head.

"May the blessings of a minor goddess as I keep you safe on your journey once more," You bow as he steps off.

"Ah," He turns around. "Before I forget." He steps over to you, handing you a bottle of ambrosia. "Would you be willing to move to my chambers if I could move you?"

"We shall talk about that once the chance of such an event occurs," You smile, and Zagreus watches the faux wind brush your hair.

"Of course. Thank you, little goddess," He returns to the arena once more.

In such a way, he supposes Asterius and Theseus have grown tired of his attempts at escaping, though they go no easier on him than they always have. The metal of his weapons clashes against theirs, and he does wonder if his proposal to you could ever go beyond a fleeting thought. Though, as he defeats the heroes once more, he stands and stares at the drops. Perhaps he could bring that up once his mother returns. His father's mood might soften if that were to occur. But alas, pointless thoughts are worth nothing until they follow through.

Zagreus talks to his mother, questioning as to why his father would even begin to keep a portrait of his mother with him. His mother's response is the same as yours, and he pauses at the realization. His mother seems to catch on, and he curses himself as he falls to the river Styx again. He's wasting his time thinking about you while on the surface. His mother is considering it, sure, but gods, he's about ready to steal you for himself. He's sure you'd look much prettier under the sun. He's nearly jealous of your worshippers. Though, he wonders how a foolish thought as such could even plague his mind.

"I have been told," You start, fiddling with your fingers. "That this is not your ninth run, but perhaps your hundredth, my prince."

"That is an overstatement," He hums. "I have lost count as death is not new to me."

"It would seem so," You mumble. "For death is foreign to me."

"You had not passed?"

"The sleep reincarnate had quite the time trying to find my name," You smile. "Hades himself had to welcome me into Elysium since he could not send me back to the overworld."

"Would you like to join me?" He traces circles on your hand. "Since you are not bound there."

"I will be of no help in the arena with Asterius and Theseus. I shall simply wait for your next climb." You shake your head.

"No warrior experience?" He finds it almost baffling. "None?"

"I have fought," You swallow. "But I do not enjoy it, my prince."

"I see," He mumbles, staring at your robes. "Then I shall come find you in my next run."

"I see," You smile. "Please convey my words to your mother. I feel as though the underworld misses their queen, my prince."

"I see," He nods.

"May the blessing of a minor goddess as I," You grab his hand, pressing your lips to his knuckles. "keep you safe on your journey once more, my prince."

Persephone entertains the idea of possibly returning to the underworld. The last words she leaves Zagreus with make his heart flutter at the possibility of his mother returning home with him. He's elated. Once he does, he's sure he'll be able to have her meet you and possibly move you around with him. The idea brings a smile to his face as he talks to Hypnos. The sleep incarnate grimaces and sends him on his way, napping once more as a result. Zagreus doesn't understand why his heart races as he opens his arms for you.

You crash into his chest gently, sighing gently at the feeling of his arms around you. Zagreus thinks you're a little cold, but it's a welcome contrast to his warm skin. His fingers press against your back, and you smile softly. It doesn't reach your eyes, but your body relaxes in his touch, and Zagreus can't help but wonder if something had occurred for you to touch him so willingly. He lets you rest on his chest, and he presses his fingers to the back of your neck. You squirm at the sensation, and he smiles. "Did you miss me, little goddess?"

"Yes," You mumble. "You took time this run, you see, my prince."

"My apologies," He presses a kiss to your hair, and you giggle.

"How was seeing your mother?" You peel yourself from him, lashes fluttering up at him.

"It was nice," He hums, letting go of you. "Are you still willing to reside with me in the main castle?"

"Perhaps once you accomplish your goal on the surface of the earth," You tap his chest mindlessly. "Will the queen return?"

"Perhaps," He closes his eyes, pulling your palm to his cheek. "Will you meet her with me this time?"

"Perhaps," You mumble. "Though, I can not return to the surface with you. It will be of no help."

"I do not mind bringing luggage with me," He lifts you from the ground, grinning as you yelp. You sit on his right shoulder as he rushes to the arena. "If you do not wish to fight, then there is no need for you to."

"I can fight," You swallow, the blade on your thigh.

"But you do not like it," He hums, pulling you to the side. "Just watch me and heal from the sidelines. Please, little goddess." He brushes your hair to the side, and your breath catches in your throat.

"If that is what you will, my prince." You mumble as he carries you off to the arena. A part of you were terrified of Hades's booming voice as the first time, yet Zagreus' arms keep you secure. He couldn't pass with you around. You hadn't passed away, and the healing you provided raised his defenses. You prayed that he would survive with you as luggage. The mere thought of having to battle on your own terrified you. The sight of blood was already a tightrope to walk on.

Your prince fights valiantly, the battle long engrained into his muscles, and he finishes his job with precision. The blood on his skin does not belong to him, but rather his opponents, and the good shade cheers. Your fingers drum against your skin nervously as the gate to the Temple of the Styx opens. The prince offers you his hand, and you follow him. You fear for your life. There were rumors that the gate to the surface was guarded by Lord Hades himself, and you did not wish to meet the god again.

Zagreus passes with you on his shoulder, and he finds that you are much lighter than he thinks. It was as though your bones could break at any moment. He didn't like it, though he was glad you hadn't complained about how quickly he was rushing through. He wanted to meet his mother. Perhaps he'd get his father's blessing along the way, though, he would most likely attempt to send you back to Elysium. He wouldn't let him. It wasn't any more of an act of defiance compared to escaping to meet his mother.

Zagreus reaches the gates to the surface with you still on his shoulder, and his father pauses at the sight. His son has a shade on his shoulder, and he contemplates letting his son out even at all. Though, he recognized the shade. It wasn't a shade, it had been a goddess who had just floated down the River Styx. He supposes letting him go would not hurt, though it would definitely cause a hit to the reputation of the underworld.

"Zagreus," Hades' voice bellows. "What is with the shade?"

"She is not a shade," Zagreus swallows, and he presses his hand to your trembling thigh. "She is a goddess."

"Goddess or not," The king of the underworld roars. "I can not let her escape."

"I am taking her to meet mother," Zagreus grumbles. "If you do not let me pass, we will fight as we always have."

You avert your eyes from the King, and Zagreus' grip on you assures you of your safety. You had not thought he would be so honest with his words. The heat creeps up your cheeks, and you attempt to tune out the King and Prince's conversation. You can feel the heat from frustration radiating off of his body, and you press your palm to the back of the prince's neck. You hope that'll calm him down to some extent. It works, and the prince starts negotiating. The heat at the gate lowers, and you whimper as Zagreus finally rushes out with you.

The overworld is much colder than the underworld. You had forgotten it was near winter, and you tap the prince for him to let you down.

"I promised father to bring you back," He mumbles, holding onto your hand instead. "So you must stay attached to me."

"Of course, my prince," You mumble, stepping onto the grass. "How long do you have?"

"Until I pass," He smiles. "You must return from the styx with me, though."

"I can return through the gates," You follow him as he rushes through the hill to his mother's abode. The snow crunches under your feet, and you glance at the burnt grass from Zagreus' feet. You hadn't paid much attention to the prince, yet it came as a surprise that his feet left ashes in the green. Perhaps his mother had cast a spell in her garden? You try not to think much as the prince leads you to his mother's home. You were undeniably a little worried for meeting the queen of the underworld.

"Mother," Zagreus lets go of your hand, and you stand there, glancing around the garden.

You space out for much of the conversation, rocking on your heels, staring around at the overworld. It has not changed much. You wonder how your people are doing, though they are far from the gates of the underworld. Your eyes linger at the edge of the cliff, and Zagreus' voice cuts you out of your trance. "Mother, this is a minor goddess that ended up in the river Styx," Zagreus pulls you to his mother, warm hands on your shoulder as you smile awkwardly.

"It's... a pleasure to meet you, goddess," You bow.

"Well, there are no need for formalities as such," The goddess smiles. "I remember you. I had visited your temple once."

"I am honored, your highness," You bow in embarrassment. "That you had received the help of a minor goddess as I."

"There is no minor nor major," The queen helps you up, and she smiles. "For we all take care of people."

You flush with embarrassment. "Thank you, my queen."

Your skin warms as the two of them help you onto Charon's boat, and you listen curiously to the sounds of Orpheus and Euridice. The boat rocks rhythmically as you stare at the passing scenery. The green of Elysium is familiar to you, though the lands of Asphodel and Tartarus are foreign to your eyes. You note the screams, and you stare almost longingly at the ever-fading sunlight. Zagreus takes note of it, though he wonders if there were ever a chance you could remain in the overworld. Both of you know that is just foolish wishing.

As the boat stops at the gates of Hell itself, you pause to stare at the gates. They're a terrifying height to you, and as the queen of the underworld herself bellows for the opening of the gates. Zagreus squeezes your shoulder assuringly as he presses his palm to your back. You trail through the gates, next to the prince, swallowing unconsciously as Hades greets his wife and son. You reach for Zagreus' hand instinctually, shaking slightly as his hand clasps you. He rubs gentle circles on the back of your hand as you space out, thinking about your home in Elysium. Though, it seems as though Zagreus does not wish for you to return. Even as you return to the main hall with him, Zagreus does not let go of your hand.

"Goddess," He mumbles. "We shall be throwing a banquet for the olympians. Would you like to join?"

"There is no need," You mumble. "When shall I be returning to Elysium?"

"Do you wish to return to early?" The prince whispers sadly, and you whimper.

"I am worried that Lord Hades will grow angry," You try and explain yourself.

"If he does not, will you stay with me?"

"If it is my prince's will," You avert your eyes, and the prince smiles.

"Then by royal order, you are to stay next to me at all times."

"Even while my prince escapes?" You fiddle with your fingers, letting go of his hand.

"Even while I escape," He presses his hand to your hair and runs it down your back. "You are to stay with me."

"Yes, my prince," You don't know how to feel about it. Though, it seems to be an issue that only you worry about. The preparations for the party are done by Lady Persephone and you, adjusting the tablecloth and food. You help pick the wines, the queen herself growing the grapes, and the underworld quickly hurries to vitalize. It feels very alive, a place that seemed to be no more than death itself. You had never seen Hades work so much on things other than dealing with shades. You're almost impressed.

Zagreus helps his mother adjust the tables in the dining room, and the amount of preparation that goes into the welcoming of the Olympians is baffling. You help around when you can, organizing plates and tasting the food. Zagreus stops you from having a sip of ambrosia while preparing. You bat your lashes at him, and he shakes his head. "There is alcohol mixed into it, fair goddess." You listen, setting it onto the table as he rushes off to help his mother. You smile at the two; after all, he was a mother's boy. You wonder if you had parents of your own, but you brush the thought off. It did not matter.

Once the party ends, you don't complain as you clean up with the other servants, and you don't complain as you wash dishes in River Styx. You find it amusing that you were washing dishes in the river of the dead. The boon of Lady Persephone herself keeps you from decaying, and Zagreus helps you out, drying tableware as you finish the last of the mess. The rest of the castle is restored, and you collapse onto Zagreus' recliner, exhaustion worming through your body. You curl in the cushions, the exhaustion knocking you out. You could worry about other things later once you wake up.

The prince of the underworld steps back into his room, frowning when he couldn't find you after you rushed off to the kitchen. He wonders if you had been sent back to Elysium or attempted to flee. After all, you had looked sad when you boarded the boat to return. He's glad that isn't the case when he finds you on his bed. Your chest rises and falls, the fabric of your chiton barely doing anything to cover your body. It slides down your shoulder, and Zagreus bites his tongue as he shifts it back up your shoulder, covering you. He lifts you from the recliner, placing you in bed gently, as if scared you would break from his touch. Your skin is cool against his as he wraps his arms around you hesitantly, and he closes his eyes. It had been a while since he had fallen asleep.

You wake to warmth pressed against your back and a sweaty body. You don't recall Zagreus' room being so hot. Was Tartarus burning all of a sudden? Perhaps Asphodel had overflowed once more. Yet, as your eyes open and you stretch your arms, you find that you're in the arms of the prince, his head pressed into your shoulder. You pause mid-stretch, and you lower your arms, shuffling to face him. The sheets rustle as you press your ear to his chest, eyes closing again at the sound of his heart. Huh. You didn't know dead people had heartbeats in the underworld.

Zagreus wakes again, sighing at the coolness of your skin. He glances at your new position, and he lies there, staring up at the ceiling. His mind wanders as you lie on him, and he brushes your hair to the side. You look pretty in his arms, and you were all his. You stir in your rest, and you blink drowsily at the male. "Zag?"

"Good morning, goddess," He smiles. "Did you rest well?"

"Very much so," You mumble, tapping his chest gently. His eyes meet yours, and his lips pull into a grin. You look dazzling. He moves his hand to your cheek, tracing the bags of your eyes. Your lips part, leaning into his touch. You contemplate your words for a moment, the prince hanging on the apprehension. Your next words cause his smile to broaden."May... I have a kiss?"

"Yes, goddess," He whispers, lowering himself to press one to your lips lovingly. You wrap your arms around his neck, whimpering at the heat from his hands. His eyes stay half-lidded, and his tongue swipes your bottom lip. You part your lips, letting him press his tongue to yours, sticking closer to him. Zagreus leans further into you, heart ringing in his ears. He whimpers as you move your hands to press to his chest, and he pulls away, the coolness of your skin burning his. He pants, staring at you through his lashes. "What's wrong?"

"I want more," You whimper, squirming as he presses his hands to your waist. Zagreus' face lights up. You seldom asked for more. You must be tired, his pretty goddess. He'll take care of you properly. Anything for you, after all. He pulls the blanket from your shoulders and lifts you into his lap.

"On top or on the bottom, darling," He mumbles, and you reach for his wrist.

"Bottom, please, Zag."

The prince spreads you on the bed, pulling your thighs apart as you ease into the pillows. You chew your bottom lip nervously as he presses his fingers into your legs. You grow embarrassed from his actions, skin flushing.

"Don't do that," You whisper.

"What's wrong?"

"It's embarrassing," You hide your face, and the prince smiles.

"There is no embarrassment," He pulls you to his face by the thigh, and he presses a kiss to the inside of your leg. "You are the lover of the prince of the underworld. There is no shame in a place as this." He lifts the cloth from your legs, scrunching it up. "I'll make sure that you are aware of this, goddess." His fingers trace the outer lip of your labia, thumb meeting your clit to get you wet. You grip the sheets, desperate to cum not squirm. Zagreus is making it increasingly hard for you, your breath quickening as he slides a finger into you. Your thighs squirm to close, and he uses his arms to keep you open. Your struggling falls on deaf ears. He stares in curiosity at the way you coat his fingers. "You're gorgeous, darling." He mumbles, kissing your clit gently. You flush with embarrassment.

"That's embarrassing," You whine again.

"I told you, darling," Zagreus presses his lips to your pussy, pulling his fingers out to keep your legs apart forcibly. "There is no embarrassment to being my lover." He can't see you, but he drinks in the sounds you make as he goes down on you. The room fills up with your gasps, and he moans lightly as your fingers thread through his hair. He presses his tongue flat again, and you whimper as he bites on your clit. You're not sure what happens next, but as the prince goes back down on you in a blur, your legs are tightening around his head, your orgasm crashing down on you. Your lips part, a silent sob slipping past your lips as Zagreus pulls from you. He swipes his fingers across his chin, collecting the slick from your cunt.

"Still embarrassed?," His face drops, and he leans into your face.

You whimper. "N-no."

"Do you want to go all the way?" He stares at the mess on the sheets, and you whimper.

"Yes," You whisper. "I... feel as though I've made you wait long enough."

"Do not think that you are required to satisfy me," He whispers, staring into your eyes. "Never. This is about your comfort."

"I am sure, my prince," You mumble, fingers pressing onto his chest again.

Zagreus pulls his robes to the side, and he gives you one last stare, only pulling you to him as you nod. You're nervous, understandably so, and the prince eases into you, lashes fluttering to stare at you while you stare at where he was sliding into you. He's glad you're wet enough, and he pauses once he's inside of you, rubbing comforting circles onto your waist as you reach for his hand. He entwines his fingers with yours, letting you play with his fingers as you adjust to his size.

You're full. You feel yourself filled to the brim, stretched beyond how you've ever felt with your fingers alone. You fiddle with the prince's hand, the heat from his body warming yours. You wrap your arms around his neck to feel closer to him, and he leans onto you, hands caging you to keep his body weight off of you. You take the moment to stare at his arms and pecs, biting your bottom lip as he shifts himself in you. You exhale, curling upward to his collar, biting quietly. The prince cocks his neck to the side to give you more access, and you bite down, the male moaning. You suck quietly. You wonder if you could ask him to play with his chest another day. He might think it's too much for the first time.

Your lips let go of his neck, and you lower yourself back onto the mattress. "You can move now, my prince."

Zagreus moves slowly, worried that he would break you if he were to move roughly. You can feel him with every drag, sweating. "You're, hah, so dazzling, goddess," The male moans, hissing at the feeling of your nails rake down his skin. You whimper as he drags himself inside of you again, and your eyes are glazed over with tears. Zagreus finds that you look divine like this. The mixture of sweat and spit on the two of you causes your skin to glisten, and his half-lidded eyes flick over your body. You look ethereal. Ah, not even the skies of the overworld could rival your beauty. He can't believe he gets to have you like this.

You gasp and writhe under him, broken sobs cracking out of your throat as he thrusts into your repeatedly. You feel his sweat build up under your nails, yet you don't mind. Every inch of your body is on fire, and you whimper at how full you feel. You feel every inch of him drag through you at each thrust, and your toes curl behind him. It's drunkening. Your body is a mess from him, the cum staining his sheets, yet Zagreus doesn't stop. Your arms fall above your head, Zagreus entwining his hand with one of yours. You feel embarrassed, trying to muffle your voice in his pillows. "Zag... Zag... Ah, Zahg" You gasp as he presses his chest to yours, forcing your eyes to meet his. "I'm going to... hah... cum... please..."

Zagreus presses a kiss to your collar, his thumb moving down to meet your clit. You were calling his name so sweetly, how could he not comply? Your back hits the bedding again, nails digging into his shoulders. You moan and babble incoherently as he speeds up, and you cry as your orgasm hits. It jolts down your spine, your pussy clenching on him, causing the prince to curse on your skin, fucking you through your orgasm. You cry from the overstimulation, and the prince strings apologies into your ears as he chases his own orgasm. "Zahg... nn," You cry. "It feels weird... a-ah," Zagreus presses his lips to yours, finally feeling himself cum as your nails dig back into his skin. He doesn't think much as he forces himself into you deeper so that his cum stays, and you finally relax onto the pillows, tear stains visible on your cheeks.

"Sorry, darling," He mumbles, pressing a kiss to your cheek, licking the salt curiously. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," You whimper as he pulls out. "I'm fine. Thank you, my prince."

"Rest again, my goddess." He mumbles, kissing your forehead. "I shall take care of you."

"I'm sorry," Your eyes shut. "My prince."

"There is nothing for you to apologize for," He pulls the covers over you once more, and you drift off.

[written-with-blue-ink]

Hey, what are your thoughts on how Zagreus would gain a crush on the reader? Just pure fluff please

Yeah, no prob hon! Since you didn't specify, I'm gonna do headcanons!

Zagreus X GN!Reader

He probably first saw you right before he went on his killing spree throughout the Greek Underworld, like every other shade who entered the House of Hades: waiting for a decree from his father.

I love Zag but he isn't the perceptive type. Many souls come through the Throne Room daily, an uncountable number that has to go through admissions, paperwork, etc.

The first time he ran into you though, he caught sight of someone at the entrance struggling to get used to the fire and smoke that Asphodel is engulfed in.

Being the gentleman his father didn't raise him to be, he offered to help you find a better place to make your space.

Taking one of the rafts together was weird for you to say the least. There is really only space for one so he pulled you close, making both of you blush in embarrassment.

I mean, a mortal soul holding onto the chest of the God of Blood and Rebirth? How sweet!

You have to admit, him fighting was brilliant and attractive. He was strong, graceful, and tried his damnedest to protect you (even though you are already dead and can't really get hurt)

About two stops later he introduces you to Euridyce, who is more than happy to take you in like a mother bird protecting her nest.

Zagreus' affection for you mostly grew over time with consistent visits to Euridyce's humble abode

The little things that came out of the three of you talking, you break out of your shell really.

Your laughter and wittiness with both him and Euridyce are major things.

Bandaging up a wound or giving some small drachma to help afford items at Charon's shop.

Your pep-talks and advice when it comes to strategy in the upper levels.

These small gestures of kindness mean the world to someone like Zagreus who didn't have a caring parent or many friends.

He brings little gifts for you too, especially when Persephone returns

Pressed flowers or little things he knicked from the palace for you to use.

He's not ready to tell his feelings yet but he just enjoys the moments he spends with you.

[demigoddessqueens]

intimacy

Masterlist 11

thinking of…intimacy starved characters, always listening to whatever you have to say and speaking whatever strikes their mind and heart with you, not so much lingering for your touch but when they will be able to see you again and what you’re doing if ever away, only their eyes rest on you whenever the crowds pass by or another tries to take your attention away, they know your desires and fears just as they’ve entrusted to you, a connection that runs deeper with each other than most

[dervampireprince]

ares x gender neutral reader /// hades game [18+ only, minors and ageless blogs DNI]

not being able to wait for ares to come home, being so needy that you will take anything to hump against, you catch sight of his breastplate, the bird head adorning it is ridged and raised up... it's cold when you press your body down against it, but the metal warms up quickly to the heat of your body, bracketing your legs either you whimper and grind against it, imaging ares was underneath you wearing it, voice softly encouraging you to keep moving, calloused hands gripping the backs of your thighs, seeing something used for battle now used for pleasure, feeling him shake underneath you as he always does when he's taken aback by how much you want him, that you want his touch without fearing it,

you're lost deep in thought, almost about to come when you hear an inhale and then a deep chuckle behind you,

"my beloved, i didn't realise i'd left you this needy"

your face burns, feeling unable to turn your neck to face him, but there's no need as he kneels on the bed behind you,

"i never expected that you would find pleasure in this, but then you do keep surprising me. don't be shy now, you were thinking of me, were you not? poor thing, not being able to be left alone for even just a couple hours... let me love you as you deserve, after you come."

he presses your hips down, nips at the skin under your ear.

"show me"

[pupkou]

✧ No Lights To Tell Us ✧

✦ Zagreus (Hades 2018) x Gender Neutral Reader. ✦ Warnings: slight mentions of gore (mention of beheading), mention of blood, mention of swords/blades. ✦ Word Count: 900. ✦ A standalone one shot, set within my "Blood and Darkness" universe (but not yet somewhere specific in that story's timeline). ✦ Link to part one (parts are not yet connected).

Zagreus is nothing if not devoted.

That sentiment applies to everything he's interested in-- but really 'obsessed with' is a better way of putting it, because he doesn't lightheartedly ponder or enjoy anything. He's too intense for any lighthearted observation and studying because he connects too deeply with the stories of others and the worlds that they live in, his heart too big to live without sorrow. Despite his attachments, he lives to find a place of his own, to feel like he belongs, and his ambition to complete this quest has not been strained.

While living in the Underworld provides him with so much inspiration for adventure and reasons to dash around, defeating friends and foes alike, Zagreus can say that his favorite adventure has been knowing you.

Before you, Zagreus trained with Achilles for as many hours as the great hero allowed-- starting their sessions back when it was revealed to him in a dream that there is a world outside of the house of Hades. Zagreus obsesses about his trainings, the way he moves is careful and planned because one wrong move could send him plunging back into the depths of red blood that always seem to greet him eventually-- warm, but not kind. His movements matter because you can only get beheaded so many times before it gets old, and Zagreus prefers to spill blood with a slash of his blade than to be the one lying cold and hard against the stone floor.

But he's also devoted to you, his most beloved (as he calls you).

He did all of the outdated courting rituals, like inviting you over for a grand feast, gifting you ambrosia won in battle, and demonstrating the best way to remove the sweet beads of fruit from a pomegranate (as any good prince would do for a prospective partner) but Zagreus didn't need all those formal actions to be sure of how he feels.

Zagreus, since the moment he laid eyes on you, was obsessed with you. Like a hunting bird watching its soft, warm-hearted prey from above as it flies steadily above, Zagreus set his sights on you, and needed you more than anything. His desire for you outweighed any other, so strong that he lent Orpheus a few words on longing and tenderness. He didn't need time to love you; because his devotion to you was formed in an instant, rendered unchangeable and strong within the blink of an eye like a blacksmith plunging a sword into dark, cool water.

You are his main devotion, his beloved, his favorite shade, and it is through Zagreus' obsession with you that you learn what it is to be loved by a God.

One night, under the living stars and lying on the plush earth of his mother's garden, he rests his head in your lap as you comb your fingers through Zagreus' dark locks of hair. His laurels are set to the side, simmering with crimson and glittering with gold, and he is at peace in your embrace.

"Zagreus?", you say softly, pulling him out of his trance and drawing his bicolored eyes toward you. His eyes of garnet and emerald shine at you inquisitively as his mouth smiles, pleased at hearing his name from the mouth of his lover, the sweetest song he knows.

"Yes, beloved?", he answers, kind and warm.

"Did you hear that the villagers of your mother's hometown have built a temple in your honor?"

"I did, love," he beams, proud of their efforts and appreciation. "Their offerings were quite impressive, I need to remember to reward them with a bountiful season of hunting for their efforts."

"That's kind of you," you muse, petting his hair still as he leans into the soft press of your hand against him. "They're lucky to have someone who is as generous as you, Zagreus."

"You flatter me, darling. I just.. try to give everyone what they deserve," he says, sighing as he looks up at the stars dancing through the night sky, "and to be someone they can believe in."

"I know it isn't easy, my love. After all, if all Gods are worshipped, who is left for the Gods to believe in? Who is there to guide those whose hands mold mortality?"

"It's a bit late to get philisophical," he jokes, although it is without much humor behind his voice. "But I believe that the answer is that we are left with only what we cherish. For me, you are cherished-- so I have you to believe in, to lean on, and to worship in this infinite strand of life. You love me even when I have no offerings, and not even any blood to spill into your cup, and it is not because of my power. You know better than anyone that Gods only have what they have been given-- we have no lights to tell us our fates, only stars."

"I do love you, Zagreus," you affirm, leaning down to kiss his forehead. So many thoughts swirl within his mind, and your kiss helps to soothe his celestial thoughts of life and love. "And I thank the stars that they have led you to me."

Above your heads, in silver and gold, the stars sparkle brighter in their carefully planned formation, as if they are content with the way the scroll of fate has unfurled perfectly.

lmk what you think plz <3 love you

@allright @transchainsawman 💜

[randoimago]

Could I request Zagreus with a s/o who appears dignified and graceful but is actually a big goof and klutz in private? She is known for tripping over air, bumping into walls despite looking straight, and so on.

Fandom: Hades

Character(s): Zagreus

Note(s): Boy do I feel this (well mainly the being a klutz part, I don't think I'm dignified or graceful in the slightest😅)

Zagreus

Oh, he is so cheeky when it comes to how graceful and perfect you try to act in public. He'll happily bring up how you stumbled over some of Cerberus's hellhound toys and almost ate dirt the prior night.

Zagreus keeps bandages on hand for when you and he are together because he knows you're going to run into something at some point. Even if you try to tell him that you're not that clumsy, he gives you a grin and agrees with what you're saying, but he's still having the bandages ready.

He was very concerned the first time he watched you run into a wall despite looking straight at it. But as the relationship goes on, he gets more used to it. Zagreus does his best to try and steer you in a different direction or get your attention before you run into things, but he's not always able to help you in time. Which is why he has the bandages.

[xjulixred45x]

I HAVE A ANGST IDEA FOR A HADES GAME READER!

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!!

Did you see how Demeter made all life on earth incredibly difficult for mortals as punishment for having "stolen her daughter"? Well, based on the fact that in myths people literally DYING OF STARVATION (and apparently in the game, of cold) this idea came to me.

Imagine that the reader is a normal mortal, nothing particularly remarkable, EXCEPT that she is a farmer with the rest of her family, who just before the eternal winter came, they worshiped Demeter so they could have good crops and so on.

but then, without warning, winter arrives.

At first it's not so bad, because they can ration certain things and get by with some groceries, but as the months go by and the winter continues to get worse, so does the situation in the reader's house.

The surrounding villages begin to have pests, have problems with resources, not having to eat, etc. and the first deaths begin thanks to this, which quickly spread throughout the community where the reader lives.

The first to fall from the family are the most vulnerable, the grandparents and children of the reader's younger siblings, to whom they perform the appropriate funeral rituals along with all the people who had already died due to the winter.

Everyone's life is turned upside down trying to find ways to survive without having a coast to fish and with now few animals, and the cold gets worse and worse...

The community soon begins to decay and reader participates in the funeral rituals out of respect and to not think about the horrible situation, becoming more educated in the chnotic gods.

They are all desperate to survive, but the snow makes it almost impossible to leave the city where they live, so they are stuck.

It doesn't take long until the reader's parents also succumb, either from illness, from the cold, or from starvation from giving all the food to their surviving child.

and it's not even the worst.

reader is now sick too. So the remaining people of the town cannot allow her to make them all sick and kill them, so after giving the proper services to her family, they lock her in her own house.

but at this point the reader is so tired that she doesn't even mind being isolated. but she knows one thing. she can't allow herself to die like this. not because it is degrading or unfair, but because she knows that if she dies and no one performs an adequate ritual for her, she will not even see her family in the afterlife.

all the pain and suffering in vain.

So against all odds, the reader finds ways to survive on her own at home, constantly being in the limbo of life and death due to her horrible health.

and, thanks to this, the reader meets Thanatos.

I think I'll leave it vague if the relationship would be platonic or romantic, but they definitely got off to a bad start.

We already know that Thanatos finds his work exhausting, so the fact that the reader clung to life and did not want to leave even when she was in horrible conditions bothered him to no end.

and on the other hand, the reader OBVIOUSLY did not want to die and it was annoying that he wished her dead (even if it was technically his job?) and that led to several verbal fights. at first.

Thanatos appeared at the reader's house when she was especially weak, whether she could not move on her own, had respiratory attacks and/or was in special pain, etc. episodes that, although temporary, were still close encounters with death.

When Reader and Thanatos eventually get tired of insulting each other in these moments, at first they just wait to see whether Reader will survive this particular episode or not, in a rather tense silence.

It is not until the third or fourth time this happens that the reader begins a conversation with Thanatos in an "informal" way.

As one can imagine, at first Thanatos didn't even react or try to continue with said conversation, just do his job and leave, but as time went by he began to show more signs of listening to what the reader was saying. and eventually even give short answers.

He doesn't share much, but now the reader doesn't go crazy being alone.

I also imagine that on some occasions, when the reader can't move much, she DRAG to go get food/medicine, which bothers Thanatos because it seems 1- unhygienic and 2- stupid in a certain sense, mortals get sick because of it. not taking care of themselves, does she NOT want to get better?

It is from there that their relationship begins to improve, but the reader's health worsens every day.

It's the same as what happens with the other villagers that Thanatos collects, weakness, coughing up blood, pain in the rib cage, inability to eat, difficulty breathing--

but even so, the reader STILL wants to cling to this miserable existence, she can't even eat or stand anymore and STILL doesn't want to leave...

WHY? WHY SUFFER THIS WAY INSTEAD OF SIMPLY DIE?

and the reader's response is quite simple.

There is no one who can give her a burial, but her family did have one, without that she would simply wander through the Underworld and be alone AGAIN.

but at the same time, the reader no longer has the strength to continue holding on, the pain is UNBEARABLE and the little energy she has leaves her...

Thanatos is there, at least.

I like to think that the reader would agree to go with Thanatos VOLUNTARILY if he even lets her see her family one last time, thus dying peacefully.

And it would be especially ironic if by chance the reader ends up as a shadow in the house of Hades😅

I think that in general, a deceased reader would be like a more responsible Hypnos, she is not going to bother the GOD OF DEATH so she does the minimum ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

She is definitely happier now that she is no longer in pain, but she was quite traumatized by the experience :') although on the positive side, she is one of the few people who can play pranks on Thanaros with almost no consequences!

simply....mortal reader sheneigans.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

Maybe i could use this Reader with another characters? Idk. I didn't know how to finish this but i like it!

[butterbabyflapjack]

i n d r e a m s , y o u ' r e m i n e . . .

[ hypnos (hades) x f!reader ] (18+)

[ TAGS ] explicit sexual content, lovesick, somnophilia, yandere, Hypnos is kinda a pervert, and by kinda I mean really, obsession, touch starved, non-con / dub-con because you’re asleep and of course the God of Sleep is going to take advantage of that, possessive behavior, body worship, oral fixation, male whimpering, pining, coaxing, Hypnos is shy and inexperienced and absolutely obsessed with you but that does NOT make him innocent in any of this, I’m incapable of not adding angst to everything

(artwork used with permission by O3tofu 💖)

“Well, don’t let me keep you, sweetling,” Hypnos says, gaze dancing over yours. “You better run along before someone sees you with all this lovely contraband. You could get in a lot of trouble–and we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

You swallow thickly, shake your head, unsure if he actually expects an answer.

His smile grows, and you feel yourself tense as he leans down closer to your ear. “Or perhaps you would…?” you hear his cheshire grin. He chuckles, his laughter tickling your skin, and then he’s rising once more to his full height before you. “Off you go then.”

You’re a servant in the Underworld, and Hypnos – God of Sleep, Brother of Death – is undyingly obsessed with you.

What better way to worship that which he’s pined for from afar than to do what he does best? Lull you, unsuspecting, into the warm and darkened depths of sleep, before taking what he wants from you?

Wherein Hypnos, the obsessive embodiment of sleep, takes advantage of you while you're sleeping.

read on ao3 🩷

[phyrestartr]

Man of Worship (P.1) | Zagreus x M!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

w/c: 2.3k #NSFW themes, demigod reader, eventual polyamory, traumatic past, healing from trauma, mentions of dub-con, mentions of suicide, hurt/comfort, boys being boys, toxic parents, olympic gods doing typical olympic god bs

Note: SO this is basically a rework of Rhubarb, even though I still want to pursue the rest of Rhubarb with that particular reader character, HOWEVER I generally make two or three versions of the same story while I'm brainstorming, and I ended up digging into more Greek mythos while looking for inspo and BOOM.

ANYWAY I didn't tag for this since it's a new fandom I'm writing for, but if you'd like to be tagged, pls feel free to leave a comment!! I'll update my tag form thing in a moment too :D I hope this is a fun read!!

--

1. A Gardener?

He noticed first the flutter of feathered wings. It was an odd thing to hear in the underworld, and even odder still to hear it come from the outer gardens–the place poor, pitiful Zagreus was barred from. 

Father won't tell me anything of this. And that was true--Hades was anything but straightforward and honest with his son. So, to the real parent of the house was where the prince went.

“Erm, Nyx?” Zagreus asked, shooting glances back at the iron gates as he met his mother-figure. “I've got a question for you, if you don't mind.”

“I do not mind. I will do my best to answer, my child.” She watched him with eased attention, then followed his gaze to the forbidden outdoors. “Is something the matter?” 

“No–well, maybe? Not sure, but. Well.” Zagreus rubbed the back of his neck. “Just–are there birds out in the garden?” 

Nyx blinked. “Birds?” 

“Yes. I keep hearing something fluttering around every now and then, and I swear I've seen something moving around in the garden. You know, the one I'm not allowed to enter?” 

“Ah.” The goddess nodded. “Of course. There is a new servant of the house, one who was chosen to tend to the gardens.”  

“Really.” Zagreus planted his hands on his hips and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, gaze returning to the forbidden area. “Well, that's the first I've heard of it.” 

“He does not linger long; he arrives with the sun, and leaves only when the work is done,” Nyx explained. “He is a diligent helper of the House. Your father is quite pleased, I've noticed.” 

“Well, I've never thought that Father could be pleased in any regards.” Zagreus’ mismatched gaze flickered back to Nyx. “But why now? The garden's never needed a tender before.”

“A flower wilted,” Nyx sighed, looking aside. “And your father has grown concerned.”

“Hah. Concerned for the plants? Good to know he can still give a damn about something,” Zagreus bit, sending a scalding glare to the throne. “Guess that's why he locked it up, kept it from me.”

Night smiled, sympathetic. “You do have a reputation.”

“One that I must uphold,” he agreed, heart light and spirit lifted higher. “Thank you, Nyx. I should get back to ransacking my father's domain.”

Nyx nodded sagely and reached a hand up, fixing the tilt of Zagreus’ burning laurel. “I would hope for nothing less, my child.” 

–

“You play music?” 

Your voice startled Zagreus, sending a Zeus-like jolt through him and holding him in place with a fit of numbing static. Thankfully, however, twas not the true bite of the sky king, and Zagreus had the luxury to back out of his room a few paces. 

“You heard?” He asked, face somehow both paling and burning in tandem.

You, whilst leaning against the iron gate, nodded. “‘N if I did?”

“Oh.” Zagreus rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “That's unfortunate. Sorry for the bother.”

“Don't misunderstand me, god.” Your spectral eyes bore into him with easy confidence. Zagreus quite liked that look. “You played much like a dying pigeon at first, I'll admit, but you've improved.” 

Zagreus laughed and approached you. Your dry informality pricked him with intrigue. “Well, now I know you're lying.”

“Lies are useless for those who need the truth.” Your words came so bold, the prince had no choice but to believe you. “I can hear it. The notes–they come easier to you. Sweeter, even. Like figs ripe on the tree.” 

“Figs?” Zagreus tilted his head much like Cerberus might. “Huh. Can't say I've had one of those.” 

“Really? Well, then I shall see to it that you wonder no longer, god.” You leaned away, nearly out of sight of the iron-barred gateway, and jostled through the leaves of a bush or tree of sorts before the sharp snap of something announced your return. 

You stuck your arm through a gap in the fence, one where your glowing skin was threatened by a cascade of decorative thorns, but you didn't much care. That care, instead, found itself funneled into the deliverance of a ripe fig to the prince of the underworld, it seemed. 

Zagreus stared for a moment. He wasn't used to receiving gifts unless he bestowed one upon another, first. To him, this almost felt like–could it be--

“If you don't take it in the next three seconds, I'm going to eat it myself and not hand you another,” you groused.

“Hah.” He snatched the fruit from your hand. “You wouldn't dare.” 

“I've dared much worse, god, believe me.” You withdrew your hand and drummed your palms against the iron. “Well, enjoy. And be sure to clean your hands before touching that lyre again.” You looked him over, face placid as it'd been for his entire short history knowing you–but your eyes, the strange things, they hinted at hidden curiosities. “I'll be listening.” 

–

“Say, Meg, do you know much about the new House attendant?” Zagreus asked, flourishing his Stygian blade as he walked towards the Fury, prepared to fight after a quick chat.

Megaera's eyes narrowed. “You're talking about the flirt.”

“The flirt?” Zagreus rested his sword down, digging its diamond tip into the cracked ground. “Is that really what he's known for? Flirting? He doesn't seem like the type.”

A heavy sigh left Meg. “Ask Than. He might be more willing to endure your rambling and answer questions. I am not.” 

“You know, I think we really need to work on your patience.” Still, he flicked up his blade of the underworld, and lunged first. 

–

As the Fates would have it, Thanatos was already at the House. Even more fateful, still, was where he stood–not by the river Styx, no, but by the garden’s gate for a change. Death's presence on that side of the house seemed…odd, despite his infrequent visits to the lounge. Never before did he show interest in a coworker, neither, not unless it was his twin who needed some firm and stringent guidance. 

“Admiring the flowers?” Zagreus asked, and Death flinched. 

“No, I–” He sighed, and spared a look over his shoulder. “What do you want, Zagreus?” 

The shorter one shrugged, and stood beside his age-old friend. “Came to find you. Is that so odd?” 

“If you're going to shove more nectar in my hands, then you can forget it.” Thanatos looked away again and scowled beyond iron bars. “You've made your bed.”

Zagreus stifled a sigh, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I–well–in all honesty, I had a question, one that I'd hoped you could answer.”

“Then ask.”

“Right to the point then.” Zagreus cleared his throat and shuffled closer to Death. “Who exactly is the new gardener? Meg said you might know.” 

Thanatos graced him with a wide-eyed stare. “I thought you'd know by now.”

Zagreus shrugged. “I wouldn't be asking if I knew.” 

“He is–” Death paused, his jaw tightening, tendons threatening to snap. “Why do you want to know?”

Zagreus convinced himself not to pry. “We haven't had a new servant of the House in, well, eternities. Father wouldn't allow just anyone in here.” 

“Sure, but don't you think you should ask him yourself?”

“It's hard to catch him. He's quite flighty, as Fate would have it. Must be the wings.” 

“Must be.” Zagreus swore he heard the inkling of a smile on those words. “Well, I don't think it's fair for me to spoil the introduction. But I will say this–he was a servant of the House in life, and now continues on in death.” 

“Really?” Zagreus couldn't quite wrap his head around it. How could someone be devoted to the house before even arriving?

“Yes. He made my job easier, in some regards. Assisted, at the very least,” Death said.

“Huh.” Zagreus crossed his arms and scuffed his sole against time-worn stone. “Guess that explains that. I don't suppose you'd be willing to go into elaborate detail regarding what exactly our avian gardener did in life to earn yours and Father's favour? Or, even just his name?” 

“No.” A luminous wash of turquoise licked off Death's shoulders, his scythe. “Ask him yourself. I've work to do.”

And with the toll of a bell, he was gone. 

–

It took a while to catch you again. Apparently, you kept to a strict, self-imposed schedule that Zagreus couldn't even begin to understand despite its simplicity. Nyx told him you arrived come morning, at the very least. That may have been helpful, if Zagreus could tell the damn time in the underworld. 

So, he resorted to guessing; if he could not find you through the convenience of your daily routine, he'd swing by whenever he died. He was bound to run into you at some point. 

And he did. It was when he wandered to the lounge, eager to deliver a wealth of fish to the head chef, that he caught the ghostly sound of feathers against leaves.

Zagreus backed out of the lounge in time to see your curious glance. A rush pulsed through him–finally, finally, he'd get his chance to interrogate you.

“Hey!” He called. 

“Hey,” You called back. 

“Just--don’t go anywhere. I need to hand over some river denizens and then I need to speak with you,” Zagreus rambled off as quickly as he could. 

Your brows furrowed, but you offered a shallow nod. “I'll wait up.”

With that, Zagreus sped by the gossiping Meg and Dusa and a gaggle of other patrons to all but throw his catch to the head chef. It was a good haul today. Hopefully that meant–ah ha. 

Zagreus rolled the bottle of nectar over in his hands. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he sang, and ran off, tucking the gift away before approaching the iron bars.

You were toiling away, a little farther in the garden than before, but not too far to escape the prince's presence. It gave him a chance to take a good look at you: simple black chiton on a well-muscled frame, wings full of bronze feathers, wild hair tied back into the smallest of ponytails. You looked quite ordinary, save for the wings. 

But your eyes had been strange: they glowed. Not with the morose cold of Ixion, but with the exact opposite. Warm. Bronze. Sunlit, maybe. He'd never known sunlight, but you must have kept a drop of it in your very soul.

“So?” You said as you meandered back to him. You walked with unbothered confidence, much different to Zagreus’ sprightly impatience. “What important matters must we discuss?”

���Your name, first of all,” the prince requested. “I am Zagreus, son of Hades and--"

“Prince of the underworld,” you added. “Well, I figured you were him. Good to have a proper introduction, I suppose.” You took a breath. “As for me, you'll call me (Name).” 

Zagreus repeated the name. It held a fullness in his mouth, something sweet and foreign, too much like the fig you'd offered him not too long ago. Maybe you were the minor god of figs (wouldn't that be something?).

“Pleased to meet you, then. I trust the garden will be well-kept in your capable hands. And wings,” Zag said. “Oh! And, ah, here--a token of thanks for your hard work.”

Your brows raised and Zagreus’ chest filled with hope; for once, your blank mask changed, and you looked less like a gorgon-born statue and more like a human. Somehow, it gave him relief.

But your expression crumpled into furrowed brows and narrowed eyes. “Nectar?” You wondered aloud. 

Zagreus nodded and slipped the bottle best he could through the gap. “Yes, I…I hope you will take it, if it pleases you.”

You examined the bottle as it slipped into your hand and leaned a shoulder up against the gate. “Odd. Why is it in the underworld?”

The tension left Zagreus’ muscles as you accepted the gift. “Not a clue. Maybe Olympus ferries some down here from time to time to try and liven things up.”

“Hah.” The mock laughter almost sounded genuine. “Dionysus would, from what I've heard of him.” You held the bottle up, watching the light reflect shards of gold and ghostly greens. “He's not so bad, that god of wine.” 

“You've met him?” Zagreus wondered.

“No,” you admitted. Your light-filled eyes found him again. “But I've met gods, when I once lived. No man should have to meet them. They bring misfortune, even the supposed good ones.” 

The prince took a sure step forward, and your eyes steeled. “Well, you're right about Dionysus,” he assured instead of scorned. “He's good. I'm sure he's had his moments, still. But I get on with him well.” I'm sure you would, too, he decided against saying; the more he took in your features, the more he realized the god's work carved into you, painting you unnatural colours and robbing you of something only humans could have. He didn't think you'd much enjoy being forced into a hypothetical with them. 

“Then I shall take your word for it,” you said. “And I will pretend this bottle comes from Dionysus, to make it more palatable.”

“Well, whatever pleases you.” Zagreus smiled and leaned against the wall by the gate. “But, if I may ask, which gods have you–”

“Boy,” Hades’ voice thundered, echoing down the hall. “Do not disturb the rest of the House and distract them from their duties. Unlike you, they do not wish to disappoint.” 

Zagreus clicked his tongue and looked over his shoulder. “Yes, of course, Father. I'll get right to ignoring every blasted person in this damn House. Perhaps I'll consider a life of solitude while I'm at it!” 

“Do not test me further, boy.”

Zagreus rolled his eyes, but gave in, finding your (gentler?) eyes once again. “Well. I'd more than happily argue with my father all day–or night–about this, but I wouldn't want you to bear the punishment.” 

You nodded a little and glanced from the prince back down to the bottle. “I appreciate this, princeling.”

“It's nothing, really.” Though Zagreus did indeed beam with delight. “Well, then I'll leave you to your work.”

“Be sure to come back. I need to return the favour,” you said as you turned. “Until then, princeling.”

[rae-pss]

←

˗ˏˋ꒰ 💭 ꒱ . . . i'm falling into the grasp of this game i randomly decided to indulge in. my inner percy-jackson-obsessed self is levitating and rotating in the air.

—dionysus enjoys, maybe even adores, when you're prettily sitting on his lap while he does his own thing. one of his hands is on your waist, lazily holding you in place, while the other has a glass of the best wine for him to sip from.

[idyllcy]

你还爱我吗? 我还爱你。

word count: 5.3k || Banner art by pimientosdulces

warnings: hurt no comfort

summary: death, you can not escape, yet Thanatos prays you will

No one escapes death. No one cheats death. and no one never meets death more than necessary.

Most of the people around you fall again and again, death incarnate a long-familiar face to you as you watch him claim your family, leaving you all alone. You know the reason, your family worships someone long-fallen, someone that would result in the rage of Olympus up above. You have no feelings, tending to the temple as one after the other falls, until there is no one left but you. You find that the benefit is that you will never age. Forever alone in the small temple your family built, only death capable of claiming you. You have not cheated death. Death has cheated the underworld, perhaps. You find no reason to be treated as such.

Your sister is next, and as you sit next to her bed, eyes closed, humming a final song to her, listening to the way her breath slowed and her heart faded. When she passes, you continue sitting there, waiting for an old presence to return next to you.

"Fair maiden."

"Death." You nod. "Am I next?"

"I do not know. I am simply assigned people. I do not choose them." He nods at you as you let go of your sister's hand, eyes stuck on her body as Thanatos returns her to the dead, placing her into Charon's boat. "Do you have her fare?"

You rummage through your pockets, handing him the obon prepared for your sister.

"You are the final one. Is there a reason the gods wish for you all to be eradicated?"

"We are traitors." You smile, lips curled upwards as Thanatos stares down at you, unfamiliar warmth crawling up the back of his neck at your visage. Death does not fold nor wait for anyone. Death does not pardon the living. Death claims who it needs to with the embrace of eternity, soul laid to rest in the Underworld as the living continue.

Yet, he never brings you back when you are requested of by Hades.

"Do you wish to live?"

"It does not matter to me. The servants have died, and there is nothing left for me in this world. You are the only one who can come to claim me."

"Do you miss your family?" Thanatos notes the next assignment of his.

"It does not matter anymore."

"I will see you when it is your time."

Thanatos recalls the first time he had met you. When the ones on Olympus wished for the eradication of a family of Chronos worshippers, your father was claimed first — as once you claim the head of the family, the rest will crumble ever so quickly. Your father passed through the strike of lighting, a clear warning to stop what was happening in your abode, yet no one batted an eye. You had stayed by your father's side as his firstborn, the man bearing no sons, and you had looked at him — something that should not have been possible for a person of the realm of the living.

"This is his obol." You had mentioned. "May he be placed where he is deemed fit."

Thanatos had not talked to you — your age far too young for you to understand just what was happening, and he had left as quickly as he had arrived. It is not as though he had never seen a child by the body of the dead, but the sight of you alone was unnerving. Perhaps it is just a cruel thing of fate. It was cruel that someone as fair as you would be visited so many times by he.

The next, it is your mother. Once again, it had been you, and you had handed him the obol that was to be placed with the dead. You are in mourning clothes, still, and you hold the hand of your mother, even as her body is cold. Thanatos can not trace the grief that wracks your soul and body. You are weighed down by something, and perhaps, it is something that will kill you some day. Perhaps the weight of death has long become something you have grown used to, only in the people you tend to in the temple and not the people of your own home. Perhaps you know that committing a treason will get you nowhere.

"You can see me." He speaks this time, but he does not respond to you when you ask him if he knows why.

Your mother's body is passed along the River Styx, and you return to tending to the Temple of Time. Thanatos knows the end will arrive for you soon, but considering the ages of every worshipper there was in the temple, you would not change all that much the next couple times he meets you. You are blessed to stay forever young, cursed to meet death at the hands of all the Olympians. Your family is blessed to stay in their youth, but cursed to be unable to escape death. Thanatos will be meeting you many more times in the future, and he finds that perhaps he has no chance or right to complain. If you are not complaining, then how could he?

"My sister." You hand him the obol, nodding as he takes the first of your sisters.

"Do you mourn?"

"What is there to mourn when you are in the wrong?" You hum. "May they be blessed with their stay in Asphodel."

Thanatos finds that you do not age after that. Time is on your side, a titan long forgotten and locked away by the people, a world in which you would be struck down by the heavens as result of such. Yet, you continue tending to the temple, perhaps wishing that you would keep your youth, rosy complexion, and dazzling lashes, skin healthy and unblemished, forever in your youth as a result of such. Perhaps you have sold your soul to become the way you are. Perhaps, he is no better than mortals who wage wars to destroy each other over beauty. Perhaps, if it ever would come to it, Thanatos would have his hands stained with far more than what Ares could ever dream of being stained with — all over you.

Your aunt is claimed next, and at that point, the worshippers have learned to stop visiting the temple. He does not recall if he had ever seen your aunt in the temple when he passed by to claim your parents, but he does not think too much of it. You had been the only one to ever be by the dead, perhaps as an offering to calm Thanatos at the sight of you — or, perhaps you were simply placed there because you had been the fairest of your sisters. Perhaps it was meant to please Thanatos, and it would have been a lie for him to say it did not.

"My aunt has no children." You hand him the fare, fingers brushing his palm, bowing gently as he takes her.

His gaze lingers on you for longer than acceptable, and he leaves once more.

You do not learn. Your family does not learn, and before long, it is your uncle, your sister, your cousin, your elders. By the final time that Thanatos arrives, it is one of your final two sisters.

Thanatos has long grown used to the sight of you, youth on your skin, apple of your cheeks, from your hair to your feet, Thanatos could have imagined you with a close of his eyes, perhaps heart-racing at the thought of you. He has fallen for you, just through your knowing of death. Perhaps, he will never be loved back, death far too cold for the average person — perhaps his skin would freeze yours over, and you would be cursed with the grasp of death, and the thought was far more fearful than he would have believed it to be.

Yet, he arrives to bring one of your final sisters to the dead, holding his palm out for the obol in your hand, and he stares at your hair, the way you do not bat an eye at death himself, and it ruins his mind with thoughts of perhaps letting you live forever. Perhaps, your age will never catch up with you, and you would become someone he hides from the House of Hades — someone that he would adore to no end and let live for eternity. Though, not that he has the choice.

"You do not learn." He blinks at you.

"No, I do not." You smile, staring death in the eyes as your youngest sister peeks from the door, watching you speak to the air. "Death, I do not wish for my sister to bury me. If they request one of our souls, do assure me that the youngest will live to see Elysium."

"I can not make such exceptions."

"It was worth the attempt." He takes your sister, body reaped as you watch her disappear.

"Adelphḗ, who are you talking to?"

"I told you not to come inside." You turn around to shield her eyes, Thanatos's gaze lingering on the small of your back as your sister peeks past your fingers to stare at death himself. She can not see him. Only you are the exception.

"Who is next?"

"I do not know."

"I can not hear him." She mumbles. "Perhaps you possess the blessing of Hades himself."

"No. There is no such thing." You hum. "Shall we go?"

"And leave death alone?"

"He is gone." You turn to stare at him again, and he nods.

"Until my assignment brings my return."

"Will you be next?"

"No." You promise. "I will not let anyone force you to bury your sister alive."

"Then I am next?"

"You will find mother and father before I do." You hum. "Though, I can not promise it will happen."

"You have buried us all. Must you bury me too?"

"I can not protect you against the gods." You close your eyes. "You may refrain from your duties tonight. Perhaps they will be less angered if you do so."

Your servants are the ones taken next. No matter how far they ventured from the temple, had they worked for your family, they are returned to death. You send them their fare to the underworld, and Thanatos learns to visit you for the fare instead of returning to the body eventually. The servants do not have the fare for the underworld, and you, their ever-loving master, do. So, you pay their obol, coins in your hand as Thanatos arrives at your place, resting in the corner of the room until your sister has left and it is you alone.

"Another one?" There is a sense of exhaustion that wracks deep in your soul that only Thanatos can feel.

"I can not go against it, fair maiden." He takes the obol from you, and you take note of the coldness of his skin.

"May I pay in advance?"

"You may not."

"Very well." You hum. "There are four left. If I am not in our home at the time, please pull open the drawer to take the obol."

"Do you not worry that death will cheat you?"

"What is there for death to cheat me of?"

Thanatos finds that you are right. When he is free of assignments, he lingers around your abode, watching your youngest sister learn to cook from you, noting down the way you ignored his presence no matter how close he was to you. He is respectful, yet he watches, eyes glued to the way your fingers have grown rougher from the housework, smile on your face, still, as your sister asks you to help her out. The indomitable human spirit exists, he finds. It is the same as the warrior who fights after a limb is hacked off on the battlefield, and the mother who uses the last of her dying energy to nurse her child. You do not waver even with the death of your family, responsibility long shrouded on your shoulders and no longer something you pay attention to.

"Rest well, Agape." You brush her hair to the side, making sure the young one is rested before you get up to return to your own quarters.

"She is next." Thanatos tells you.

"It is decided?"

"You must be the one to kill her." Thanatos hums. "Will you?"

"No." You laugh. "Once she is gone, I may return to my family as well."

Thanatos stares at you, watching as you lean against the wall, moon pale against your skin as you laugh. Perhaps in a sense of desperation, but the white coat of the moon is enough for him to quietly pray that you would become someone of his sort. Perhaps, you would gain the eternity that so many mortals longed for — that you would become a god as Heracles had. Yet, his thoughts are fleeting, for there was no way that Hades himself would grant death to leave you to stay in your youth for eternity.

"How are they?"

"They are in Asphodel."

"I know." You close your eyes, brows furrowed slightly as you calm yourself down. "Eternal damnation is slightly better when with family, no?"

"And if you do not end up in Asphodel?"

You raise a brow. "My bloodline and ancestry is cursed to Asphodel. What would make me different?"

"Death's favor?"

"That is preposterous." You laugh. "Though, I appreciate it, death."

"Thanatos. Refer to me by name, maiden."

You stare at him, shaking your head.

It would be rude.

Your sister passes just as quickly as the rest of your family, her body placed on the bed for death as Thanatos comes to collect the Obon.

"Death." You are much more stricken with a grief and exhaustion — of equal amounts with the men of age who had fought in wars and found that it was all in vain when they are sent to Asphodel. It is something disturbing, even to death, but he does not have the luxury to consider such when he claims each soul. He is not to be moved during his assignments, no matter how often he met you or others. You should not be special to him.

"Do you wish to live for eternity?"

"Of what use is it if I do not age?" You hum.

"Change the temple."

"I can not." You shake your head. "Death, I will be struck down by one more, one far more powerful than the rest."

"Time can not destroy you."

"Time can." You stare him in the eye. "Time can wither me or return me to the form I was before birth. It is terrifying... something far more horrific than death."

"Then die." He offers you his hand, and you stare at it.

"When my assignment is sent in, will you grant me a wish?"

"You long for a wish?"

"Perhaps I do." You smile coyly, and Thanatos wonders just if he was the one being kind or you were the one being cruel.

Perhaps you are simply taking advantage of him. So, when death returns to take you, you are gone. He follows your soul, and it remains forever stored in the Temple of Time, unable to track you down by flesh alone. You have cheated death. You are cruel, yet he finds that it does not matter. You did not long for something that others would have. Your human spirit was not indomitable, and it was nowhere near as strong as the men of war. You have lost all that chains you to the earth, so it would only be so long until you returned to retrieve your soul and return to the dead.

"You failed to retrieve the soul?"

"It is chained in the Temple of Time that you had wished for to be eradicated. I can not claim the soul without the body." Thanatos reports. "Let me retrieve the person."

"You can not do such a thing." Hades bellows. "If death chases a single individual, what will become of the others who need to pass?"

"Keres." Thanatos speaks.

"No." Hades turns him down. "Rather, I will send someone else."

It is proved to be futile when your soul is never retrieved, and Thanatos finds that you are gone.

"Let me do it." He argues again. "Moros can only do so much as the doom incarnate. To that soul, their doom is not death."

Hades lets Thanatos do the job, though begrudgingly. He has a couple of hours in between assignments to locate your body to retrieve you back to where you belong. You are not found for a long time, and he finds that at one point, the gods fade, their influence over the mortal realm dwindling as they do. Thanatos remains with the rest of the family, finding that there are others who deal with the dead alongside him in regions not limited to Greece. He will not find you, he believes. So, he jars your leftover soul, embedding it into his scythe, perhaps as a last attempt as a form of desperation to keep you close to him. He should not have fallen for you, yet he did, and it would have been the end of his life had it happened.

His companion, Zagreus takes notice the quickest.

"Thanatos, don't you believe... that you have changed? Who is this fair maiden? Perhaps I will find her at the surface."

"Don't say such nonsensical things, Zagreus. She is no longer in Greece."

"That is only what you believe, no? Surely she is out there."

"That is not possible."

"Oh, you wouldn't know until you get there yourself."

While searching for a satyr sack, Zagreus encounters a new chamber, blinking quickly as he enters, lack of rats and satyrs apparent as he continues walking through each door, the final one leading to a cloaked figure, lack of visible features, a gentle laugh on their lips as they blink at the godling. They take two steps back, a satyr sack in hand, stepping onto the red plate, and Zagreus follows suit, watching as they move Cerberus to the side for Zagreus to leave. It is a sight, the guardian of the underworld enjoying the smaller sack as Zagreus passes without issue.

"Lovely shade, who might you be?!" Zagreus calls, time short before Cerberus would remember that the prince isn't allowed to pass.

They do not answer, waving their hand at the prince instead.

The second time, Zagreus leaves them a bottle of nectar, a smile on his face as he thanks them, ruffling Cerberus' fur along the way, grinning.

"Shade, will you tell me your name?"

They shake their head, waving goodbye to the prince.

The shade is not present in the next handful of runs, and instead, only tens later does Zagreus find his way back through the gates of Charon's obol with no satyrs and rodents, standing before the hooded shade as they hand him the satyr sack this time, obol dropped in his hand as he nods. They would not be going with him this time, and perhaps, it was simply out of some sort of desperation.

"Dear shade, won't you tell me your name? Has death claimed you?"

The shade shakes its head, and Zagreus sighs.

"May this bottle of nectar keep you company." He hands it to the shade, bottle held as Zagreus runs off.

The prince of the underworld drops off bottles of nectar each time he runs into them, nectar turning to ambrosia before he starts bringing plush companions. He shows them the small mouse, death on it as the hooded figure reaches to brush the cheek of the plush, and Zagreus trusts that if they could talk, they would have called it cute. There is a sense of tenderness that only someone who knows would be able to feel for it. It is beautiful, Zagreus thinks. Perhaps Thanatos should know of them.

"There is this shade up by the Temple of Styx," Zagreus tries, introducing them to Thanatos slowly. "Are they claimed?"

"A shade? Or a real person?"

"I do not know." Zagreus hands him a bottle of ambrosia. "They do not speak."

"I do not see how that is of my concern." Thanatos raises a brow, accepting the drink.

"Call it reincarnation's instinct." Zagreus hums. "Or, call it a prince's fleeting thoughts."

Thanatos pays Zagreus no mind, sending the dead on their way to each region of the Underworld as instructed, too busy for such fleeting thoughts of the prince's words. Zagreus may have a point, but without a voice and characteristics, there is no way to determine whether or not it was truly you. Besides, with your soul chained to his scythe, there was no way you would have been able to enter the temple without notifying him in some way. Hades would have noted if the intruder had there been a disturbance. It is not death's job to clean up such things.

Yet, the prince does not stop, bottle after bottle handed to him, always nudging death to take a peek at the "dear shade," refusing to let Thanatos erase such a shade from his presence.

"Zagreus." Thanatos warns. "I will not do such a thing."

Zagreus shrugs. "It would not hurt, Thanatos."

Thanatos finds it childish.

Yet, Zagreus returns to the shade when he can, bottle of nectar replaced with Ambrosia as he laughs, grinning as the shade thanks him with their hands, words never coming out.

"Oh, dear shade, won't you tell me who you are?" He hums, smiling as the shade does not move its head, tracing gentle patterns on Zagreus' skin instead, letters spelling out gratitude and none else.

"Perhaps you are bound?"

The shade shakes its head, and Zagreus is sent on his way again.

Surely, the shade was who Thanatos was looking for.

"Than, I really think you should see them." Zagreus insists. "You must trust me."

"Zagreus, I have work to attend to."

"I know, but it is not so." Zagreus shakes his head. "During a break when you seek the soul that you have been for so long, visit the chamber of coins in the Temple of Styx."

Thanatos truly does not wish to, too focused on retrieving your soul, but he makes the time for his dear friend. He enters the temple and flutters through the walls and doors, staring at the shade as they move their head to listen to the sound of the air changing. Thanatos does not understand how the shade would be you, but he understands how Zagreus could have mistaken it to be so. After all, the prince had only heard about you, never to meet you. You are two different people in his mind, the shade holding your physique but not your body. It is a strange sight to behold.

"Shade." He speaks. "Are you lost?"

The shade does not answer, simply shaking its head instead.

"Do you not speak?"

They shake their head.

Death does not linger, choosing to leave quickly instead.

It is strange for a shade to be misplaced, but it would be a report from his end rather than a whole ordeal done by him to return the shade. The shade is not special enough for him to tend to, yet Zagreus insists that he continue to return to the shade, even if the shade does not return an answer to him. Zagreus insists that this is the shade, and that Thanatos must be the one to discover and recall that on his own. Yet, Thanatos refuses to accept the reality that you are perhaps the shade, stuck in a circle of denial as he returns again and again to the shade's silence to his questions, only a nod and shake of a head available to death himself.

Perhaps, he is longing for something that he can not have.

And as all things are, Thanatos grows increasingly agitated at the shade's lack of response to some questions, bottle tipping over as it spills and cracks all over the floor, stuck as he raises his voice at a shade that has done no wrong to him. He is stuck, pondering, wondering, longing and craving the feeling of your fingers against his palm when you handed him the obol, eyes wide in frustration at a shade that does not speak and chatter as the other shades do. He is cursed to be unable to see you again, and even if he does, he knows he can not delay the inevitable that he will have to kill you.

"TALK TO ME." Thanatos raises his voice, reaching for their hood, throwing it off as he stares down at you in horror, tears in his eyes at the lack of features. Your face does instinctually tilts up, but you can not see the face of the death that you have grown so used to. Instead, there is nothing. You lack a face, and Thanatos understands just why you had chosen to remain silent around him all the times before. It was not a choice. Your skin is unblemished and smooth, eyes and nose missing, as though you were a body lacking a soul — a blank canvas that would hurt someone to look at for too long.

"You are faceless. My fair maiden, you are faceless." He brushes his thumb over what would have been your cheek, eyes weary and soul tired as he rests his forehead onto where yours should have been. His fingers are cold against the lukewarm skin on your face, his soul weighed down by the reality he had chosen to ignore, tired and refusing to accept that the end of your tale would be here in the Temple of Styx. "Here, this belongs to you."

Thanatos returns your soul, your face returning, a smile on your face that Thanatos had engrained into his mind, burned into the depths of his memories, fearing that the years he reaped souls would catch up to him and erase all of your presence in his mind. Your visage is returned, complexion never changing, youth forever engrained in the gentleness of your skin. Your eyes open first, staring up at death as he is floating, exhausted smile on his face as you look up at him with a fondness that perhaps only you could have felt for something so many despised in the world.

"I am sorry, death." You smile sadly, heart sour in your chest as he stares at you. You reach for the bottles of nectar and ambrosia next to you, handing them to death himself as he grimaces. There is no happy ending fated for the two of you. Death can not love the living, as all things will pass through his hands, only to end up in the underworld in a place that he will not have the time to visit. It will kill him and eat him alive, hurting him until there was nothing left, and he would have become the cold and senseless death that so many people feared.

Yet, yet, yet, Thanatos wondered if you could be the one to save and help him. Perhaps, in your hands, death would be a little warmer, a blanket thrown over a child when they are young, the embrace of a parent that has long left the earth, or the tranquility that one would feel in a field of emptiness with just the night sky. Perhaps, with your hands in his, he could be a death that people learn to accept and not fear, and that he would become a symbol of a restful death, rather than as a sentence to eternal damnation. He longs to be what you have learned to see him as, but neither of you have a choice in the matter.

Death will be feared regardless of who it is accompanied by.

"Do not apologize." He whispers, staring at you as his hands freeze in place and he is unable to move. He wants to comfort you, but the touch of death will forever be cold no matter how warm and loving he wishes to come off as. You will only feel the piercing ice of death, not the warmth and sweetness of life that he so wanted you to feel. He can not be the comfort he longs to give you. He will hurt you more than heal, and your soul will break even with the gentlest of moments together. You will not live as long as you are by his side.

"I believe it is time for my soul to be reaped." You smile. "It was a pleasure being acquainted with death himself. If there is a next life, may I be someone immortal so that I would be able to hold death in my embrace, my skin warm against yours."

"Do not say that." Thanatos' grip tightens on his scythe, hands shaking as you look at him again.

"I am sorry, Thanatos." You smile sadly, eyes closed as he reaps your soul.

"No," He whispers gently, kneeling by your side as he holds your leftover body. "I am sorry, for even death himself can not bear to live without your beauty"

And you return to the Styx, eyes closed as Charon carries you off to be registered with Hypnos.

He stares at your face, and Thanatos sighs.

"I can not save her."

Charon response with a groan.

"Is that so? She will not get her body back."

A rumble.

"And what do you suppose I do?"

Charon lifts your body from the boat, handing you to Thanatos as he takes you, eyes glued to your empty chest as Thanatos understands.

"Really? Master Hades will not like that."

"Nhhhhhrg."

"If you insist."

Death has no chambers, as they are only a formality, yet Thanatos wonders if this was simply what the fates had wished for as he lays your body in his bed. You are peaceful, eyes closed, empty hole in your chest as he stares, regret wracking his body as he stares at you for as long as he can without growing nauseous. He should not have reaped you. He should have brought you to death and chained a sentence to his heart to let you live, to beg and kneel to stay beside you — yet he can not do so any longer. You are nothing more than dead now. Not even death himself can return you to life.

Your body is safe, and only your soul remains to be saved.

Thanatos leads your dead soul through Hypnos and then seals it away again into his scythe, waiting for the chance to return it to your dead body, waiting for the day you would be seen again, for a day that he would have the time.

And when he gets the chance, he returns your soul, fingers brushing your hair as he waits an eternity for you to wake back up, death a long thing of the past, as rumored that the cold death that gave a warm embrace was replaced by Hades himself, swift snap of fingers, brought in by the boatman, yet death nowhere in sight, longing for the warm fingers of the person he had found he could not live without. Death remains by her bedside, eyes closed for the eternity that his love would have her eyes closed, two resting side by side in a blessing of sleep by his brother.

And there is a rumor, that the swift death of the past is replaced by the slow death of doom and sleep, by the violent death of Keres, for the death that our ancestors felt is waiting for the return of his lover from himself. That his soul would lead her out of the eternity of darkness, and her eyes would open and he would cry, warmth of her fingertips on his skin as he closes his eyes to thank Olympus above.

But, until then, the doom of mankind is inevitable.

[blazemourn]

Zagreus : THAN! HELP ME! I NEED A MAP!

Thanatos : Huh?! What the-

Zagreus : Cause I'm lost in your eyes!

Thanatos : Wait-

Zagreus : *Kisses him*

Thanatos : *Instant blush*

[demigoddessqueens]

making out with Moros

A/n - got a thing for tall with the long hair and sad eyes

Masterlist 11

Headcanons include…

First off, it shouldn’t be too surprising that the epitome of everything bad has a melancholy air to him

It’s rare good things come his way

That being said, he likes the quality time you spend with each other

Even more so because you’re going out of h your way to willingly be with him

Kisses are hungry and lingering with you both, mostly for Moros

Deep passionate kisses that memorize your lips and form, the taste of you on his lips

Sometimes he’ll brush his finger along his lips and blush while thinking of you

Likes to where he can cuddle, touch you during kisses and make-outs, you playing with his hair as you do

Wrap your legs around him, chances are he’s taller than you, and he goes absolutely wild for you

[halcyon-writings]

Hello! Can I please request an angst to fluff either headcanons or fic of Zagreus x reader where he wakes up from a nightmare and discovered that his s/o isn’t next to him in bed so he gets worried thinking something happened to them or they decided to leave him but it turns out they were just getting some water? Thank you so much!

something something, the 'hurt/comfort after a bad dream' trope goes hard

nav.

Zagreus is falling. The stone floor breaks beneath him, even so, his hands fruitlessly scrambling for purchase on the falling stones. The breath leaves his lungs as he lands harshly on his back, his unknown enemy still remaining above him.

A gaze pierces through him; his opponent's helmet keeping their visage hidden. The eye color is familiar, yet he cannot place where and how. They land near him again, far more gracefully than he had, their weapon raised in one hand, the other reacting above for their helmet. Mismatched eyes widen when the hidden figure's identity is visible to him.

Before he can even speak, you raise your weapon, and your tone is sad, despite the passiveness of your expression, "Farewell, Zagreus."

He awakens with a sharp gasp of breath.

Hands rush to grasp at wounds that did not exist. At blood that stained nothing. A shout dies in his throat as he sits up rapidly. When he turns to your side, the bed is empty. The spot you take normally is already cold, the sheets barely disturbed. A pit starts to form in his throat.

The blanket had been pushed to the side, so you had clearly been there when he had finally fallen asleep. So just where had you gone?

Thinking of the farewell from his dream, he shudders. No, you couldn't have actually left... couldn't you? Even though a more rational part of himself knew that you would not, the less rational (and less helpful) part of his mind was convinced that he needed to find you.

His sleep-addled mind clears quickly as he practically runs into the small armory attached to the outer part of the House. Snores coming from a familiar lackadaisical skeleton serve little comfort, if anything they serve as more of a push. If Skelly had not woken by your movement, then Zagreus needed to hurry.

The dilemma of choosing only one weapon stumps him, and the Prince debates just taking all of them at once when he hears someone else entering the room. In his surprise, the weapons fall clumsily out of his arms. For such legendary weapons, they barely scratch the floor tiles as they clatter against it.

"What is going on?"

He must still have been sleeping because it was your voice he was hearing...

"Zagreus?" You press on, curiosity in your eyes as you take a once over on the haphazard state of dress you find him in. Armor slightly loose, and it looked as though he had hopped right out of bed, little did you know that was exactly what had happened.

Rather than answering your question completely, he surprises you and himself by making quick strides and stopping just before you. Wordlessly, his arms are thrown around you, and you make a surprised sound despite yourself.

"Is everything alright, Zag?"

He is silent, and he knows that your gaze, an inquisitive one, is on him. "I'm alright- I'm alright."

You quietly pat him on the back, taking his word for it now.

extra:

Zagreus covers his face with both hands, but you can still see the tips of his ears burning a bright red. "Please, I know that was bad."

"Oh Zag," You console, "I know it was a bad dream, but please, you can confide in me." When he told you about this nightmare, you were already worried enough. But the fact that he was ready to run into the many layers of the Underworld, only worried you more. He flops unceremoniously back onto the pillows of your shared bed, an embarrassed flush still on his ears.

"Despite your nightmare being grievously wrong," You continue pointedly, "It was nothing more than that, a nightmare. I'll always be here." But you know that actions do in fact sleep louder than words.

So when he returns from another run, you prove it, being the first to greet him when he arrives welcoming him home.

[pupkou]

✧ Blood and Darkness ✧

✦ Zagreus (Hades 2018) x Gender Neutral Reader. ✦ Warnings: slight mentions of gore (no details; in the game, Zagreus is killed over and over and is often covered in blood), head injury (reader is hurt, non-fatally, and is knocked out by hitting their head), mentions of Zagreus’ sexual escapades (no descriptions), reader is a servant of the house of Hades and is described as a shade, no smut (😞)... yet (😏). ✦ Word Count: 2.2K. ✦ Read on AO3. ✦ Part 1 / ?

You've heard rumors about Hades' son.

They say he's not in possession of a particularly impressive stature; he's of average height, with dark hair, and he's quite thin, really, for a God. That's what he is, after all, just a God of the Underworld. One of many. And one who looks like he's not indulging himself in ambrosia and nectar as much as he should be at that, it almost seems like he's ungrateful for all the blessings and curses that come along with being the Prince of the Underworld.

They describe him as far smaller and more pathetic than Achilles, their blush showing on their ghostly complexions as they describe how his hair is cropped close to his neck and black and unflowing, not at all like the golden locks that fall around Achilles' nape.

Oh, Achilles, why must you torture us with your divine beauty and arrogant sneer? We know our ghastly, hellish faces are unworthy of your gaze, but a small, simple kindness-- in the form of a smile from your handsome face-- would satisfy us for eternities to come. By Achilles, by Thetis, and by Zeus, please let him stroll by and be pleased by something enough to smile for us, even if his pleasure comes from our misery. Surely, one of us can think of something to poke fun at Hector... much like the spear of Achilles' poked at his neck... surely so, surely so...

They... say a lot of things, but they always call him Zagreus, which means 'great hunter'. But by the rumors you've heard, it... doesn't seem like Zagreus' name fits him very well. In Tartarus' maze, everything becomes prey to those that inhabit the different levels of death and despair that come before you feel the sun's warm embrace, or so you've heard. You've never actually felt the sun, but you have heard Achilles brag about it to Hades, reminding the king of his very eventful life on earth. The sun doesn't reach this far down, though, and is unable to illuminate the depths of Hades' realm or comfort those who call it home. Here, predators lurk around every moss-covered turn, under every magma-concealing rock, behind every skullified hero's dug-up grave, and even amongst the distinguished guests that frequent the house of Hades.

From the whispers you've strained to hear, it seems like Zagreus wants out of this place-- the Underworld, that is. The shades, your main source of information on Zagreus and the other residents of the house, love to gossip, and they say he's still not been successful in escaping the darkness that has consumed him since he was born. Some root for him, hoping that one day his laurels will know what it feels like to soak in the blazing sun like the blessed olive trees they were harvested from, while others laugh at his failure, joining Hypnos' chorus of dramatic mocking, when they see him rise from the blood once again.

He's always covered in it, head to toe, deep red and maroon coating his limbs and soaking from his limbs as if it were his own. Much of it is, considering the amount of times he's died, but that doesn't make it any less pitiful to see the Prince rise from the fluid of life (and death), unrelenting in his attempts to escape his home. He'd hardly call it that, of course, as you've heard him say as he climbs the marble steps leading from the pool of blood, wiping his glowing feet on the carpet that you think was one of Arachne's (hence its purpose being for Zagreus to wipe his bloody feet on.)

The thing about marble-- what the house of Hades is made out of-- is that it doesn't absorb sound in the slightest. It's a curse for embarrassed shades trying to quietly explain how they arrived in Tartarus early because their pet goat rammed them in the stomach, but a blessing for beings like you who get most of their daily excitement from the things that they hear refracted off of the cool stone walls.

Marble also doesn't quickly absorb any liquid poured onto its surface, despite being a porous stone, which means that you, one of the poor shades tasked with cleaning, have a lot of work to do. Guests in the house get rowdy at the kitchen bar sometimes, drinking too much ambrosia and leaving various liquids behind. Sometimes water from the river Styx drips from cracks in the ceiling, pooling and causing problems for anyone whose flesh comes in contact with the liquid. And on the worst days, the most stubborn of fluid comes in contact with the objects you're in charge of keeping tidy.

One of Cerberus' heads is a particularly messy eater, which means that sometimes droplets of blood from a cut of meat (or carcass) he's eating are flung onto precious objects. Another guest, who is said to be armed with a barbed whip, has been said to make her victims cry blood on occasion, staining the good dinner napkins and frustrating you profusely. But by far, the being who makes the worst, bloody messes, is Zagreus himself.

Despite him wiping his feet on the carpet and despite your polite suggestion to him-- a sheet for him to dry off with laid over the marble railing, Zagreus continuously trails blood all over the house. And it doesn't help that the Prince behaves like a dog, prodding at his ears when they're clogged with blood and scratching at his head to dislodge it from his scalp. He's even shook like a filthy mutt before, letting drops of blood fly from his dark hair and unknowingly creating hours of cleanup for you. You've always been forgiving, though, considering that for one, you don't have much of a choice, and two, that you've never actually spoken to Zagreus in all of your years working for the house. You've heard his name boomed in anger from Hades' decision chamber, whispered by a loose-lipped shade with an audience to entertain, and uttered during more private affairs when you shouldn't have been pressing an ear to the dark wood of his bedchamber.

But things happen. And you've never met him, so you don't feel too bad or worry too much about ever being in his presence. He's always gone anyway, wooing an undead maiden when he's not fighting to flee the house, you presume. So when you enter his bedroom dust off his belongings and collect his blood and gut soiled robes, you pay little attention to your surroundings.

You've been in his sleeping chambers many times since you've been trusted with entry, something the other cleaning shades consider a privilege. You scoff at the idea that cleaning up the Prince's dirty laundry, various collected knickknacks, and... bodily fluids is at all a privilege, but you do as you're told anyway because admittedly, it is interesting to be provided with such an intimate view of someone you've never met. There's so much to be told by someone's bedroom, or in Zagreus' case, the state of someone's sheets (his always are in various stages of disarray from his frequent activities held within the bedchamber), and you don't at all mind the exclusive perspective on the Prince.

You do, however, mind that he tracks blood everywhere. Usually, you're more aware of it, considering how much of your life you spend cleaning it up, but this time, you're not so lucky as to notice its presence. Abnormally, the carpet that cushions the foot of Zagreus' bed is kicked up in one spot so that when you move to straighten the books on his bookshelf, not only do you trip on the carpet, but you slip in a pool of blood, streaking it across the tile as you fall hard onto the floor. The force with which your head hits the hard, stone floor would surely have killed you had you not died ages ago, but in this extended lifetime, all it does is send the lower half of your body into the bookshelf's feet, knocking books, scrolls, and what are surely precious artifacts from Zagreus' journeys flying to the floor in a great crash that shakes and echoes through the room.

Although you're thoroughly disoriented and on the verge of passing out, you still hear a gravelly, skeletal voice in the distance say, "Maybe you'd better investigate that, boyo. Unless you don't got the guts! I sure don't! Ha ha ha!" before your eyes close and your mind descends to darkness.

✧✧✧

Rest, even when injury is involved, is rare for a servant of Hades like you, and it feels like only a moment has passed before your eyes are opening again, drowsy and weak as the lids flutter open. While you can't quite understand why yet, you notice that you're lying on a bed softer than a cloud and warmer than the sun (as you imagine it), and that soft voices are speaking in hushed tones nearby. One is older than the other, and commands the other to be more quiet as he worries, as though he's fretting about you.

Your sight comes back to you gradually, and you see that a red blanket with golden lining is draped over your legs and midsection comfortably, keeping you warm and still as the shocks of the pain from your head pulse through your body. Your neck hurts too, but it retains just enough of its strength that you're able to lift your hurting head and see the two forms hovering at the bedside, far enough to indicate that they were worried you might spring up like an undead warrior looking for revenge, but concerned enough that they needed to stay close.

The one on the left, who's farther from you, is a reanimated human's skeleton. A Bloodless, as they're called, was once a mortal warrior that did not receive a proper burial, and is now forced to roam the Underworld aimlessly, looking for a fight that might bring them eternal peace. It's a foolish game to play, of course, as all wise men know that no war will ever bring peace. This Bloodless doesn't seem mindless like the others though, and is able to make eye contact with his bright red irises, although he seems uncomfortable doing so. He looks at his partner when you meet his gaze.

His partner stands closer to you, his face full of concern as it points at you, studying you. He's not very tall, but he's muscular as if he uses his body more than the average God trapped in Tartarus for all of eternity, and the half of his torso that's revealed lacks scarring-- in the dimness of the room, it's almost like his skin is glowing faintly. His face is kind and handsome, unlike anyone you've ever seen before. On top of his short, dark hair rests a loop of multi-colored laurels whose crimson color fades into red, which fades into copper, which fades into gold.

It sits on his head like a crown, much like the dark-haired child in the portrait of Cerberus that hangs in the great hall wore, you think. Identical to it, even. You've never actually stopped to read the plaque that hangs beneath the masterpiece, so you're not sure who the child or his companions are or what their names could be-- you just know that he is of the utmost importance to Hades considering he is the center of a few artistic representations, which Hades isn't often fond of. But before you can begin your quest to discover the identity of the child in the portrait, he speaks.

"Hello, dear friend," he says softly. "Can you hear me?"

You swallow, hoping your voice still works, and say, "Yes."

"Woah! This one's got no respect for royalty! They just employ any- body these days! Ha!" the Bloodless jokes, elbowing his partner in the ribs humorously. Unfortunately for him, his partner doesn't laugh, he just keeps his attention steady on you, his heterochromatic eyes caring as they watch you. In any other case, he would push the Bloodless over and reduce him (temporarily) to a scattered pile of bones, but there are things more important to worry about than someone’s mistimed joke. 

At the skeleton’s words, your stomach drops as all the blood rushes to your head all at once, and your heart starts beating so hard you can hear it in your ears, a pounding rhythm usually reserved for life-or-death situations. Suddenly, the room becomes familiar again-- the picture frames you've dusted and the knickknacks you've arranged and the blankets you've straightened thousands of times become clear to you.

You're in Zagreus' bedroom.

Prince Zagreus' bedroom.

And you're lying in his bed.

And the man, who was once a baby with a crown of laurels forced (by magic) to sit still for a portrait, is right in front of you.

The one person in the house of Hades who you've never come in contact with is standing at your bedside because you slipped in his blood.

You are so extremely damned. Somehow, even more than the first time you got damned to Tartarus for all eternity.

Blood and darkness.

✧✧✧

tagging people I think might like this <3

@vampireloverz @allright @transchainsawman @moonsong1027 <3