SIAT Hermione please! Or dealerās choice! Youāre the best!!
After his mother returns to the underworld, Zagreus says that he canāt survive on the surface for longer than a few minutes.
Zagreus lies.
He laughs off Thanās concern and Megās frowns and tries not to feel too terrible about keeping secrets from the people he loves.
He discovers something about himself on accident. He hadnāt even tried to make it far from the underworldās entrance, had sat himself down on the cold ground and looked out on the ocean, feeling the weak sunlight on his face. He counts the birds that pass overhead until painful spasms wrack his body and he succumbs to his home pulling him back.
When he passes that place the next time he makes it past his father, itās different.
The place where his body had died has changed. No snow covers it and dark green grass peeks through, darker than what heād seen in his motherās garden.
He steps on this spot and takes a startled breath, then another.
It doesnāt hurt to breathe.
The air of the mortal world always pricks at his lungs, but here itās easy. Itās nothing. It feels like heās back in the underworld again, as if death isnāt reaching for him.
He stand in that patch of dark green grass for a long time, far longer than heās ever stood on the surface before. Nothing hurts. The styx doesnāt come from him.
He lies down on the cold snow and blood instantly floods his mouth. He dies choking.
The next time, the spot of dark green grass has grown bigger. Thereās a slim stem protruding from the ground, a delicate little plant that he canāt name. He hadnāt thought about this. He hadnāt considered this.
Heās not just a son of Hades.
Heās Persephoneās child too.
On his next run through the underworld, he stops by Eurydiceās corner of Asphodal. This is something he wishes he could ask his mother, but he doesnāt want to raise anyoneās suspicions. She presses a bottle of porridge into his hands and he asks, āHow did you make things grow? Youāre a nymph, so thatās something you did, right?ā
She startles, giving him a considering look, but thankfully doesnāt ask any questions. āWell, Prince, for the mortals it took a lot of work. But I just sort of ā willed things to exist, and then they did. You just need some conviction.ā
āConviction,ā he repeats, trying not to sound skeptical.
Eurydiceās lips quirk up in the corners. āI donāt think anything but poms can grow here. But if anyone could do it, it would be you. Youāre stubborn enough to do anything, I think.ā
It hadnāt even occurred to him to try growing anything here.
In Elysium, he comes upon Patroclusās clearing, and he should accept his blessing and move on, but instead he asks, āCan I, um, try something? Here? It might change the clearing a bit.ā
Patroclus raises an eyebrow, but just says, āDo as you like, stranger.ā
He takes the pom heād saved from several rooms back and splits it open. The seeds spill out onto the ground and he digs a hole with his heel before pushing them inside. Elysium doesnāt have plants or dirt, exactly, not like the surface does, but itāll have to do.
He sits, and he focuses, and nothing happens.
āThis is your fatherās land, stranger,ā Patroclus says. āNothing happens here that he doesnāt will.ā
Thatās just not true. Zagreus has proven that, time and again, that he can break past the rules his father has made for his domain.
Heāll just have to make it his own instead.
Zagreus has gotten so good at fighting his way through the shades and wretches that heās barely even bleeding. That wonāt do. He cuts open his arm, blood gushing down onto the ground, hitting the pom seeds and soaking them through.
He knows what trees look like now. He imagines the seeds blossoming and growing, imagines large branches being pulled down with the weight of fat fruit.
When he opens his eyes, there are a half dozen pom trees in front of him, the fruit hanging thick and ripe.
He looks to Patroclus, who has a proper grin on his face for the first time since heās met him. āWell, would you look at that.ā
āDo you know anything about farming?ā he asks. āCan you ā are there other things, that can be grown?ā
āNot here, I donāt think,ā he mutters, plucking one of the poms. āThen again, maybe it can, if itās you.ā
Zagreus cultivates gardens below and above and hopes that no one notices. He pours his blood into the surface, growing his gardens bit by bit, and everywhere he bleeds he can live. He could live in a cottage right here like his mother if he wanted. But down with Patroclus heās growing bright red grapes and orange olives and other things that shouldnāt exist but do, and soon he even figures out how to grow those on the surface too.
His garden has spread, covering the mountaintop, and heās contemplating dying in a path that could get him closer to the city. He gets pass his father and enters his garden to see a teenager filling a basket with his silver apples. āStealing from my garden?ā
She turns to see him and throws herself at his feet, pressing her forehead into the ground. Heās so startled that all he can do is gape. āBegging your pardon, my lord,ā she says, voice trembling. āIām sorry. Iām so sorry. Please forgive me.ā
Zagreus has never been in this situation before. āEr, itās alright, really. Please get up.ā
She tentatively lifts her head, revealing her tear stained face.
Now he feels properly awful. āLook, you can take them, alright? But I donāt know if ā itās not a mortal food, you understand. It might kill you.ā
He doesnāt know what will happens to mortals who eat his fruits. He doesnāt know what happens when he eats them, even. It never occurred to him to try. It was all about the act of creation rather than consumption.
āWeāre dead anyway,ā she says, still bowing to him. āWe canāt grow anything in the cold and the animals canāt forage. Thank you, my lord. If we die, then we donāt die hungry.ā
Well, thatās just depressing. Heās seen the endless winter for himself. He knows people are dying, obviously, but it hadnāt occurred to him to connect those two things. The surface is a strange place. āYouāll live,ā he says, hating her fear. He places his hand on the basket of silver apples and repeats, āYouāll live.ā
For the first time in his life, heās exhausted. The apples glow before subsiding and he belated realize that heās just given his blessing.
He didnāt think he could do that.
