Archive of Our Own

Lord Hades was not the kind to be lenient, to bend to another's will, and this was a fact known best by his own son, who'd pressed every one of his buttons and pushed the god to his very limits. This was his domain, after all. He delivered the final say. All decisions, ultimately, were his own. Not even Nyx, Night Incarnate, the creator of this very realm, could hold a single thing above his head. What leverage did she have, after all? She'd brought life to the world in which Lord Hades ultimately managed from there onwards. That was how things were, how they'd go on to be. There was nothing worse than one who was stubborn in their ways, and there was no one worth arguing with less than one who wielded power so nonchalantly, made good use of it.

Fathers, most of all, were not to be spoken back to, although, by now, Zagreus had gone far beyond mere rude remarks being made behind his back.

From the day he was born, the prince had known nothing but disdain from his father, in the event that the god didn't keep as much distance from his son as possible. It was only in much more recent times that he had finally discovered why, so much of his life spent grasping for answers finally granting him nothing but excuses he further went on to feel bitter towards. His birth, his mere existence, the one that was not meant to be, had led to Queen Persephone herself fleeing the domain, out of Lord Hades' reach. How easy it was to shift blame towards the burden that the prince was, even more so when the God of the Dead had been content with the idea of having no heir. He hadn't believed such a thing to be possible. He had longed for no different. As time marched onwards, the prince found himself more and more unable to change his father's mind on the stance. He knew now that such efforts to appease him had gone to waste.

That wasn't to say that Zagreus had found himself without love, of course. Even within the depths of Hell itself, the prince had found kinship in places both high and low, some formed from the moment he had taken his first breath. Obligations had melted into genuine adoration. Colleagues had turned to friends, turned to lovers, despite many, many bumps in the road. Those he had been instructed to look down upon, to view as inferior in comparison, he only found himself drifting towards, longing to know more about. Whatever it was he had done to find himself deserving of it more than another, he wished he understood.

It still managed to shock him when his father didn't quite follow in the footsteps of those surrounding him.

Zagreus knew that comparisons only led to the very expectations that crushed even one such as himself. He would never live up to the reputation Lord Hades had maintained across many, many years, and Lord Hades would never make up for all that he had failed to provide for his son. His mother's love, for the little the prince had known it, was new. It should confuse him, if it didn't feel so natural, so inherently correct. It was instant. A mere look towards each other, and the pair deep down had known that they belonged with one another.

The irony that his father was more absent than the one who had fled after his complicated and unforgiving birth was not lost on Zagreus, at all.

His mother had told him upon the surface, during one of their fleeting conversations, that when it came to Lord Hades, she had learned to love him. She had learned to love the life found deep within the Underworld, the way she had learned to love the cottage and garden she had nurtured by the coast. Zagreus failed to believe, however, even for a moment, that Persephone ever needed the chance to learn to love what the prince had turned out to be. She had loved him from the very start, dead or alive, and a powerful force such as that was what led to the life he lived now, for better or for worse.

The prince wouldn't trade it for anything, would take the painful way a thousand times over, if it promised him this. Perhaps, he had decided, even Lord Hades could turn over a new leaf, despite the stubbornness that he knew he himself had inherited from them both.

With such an extensive family, you'd think that Zagreus would have the slightest idea of just how it worked, by now. His cousins upon Mount Olympus, his uncles, his grandmother, provided their aid, despite all he had kept from them and the advantage taken of their kindness. Was forgiveness what it was all about? Or were they certain, more than anything, that his gratitude had been genuine, despite how he had deceived them all? That this had been important to him in a way few could grasp? That such words had not been his own to share with them, just yet? That it was always for safety? For the family? Perhaps they were simply not free of misguidance, themselves. After all, even with their blessings cherished by the prince, they had expected something of him, too, something he could not provide. Maybe family was about the expectations set for one another.

Zagreus knew plenty about that.

He'd expected a father who took notice of him and his efforts. He'd expected a mother who was there at all, and undoubtedly his own, the one who should have been there all along (as much as he'd never take for granted the gap that Nyx had so desperately done her best to fill). In a similar way, the Olympians expected their relatives to visit, from time to time. They longed for acknowledgement, knowledge of whereabouts, to provide their input in each other's lives. This must be family, as well.

Whatever it was, it didn't change the fact that his lineage in particular didn't have the best track record when it came to it. The gods he’d come to know had slain their parents, long before Zagreus was in the picture, and Lord Hades had been handed a life of solitude far from the rest. Persephone had watched her father go far too young, and had chosen with time to flee from her mother and the rest upon Olympus, if only to feel at peace with herself. The prince had followed in both of their footsteps, he knew, destined to watch his father take the fall before him, destined to flee as many times as it took, destined to be out of his mother's eye for far too long.

For the sake of the word that was now continuously thrown around, Persephone would allow herself to be swept to Mount Olympus yet again, before she'd return as if she'd never left, as if she'd always been there, and as if this was nothing more than a business trip of sorts. In order to survive her absence, one that was worse now that the prince knew all that he was missing, he had decided to try to make things work within his own realm, with his own father.

Even if Lord Hades would never possibly meet him with the same enthusiasm.

It was during one of their many battles to each other's demise that Lord Hades had taken note of a denizen nearby, his cold gaze fixed upon it, describing it to his son as a mockery. It had laid in its lake, unbothered by the bloodshed to come, having its own needs to focus upon. His father had requested, before the duel broke out, that in the event that his son were to defeat him once more, for Zagreus to rid the lake of it, in one way or another. Zagreus wondered why he had listened, when he knew he'd receive not a word of praise for it.

Namely because his father would be back within the walls of the House, awaiting his arrival, although he had a feeling that even if the act were to have been witnessed, his father would say nothing at best.

Nonetheless, this moment had given the prince an idea, one he had discussed with his mother first, as a way to soften the blow. After all, it seemed that only Persephone could ever make the God of the Dead doubt himself, rethink all that's taken place thus far. The prince still found his mood soured by the fact that quality time had to be ordered, as much as he appreciated the assistance.

A compromise was to be made, through this. In the event that Zagreus would reach the surface, having fought so tirelessly to get there, for only a moment, their duties were to be pushed aside. It was a miracle that the water hadn't frozen over, with the harsh winter his grandmother had provided to the land, but that was not his to question. What mattered now was that his own blood dripped down his back, his legs marked with the bites of vermin, and yet he still trekked onwards, the Stygian Blade dragged behind him and the Aspect of Arthur providing it with a radiant glow. His feet burn the surface of the snow he walks upon, leaving heavy footprints, a sound he's sure his father picks up on despite his refusal to turn around and face him. A learned habit, by now, Zagreus draws a deep breath, shuddering at the cold before running a hand through his hair.

"A deal's a deal, isn't it, Father?"

His father grumbles in reply, looking out towards what lies further beyond the temple Zagreus had fought his way through. He doesn't even dare to look over his shoulder, back to the one looking up at him expectantly.

"You truly do not wish to spar against me, boy?" Hades asks. "After all you've done to reach the surface once again, you decide to throw it away? Does that not bother you?"

"No," he confirms. "Not at all."

"You drag me away from my work, for this? A mortal's mindless way of passing the time?"

"Hey, we had a deal," Zagreus reminded him. "I even made use of the Pact of Punishment, knowing just how much this would bother you, once I got here. Besides, you wouldn't wish to upset Mother, would you?"

Hades hesitates, as if to choose his words with more care than he has before, eventually letting out a heavy sigh. "Well, come on, then, if you must. We don't have all day."

Of course they didn’t. They’d be lucky if they found themselves with enough time to catch a single thing, before the Styx would claim them both, swallow them and send them back down to where the universe had decided they were to belong.

During his ventures, Zagreus had found himself tracking whatever time he was given in the only way he knew how. He measured it all in the time it took for the sun to rise above the horizon, something the world could do a few times over if it wanted before the Fates argued against this reality he sought out. Perhaps without their weapons to each other’s throats, without the strength wasted on ensuring victory, it could drag out for just a bit longer than usual.

He wouldn’t count on such time being enough to lighten his father’s spirits, but at least it was a moment to listen to the sounds of whatever beings were out there, to hear the branches of trees sway lightly, to cool off.

His sword is traded off in his hands for a fisherman’s rod, one he had requested from the contractor within the House, and one that had served him well. Poseidon himself took notice of his accomplishments, on rare occasions, and even rarer than that, he’d offer the prince luck when it came down to it. Zagreus ignores the blood that trickles down his arms, wincing at the sight as it drips onto the snow below. He’s made worse messes, up here. Nature would wash it all away, by the time he’d perish and climb back to this very spot.

Hades, reluctantly, still grumbling to himself, trades his spear for a fishing rod of his own.

“You ought to be doing this with your uncle upon Olympus,” the God of the Dead remarks.

“Well, I’d love to go fishing with Lord Uncle Poseidon, actually, now that you mention it,” Zagreus admits, “but it seems he’s already occupied.”

He could gaze out towards the sea now, if he’d like, vast and seemingly endless. Whatever there was to note about it lied far below what he could see of it. One might say that one cursed to perish in a moment’s time may as well spend what he was granted exploring whatever lies within the depths of it. Zagreus feared that his time was too short for even something as simple as that.

Besides, from what he had heard, the act of drowning was far from a pleasant way to go, a feeling he’d be unable to ignore, destroying whatever experience he could have had otherwise. May his uncle forgive him for this, for there is no choice in the matter.

“And yet he seems to have plenty of time to offer his help to you.”

“Well, yeah, but- so do the others,” he argues. “It’s a family effort. Besides, it’s much easier to send one your blessing than it is to appear in person, isn’t it? I doubt he’d be too pleased by the fact that I’d die shortly into it, anyways. That is, unless we were to fish in the Underworld. I hear Tartarus is lovely this time of year.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“What? Come on, now. I already catch a few during my runs. It wouldn’t be any different.”

“Lord Poseidon would be nothing more than a distraction from your duties, more so than he already seems to be. I won’t have my brother around to make a mess of things. You ought to be taking your responsibilities more seriously.”

Zagreus scoffs. “Not as if an extra slavug or two is going to change what the Fates have in store, all that much.”

“Zagreus.”

He wasn’t going to debate this any further. The silence that carried on afterwards made that fact crystal clear.

“Alright, alright.” The prince lets out a quiet sigh to himself, lowering his voice. “I- suppose this’ll do.”

It was either this, or the pair would go on ignoring whatever tension remained between them for all eternity, and if there was one thing that had been hammered into him continuously, it was the lesson he had been taught from the beginning, a phrase which did not need repeating.

There was only so much to run from, before you’d find yourself straight back where you started, and try as he might, both he and his father were doomed to spend the rest of their lives within the same walls. Any shot in the dark at making these circumstances more tolerable couldn’t be too much of a waste of time, especially when they had plenty of that to go around.

Hades was somehow going along with it, so far, despite his distaste towards the idea in its entirety. Zagreus wondered where the pair would be now had his mother not coerced the other into this. Who would have perished, this time? Did it really matter?

“Bit late to be asking this,” he admits, taking a few steps closer, “but- have you ever fished before?”

“I have no need for such pointless activities.”

“I think there’s value to be found in it,” he argued. “It takes a bit of practice, doesn’t it? You can cook what you catch. That seems to be worth the patience.”

That, and finally getting to truly know your son, after all of these years.

Hades positions himself on the ground with a thud, Zagreus flinching at the impact. “I suppose.”

It was scarce that he found a point that his father could not find a single way to counter. Whether or not this instance was simply due to lacking the effort to shoot something back towards his son, Zagreus preferred not to question, as he claimed his own spot next to him.

The two cast their lines in silence, Zagreus admiring their bobbers that float at the top. They jiggle upon the surface of the lake, before the water stills once more. There were no guarantees that a single thing would be drawn to either hook, but he had learned to recognize the bite well. Zagreus presumed he’d feel a lot more apologetic in regards to the activity, if it weren’t for the knowledge that an afterlife was promised even to mere creatures of the deep, and the fact that a lake could only offer so much.

The prince knew confinement like he knew how to draw a sword. The life of an aquatic beast could not be so different from his own.

“What is it exactly about the surface that you are so drawn to, anyhow?” Hades finally asks him. “What has it offered you thus far that has not been the death of you?”

“Besides my mother, you mean?”

“You know what I mean. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

“Well, I- guess for starters, it was… better than the House,” the prince mumbles. “There’s- quite a few that I would have missed very much, and- if I were to have any regrets afterwards, it would’ve been leaving them behind, but… I wasn’t exactly very helpful to you, was I?”

Hades hums. “You weren’t helpful because you constantly slept through your shifts.”

“So does Hypnos.”

“Hypnos’ circumstances are far different from your own. You are more than aware of this. Even so, he is not free of criticism. Neither are you.”

“I didn’t even know what I was doing.”

“Clearly. Who’s fault is that? You cannot possibly blame me for everything.”

Not everything, and perhaps not fully, in some cases. Zagreus had long accepted that his father was still not exactly innocent, when it came to most of his life’s hardships.

“You never were the type to explain things, y’know,” he retorts. “I understand now why Nyx did not, as she was sworn to secrecy, but- why didn’t you tell me that I’d never survive on the surface?”

Hades huffs. “I believe that I did tell you, boy, that there is no escape. Multiple times, in fact.”

He’s heard that so many times by now that it may as well be etched into his skin.

“You also told me that I’d never make it up here in the first place. I proved you wrong, didn’t I?”

Lord Hades furrows his brows, his voice booming over everything. If fish were to be frightened by noise, the pair would never get anywhere like this. “If it weren’t for the Olympians-”

“That’s not what I asked,” Zagreus interrupts, against better judgement. “Did I prove you wrong? Did I or did I not reach the surface?”

Hades doesn’t answer. Zagreus takes his silence as a win, despite the way it feels like nothing at all. Nausea begins to tug at his stomach as if the very fish he searched for were inside of it, rather than in the lake before him. His expression sours. He wonders if his father notices this shift. He wonders why his father never seems to shift at all, until the very moment he crumbles.

“You’ve tried to leave before,” he remarks. “You’ve told me. You’ve slain your parents, and now I’ve slain one of mine, albeit more temporarily. Is it really any surprise to you, things turning out the way they did? Can you blame me for following in your footsteps?”

“I thought I’d raised you to know a lot better than to try, Zagreus.”

Zagreus squints. “Did you?”

“What?”

“Did you raise me? As far as I can recall, you were more set on shooing me away. How could you even dream of stepping away from your work for long enough to do any more than scold me?”

His father hisses, “Who was it that taught you to speak, may I remind you? How to walk? I employed you, before you refused to play your part. I hired Achilles, for your sake. I even let you disturb the dog. Spoil him, even. What more could you have asked for?”

So that was it, then? Even after his intentions were out on display, spread out for all to see, his father truly couldn’t grasp the concept? Perhaps some beings couldn’t change their ways, after all. Even Cerberus could learn new tricks, and yet never the God of the Dead.

Zagreus exhales. “Nothing. Maybe you’re right.”

Lord Hades hums. “You were never a good liar, Zagreus.”

It had fooled the Olympians, at least. Then again, that was partially due to how he’d been mostly hidden from their sights, and the fact that they never could have received any sort of response, had he opened his mouth.

“I shouldn’t have to be.”

The prince had yet to tear his eyes away from the lake, and yet, he knew for a fact that his father hadn’t so much as glanced his way all night. It was as if he was ashamed to notice the similarities in the pair, to admit Zagreus was his son at all, and yet, what was common between them seemed to be all the prince thought about. You could see it from head to toe, by looking in their eyes. You could see it in the way they thrust their spears towards each other, grips tight and teeth clenched, brows furrowed. You could hear it in their grievances with one another. If the prince could, he would have rid himself of the evidence, by now. If there was any heritage to feel any shame around, it certainly wasn’t due to whatever mortal qualities he could have inherited.

Achilles had written once that he was better for it. Zagreus hoped that this was true.

His train of thought is interrupted by a splash in the water. The Fates must be mocking him, he decides, as his father is given the first catch, his rod tugged upwards, hooking its victim. When it’s pulled out of what was once its home, it wiggles helplessly, without rhythm, desperate to be freed. Zagreus looks to gauge his father’s reaction. As always, he’s disappointed, as his face lies stiff.

“Which one is this?” his father asks.

Zagreus raises an eyebrow. “You can’t be serious. This is a joke.”

“Which one?” he repeats.

The prince lets out a sigh. “That’s a trout.”

The God of the Dead raises his own eyebrows, as if he’s unsure whether or not to feel any pride at his son’s answer (as much as Zagreus would instantly bet the latter). “You’ve remembered something , then, after all.”

Zagreus’ face morphs into what could be mistaken as disgust. “Must all of your compliments be so backhanded?”

That was a compliment, wasn’t it? It was the closest his father seemed to get to one, when it came to anything that didn’t regard his battle techniques.

“I’m ensuring you remain humbled,” his father insists. The trout is left to lie upon the snow, flopping about, its attempts to return to the lake it had been forcefully removed from proving futile. Zagreus averts his eyes from the scene, preferring not to pay any mind to its slow demise.

“I think I’ve been humbled enough, personally. This is the thanks I get, for all that I’ve managed, as of late?”

“That is exactly the behavior I am talking about.”

“Sorry that I don’t exactly appreciate the constant scorn, Father. Is it really that much of a wonder to you why I would have much rather preferred to stay with Mother here, on the coast, if given the opportunity? Tending to her garden with her, instead of listening with you? Getting some fresh air from time to time, instead of being all cooped up in my bedchambers, in order to not be a distraction?”

Zagreus still wondered what it was that his mother saw the other. Why must he try so hard just to find it?

“How is your mother?” his father asks, overlooking all else. “Has she reached Olympus yet? Have any of your relatives said anything?”

“Hermes tells me that she’s arrived safely. That she says hello. It seems she has a lot of catching up to do with Lady Demeter- Grandmother, I should say. Should be getting around to it now.”

“Ah. Good.”

“Hey, wasn’t it you who implied I was overreacting to her absence, in the first place?” the prince bitterly reminds him. “That as long as she would return eventually, I had nothing to worry about?”

Hypocrisy was yet another thing Zagreus knew the other by.

“Admit it,” he insists. “You’re just as worried about her. We both know she doesn’t exactly favor it up there. If given the choice, she wouldn’t have gone back. She did initially plan to spend the rest of her life with you in the Underworld, after all, until- well… I - happened.”

He never intended to have ripped away his poor mother’s happiness. Back then, he hadn’t been able to intend anything at all. The Fates had warned against the mere idea of him, all that they possibly could have. Defying that outcome, how he’d managed it, was the only mystery that remained. The nature of his very existence perplexed him, yet it was something he could grow content with.

His existence also seemed to make up for the initial problem, in the end, almost a paradox of sorts.

“I do love her, you know,” Hades eventually mumbles, interrupted by a cough, “Your mother. Persephone.”

It seemed the Styx was slowly coming for him too, then, even if the God of the Dead hid it much better.

“I know you do, as do I. I don’t know how to forgive you for keeping her hidden from me, for so long. For keeping me hidden from her .”

“That is something I am willing to make peace with.”

“How? Why ?”

“What is it that you mean?”

“Well,” he clarifies, “you seem rather content with a son that outwardly hates you, and you seem to tolerate ridiculing your own son just as much. Most would never forgive themselves, for something like that. I wouldn’t, if I ever had a child- not that I plan to.”

His bloodline had caused enough troubles for a long while, if you were to ask him. Besides, he found himself feeling as reckless, young and unprepared as ever. What a responsibility that would be.

Underworld security was enough of one, thank you.

Hades only shakes his head. “You know nothing of what it’s like to be a parent.”

“Of course I don’t. I likely never will. Still, hypothetically, I just- wouldn’t want them to feel the same way I did. The way I do.”

“And what might that be?”

“Like a burden. A mistake. An accident. I know that I was. There’s no denying it. I just wish you wouldn’t make it so damn obvious, all of the time. Is that too much to ask, apparently?”

The God of the Dead lets out a long sigh before rubbing his forehead, and Zagreus finds himself expectant all over again. What exactly he was expecting, he couldn’t sort out in his mind. One would think that by now, he would know his father more than himself, and perhaps that fact still rang true. Even still, it was never enough. He could read him like an open book. The words between the pages turned out to be nonsensical.

Watching the other’s movements only makes the prince that much more aware of his own condition, something beginning to pulse in his skull, a reminder of the life he was losing.

“Listen to me carefully, Zagreus.”

Zagreus pauses, before he nods. “I am. Go on.”

The last time Lord Hades had been this calm, he had requested a message be passed along to the prince’s mother, and any instance before then was a memory long behind him, now. His father’s voice was best known as the way it echoed across the House, frightening any and every Shade who dared to stand in his presence, driving intimidation into those who served him.

Zagreus also couldn’t recall the day it had stopped working on him. That, too, had been commonplace for quite some time. Perhaps even this was nothing more than a moment of weakness shared between them both, the knowledge of what beckoned them heavy in their minds.

“You were your mother’s dream,” he began. “Admittedly, I did not share it with her. Regardless, despite the insistence that you were to never exist from the Fates, Persephone… she was always insistent on getting what she wanted. How was I to ever refuse her? Even the Fates, it seems, couldn’t bring themselves to do that, in the end.”

“What, so you just- went along with it, for her sake?” the prince asked. “Is that it? You didn’t even consider what you were getting into? That you’d be stuck with me?”

“I was certain more than anything that I would never have an heir,” he reiterates. “It was your mother that went on to prove me wrong, and then right again.”

“And… then- wrong again, right? I’m… here . I’m alive.”

"So you are."

“Why… am I alive, exactly?” Zagreus couldn’t help but ask. If he were to get answers, they’d be here and now. While it was on topic. While the God of the Dead was only growing weaker, and found himself cornered by back to back questions that may as well have been outright demands. “I know that- Nyx had something to do with it, and- and that I died, when I was born, but… if Mother had already left, then why am I here?”

Hades scoffs, crossing his arms. “You think I would be as heartless as to have left you as you were?”

“Well… yes, actually," Zagreus admits in what's almost a whisper. "The Fates themselves were against me, after all. Efforts put into my revival would’ve- likely been seen as a ‘waste of time’ to you, wouldn’t they? I’m- still not sure how it even worked. Even Nyx herself seems uncertain about it, when I ask, but- she swears to never discuss with her daughters more than they choose to discuss for themselves, which- I suppose makes sense, when your daughters are in charge of the course of all things. I wonder if she held the same sentiment back then."

If there was one thing he had learned from Orpheus, the House's gloomy court musician, it was that begging came with conditions that were rather cruel, if not outright unfair. Reaching common ground with the Fates themselves rather than any sort of god could only become that much more challenging, even for Night herself. Perhaps it helped that she had crafted the domain in which he was born, and in which he was forced to stay.

That was without a doubt his least favorite trait that he’d been given from his father, seeing as his mother could still venture as she pleased (despite the lack of desire or urgency to do so). It was something that his mother did not take for granted, of course, her family's limitations in her mind, and yet the prince couldn't help but feel that twinge of jealousy. Envy.

How unfair was that, when it was anything but her fault?

"Nyx's responsibilities consist of serving the House," Hades reminds him simply. "That includes yourself."

"Of course, but- to outright resurrect me is a bit of pressure to put on one, isn't it?" Zagreus insists. "Especially when it was thought to be impossible."

"If anyone could have done it, Zagreus, it would have been her, and it was. I do not ask how things have come to be."

"I do, though."

"Clearly."

"I mean, just- if I only exist for mother's sake," he explains, "what would have happened if you had noticed her absence before I was… ever revived? Would you have even bothered? Oh, Gods, would I be an infant shade, right now? Would I have even been capable of that? Would I have just disappeared? Ceased to exist, altogether?"

"Don't be ridiculous," his father insists. "You fail to realize that I had long prepared for the possibility of you, by that point, although I- hadn't prepared for what would follow quite as much."

"So, you weren't pleased to have an heir, but you weren't pleased to… not - have an heir?" Zagreus asks. "Am I getting that right?"

"Bah . You'd never understand."

"You're probably right."

Zagreus was beginning to think it was time to finally let this go. Let this childish idea of what could have been die off for good, when he himself did not. This, too, must be yet another tragedy that the Fates had decided upon, that even in spite of the prince's best efforts, his father would remain a force in his life he felt utmost confliction towards.

He pulls up his legs to his chest, hands still wrapped around the end of a fishing rod, wishing the Styx would take him back early. His father hadn't even cast his own line more than once.

"What is it that you want from me?" Zagreus asks quietly. "With Mother, it's… always so simple. Being alive is enough. Even… even the Olympians seem to think so. Nyx does. Achilles does. Everyone does. Except for you."

His father is silent. Still. A statue. If he weren't so weak, perhaps he'd take his father up on his previous, more graphic offer, after all.

"I know you blame me for what happened with Mother," he spat, interrupted only by a cough. "That's gotta be it. But she's back now, and you still can't even look at me without her around to ensure that you do. You couldn't even utter my name when she wasn't around to instruct you to do so."

"Zagreus-"

"It's like you can't even tolerate being around me unless I'm offering something of use. All that you care about is work. Work, and Mother, but- but not me, all that much. What is it, exactly, that I've done to you, recent matters aside? You had reasons to slay your parents, I'm sure. Why give me so many to slay one of mine?"

"Do not dare to compare me to the Titans," Hades warns. "That is a matter you have no part in. You have no understanding of what it is you're talking about."

Zagreus scoffs. "When do I ever?"

"Zagreus-"

"Even after everything, you- act as if I'm incompetent as ever. I'm not a child anymore, and I understand that you're busy, but… but- even Master Chaos speaks with Nyx. Nyx speaks with her own children, too, whenever she can. Mother's visiting Grandmother, as we speak. Where- where does that leave me?"

"Your line, boy."

"What?"

"Your fishing line."

Zagreus' eyes widen as his attention diverts back to his rod and he tugs upwards. He knows as he does so that it's already too late, the line proving as much once pulled back to the surface. The prince draws a deep breath, tossing his rod aside, wrapping his arms around himself instead. "Damn it."

"Let it go," Hades insists quietly. "There will be… plenty more."

"Really? You aren't going to belittle me for not catching anything, like you did?"

"Why would I care?"

"I don't know."

Comparisons, of course. Sons who reflected their fathers, besides from where it seemed to matter. One succeeds. The other fails. The mockery is made of the latter. Both are expected by the other to know better.

"I don't know… what I was expecting to come from all of this," Zagreus confesses, letting his body topple over, back upon snow. He shudders at the cold, and the feeling of blood now smeared. Not a mortal soul would ever venture this close to Hell itself, but if they did, they’d think it was the result of a successful hunt.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you- you keep saying that the past can't be changed," the prince elaborates, "and… quite frankly, I agree. But what about the future? You- don't seem to wish to change that, either."

Hades hums. Nothing more to say, as always.

"You could at least try to make it up to me, for everything. For what happened with Mother. For all the lies you told, and- and all the secrets you kept from me. For all that you never did."

"Even that has already been decided by the Fates, hasn't it?"

"Who knows? Personally, I'd consider the attempt to better your relationship to your son to be one of the more minor prophecies. Something that could go either way. Though, if- given the choice, could I- maybe ask the Fates for you to go a bit easier on me?"

His family would owe the three sisters for all of eternity. He knew that much. He supposed there wasn't a single being who didn't, when they seemed to be responsible for just about everything, and yet, Zagreus knew the debt he could never repay to them personally lied far above the rest. Even so, perhaps he could dare to risk just a bit more selfishness.

"We will see how things go, from here," Hades finally tells him. "I only hope that you… keep up the good work, in the meantime."

It is in part a disappointing answer, but it’s better than all that have come before.

"What, you mean… killing you, over and over?"

"If that is what you wish to call it."

It always looped back around to that, didn't it? One way or another. Zagreus was beginning to forget just exactly who he was without it.

"I… appreciate- some- of your decisions, regarding House décor," Lord Hades adds before the prince can speak. His son, at first, isn't sure if he's hearing him right. "It is the most I've seen the contractor work in quite some time. It seems you're doing something of use, with all that you ransack from the Underworld."

"Payment makes for a fine motivator."

"Indeed it does."

Even one such as Charon could offer his services, after all, for the right price. If you proved yourself worthy, you could even earn yourself a better deal. That, however, was to be kept between the two of them (and Hermes, of course, who word always seemed to get around to).

The God of the Dead grumbles to himself with another cough before he speaks once again. "Do you feel it? The Styx, tugging at you?"

Zagreus focuses on the way his heart begins to skip beats, the way it aches, the nausea spreading and the headache only growing harder to ignore. "I do. How much longer do we have?"

"I'm not sure. We are closer to home than you tend to be, when you go. I imagine this will be much slower, in comparison."

The prince winces. "More painful, then, as well. Lovely."

Hades sighs. "Why not… go get a move on? Move further on ahead? Make this quick? You will never reach your mother's cottage, but… you'll be claimed by the Styx before I."

"What? Why?"

"There is no need to keep you here any longer, Zagreus. Your job here is done, for now. I will… take notes, as to… improve Underworld security, as always.”

The prince considers this carefully, despite the time the pair had left slipping away at an alarming rate. Even if he weren't too weak to find himself favoring the idea of rising to his feet and dragging himself towards the mountaintop, he wasn't too sure what it would achieve. He'd get back home, either way.

Even those who cheated Death would encounter him again, eventually.

"You know what, Father?" he declares. "I- think I'll be staying right here. We can… consider this a tie. A draw."

Zagreus wondered how it would look on his records.

Hades hums, and he, too, lies flat on the frozen earth, a layer of snow lightly breaking the impact of his fall. "If that's what you've decided. I hope you are not too disappointed by the outcome of this idea of yours."

He knew what he hadn't wished for, clear as day. On the contrary, now that his father mentioned it, he wasn't too sure what the ideal scenario would have looked like at all. His father was never one to joke. Zagreus was never the one to try to make him break, save for when he was young. Silence would have hung over them uncomfortably. The tension would have been suffocating for them both. Going at each other's throats, however, while familiar enough to find a sick sense of comfort within, was quite the opposite of what he had done this all for. Once again, Lord Hades, his feelings towards his son, was something not so easily understood.

But something more complex than blind and undying hatred was something he was willing to take, until he learned exactly what to name it.

Zagreus lets out a shaky sigh, watching his breath form a small cloud. "Well, if- if you asked me, it- could've gone better. But, it- also could've gone worse. I'd- expected a lot worse to have happened, by now, so… I guess- I guess this is a start."

"Very well, then."

"Do you think… we'll- do this again, sometime, at- some point?"

Hades hesitates. Zagreus looks towards the sky. When he'd first arrived, night had long fallen over Greece, stars strung above him, slowly fading, becoming once again obsolete. The sky morphed into hues he scarcely ever witnessed anywhere else, colors much softer than those to be found in Hell, even in comparison to Elysium. As the world awoke, Zagreus would soon drift away.

What a gorgeous world that he could never inhabit.

"Or- um- something else," the prince adds, a precaution. "Or nothing! Nothing works. Just- forget that I-"

"Maybe so."

Both seem shocked by the words that leave Lord Hades' lips. The God of the Dead doesn't elaborate. Zagreus, for once, doesn't pester onwards for it. In his mind, his expectations were as low as they could possibly be, but in the prince's heart, he'd like to have that hope again, even if he were to forever find himself in this vicious cycle of let-downs.

He didn’t have the time to linger on it, anyhow.

"Okay."

Perhaps he'd learn just as his mother had, after all.

Not a word is spoken after, and not a word needs to be said. The pair focus on their own shallow breathing, watch as their existence and composure become impossible to maintain, and allow the River Styx to claim what remains of them, as they've done dozens of times before. It's a process that's far from pleasant. For a moment in time, after all, it is still the end of life as they know it. They are unable to go onwards. When Zagreus and his father have returned to the House of Hades, the prince knows that the pair will return to their regular quarrels, and that confrontations upon the surface were merely part of the job, something that would never end for the sake of all they were chosen to oversee.

But perhaps, every now and again, there would be fishing. A game of catch. Whatever it was that fathers did with their sons, as if their lives were upon the levels of mortal beings and as if it were all that simple.

Zagreus, in his head, asks the Fates to make this work.