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Hades’s stacks of wine casks aren’t exactly what Artemis would call “comfortable” to perch on, but they’re in a corner away from the rest of the family, so they’ll work.
It’s not that she doesn’t want to spend time with her family. They’re just...loud. And drunk. And chatty , which is maybe the worst part of it. And well, most of the time she genuinely doesn’t want to spend time with her family. Callisto and the nymphs are all the family she needs most days. Hunting has always made more sense to her than the intricacies of Olympian conversation, and this feast is absolutely flooded in delicate lines she knows she’s not supposed to cross (not that she even understands what the lines are ).
It’s exhausting and overwhelming and she’s right on the threshold of leaving.
Except...well. She still needs time to observe this. Him.
He’s talking to Dionysus right now, laughing and joking like they’ve known each other for years. She supposes they’re both good at that sort of thing, full of that raw, natural charisma that’s always eluded her. She thought he might understand her, but - hm. There’s several reasons why she’s hesitant now. Him being a people person isn’t at the top of the list, but it’s still on the list.
“Hey there Miss Huntress! Having a nice time scoping out the rest of us? What would I have to do to get you to warn me before you shoot off one of your arrows, hm?”
Artemis glances down to see Hermes leaning against one of the casks. He’s holding a goblet, which is exactly half full of wine. She suspects he hasn’t had a drop of it.
“Don’t fret, Hermes.” She says, flatly. “I won’t be using you lot as target practice right now. If I get itchy for my bow, I’ll just leave.”
Hermes hums and swirls the wine in his goblet. “That’d be a bit of a shame. I would’ve thought you’d be excited to be here! Not having a very good time after all, then?”
Artemis scoffs. “And why would I be excited to be here?”
“Well there’s Achilles here, for one,” Hermes says. He gives her a wink, and she shrugs. It’s a fair accusation, and she had been excited to finally meet Aristos Achaoin . He’d been honored to speak with a goddess, and more importantly, he’d been able to keep up with her talk of weapons and strategy better than almost anyone else. He’d also been more mellow than she expected, which she thinks is a good thing in the end. If he was still a boastful and battle-hungry Greek warrior, she doubts she’d enjoy conversation with him.
“It was nice to have the chance to speak with him,” Artemis says. “But one conversation only lasts so long. I could leave now and be perfectly fulfilled.”
“Then why haven’t you?” Hermes raises an eyebrow. She almost thinks he’s challenging her, trying to trip her up or get information out of her in that tricky, slippery way they all do. Except she’s never really felt like Hermes is interested in making her into a fool. She knows he could, and she knows that he knows that she knows it, but there’s something about him that still makes her feel more certain of herself than she is with almost anyone else in the family.
Just because he’s tolerable doesn’t mean she’s going to answer him, though. Instead she glances back over at Zagreus. Poseidon has wandered into the conversation now. She can hear him regaling Zagreus with one of his fishing tales, and she almost feels sorry for him.
“He isn’t quite what he seems.” Hermes says. He sounds calmer than usual, and when she looks back down at him, he’s got a serious expression. “I know he’s probably not what you were expecting. Don’t give up on him just yet though, alright? I think he’ll surprise you.”
Artemis doesn’t really know what to do with that. So she does what she always does when none of her family makes any sense and she’s past her limit for trying to understand them.
She leaves.
It isn’t very hard to track down the area near the entrance to the Underworld, as it happens. Or maybe it is, for most people. But Artemis has never been most people.
She sits in a tree with a clear view of the path to Persephone’s old cottage. She knows this area well, so stumbling across a cottage and garden bursting with verdure where she’d expected just another snowy clearing had been a pretty major tipoff that something was up.
She knows that Zagreus doesn’t stay on the surface for long, though she still doesn’t fully understand why. Persephone hadn’t explained that part with a lot of detail, which isn’t much of a surprise. She’d left plenty of details out of her story, enough that even Artemis picked up on the underlying hints.
Don’t question this. It’s an olive branch where you never thought to look. You all thought I was dead, but here I am, here’s my son. I’ll let you have us if you let us be.
Not that Artemis cares one way or the other if Persephone is lying. She liked Persephone alright way back when, and she thinks she’d probably get along with her now if she tried. A bit of lying wouldn’t get too much in the way of that. Not in this family.
She cares that Zagreus lied, though. She thought...well. She thought he might understand.
Shows what a fool she is. She’d barely even heard him speak! It’s not as though they’d really gotten to know each other, mostly she’d just talked at him and he’d given her very confusing and suspicious gifts, and...listened. He really had listened. She knows he did because he came up to her at that feast and asked about Callisto, about the nymphs, about where she goes when she can’t stand to be on that mountain anymore.
She doesn’t like that he tricked her. For all that she tolerates Hermes, there’s no real fondness in her heart for deception.
But she wants to like Zagreus. She wants to see if maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t being such a fool when she’d offered comfort and kindness and told him he wasn’t alone - she was there, as much as she could be. She knows that even talkative, charismatic people get lonely, sometimes.
She needs to understand him better, is what it comes down to. And what better way to understand her prey than observation?
Therefore: tree-sitting. Perfectly sensible.
She’s gazing at the path she’s certain Zagreus will walk once he gets out of the Temple of Styx and does...whatever it is he does before continuing on to Greece. Sensitive to any change in the scenery as she is, the dissonant bell toll that comes from right beneath the tree she’s perched in nearly knocks her over. As she clings to the branch above her, she’s thankful she didn’t bring Callisto after all. Her partner will love her regardless of any clumsy moments, but that doesn’t mean Artemis wouldn’t still feel embarrassed.
Once she’s steadied herself, she adjusts so she can see what’s going on below her.
It’s...Death. Thanatos, she remembers, that’s his name. Ares likes him, not that she typically relies on Ares’s character judgement. Hermes has said a thing or two about him being a decent sort, which means a bit more to her. According to the Olympian gossip she hears (unprompted) from Hermes when he delivers messages and from her brother when he decides to pester her, he’s also Zagreus’s partner.
He looks tense, but quietly so. Despite his noisy entrance, he barely makes a sound now. He floats above the snow and seems to hardly breathe. There’s very little to give him away. Most people probably wouldn’t even realize he’s there.
But Artemis has never been most people.
“What’re you doing here?” She calls down. Thanatos startles and glances around him before realizing that the voice came from above. He looks up, expression confused and then shocked when he sees her.
She can see him swallow. “Lady Artemis. I did not realize you were here.”
Artemis wrinkles her nose. “Ugh, none of that please. I can tolerate it with mortals, but I’ve got no interest in being all formal with other gods.”
She considers him for a moment, then drops down from her branch. She twists in the air so she can grab a branch near ground level before touching down, swinging lightly before hitting the snow. Goddess of the hunt and wilderness she may be, but immune to a stinging ankle from a forceful landing she is not.
Thanatos gives her a searching look before nodding. “Very well. If I may ask, what brings you to the area? I was not aware this was within your usual hunting grounds.”
“It isn’t.” Artemis says, shrugging. “I’m waiting for Zagreus. He’s your partner, isn’t he?”
Oh wow, that’s got him blushing . Not much, but Artemis’s eyes are as sharp as her arrows, and the gradient of gold ichor against his dark skin is an easy mark for her. She’s seen her reflection after spending time with Callisto, which means she knows very well what a yes looks like on a person’s face.
“He is,” Thanatos says, quietly. She suspects it’s an attempt to hide the note of embarrassment and lyric of adoration. It’s a complete failure, but it’s also sort of cute that he’s trying.
Artemis mulls over whether or not she feels like interrogating Thanatos about these complicated feelings tangling up her thoughts. On the one hand, she doesn’t know almost anything about him, and she has no good way to tell if he’d be truthful with her. On the other hand, what little she does know includes that he’s a solitary sort of person, which makes her think they might understand each other at least a bit.
And well, who better to ask about Zagreus than his partner?
Artemis leans against the tree trunk and busies herself with the strings of her bow. “Tell me. What sort of person is Zagreus?”
She doesn’t look up, unwilling to risk showing her uncertain expression to a person she doesn’t trust. She can still hear the weight of confusion in Thanatos’s pause, followed by a short hum of consideration.
“He is passionate and driven and acts before he thinks. He wears his heart openly and can’t help but meddle in other people’s business. He’s brave and reckless and clever, and he’d move the heavens and the earth if asked to by someone he cared for. I’ve never met anyone else like him, and I sincerely doubt I ever will.”
Thanatos’s tone is measured and calm, like he’s practiced these words a thousand times. His fondness is still right beneath the surface, but it doesn’t seem like he’s trying to hide it. Artemis might not be great with people, but unless Thanatos is an absolute master of deception with a damn good reason to trick her, she’s confident that he’s telling the truth.
“Persephone lied about him trying to meet us, didn’t she?” Artemis asks. She didn’t realize the question was on her tongue until it was already outside her, but all of a sudden it’s become important after all. She looks up at Thanatos, their brows furrowed in perfect mirrors. He takes a deep breath and turns his face back into a cool, collected mask.
“It is not my place to speak for the Queen.” He pauses, like he knows she’s not going to let him get away with that little of an answer. “I...apologize for my evasiveness in this matter. I do not wish to entangle myself in Olympian politics more than I must.”
Artemis sighs. “I can’t say I don’t understand. In all honesty, I feel much the same. It’s just...I thought I understood him, you know? And now I really don’t know what to think.”
Thanatos looks at her consideringly for a long moment.
“If you were to ask Zagreus, I do not think he would be able to keep himself from telling you the entire tale, start to finish.” He pauses and looks away. “He hated deceiving all of you. I know he dearly wishes to earn his family’s trust and he very sincerely regrets having to hold back information from those who were so genuine with him. I would ask that you not use that against him. Please do not abuse his open heart.”
Artemis doesn’t really know how to respond to that. The good news is that, judging by his stiff posture and extremely clear discomfort, she gets the feeling that Thanatos doesn’t really want much of a response from her.
In the end, all she says is: “I don’t want to hurt him. I promise.”
That seems to be more than enough for him. He gives her a short nod and then looks away once more. The silence that stretches between them isn’t too painfully uncomfortable, though there’s edges of awkwardness that Artemis doesn’t love.
“You’re waiting for him?” She asks, half to fill the silence and half because she’s genuinely curious.
Thanatos clears his throat. “Yes. When he dies on the surface, he’s under my domain. I could leave him to the Styx, but I...prefer to handle this with a more, ah. Personal touch.”
“He dies when he gets here?” Artemis asks, not bothering to hide her surprise. Thanatos looks at her, eyebrows raised.
“I wasn’t aware you did not know.” He says. “Yes, he always dies when he reaches the surface. For some reason or another, his life force is tied to the Underworld. He cannot remain aboveground for long before succumbing to natural causes.”
Artemis chews on her lip. That’s certainly interesting information. And...hm.
“Why is that your domain, then? Aren’t you the god of all death?”
She might be embarrassing herself with the question, but as a rule, she’s not all that concerned with looking dignified to other gods. She’ll be the first to admit she doesn’t keep up with all the domains that fall under each god’s purview, and in general, there’s not all that much information about the Cthonic gods in particular.
Thanatos huffs out a breath that’s almost a laugh. “Not quite. I have sway over Death in the broadest sense, yes. My specific domain, however, is of gentle death. Natural causes and the like.”
“Huh.” Artemis tilts her head consideringly. “I wasn’t aware. Why do you work with Ares on the battlefields, then?”
Thanatos sighs heavily at that, so full of exasperation that she can tell is aimed at Ares. She barely keeps from laughing.
“When mortal deaths are particularly high, I lend my aid to the other psychopomps. There are also natural deaths on the battlefield, on occasion. Lord Ares considers them to be particularly disappointing, and will sometimes tell me such at length. We are colleagues by circumstance, not design.”
His flat tone really does make it hard not to giggle, but Artemis manages. He doesn’t sound all that annoyed, is the thing. It’s the kind of resignation over having to deal with Ares that she’s plenty familiar with, and it’s undeniably funny to hear from Thanatos.
“That makes sense,” Artemis says. She does her best to keep the humor out of her voice. “So, if you preside over deaths by natural causes...why have you never come to take the souls of any of my Huntresses? They don’t always die during Hunts. More than a few of them have fallen under quieter circumstances.”
The look he gives her is the most genuine she’s seen from him so far. It’s almost startling in its sincerity.
“I would never presume to overstep my bounds.” He says. “Your nymphs are under your protection. I know their souls are not meant for the Underworld. You place them in trees or among the stars. I would never wish to disturb that.”
All at once, Artemis sees this man, this god, this personification of death in its most basic form, in an entirely new light. He is both more than she expected and somehow utterly familiar. It’s strange, but not unpleasant.
“Thank you,” She murmurs. He just nods.
At that moment, they both hear footsteps approaching and labored breathing. She glances at Thanatos and just for a moment, she sees an expression of such tender grief and acceptance that she has to look away. Zagreus is approaching, then.
“Well, it was good to meet you.” Artemis says. “I’ll just leave you to it. And um...thank you. For your help.”
Then she leaps back into the trees and she’s gone.
From time to time, Artemis comes back to sit in that same tree and observe. Thanatos isn’t always there, and even when he is, they don’t always acknowledge each other. When they do, it’s usually just a nod, which seems to suit both of them just fine. It’s a relief, actually, to not have to figure out how to do conversation with him.
For quite a while, she never mentions any of this to Zagreus. She trusts what Thanatos told her, but she still needs to figure out the shape of her strange new cousin for herself. Watching him walk (or stumble) through the still-melting snow from Demeter’s receding winter is...enlightening.
He talks to snakes (and gets bitten). He shouts, just to hear the echo of his own voice (and dies in an avalanche). He stops to smell the flowers, cliche as you please (and dies from a severe pollen allergy).
He watches the sunrise over the ocean with the same comfortable awe every time, like he’ll never quite believe how beautiful it is. She sees the world anew through his eyes. Small delights start popping out to her with increasing frequency. One day, Callisto comments on how she seems happier lately, and.
Huh. She supposes she is happier. It’s a very pleasant surprise.
The next time she comes to observe Zagreus’s fumbling interactions with the mortal world, she sits on one of the lowest boughs of a tree right next to the path he always walks. When his footsteps come near, she expects him to notice her right away.
But when he steps onto the path, he doesn’t look her way. He looks to the ground, now free of snow, and something in his face tenses. She’s noticed this, the last few times he’s come through. It’s like he doesn’t know what to do with the springtime, and unlike every other brand new thing Artemis has seen him stumble across, Zagreus hasn’t seemed to delight in the experience.
“Never seen springtime before, huh?” She asks. Zagreus yelps and visibly startles. Artemis does not laugh. After all, she told Thanatos she’d try to be kind.
“Lady Artemis,” Zagreus says, hand to his chest, still breathing hard. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Artemis drops down from the tree and sidles up next to him. “C’mon, let’s go watch the sunrise. And drop the titles, yeah? I hate keeping up that Olympus formality nonsense when I don’t have to.”
She starts towards the cliff he always pauses at, expecting him to follow. She sees him shrug in her periphery and then quickly come after her until they’re walking side-by-side.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Artemis says. She’s not looking at him. Her hands clench and unclench around her bow. She figured she’d be nervous, but it would’ve been nice to be wrong.
“Oh, um...yes and no,” Zagreus says. He hesitates for a moment, and Artemis remembers what Thanatos told her about Zagreus not being able to hold back his honesty. “I’ve seen it when I visited - er, that is to say, I’ve. Um. Mother is the goddess of springtime, so - ”
Artemis glances sidelong at him. “I’ve seen her old cottage. I know she wasn’t always in the Underworld.”
Zagreus stops breathing. He very clearly wasn’t expecting that.
They’ve reached the cliff, so Artemis leaves his side and goes to sit at the edge. She dangles her legs off the side and waits. After a few more minutes, he sits down next to her.
“I knew she was probably lying. I think we all did.” Artemis keeps her voice quiet. The sunrise feels too important to disturb. “I’m not upset about it, really. I don’t like that you lied to me, but I guess you didn’t have much of a choice. You were visiting her up here, weren’t you? That’s why you were trying to escape.”
Zagreus lets out a long, shaky breath. “Yeah. She left after I was born. She thought I was dead, and when I found out I just - I had to find her. I had to. So Nyx contacted Athena and we lied to all of you and then I finally convinced mother to come home and then - well. You know.”
Artemis just hums noncommittally in reply. She didn’t know the full scope of it, but none of what he’s saying is really a surprise. It all fits much better than Persephone’s story did.
“I won’t tell anyone.” She says. The sun is coming up now, shooting brilliant rays across the sea. It’d be blinding to most people. But Artemis is not most people.
“I’m sorry for lying to you,” Zagreus says. He sounds so downtrodden about it. Artemis already trusted what Thanatos said, but it’s still nice to know he wasn’t exaggerating. Clearly this kid has been holding onto the guilt.
Artemis bumps his shoulder with her own. “It’s okay. I understand now. And now that I know everything, maybe we can get closer properly.”
She doesn’t have time to get properly nervous about putting herself out there before Zagreus laughs in delight.
“I’d love to,” He grins at her. His face is like the sun, and she cannot help the little smile she gives him in return.
They both turn their attention back to the sunrise, and Artemis knows that could be it. They could leave things just as they are, and it’d be fine. Most people would find that proper, she thinks.
“The springtime makes you nervous, doesn’t it?” She blurts out. Zagreus stiffens next to her, and she winces. “Sorry. I’ve noticed you get sort of tense now that the snow’s all melted. I figured you’d like it better than the winter, being the son of Persephone and all.”
Zagreus sighs. “I thought so too. It’s just strange, seeing the whole world look the way my mother’s cottage did. I don’t know what it is about it that makes me feel so strange. I feel like I’m supposed to enjoy it, but somehow it leaves me feeling sort of paranoid instead.”
Artemis kicks her feet against the cliffside. The dislodged pebbles skip down the sheer rock face and plink into the water below, probably too small for anyone but her to notice.
“I think it makes sense.” She murmurs. Zagreus looks at her in surprise. “You’re not used to this sort of change, and even if things are good with your mother now, that doesn’t mean the past didn’t happen. If you had to spend all that time convincing her to come back and really be your mother, I think it’s only reasonable that springtime would make you feel nervous.” She coughs, embarrassed and unused to emotionally weighted conversation. “Sorry, I’m not really any good at this sort of thing.”
Zagreus bumps her shoulder. “No, that was good.” She glances at him, and his calm smile sets her more at ease than she expected. “Thanks. I’ve never thought about it like that.”
Artemis shrugs, smiles back at him. “Sure. Seems like the least I could do after watching you stumble around the surface for so long.”
He laughs, then lays back against the grass. “Well, I lied to you for quite a while. Seems only fair that you get to spy on me a bit.”
Now she does laugh, which makes him grin even wider. It makes her feel lighter inside, the weight of confusion and tangled thoughts turning into flaring sparks. She gets up and reaches a hand down to him.
“You’ve got a little bit left before you keel over, yeah? Let me show you some nice bits about spring. It’s a whole bunch of rebirth and you’re a minor god of life, oughta be right in your wheelhouse.”
He takes her hand and protests something about not being a god of anything, which she ignores. Not only did Achilles make some excellent points when they spoke at the feast, but she’s also a goddess of birth. She Knows things, Sees things. If he doesn’t believe her, that’s fine. But Zagreus is far more than he seems to think.
They don’t have much time before he starts coughing and falls to his knees. She barely got to show him a nearby rabbit’s den full of kits.
“Next time I’ll show you even more.” She promises. Zagreus smiles gratefully up at her. His ‘thank you’ doesn’t quite manage to choke itself out of his throat, but she gets the message plenty clearly.
Thanatos appears then, just in time to pull Zagreus’s body up from the red of the Styx that’d already started to pool beneath him. Artemis knows she would not need her hunter’s eyes to see the soft adoration with which Death cradles his lover.
He looks at her and nods. “Thank you.” His voice is soft, cracked slightly with something she thinks is surprise. She does not blame him for his doubt.
And then the world flashes green, and they’re both gone.
Artemis walks back over to the tree she spent so much time in while she observed Zagreus. Despite the macabre scene she just witnessed, a fond smile creeps its way across her face. After all of the lying and suspicion and change, it turns out that she really does like him.
She can’t wait to tell Callisto all about it.