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The first time Zagreus noticed anything was wrong was after his third attempt at escaping Tartarus. It had been early days back then, and so he hardly knew just how much he was getting himself into.
He’d scraped through most of the rooms with great struggle, realising only when he arrived at Charon’s shop just how winded and out of breath he was.
His chest felt tight, his lungs felt full and achy, and he could swear that his vision was getting blackspots whenever he pushed himself just a bit too hard.
Zagreus glanced up at Charon weakly and pulled out his pouch of obols to pay for gyros and a Centaur Heart. “Hey there, Charon. I’ll just take those two there, if you don’t mind.”
Charon groaned in affirmation, handing over the items as requested and taking the obols easily. A flash of images appeared in Zagreus’ mind as Charon’s purple smoke enveloped him.
A hand on Zagreus’ shoulder, how his skin had paled and become sickly everywhere but his cheeks, the sheen of sweat on his brow, and the way that Zagreus had stumbled in over his own feet. The resounding pulse of worry and gentle concern conveyed in a manner only Charon could.
Oh, he was really concerned.
“Oh, no, don’t worry. I’m fine, mate. Just a bit worn down, perhaps,” Zagreus reassured with a weak smile. “I’ll be ready again in a bit thanks to your wares, I’m sure.”
He took a bite of his food, choking it down quickly in the hopes it’d get him on his feet quicker. Charon groaned in quiet distrust, not fully accepting Zagreus’ half-assed explanation.
The Boatman took no further steps to question him, however. His other worktime responsibilities were calling and he could delay no longer. Reluctantly, Charon departed and left Zagreus alone to eat.
It was fortunate that he had, at least for the sake of Zagreus’ dignity.
The tightness in his chest and throat had all worsened while he ate. He coughed to clear his throat, hacking up phlegm that fell into his palm with a wet splat. That was not what struck him as odd though. Amongst all of the gunk sat a bunch of long white flower petals, wet and gross to the touch.
Zagreus gazed at it in sheer confusion. If he hadn’t just coughed it up himself, he surely wouldn’t have believed it.
He’d just hacked up an entire flower. A flower.
He’d only seen ones like these a few times: amongst the fields of Elysium and in his mother’s garden up on the surface. Zagreus wouldn’t have been able to name the variety if he tried. “Hello… Random white flower,” he remarked in confusion. “This feels like a bad omen for the rest of the run. Heh…”
Lo and behold, it was. He’d made it up to Elysium, fought through waves of wretches and shades, only to choke on the petals after defeating the Bull of Minos in single combat. He was returned swiftly back to the House as he always was, through the red waters of the river at the end of the hall.
Hypnos smiled as he saw Zagreus emerging from the Pool of Styx. He’d made it far this time, but still he’d returned once more. His eyes flickered over the ledger, wondering what advice he would give to encourage Zagreus to keep going.
The God of Sleep frowned. That was odd.
“Zagreus, cause of death… flowers? How does a flower kill you? Allergies, or something?” Hypnos floundered with sheer confusion.
Zagreus had died in all manners of ways since starting his escape from Hades, including a hydra, a fury, a minotaur, hells even a butterfly, but this was odd even for him.
Hypnos frowned, before plastering on a look of cheer to hopefully wrench a smile from his disheartened friend. “Well, someone has to have invented medicine for allergies somehow. Why don’t you try taking that next time?”
He grimaced, wondering if the joke had fallen flat.
Luckily, Zagreus chuckled good-naturedly. “I’ll be sure to have a look around for such a thing if it exists. Otherwise, I may be killed by flowers for a while yet.”
True to his word, Zagreus died by choking on flowers once more after that conversation with Hypnos. He’d been powering through the pain so much, that he hardly even noticed the bunches that had grown under his ribs thanks to the adrenaline coursing through his veins
He’d even made it past his Father and the Temple of Styx, all the way through Greece to his mother’s cottage, only to collapse a mere thirty feet or so away from her. “Zagreus!” she’d cried, at first in joy to see him again, and then in horror all at once as he succumbed to the asphodel in his throat and been dragged down by the Styx before he’d even gotten a word out.
“Those flowers again, huh, Zag?” Hypnos asked sympathetically. “Man, what is going on with you and those things?”
He’d started surrendering himself to other means of death first, in order to avoid any questions about why flowers kept killing him.
Some days, he impaled himself on spike traps. Other days, it was standing in the Phlegethon and allowing himself to be burnt up to a crisp. Once, on a particularly bad run, he’d even deliberately lagged on his feet so Megaera would be able to kill him and spare him the embarrassment of vomiting petals all over her.
He was sick of losing progress, of lagging behind. He couldn’t let this defeat him. He’d already worked so hard to get to this point, it couldn’t be all for nothing now.
Determined, Zagreus took the Shield of Aegis in hand. He could do this. He would do this. After getting in a few practice throws and blows with Skelly, he walked through the gate and out into the Underworld once more.
Tartarus was a breeze, almost negligible. Asphodel was harder, if only because of all the Phlegethon pools he kept stumbling into. Elysium was predictably frustrating, but still he powered through the hordes of fallen warriors, witches, and butterfly balls.
It was after retrieving a satyr sack in the Temple of Styx that Zagreus’ mind finally caught up with the state of his body. He’d burned through all of his death defiances already, and despite the many centaur hearts he’d acquired on his journey upwards, Zagreus could feel how little energy he had left.
He could risk going back through the remaining chambers in the hopes of stumbling across a Well of Charon for some life essence. That meant facing more Satyrs, dealing with poison, and he wasn’t sure he could stomach it all for the chance of finding what he needed.
Sighing, Zagreus determined he’d just have to go without. He’d made it this far. He was going to do it again.
He handed off the Satyr Sack to Cerberus, who gleefully accepted the bribe and allowed Zagreus to pass. As the gates opened, a familiar frosty chill passed over Zagreus’ skin. The wind was biting but a relief to finally have.
He could do this. He could do this.
In his usual place, Hades stood with his back turned to Zagreus. “You were never supposed to live. Took all of Nyx’s strength to circumvent what should have been a certainty. Now you cannot stay dead. Such is the wry humour of the Fates,” he remarked with undisguised disdain.
Zagreus inhaled sharply. “Nyx saved me… So, according to the Fates I was never meant to be born, since neither you nor Mother are of the Underworld, something like that? Or was that just another lie you told to Mother and whoever else?”
“Bah! You think everything a lie. The realm beneath our feet was appointed to me on certain conditions, not that I had much of a choice. Among them, a one-time surface-dweller such as I would never have an heir.”
“You really believed that? Then why attempt to have a child, anyway?” Zagreus retorted.
“You don’t know anything! Why anyone would choose to have a child is a mystery to me. The Fates said I would never have an heir. Perhaps this was all they meant,” Hades replied, numbly.
He shrugged the cloak from his shoulders before Zagreus had time to process the sudden spike of hurt that he felt at that comment. The cinders of fabric scorched against the snow-covered ground and Hades surged forward with Gigaros in hand.
Zagreus should have suspected his father felt that way, he supposed. He should have known, maybe he always did know, but hearing it said aloud was another experience entirely. Even if Zagreus had been the perfect son, Hades never would have chosen him in the first place.
All his focus had suddenly been lost. He’d all but lost sight of Hades immediately, swallowed in a sea of hurt and exhaustion punctuated by the resurgence of plant life under his skin. Seeing no other option, Zagreus backed up into the wall of the exit and held Aegis in a blocking position at the hopes of just pushing through that way.
He’d barely blocked the swing that came next. “Stop cowering and fight, boy!” Hades ordered furiously, as the resounding clang of his spear against Zagreus’ shield reverberated around them.
Zagreus’ arms shook with the force of each blow. He wasn’t going to be able to hold this position much longer. He waited for a gap in his father’s swings before dashing forward and calling upon the powers of Olympus.
“Artemis!” He cried as he fled. The Goddess’ divine arrows sought Hades and struck him true, infuriating him in an instant. He sent his own bloodstone hurtling towards his son and set Zagreus’ blood alight.
Zagreus spluttered as his blood began to boil, constricting the air he could breathe even further. He tried to dash back towards the wall for cover once again but was grabbed by the back of his collar and thrown to the ground.
He couldn’t move. His body had all but given up. The flowers had won.
“Wait, stop, Father, please!” Zagreus wheezed painfully from his spot on the snow-covered ground. He could feel the vines crawling up his throat and stabbing into his lungs. “Enough! You win, I concede…” he gasped out weakly.
Aegis fell from his grasp as the effort of holding his head up became too much to endure. His vision swam with black and he could hear the call of the Styx creeping up behind him. “I can’t… I can’t go on.”
“What exactly do you hope to achieve with these tricks, boy?” Hades barked out firmly, keeping Gigaros held tightly in his fist as he stalked forward. “Do you think you will manipulate me into letting you go? I am not so easily cowed, boy.”
Zagreus hacked and wheezed as the vines pressed deeper into his windpipe. He could feel the thorns sinking into his flesh and was all but powerless to stop them. “Would you just—list-listen? For once, could you just… I am trying to end this and you’re so stubborn that you won’t even try to hear me—” he spluttered through mouthfuls of blood.
Hades paused in his stride as Zagreus kept coughing.
With the blunt end of his spear, he rolled the weakened Zagreus onto his back and finally saw the effects of what his son was suffering. The pile of white flower petals soaked in blood and phlegm sat like viscera upon the ground. His own son, pale and sickly and weaker than he’d ever been before, looked akin to a corpse himself.
“White asphodel…” Hades remarked with a low and disturbed rumble. “What… have you done?”
Zagreus groaned in outraged agony. “You think—that I did this on purpose?”
Another series of painful choked coughs wracked the Prince of Hell’s weakened frame, causing more flowers, blood, and spit to cover the front of his chiton. Tears ran freely down his face as he surrendered to the whims of his body.
He could not endure it much longer. Every single inch of his body ached and surged with pain as if the roots of this ailment had all but sunk into the very core of his being.
Hades stared down at Zagreus with something not entirely like revile nor his typical disdain. He just seemed hollow. Empty. Unsure.
Zagreus sobbed weakly as he felt a crushing pressure behind his eye and the beginnings of new growth. The vision in his left eye whited out completely then went dark as thorns pierced the backs of his eyeball.
“Father, please… Help…!” Zagreus choked out wearily, pleadingly, desperately.
And for a brief moment, Hades felt unable to do anything else but feel deep dread.
His own son coughing up flower petals… His own wilful little boy reduced to this…
The sight of it sickened him.
Hades pressed the tip of his spear to Zagreus’ chest. In a flash of his blade, summoning an unnecessary amount of strength to get the job done, Hades plunged Gigaros through the heart of his son. The bloodied hands of the River Styx all but wrenched its way through the earth to drag Zagreus’ soul back to the pits of Hades.
Hades did not relish the choked cry his son had left him with. The horrifying novelty of being a father who had to kill his own son had worn off several escape attempts ago. He had already held his dying child once in his lifetime, any repeats of that event felt almost negligible in comparison to that grief.
And yet… and yet…
Zagreus had all but pleaded for death before his very eyes. Wilful and irritating Zagreus. Stubborn and fearsome Zagreus. Obstinate and adamant Zagreus, the only son of Hades, who would have torn out his own heart before willingly admitting defeat before now.
That Zagreus had begged for his own Father to kill him.
Steeling his resolve, Hades sighed wearily and stepped through the doors back into the Temple of Styx. Inside, Charon already awaited him with a groan and a formal bow. Hades stepped onto the boat, placed Gigaros at his feet, and sat down very simply.
“Take us home, Charon,” Hades ordered resolutely.
Obediently, the boatman replied with a characteristic groan and began to row his way through the waters where the Acheron met the Styx. Despite his best efforts to concern himself with other matters, as the King of Hell made his journey home, his thoughts kept drifting back to his son.
For all the trouble that Zagreus seemed to attract, never in a thousand years did Hades suspect that he would be cursed with an ailment of flowers and thorns. That’s what it had seemed like to him, at least.
Perhaps Zagreus had earned the scorn of one of the Olympians on one of his attempts. Aphrodite seemed a likely perpetrator for such a curse. Coughing up flowers, choking on thorns… how incredibly romantic it all was – just that blasted goddess’ style, Hades thought bitterly.
**
When Zagreus returned to the House of Hades, he did not emerge from the pool of Styx for quite some time.
“Uhm, Zag? Are you… are you okay in there?” Hypnos asked hesitantly as he poked Zagreus’ shoulder. His eyes flickered over his ledger. “…’mercy kill by redacted?’ A mercy kill? What, you just gave up out there at the last minute?” he joked to cover up his deep sense of unnerve.
Zagreus groaned into the water. Though his death had seemingly reset the growth of the flowers once again, he could still feel the phantom aches from vines in his throat and lungs and ears and eyes. He was sure this wasn’t the end of it.
“…something like that,” Zagreus burbled bitterly through a mouthful of stygian water. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling mournfully. He was never going to get out again if he kept dying to these damned flowers.
“Well… uh, let me know if there’s anything I can do for you,” Hypnos offered cheerfully, despite the tight grimace on his expression.
“Thanks, Hypnos. I think I’m just gonna go to bed,” Zagreus muttered tiredly, pushing himself up from the pool and onto his feet. Blood rushed to his head and he stumbled dizzily.
The walk from the pool of Styx to his bedroom was agonising. He ignored the concerned looks from Orpheus, Cerberus, and Nyx – unable to entertain even the thought of conversation.
He didn’t even make it onto his bed before he collapsed and was claimed by the hungry hands of sleep.
As he dreamed in fitful rest, flashes of his mother’s cottage and garden on the surface appeared before his eyes. The vibrant greens, the lush and rolling grasses filled with bountiful crops and flora, all draped in beautiful rays of warm sunshine.
Zagreus luxuriated at the sight of it all, the reassurance of victory, the clear signs that he had bested his father and escaped. In his hand, wielding his own Aspect of Varatha, Zagreus took each step forward with sheer determination.
He had come all this way and won. Now, he just had to find her.
In the centre of the garden where his mother Persephone usually stood was half a dozen stalks of proudly standing white asphodel, eclipsed by a ring of blood red poppies, growing out through the heart and lungs of the Prince of Hell himself.
Zagreus observed his husk of a body from the outside of it, watching in increasing horror as he saw just how much of himself had been replaced by this surge of plant matter.
His veins had all but become part of the root system, leaving his blood to drain onto the grass as fertiliser. Every available crevice – his eyes, his nose, his ears, his mouth – sprouted with hundreds of white and red petals. Every patch of skin was smattered in purple and blue bruises, as if the promise of new flora had already surged underneath and shattered his capillaries.
The wind rustling through the garden made him shudder at the chill. Staring at your own corpse was hardly enjoyable for anyone, but seeing it reduced to mere fertiliser was a little more than disturbing.
Zagreus poked his own body with a grimace. His own curiosity got the better of him. He grasped the head of one of the asphodelian flowers in his fist. The tough stem creaked and groaned underneath his hand. With a determined yank, Zagreus pulled at the flower to try and pick it from his chest.
Suddenly, the stem gave with a wet snap and all hell broke loose. Harsh, wet and wracking coughs ripped through the mound of flowers all at once, as Zagreus watched in horror seeing his corpse surge up wildly for breath.
It was then that Zagreus realised that this husk of himself was still alive. Beneath all of the verdure and vegetation, his heart beat in relentless defiance. Even as this version of him seemed to silently beg to become mere fodder upon the earth, his thorn-laden lungs stubbornly pulsed and greedily leapt for any air it could get.
In this, he was denied release. The Styx would not embrace him like this, not so long as he drew breath and his heart beat in his chest.
A terrible thought struck him all at once, as he felt the tickle of petals in his own throat once more. Would this be his fate, someday? If he could not end this curse in death… Would he be doomed to become compost forevermore?
The painfully familiar sensation of choking on his own breath returned all at once, as petals and thorns and vines and flowers clawed up his throat and wrenched him from his sleep. Zagreus awoke on the stone floor of his bedroom, spluttering through mouthfuls of new growth and blood once again.
“Blood and… darkness…” he all but whined. He couldn’t keep doing this. He couldn’t. It had grown faster this time, alarmingly fast. He couldn’t have been asleep for longer than two hours at most.
Zagreus sobbed, reaching out for anything to help steady him and bring him to his feet. He needed help. He needed someone, anyone to free him from this blasted agony.
He limped forward. Each step send a sharp pain up his entire body.
Just outside his room standing at her usual corner, surrounded by the damned flower vases he’d commissioned the house contractor for – was the Goddess Nyx. He could have wept for a thousand years at the sight of her.
“Nyx—!” he dithered pathetically.
She appraised him with careful and measured concern as he all but collapsed into her arms. “Zagreus? Child, what has happened?”
Sharp coughs rattled him once again, and he had to do all he could not to spill his throat’s contents all over Nyx’s front.
The cursed white asphodel splattered into his hand wetly and grotesquely once more. He groaned wearily. “I… I need help,” he begged wearily. “I can’t… it just keeps coming back. Even when I die, it doesn’t stop and I’m just so tired and it hurts so much…”
“How long has this been happening, child?” Nyx interrupted with her characteristic gentle yet firm tone.
“I don’t know. A while?” he replied weakly. “It’s been so long, I… At least since this all started.”
Nyx, the Goddess of Endless Night, blanched a ghostly white. “Do you have any indication of what started this?” she encouraged, as though she was speaking with a sickly child.
He shook his head wearily. “No… No, I don’t know. I don’t know.” More coughs wracked him violently and he turned his head to spit up more petals onto the ground below with a deep groan. “I’m so tired…”
Nyx observed the flowers Zagreus had coughed up with a fierce determination. To the untrained eye, they seemed like normal flowers, but Nyx knew better. She had felt the energy of such curses before, known their power, because she had summoned them here before.
“You are in no condition to go out,” Nyx stated firmly. “You’re to stay in bed until I can find some way to cure this and I’ll send Dusa to attend you in the meantime.”
“Okay,” he replied wearily, offering no resistance as she floated him back into his bed. He fell back against the mattress and succumbed to sleep once more.
Nyx knew exactly who to speak to about Zagreus’ condition, but first, she had to prepare herself to address the matter with another. She’d prayed that this time he would be susceptive to her pleas.
“Lord Hades. There is an urgent matter for discussion regarding the health of your son,” Nyx approached his desk coolly. She held herself with a regal air, one that demanded no nonsense and that he bid her his time.
Hades raised an eyebrow nonchalantly, continuing to write in his reports. “And why could the boy not address this matter with me himself, pray tell?” he asked boredly.
Nyx thought of the thorns growing in the prince’s throat, how he had spattered his chiton with blood, and barely been able to speak at all. She shot back simply, “He is in no state to speak, my Lord.”
The Lord of the Dead guffawed. “That makes a change. He must be quite ill then. Normally it’s getting him to be silent that is half the problem—”
“He is coughing up flowers, Hades,” Nyx interjected firmly, unwillingly to endure such blatant insult on Zagreus’ behalf. “For many days and nights, he has been suffering from this ailment and it has killed him at least twice, yet it only grows in severity. I fear that soon not even the power of the Styx will be enough to counteract it.”
Cowed by her outburst, Hades gave no verbal response, though he did finally drop his quill and cease writing. “I see. Flowers, you said?”
“Yes. From what can be observed, I believe them to be physically growing within his vascular and respiratory systems. He is being strangled from the inside out,” she reported. “He cannot walk, he cannot talk, he cannot breathe, and if the growths continue the way they do now – I fear he will no longer be able to see or hear either. I come to you seeking thoughts on a solution.”
Hades paused, dropping his eyes down onto his reports. His expression revealed nothing. “Well, then. It seems that solution to his escaping problem has all but fallen into our hands. If he keeps dying before he can even leave his bed, then he will never escape at all.”
Anger surged through Nyx. “Hades, you cannot be serious. Your solution is that he suffer this for eternity? You would rather your only son become plant fodder than let him go?”
“If that is what it takes to keep him here, then that is what it takes,” Hades barked out sternly, slamming his fist onto his desk. “You forget yourself, Nyx. Your attempts at undermining my authority end now. He is stuck here, one way or another. If this is how he must learn that, then so be it.”
He dismissed her with a wave of his hand, turning his attention back to his reports. She scowled but obediently teleported away nonetheless. As usual, Nyx had to take matters into her own hands.
**
“Well, Goddess Nyx, this is a surprise. What could I possibly do for you?” Aphrodite tittered with eager curiosity.
“Venerable Goddess Aphrodite,” Nyx greeted formally, bowing out of courtesy. “I came across a very interesting spell in Tartarus, as of late. If I am correct, it bears the same insignia as many of your boons that you have granted Prince Zagreus in his attempts to get to the surface.”
She appraised the petals tenderly, humming contemplatively. “Oh yes. Now this… it is a very old creation of mine and Chaos’, very rare indeed. I’d all but forgotten about it after we deemed it too extreme for use amongst mortal kind.”
Nyx frowned. “Chaos? They were involved in its creation?”
“As they are in all things, of course, but this was a little pet project I approached them with, yes,” Aphrodite hummed fondly. “Such a shame we had to do away with it. Too many people were dying before they could summon the courage to admit their feelings. Such is the way of mortals, I suppose.”
Nyx readjusted her expression to one of careful neutrality. “I see. This was a creation of yours meant to inspire mortals not to dwell on matters of the heart?”
“It was to give them motivation to seek out those they love and be open with their feelings. However, mortals are frequently stubborn, so stubborn in fact that hardly anyone made use of it at all. They just gave up and died,” she sighed through a pout.
“So, am I to understand that this curse can be stopped with a simple love confession?” Nyx asked.
Aphrodite laughed girlishly. “Oh, if only that were so. Alas, it is only requited love that frees one from such a sorry state. Admitting love alone is not enough. Their feelings must be shared for the spell to be ended.”
At Nyx’s aghast silence, the Goddess of Love continued with a playful air about her, “You can see why it was so unpopular. Unrequited love is far too common. Too many people were dying. Lord Zeus made me cast it out entirely.”
Nyx nodded slowly, internally coming to her conclusion. “Many thanks for your help, Lady Aphrodite. Allow me to offer you this Nectar as a symbol of my gratitude to you on this day.” She placed the bottle into the Goddess’ hands and kept her expression as polite as she could manage.
The other Goddess practically sang in delight. “Why, this is quite unexpected, Mistress Night! We have much of this stuff here on Olympus, but of course I shall accept such a gift from one as esteemed as you.”
Nyx bowed as a formality and steeled her resolve. “Wonderful. I must return to the Underworld, but please pass on my well wishes to the rest of the family.”
Shortly after, the Goddess of Night departed and made it back to the House of Hades in record time. For such an unconventional curse, perhaps Nyx should have suspected an unconventional solution.
Zagreus just had to confess whatever love he was harbouring and receive that love in turn.
**
“I have to what?” Zagreus demanded through a fierce blush, coughing another blossom into his fist.
“As I have said, whatever love you are harbouring for another that you have deemed unrequired is the root of this affliction,” Nyx explained again, patiently.
“So… I just have to confess feelings of love that I think are otherwise unrequited, and hope that they’re reciprocated, or else I’m going to be stuck like this forever.”
“You seem unsatisfied with that fact, child,” Nyx noted sympathetically.
“It just feels manipulative. I don’t want someone to feel obligated to return my feelings just because I have flowers growing in my chest,” Zagreus grimaced, choking back a cough. Alas, another petal fell into his fist, which he quickly crushed.
Nyx nodded, flashing him a look of understanding. “I had considered that. In the event that reciprocation is impossible, I am determined that we will find an alternative route to healing you, in spite of what the Goddess Aphrodite thinks.”
Zagreus sighed in concession, ultimately trusting that Nyx would help him find his way out of this like she had done for him before. “Right. Well. I… I guess I should start getting ready to confess my feelings.”
He groaned, burying his face in his hands. “This feels so much harder than it would be if I could just do this in my own time.”
Nyx placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You can handle this, my child.”
Zagreus was resolutely sure that he could not handle this.
It had been a while since he and Megaera had broken up. It was his first relationship and had also been quite intense from the get-go. He’d been fumbling and awkward, and ultimately fell way harder than he’d had any right to and everything fell apart.
Well, that was a slight exaggeration.
Though it had hurt him deeply at the time, he’d eventually recognised that neither of them were truly able to share expectations around what their relationship should be at the time.
He’d gotten over it. Mostly.
It wasn’t necessarily that Zagreus had never fallen out of love with Meg, more so that it had evolved over time. As he grew and changed, his feelings for her did as well.
There were some things that stayed consistent. Like his admiration for her form and skill with whips. His giddiness and anticipation he felt when she cracked a rare smile at him. His eagerness to exchange verbal quips with her.
He hadn’t made it to Elysium in a while, let alone to the Champions, so his supply of Ambrosia was in short supply. But he’d kept at least two bottles aside that he’d bought from the House Contractor. He could spare one to split between himself and Meg to take the edge off and hopefully break this flower curse in the process.
After another failed run, where he’d made it out of Tartarus by the skin of his teeth and promptly thrown himself into lava after a flower fuelled coughing fit, Zagreus pulled himself onto his feet and out of the Styx to go find Meg hopefully waiting for him in the lounge.
“Hey, Meg, you’re off duty right now, aren’t you? Have you got a minute?” he asked sheepishly as he approached.
Megaera raised her sharp brow at him. “Depends. What’s going on, Zag?”
“Well, I… look, I’ve got this bottle of Ambrosia. And I was wondering… well, only if you wanted to, there’s obviously no obligation to, but I was hoping that maybe you and I could share it? If that’s agreeable. Otherwise, it’s yours, completely and totally, and we can forget that this conversation ever happened,” Zagreus rambled nervously, immediately making a fool of himself.
Megaera hummed, scrutinising him carefully, “You seem a little tongue-tied, Zagreus.”
“You’re not exactly the easiest to approach, you know,” he defended with a warm blush. “So… uh, what do you say? Care for some company?”
Either out of pity or genuine interest, Megaera nodded and invited him to sit down. “Very well. Open it up and we’ll see what happens from there.”
They cracked open the bottle, acquired two glasses from the Head Chef and sat down together at the table. The first sip of Ambrosia was always uniquely pleasurable, in a way that Zagreus could only describe as divinely orgasmic in flavour, but in that moment it burned going down.
Zagreus realised with some amount of increasing concern and slight horror that the flowers had grown back much quicker this time. He could already feel the thorns in his lungs and the buds pressing in his throat.
It wouldn’t be much longer until the flowers started to bloom and he choked on white asphodel all over again.
“…greus? Zagreus!” Megaera called out, interrupting his internal downward spiral. He blinked dumbly at her and cleared his throat sheepishly. “Sorry. What were you saying?”
She sighed, taking another sip of her drink. “Just that Hypnos mentioned that it’s been a while since you made it out of Asphodel. What’s going on with you? You’ve been a wreck every time you’ve gotten to me as of late.”
Shame blossomed in his cheeks and expression instantly. “Oh, right, that’s… I’ve been distracted, recently.”
“Distracted?” Her face fell into a typical unimpressed look, making him panic slightly. He couldn’t mess this up again.
“I don’t know if distracted is the right word, actually,” he corrected. “More like… Unwell? There’s… it’s complicated.”
Megaera sighed in obvious disappointment. “I really don’t want to endure another conversation where you aren’t honest with me, Zagreus. If you have something to say, then say it.”
Right. Time for the direct approach. “I’m in love with you,” Zagreus admitted readily, feeling buds pressing against his windpipe once again. “I have been for quite a while. Maybe I never stopped being in love with you, even after we ended things. That’s what’s been on my mind.”
He was breathless. His head swam, his heart was racing, and he could still feel that damned flower in his throat. After a tense pause, Megaera hummed a gentle low note. “So you’re saying I’m the reason you haven’t made it out of Asphodel in weeks? I’m ‘distracting’ you?”
“No, that’s not what I—I meant that the reason I’ve been so out of sorts is because of something relating to you, not that you directly caused it. I don’t know how else to explain it.”
The more flustered and floundered he became, the quicker he could feel the flowers in his chest beginning to choke him. He steeled his resolve. “I’ve been sick, and it’s been affecting my ability to get to the surface. When I reached out to Nyx for help, she found out from Aphrodite that it’s an ancient discarded curse she created and that only way to cure it is to admit your true feelings to the people you love.”
Megaera looked at Zagreus with a look of deep concern and disbelief. “You’ve been cursed by Aphrodite? Zagreus—”
“Not intentionally, I don’t think!” he added with a wheeze. “She would have told me outright if I had done something to offend her, trust me. This… I don’t know how it started. Just that it’s been happening, and even death won’t spare me of it.”
Zagreus felt the petals burst in his chest and he choked them down with a wince. “I didn’t want to tell you like this. The way I feel. But if I’m going to have any chance of breaking this damned curse, I couldn’t wait any longer. I don’t want you to feel like you have to reciprocate anything, but I just… I needed to tell you.”
The silence that followed was agonising. Zagreus flinched as she placed her glass of ambrosia down on the table with an echoing thump.
Megaera breathed in calmly, stilling him with an uncharacteristically gentle look. “Zagreus…”
**
“…so even after all that heartful confession stuff with Meg, you’re still coughing up flowers?” Hypnos asked with a frown.
Zagreus nodded, gripping his nectar with despair. “Yeah. I was so sure that would be the end of it. Nyx was certain that reciprocated love would break the curse, and yet I’m still being killed by the damned things every other run.”
Hypnos gave him a sympathetic hum. “Are you sure there’s nobody else that the curse is for?”
Zagreus thought for a moment, sighing. “I think there might be. I’m just mad that I have to go through this again.
“Well, in case you don’t know it well enough already, I love you, Zag,” Hypnos declared cheerfully. Zagreus smiled and chuckled affectionately. “Love you too, mate. Still cursed though.”
He paused to check, pressing a hand to his chest. The buds of new growth pressed against his skin to greet him and confirm. “Yep, definitely still cursed.”
“Ah, damn it,” Hypnos dithered in faux disappointment. “Really thought I’d be your Knight in Shining Pyjamas there and I’d swoop in to free you from these flowers so you can go back to getting killed by other stuff.”
Zagreus scoffed in mock offense, “Hey!” He playfully shoved Hypnos, which the other God avoided with a giggle, floating by with ease. “So, who’s the other person you think you have to confess to, anyway?” Hypnos interrogated with a giggle. “Achilles?”
“Maybe when I was younger and had an embarrassing boyish crush on him,” Zagreus shrugged, blushing nonetheless. “But I think that ship has well and truly sailed now.”
Hypnos hummed thoughtfully, before suddenly gasping in realisation. “Wait, don’t tell me! Oh of course, it makes so much sense!”
**
Thanatos had always been a consistent presence in Zagreus’ life.
The codex entry that Achilles had written of the God of Death followed Zagreus’ thoughts frequently. ‘Thanatos would never speak of this, but it is clear, to me. Whence came the bond they share? My thought is that the Master's son must be the god of blood, of life. Thus, they are inexorably drawn.’
While Zagreus had never much felt like a god of anything, nor did he think that he had any special connections beyond what he’d painstakingly built himself – it was heartwarming to imagine that he and Thanatos were linked to one another somehow.
There had to be some connection between them. Especially if Thanatos was the one who was inadvertently responsible for the gardens blossoming under his skin.
Despite Nyx’s insistence, Zagreus was resolutely ignoring any advice to stay at home in his bedroom and recover. The pain went away a lot faster if he died, anyway, he reasoned. He may as well get some training in for when this all ended.
He’d even made it past Alecto this time.
“Excellent timing,” Zagreus remarked under his breath as a gong echoed through the Asphodel Chamber.
“Let’s clear these wretches quickly, shall we?” Thanatos said simply, holding his scythe with a small smile.
“You’re on,” Zagreus replied and the competition began.
Despite his eagerness, Zagreus was lagging behind. He’d hardly gotten a single hit in, let alone kill any of the wretches himself. Frustrated, he cursed under his breath. He should’ve known the Fists of Malphon were a bad decision in his current state of wellbeing.
All too soon, the Chamber had been cleared and their scores had been tallied. Zagreus hadn’t killed a single wretch. He could feel yet another flower blooming in his throat. “Ugh. Shit… Well done, Than.”
Thanatos glanced over at Zagreus in concern. “What’s wrong, Zag? You don’t look so good.”
“Just a little winded, I guess,” he replied, trying to subtly clear his throat. All it accomplished was sending a thorn straight into the bag of his throat, causing him to gag. “Ugh. I… never mind, I feel dead on my feet right now. Uh, no pun intended.”
A barely perceptible smirk flashed across Thanatos’ face for a moment, which quickly fell into his usual stoic expression. “You’re not going to make it very far like this. Do you… I can send you back to the House, if it would make you more comfortable.”
Heat blossomed in Zagreus’ cheeks at the offer. How strangely romantic it felt to be asked how he would next like to die. “Oh! Uhm, that’s very kind of you, Than, but I think I’d rather take my chances. Might just have to pick up the pace a bit.”
Thanatos chuckled dryly, taking no steps to hide how clearly unamused he was. “Fine, then. It’s your choice. I suspect I’ll be seeing you soon anyway.”
He disappeared in a flash of green light, leaving Zagreus alone in the empty chamber with just his thoughts for company. Great.
Naturally, Thanatos was right. Blue Lernie and his falling rocks made quick work of Zagreus, returning him to the House of Hades before he’d even really had the chance to let all his boons do their jobs.
He emerged from the Styx, as he often did. He passed by a crowd of shades, did his typical playful banter with Hypnos, petted Cerberus, and then headed into the west hall to find Achilles and Thanatos.
“There you are. Good thing I was right, I don’t have much longer to spare for a break,” Thanatos remarked, as Zagreus arrived and leaned up against the banister next to him. With a heavy sigh, he continued, “What’s going on with you? I know things have been off for you ever since you made it to the surface the first few times, but you’ve been acting even stranger than usual.”
Zagreus hummed guiltily. “Yeah… I’m really sorry if I’ve worried you, Than. I’ve been… Well, before I say anything, how much of the recent reports about me have you read?”
Thanatos shrugged. “None recently. I’ve been occupied with my own work. Why, what does that have to do with anything?”
“Nothing, nothing!” Zagreus lied, sheepishly. “Well, look, I… That’s not what I wanted to talk about. I wanted to… A while back, you asked me what you were to me and I didn’t have an answer for you at the time.”
He swore he could feel a familiar tickle in his chest, but that was impossible, he’d only just emerged from the Styx. Zagreus cleared his throat and sighed. “Look, I… I care for you very deeply. I would even go so far as to say I love you, but I feel like we’re in a slightly weird place at the moment and I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not comfortable with.”
Thanatos sighed and his carefully neutral expression fell away. “So that’s what all this is about? You’ve been slipping up on purpose because you thought you would better receive my attention that way.”
Despite the inaccuracy of the accusation, Zagreus supposed that was a fair enough point. He had once thrown himself into the River Phlegethon after a conversation with Thanatos had ended in a horrible misunderstanding that kept haunting him throughout the flooded fields of Asphodel.
Zagreus shrugged, “Listen, if you don’t feel the same way about me, that’s fine. Just… for both of our sake’s, I’d rather know now if I’m wasting my time.”
“When did I ever say that?” Thanatos snapped back, flustered and embarrassed. “Of course I love you too, Zagreus, I just, this is a lot—”
A sudden sensation of gripping nausea struck Zagreus as the other spoke, stopping him in his tracks. “Zag?”
Zagreus cursed. The flower growth should have reset after his death, there was no reason for it all to have come back so quickly, especially given that Thanatos had all but admitted he felt the same way. Unless…
Even death couldn’t stop it from progressing anymore.
His vision swam, his stomach lurched, and Zagreus did not even have ample time to warn Thanatos before he was vomiting flowers all over his own front. “Than—!” he choked desperately. Gentle death reached a hand forward, grasping and desperate, horrified. “Zag?! What the hell is happening?”
Zagreus’ eyes watered as he was wracked with more violent heaves and coughs. “I… There’s… Nyx can… explain everything. I can’t… ah, damn it, I—”
It was too late. The Styx had surged forward and claimed Zagreus in its grasp.
**
Zagreus had confessed his love for both the First Fury and Death Incarnate, and still it was not enough. Every day, flowers surged beneath his skin and killed him from the inside out.
He was running out of options. He knew he wasn’t in love with anyone else. His heart all but belonged to Megaera and Thanatos, yet somehow this damned affliction persisted.
“Zagreus, I hope you know how much you mean to me. You’ve always been so kind, so helpful… You’re my best friend,” Dusa reported cheerfully, doing her best to shield her concern.
The flowers kept growing. Every day that nightmare drew closer to reality. He grew weaker. His body became his prison. His heart his greatest tormentor. He knew he loved no others.
“If I have not made it apparent enough; I have always cared very deeply for you, Zagreus. I love you,” Achilles confessed at his bedside, even as the flowers blossomed through his mouth and nose, making it painful to respond.
The damned flowers kept growing.
“Though you are not my child by blood, nor one that I bore myself, I have always been proud to call you my son, Zagreus,” Nyx reassured him as she carded her hand through his hair. “I love you.”
The damned flowers just kept growing and growing.
“As much as guy like me can, I love ya very much pal,” from Skelly. “Hang in there.”
“You better fight this, Zagreus. I love you too damn much to see this happening to you,” from Meg.
Still, the flowers just kept growing like weeds in his chest and lungs, nestling amongst his ribs like parasites.
Tensions had risen in the House of Hades steadily, the longer that Zagreus suffered, but they had all but boiled over between the first of the Erinyes and Death himself.
“Are you out of your mind?” Megaera snapped, her grip tightening on her whip in easy rage. Thanatos hissed back, “If the Lethe would spare him all of this suffering, we should stop being selfish and ask if he would be willing to—”
She interrupted him furiously, “And how much of the river will he have to drink for this to conveniently go away? How much of himself is he going to have to erase in order for you to be convinced that this can all be resolved with a quick solution?”
“We have tried everything else!” Thanatos insisted. “First, he confessed to you, then me, even Dusa and Achilles and Hypnos. There is nobody else left in the House that could possibly solve this, he said it himself.”
“Well, clearly, he’s lying. There’s someone else and he’s being too stubborn to admit that, just like he was with you,” Meg insisted back, scowling. “The Lethe is not an option, Thanatos. Not after all of this.”
“Are you planning on searching the entire Underworld for the chance that one of these wretched shades will be the one Zag has fallen desperately in love with?” Thanatos snarled furiously. “If I thought there was any other choice, I wouldn’t have suggested this, but as it is, Zag has suffered enough! Let him choose to forget if he wants to! Maybe that way, he’ll actually get to live again.”
“I will not risk losing him to the Lethe!” she roared, looking every bit like rage incarnate.
“He is already lost!” he bellowed in a grief-fuelled reply, setting aside his gentleness to match her energy.
All at once, they were both quieted and held in place by darkness. “Enough!” Nyx scolded firmly, like dealing with unruly toddlers. “This behaviour is not befitting of your station, Megaera, Thanatos. Fighting in the House is strictly prohibited and highly disgraceful from those in positions like yours. Am I clear on that front?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Megaera replied instantly, like a good soldier. Thanatos, after a moment of seething silence, nodded his agreement, “Yes, Mother Night.”
“You are dismissed,” she ordered coldly. “Get back to work.”
With a scoff, Thanatos disappeared in a puff of green smoke. Megaera grimaced and prepared herself for the flight through Tartarus. The poor wretches who would suffer her whip were going to be particularly sore that day-or-night.
The matter of whether to offer the reprieve of the river Lethe to Zagreus had been temporarily forced to resolve by Nyx, but Meg knew that they would return to this discussion again soon if no other solution was found.
**
In the days-or-nights that followed, the foundation of the House of Hades was deteriorating along with its Prince. Eventually the growth of Zagreus’ condition was too much for his bedroom and too uncomfortable to bear, so he had to be moved into the garden.
It had come to a point where Zagreus could no longer truly die. Like the Titans in the depths of the earth, his body had been so deeply destroyed from the inside out, that the Styx could no longer embrace him.
The air in the House of Hades was stale, deader than death itself. It was as if the entire realm had collectively been forced to hold its breath and stop. Without the energy of its Prince, the Underworld had all but stagnated and rotted to its core.
Everything was falling apart and everyone was falling behind. Megaera and Thanatos were struggling to meet their quotas, Hypnos retreated into dreams more often than he ever had, Dusa and Achilles could no longer save face in their duties. Cerberus was inconsolable, spending his days curled up by Zagreus’ side when he wasn’t viciously tearing everything up in despair.
Even the shades beyond the House had begun to feel the effects. Sisyphus’ sunny disposition disappeared once more, Eurydice couldn’t bring herself to sing, Patroclus receded back into isolation, the Champions Asterius and Theseus ached at the loss of their fiercest opponent.
The Lord Hades too felt as though he had lost everything all over again. He was a man used to loss and receiving the short end of the stick. He had been the first to be swallowed alive by his Father and the last to receive his Kingdom when the titans fell.
He had lost his chance at an heir as decreed by the Fates long ago, he had lost his wife to the grief, and now he had lost his once painstakingly resuscitated son for good. Everything he had fought for was for nothing.
Hades had regained control of his soulless kingdom, at the cost of everything that truly mattered.
**
Time down in the Underworld was scarcely measurable, it occurred to the flowering Zagreus-shaped lump one day-or-night. He’d always accounted for the change in times by significant events.
He remembered the moments he fell in love with people, the time he lost his job, the many times he had been called a disappointment, and the time he had learnt that Persephone was his real mother.
He remembered his first attempt at escaping. He had taken the Stygian Blade in hand and died to a Wretched Thug shortly after.
He remembered when he first coughed up a flower. How confused he had been… how naïve to his own fate he had been.
The moments in-between all of the things he remembered tended to blend together. It was hard to say just how long it had been for each of his escape attempts. It was even harder to say just how long it had been since he was last able to leave.
How long had he been this mass of pustulant dirt in the ground? How long had it been since he’d last seen Persephone? Did she worry for him? Did she think he had given up?
These questions plagued the Prince of Hell in his every living moment. In dreams he found no release either. Just the vicious and unrelenting determination that he had no capacity to live up to anymore.
All of a sudden, he was brought out of his hopeless stupor, as a wet nose pressed against the skin of Zagreus’ arm. He flexed his fingers and rotated his wrist with a wince to scratch at the fur of his companion. Despite himself, he smiled.
“Good boy, Cerberus,” he spoke aloud, like a shout into endless silence.
A long and rough tongue licked Zagreus’ cheek in response, making him chortle roughly and painfully through the roots in his throat. It had been the most meaningful interaction he’d had in ages. The others scarcely came to visit him anymore – perhaps feeling that Zagreus had been all but lost to them forever.
A simple scratch under a furry chin, the wet kisses of his faithful hound and friend, which had once been so simple was now so monumental that it fatigued the prince down to his core. It was exhausting to recall what life had once been like.
He could do no more than succumb to sleep once again. In his current state, sleep was more reachable for Zagreus than its twin, death, even if it had once been the opposite. Ironic, he thought, considering that he couldn’t recall the last time he had felt Thanatos by his side. That being said, Zagreus had not found Hypnos in any of his dreams.
With familiar bitterness and resentment in his heart, the Prince of Hell drifted off into unconsciousness and wondered if he would ever escape this fate.
**
Footsteps sent vibrations through the earth and up through his root system. Zagreus shuddered. When was the last time he’d felt something like that?
Someone was coming. Someone had come to see him, finally.
Would it be Meg? Than? Hypnos? Achilles? Nyx? Dusa? He practically fluttered with anticipation. It had been so long. He had been so lonely, so desperate, so hungry for any semblance of the love he’d once been so sure of.
He dared not move, in case he scared whoever it was away. He could scarcely breathe anyway. He had no need to move nor the means to.
The footsteps slowed and then stopped altogether. The air was alight with wonder. He surged with desperation. Come closer, he begged silently. Please, come closer.
Next to him, he felt the shaking of the earth as someone fell to their knees beside him. With what little he could parse out; he knew that whoever it was had to be significantly broader than him to create such a wide thump and vibration.
Zagreus shuddered as the figure placed a hand on his cheek. The touch was so gentle and yet all encompassing; it practically swallowed Zagreus whole under the wide stretch of a palm as big as his head.
“…Father,” he croaked out tearfully, unbelieving.
The roots of white asphodel had claimed Zagreus’ eyes and ears long ago, forcing him to rely on touch alone to make sense of the world.
He’d all but memorised the feel of his loved ones’ touches on his skin, since he had been blinded and deafened for so long that the memories of their faces and voices were beginning to fade. Megaera’s hands were slender and smooth with sharp pointed nails that she would sometimes sink into his skin on reflex alone, fierce just like her. Thanatos’ hands were always cool to the touch and gentle like death himself.
Achilles’ hands were broad and strong, toughened with war-won calluses even in death. Nyx’s hands were graceful and familiar, like falling asleep in his loving mother’s arms. Hypnos’ hands were like sleep itself, a comforting embrace from the scion of Oneiros.
In all the time that he had spent here, withering into something neither alive nor dead – he could never have imagined his father would greet him so gently like this.
When had it last been that the God of the Dead had ever been affectionate like this? Neither Hades nor Zagreus could recall. Had it ever been like this between them? Had all the physical touch he’d ever been granted by his father been that of violence?
Zagreus sobbed and pulled at his roots to try and wrench his arm free to embrace his father in turn. The pain of such an act, though heartbreakingly familiar, never got easier to deal with.
Every nerve ending screamed in protest, every root networked sparked with sheer gut-wrenching agony, but the euphoria of getting to finally be held by someone he cared for made every second worth it.
“I love you,” he croaked weakly, but declaring it with all his might. “Father. I love you.”
A pregnant pause filled the roaring silence and isolation. If there was a verbal response, he could not hear it. If there was a visual response, he could not see it. But despite all that the flowers had taken from him, despite all that Zagreus had lost to them, he felt his father’s response.
Two endlessly broad hands moved to cup the back of his head and lightly pinch him up from the ground. He protested the disconnect with a grown but could do nothing as he was picked like a flower. His heart pounded in anticipation.
In a swift motion, the God of the Dead pulled Zagreus upwards and snapped him from his roots to embrace him fiercely and it hurt like nothing else he had ever experienced.
Everything felt like burning. Everything about it was painful.
And yet… and yet…
The sensation of droplets hitting his skin felt like the most blissful and exquisite drowning. All at once, Zagreus understood why the expression ‘floods of tears’ existed for there could be no other turn of phrase to describe how he wept, nor how his father wept.
His heart pouring over with love, Zagreus pushed through the pain and embraced Hades tightly, doing all he could to convey the message ringing through his mind, crashing in his soul like the waves from his floods of tears.
I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.
“I love you,” said Zagreus with renewed determination, fighting everything that kept him buried to get the message across. He felt the rumble of a response in Hades’ throat, from where his head was tucked underneath his father’s chin. His heart surged, thorns tightened and constricted around his veins and lungs.
In his heart of hearts, Zagreus knew what Hades had said. He had all but heard it through touch alone, as if Hades had screamed it into his ear. That realisation, that affirmation, that confirmation…
What followed was the sweetest agony that Zagreus had ever experienced.
The asphodel and poppies that had taken his form for so long began to wither and die, crawling out of his system like a disease had been purged. His ears popped from the change in pressure, and suddenly he could hear absolutely everything.
He gagged as the main asphodel flower withered its way down his throat and coughed as air rushed into his lungs all at once. He spluttered and wheezed and hacked, turning his head away from his father to spit out one rotten seed onto the grass below.
For the first time in who knows how long, Zagreus was free of his flowers.
The hands that held him tightened, as if in disbelief. “Zagreus?” Hades asked hesitantly, far gentler than he had ever been in Zagreus’ own living memory.
“Father…” he responded meekly, wincing at the sound of his own voice. “I can… I can hear you,” Zagreus remarked, still entirely unsure whether he was dreaming or not. “I can’t feel the flowers anymore.”
“They’re gone, boy,” Hades rumbled with a tone of voice that was imperceptibly light. “The rot has been purged.”
The distinct and sorely missed gurgling of the River Styx filled Zagreus’ ears all at once. After being denied death for so long, it seemed as though the time had finally come. He was ready to embrace it again. Hades’ grip on Zagreus’ shoulders loosened. “Well… It seems the time has come. I shall see you when you emerge from the Styx once more.”
“Wait, please. Don’t go,” Zagreus begged. “Stay with me. Just until… just until I go.”
“Very well,” Hades replied after a deeply painful and awful moment of Zagreus feeling like he would walk away. “I am here.”
Hundreds of hands, cold yet not unkind, reached to embrace Zagreus for the first time in who knows how long and dragged him down to the depths of the river. As the water rushed into his mouth and nose, filling the spaces in his throat and lungs, he felt its power engulf him wholeheartedly with promise and nothing but the deepest love.
Zagreus let himself succumb to it.
**
When he emerged from the Pool, it took a moment for his mind to catch up with how his body had been rejuvenated. He sat up, feeling unsure of himself as he went to stand on his own two feet.
The House of Hades was quiet. No shades were around to be seen. There were no signs of Hypnos, nor even Cerberus as he peered through the hall. The East and West wings were deserted of any usual occupants -
“Where is everyone?” Zagreus asked Hades with great unnerve. Hades grumbled, almost dejectedly. “They have elected to complete their duties elsewhere throughout the realm. After your curse progressed, many found themselves unable to focus on work due to the distress you caused.”
“That I caused?” Zagreus spluttered aghast with disbelief. “Are you kidding me? After all of this, you still think I suffered this blasted curse intentionally?”
The tenderness his father had shown before had all but been an anomaly, of course. Damn it all, why had he thought that this would change anything? It had been too much to expect that his father would treat him kindly now that he was alive again.
Hades scowled. “Such a curse need not have happened had you been less obstinate and realised that I have always loved you, boy. Your suffering was born of unnecessary doubt. You had no reason to believe that your familial affections were unrequited.”
Zagreus broke into hysterical bitter laughter. “You truly think that? I had no reason to doubt you?”
“Why would I have taken all these measures to prevent your escape if not for love, boy? Even now, as you stand able to live and breathe without poppies bursting through your skin because I freed you from the curse that bound you – still you doubt me,” Hades lectured once more, speaking at Zagreus like it would make him understand any clearer.
Zagreus scoffed, as a surge of righteous anger filled his body. “Of course I thought you didn’t care for me! You never made it obvious that you did. Every day, you make me feel like a failure, like all I’m good for is disappointing you. No matter how hard I try you always make sure to remind me how futile it was to attempt to please you.”
“Everything I have done has only ever been out of concern for you, to help you reach your full potential. I will not be blamed for your squandering of the opportunities I have given you,” Hades scolded, a look of sheer disdain across his face.
The son of Hades shook his head in disbelief. “And to think that for a moment there, I thought you finally understood. Glad to know that nothing’s changed and I didn’t start all this for no reason.”
With some degree of exasperation, the father of Zagreus shot back, “I understand you better than you know. I know that you are more like me than you care to admit. I know that you are vexingly wilful, and irritatingly stubborn. When you do not wish to hear me – you will never listen. And I know that, despite your protestations otherwise, you do not hate me as much as you claim.”
Zagreus huffed but did not deny it.
He supposed that was the root of the issue. That despite how terrible of a father he was, how uncaring he appeared, and how often he had mistreated his son throughout his entire existence – Zagreus did in fact love Hades.
What a radical notion that was, he thought bitterly. Zagreus had wasted more time than was measurable trying to earn his father’s love and Hades never had to put in a modicum of effort to receive any of it in turn. It had been there all along, all because Zagreus gave it freely through all of his own efforts.
It struck him suddenly how unfair it all felt that he had to work so hard to love and be loved in turn. It struck him suddenly how much loving Hades truly hurt. Even though the blasted rotten flowers purged from his system, he still felt hollow and awful.
Hades and Zagreus both loved one another deeply and still it would not be enough to end this conflict. Neither he nor Hades were men to be convinced by words and promises alone. They could say they loved each other until the Gates to the Underworld closed, and it would still not be enough to convince either one of them.
Vexingly wilful indeed.
“Fine,” said Zagreus simply. “Suppose I agree with you. Where does that leave us now? You think I can just return back to before this all started, while mother waits out there for me? Do you think your admittance of love makes up for everything?”
A sombre sigh left the Lord of the Underworld’s lips. His son had a point. “Even now, after all this… you plan to battle through my realm to return to the surface. And to what end? You will ransack through the realm and return here after dying like always. You have learnt nothing from your suffering.”
Zagreus chuckled harshly, masking bitter hurt behind a new façade of unearned confidence. “You’re wrong. I have learnt something.”
Hades met Zagreus’ determined glare then. It had been too long since Zagreus had looked at him with those damned odd eyes – one his own fierce red and black, and the other contemptuously soft green that burned into his soul.
The ghosts of new memories that would haunt him for many days-or-nights to come - the floral-ridden husk of a person that his son had become – flickered in and out of Hades’ vision where Zagreus stood with a renewed determination.
“People have ways of surprising us,” said Zagreus.
Hades scoffed. The notion was childish, naïve, predictably as foolish, idealistic and hopelessly romantic as Zagreus himself had proved to be. “And how, pray tell, did you learn that?”
“Because you did,” Zagreus replied earnestly.
After a moment of digesting the sweet yet very cliché sentiment, Hades formulated his typical response – only to get interrupted by the sound of a familiar gong echoing throughout the hall.
Ah. How convenient.
“Zagreus!” Thanatos remarked, rushing to his side and placing on hand on Zagreus’ shoulder immediately. “You’re back…! I felt it when you died, I—What happened? Did… how was your curse broken?”
In quick succession following Thanatos’ return to the House, several other members had apparently heard the news of Zagreus’ recently acquired health and rushed to check up on him. Megaera, Dusa, Achilles, Nyx, Hypnos, Orpheus, Cerberus – even the House Contractor, Chef, Wretched Broker, as well as dozens of other nameless shades gathered to check up on the wellbeing of their beloved prince.
He reassured them all of his health, spun wild tales and excuses that gave no true indication of what had actually happened, and eventually somehow convinced everyone to return back to their posts like all was well and ready for a return to normalcy.
Damn that boy and his incredible persuasiveness with a bottle of Nectar on hand.
For those he was more intimately acquainted with to varying degrees – the main circle of friends, family members, and lovers within the House – they each received their own personal explanations later.
Despite Zagreus’ declarations, he did not return to his escape attempts right away. Perhaps at the behest of his lovers, since becoming a humanoid flower bed had still left some scars on Zagreus’ muscle memory, even if the curse being broken and his embrace from the Styx had washed away all the physical changes.
Soon enough though, Zagreus got back on his flame-licked feet and found his way through the depths of Tartarus, Asphodel, and Elysium once again.
When Zagreus eventually returned to the surface once more, Persephone embraced him fiercely and gratefully. She too had received word of what had occurred, courtesy of Charon and his quick business associate, and was furious at what Zagreus had suffered.
They hadn’t had enough time to speak on the whole of the issue before Zagreus had to return. Many of the gory details had to be spared from the conversation, just that it had been the fault of Hades and Zagreus’ complicated relationship preventing him from reaching her again.
It planted a new seed for the future. One that guaranteed that the Queen of the Underworld would return in due time.
Ultimately, Zagreus knew that he could keep fighting for that future.