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Zagreus could not tell what the bloom was. He could not describe it or its properties beyond the colour and size. Yet, as he fell to his knees, held to his ribs and rasped out his painful last breaths, the flower caught his eye: white as the snow he had tread on, small as the beads braided into a lady's hair. Along one of it's soft petals ran a drop of water from the drink he had so graciously used his scant time to give the flower bed.
Even as the earth opened up beneath him and the Styx seeped through the cracks to claim him, Zagreus could not help but smile.
Surely his mother would not begrudge him one little flower, he thought. He hoped.
Dragged downwards into the warm expanses of the river, Zagreus took his last chance to reach out and pluck the flower from the soil.
Just as he expected, it survived the currents all the way to Hades' pool, tough little thing that it was. It was still entirely intact as he dragged himself out and onto the tile.
Zagreus rolled the green stem between his thumb and forefinger. The torchlight of his home leant the petals an almost lavender glow. His grin spread over his face.
"Natural causes again? Wow! Who knew those things could be so nasty," Hypnos said, forgoing a more customary greeting. Zagreus would not begrudge him that, not when his arrivals this way were so frequent. "Ever tried running from them? You know, just getting up and sprinting on by? You're a speedy guy, so I bet you'd at least have a fighting chance."
"No out running Death, I'm afraid," Zagreus answered as he passed. He glanced once from Hypnos to the bloom. Sure enough, it was a match for the porter's own curls. "Besides, why would I want to? Death isn't so bad."
He really wasn't. Turning the corner past Hypnos and his plush new chaise into the west hall only confirmed that.
Death was not so bad at all. In fact, Death was rather nice, in his own clumsy way.
Thanatos loomed tall at the end of the west hall. His scythe rested up against the railing as its owner stood cross-armed, looking out over Tartarus and its frightful depths.
He wasn't waiting, Thanatos told himself. He needed a break and he took one. The fact that he had sensed Zagreus' death moments ago, that he'd felt compelled to this spot they had met so many times before, that he stood here now - knowing the Prince of the Underworld would be home any second - were all coincidences. Fortuitous ones, he could admit to himself, as he'd always preferred having Zagreus' company to not, but coincidences nonetheless.
"Than," the voice came. Expected as it was, it made Thanatos jump in his skin. His effort to turn slowly towards the Prince rather than whipping round to meet his gaze was a concerted one. He was proud to have managed it. "Good to run into you here. I've a gift for you."
The Gods knew Thanatos was partial to butterflies but he did not need them making a mess of his stomach this way.
"Ugh, no more gifts!" He tried to sound stern. "I've had my fill of ambrosia. There's only so much I can drink and there's still some left, you know. And no nectar, either. I just got through that last bottle you gave me."
"It's not ambrosia," Zagreus assured him. "Not even nectar. Though, if you're having trouble getting through it all you can bring a bottle over some time and we could share a drink. It would be nice to catch up, just the two of us."
"Was that your plan all along, Zag?" Thanatos smirked. "Take up all my storage space with your contraband so you could get it back from me later?"
"Not at all. I just know everyone likes a good vintage," Zagreus smiled. "Besides, if I can't lavish you with absurdly nice things there isn't much point to being a prince, now, is there?"
There was a point, Thanatos wanted to correct him. A few points, really. And they were fairly important points.
But Zagreus was giving him that look: equal parts pleading and sanguine. It was not a look that had changed or evolved since they were children. Somehow, that fact had done nothing to dull its effects on Thanatos.
"Fine. What is it you ransacked from your father's domain this time?"
Zagreus lit up even more, if such a thing was possible.
"Actually, to keep things fair, I've ransacked my mother's domain this time," Zagreus said. He brought his hand out from behind his back and presented the little white flower he plucked. "I saw this in her garden and it reminded me of you. Well, first it reminded me of snow but then it reminded me of you. The shade is a good match for your hair, wouldn't you say?"
Thanatos watched petals reflecting the torchlight. His eyes followed the lavender glow around the bloom as he tried to piece together what he saw, to match it with what he heard.
The flower was lovely, precious. It carried with it a sense of something - light, joy, potential - he couldn't quite place his finger on. That Zagreus could see anything of him in the little flower felt odd, that he could see the flower in him felt-
There were those butterflies in his stomach again. They were beating their frail wings in hopes of making I storm, he swore.
"I guess," Thanatos said, finally. The colour was a match; that much he could understand. Maybe that was all it was about.
He reached out to Zagreus' extended hand. As his fingers neared the offered gift the petals began to brown. By the time he had accepted it, the flower was ash slipping through his grasp.
Zagreus blinked at the falling grey dust as it gathered on the tile between their feet.
Thanatos only brought himself to sigh. Yes, right, of course. Death.
"It's the thought that counts, I suppose," Zagreus chuckled.
"Not too much thought if you hadn't guessed that would happen," Thanatos mused.
It was an observation, nothing more. Inwardly, he thought how very like Zagreus it was to pick a gift out entirely on instinct, following that huge, unwieldy heart of his before he could think what issues might arise.
It was not until he looked up to Zagreus - smiling still, but blinking at him the same way he had at the ash - that he heard his words, free from the context of his thoughts.
"I meant the gift. You weren't thinking about it when you picked it," Thanatos hurried to correct himself. "You thought about me. I get it. It counts. It's...well, it's nice to know you thought of me."
"Of course," Zagreus said, before he could dig any further. "I think of you always, Than."
Butterflies. Why did he like those stupid things again? They were trying to ruin him from the inside. They had to be, or else, this fluttering in his gut, this pounding in his chest was-
"Good seeing you, Zag," Thanatos gave a curt nod.
The ash rose from the tile and dispersed in the air with the impact of Thanatos' green ray of light on the floor.
Zagreus was left only with the quick farewell and the memory of pink rising from the cool grey of Thanatos' cheeks. That alone made this all, entirely, worth it.