Alright | Zagreus, Hades (2020)
tumblr is so nifty wdym you can just make another blog. would that every social media site amirite fellas. short (like Zagreus) and sweet oneshot featuring gn!reader who isn’t described much other than being at least a little taller than zag. no y/n; second person pov. implied/referenced background megthanzag (expect to see that a lot). written in one hour directly into the post window…
word count: 1,046
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There’s a flower petal in Zagreus’s dark hair, pale pink and delicate like the finest porcelain. In the Underworld, nothing ever dies, and nothing ever changes, not least of which the flowers Lady Persephone tends to like a surrogate for her own son. Skin near white in the uncertain candlelight kept bright by the tireless work of the house’s shades and the sheer spite of the house’s master, Zagreus’s face is cast in shadows that recede and advance like the roiling tides above.
“Oh…, um, hello.” Zagreus falters as he looks up from his steady jog out into the courtyard, presumably to begin the cycle of escape and inevitable death again, and finally sees you. It feels to him like seeing a fish suddenly leap out of the water and begin to walk. For some reason he’s never quite grown used to seeing you in his room, sitting on his bed, no less, though by now you must use it more than he does.
“I don’t know why you’re always so surprised. Your room has no doors,” you say, cocking your head to one side. “It isn’t exactly hard to get in.”
Zagreus shrugs, giving a sheepish grin. “I suppose I’ll never adjust to having so many beautiful people in my bed.”
You roll your eyes. “Sure.”
“What, you don’t believe me?” Zagreus asks, sitting next to you on his bed. It’s cushy beneath him, carrying the light, floral scent of flowering trees and the darker, sweet fragrance of pomegranates. The bed is made neatly, although not by his own hands. He hasn’t used it since shortly after his escape attempts began, when the constant failure grew to be too much for him and he took a short nap to escape from it all for a half hour. His shoulder rubs against yours, skin surprisingly soft for a prince and a god of blood and rebirth and all that. From how Orpheus tells it, you think he might be related to Dionysus’s domain in some way, as well, but Zagreus had bashfully informed you that everything he’d told Orpheus was a joke taken far too seriously.
“You’ve been in the gardens,” you say, changing the subject. Brushing aside his thick hair, you pluck the petal from the Prince’s. “It’s… nice that the doors are unlocked again. Things around here have been a bit better with the Queen back, I’ve noticed.”
Zagreus hums to show he heard you, but he takes his time in actually responding verbally. His weight is braced against his hands, his body sinking deeper into the mattress, which he really cannot afford, seeing as he’s already inclined his chin to look you in the eye. “She balances out Father’s worst attributes, I suppose. And of course, I’m thrilled to be able to see her without hacking my way through every wretched shade in all damnation.”
“A crying shame. I did rather enjoy being regaled with tales of your heroic grandeur.” Your half-ironic tone catches slightly, slipping to reveal the curiosity underneath. “So you’ll just be staying home from now on, then?”
“Oh, no. Perish the thought.” Zagreus mock-shudders at the idea of sitting at a desk doing parchmentwork again. If his father had suggested that, he might just have tried to run away again. “I’m doing the same thing as usual, but with official permission and sanction.”
“Ah.”
A thick and heavy silence falls over the pair of you. It’s not uncharitable, but it isn’t welcoming or particularly comforting either. It’s the kind of silence that feels like a third person in the room with you, watching but never contributing, the kind of silence that’s loud but understated. Your eyes trail up the walls to the vaulted ceiling where the wan light can’t reach. You wonder sometimes if there’s something living up there—a spider colony, perhaps, or a bat or two that the prince has simply never noticed due to his prolonged absence. Even here, a few wayward petals scattered by dutiful servants blow through the door on the back of the stale breeze that sometimes runs its course through the house. One flits over your head like a butterfly in a strong wind, swirling this way and that, before it settles, strangely enough, in Zagreus’s hair. This time, you don’t pick it out; you just look at it with a vague sort of half-smile.
You’re almost startled when next Zagreus speaks. “Do you mind if I…?”
“Oh, of course.” You straighten up, collecting yourself and looking down at your shoes. “Be on your way, then. I believe you have a fancy new gig to get to?”
Zagreus scratches the back of his neck. “Well, if it’s all the same to you, I was thinking perhaps I could… postpone my first day on the job ever so slightly. I have this lovely bed here that someone took the time to make so nicely. I suppose I ought to use it.”
“You’re asking my input on your sleeping habits… why?”
“I, uh, I…—” Zagreus looks uncharacteristically diffident. He sits up with his back straight, staring at the mirror across from him like he’s Narcissus. His hands fall in his lap, clenching and unclenching. His jaw seems to twitch like there’s more he wants to say but can’t figure out how to express. “I was inviting you to join me.”
“Oh.” Join him or ease off? He’ll be okay either way. You frown. “In… that way?”
“Only if you’d like,” he says. “There’s plenty of other things for two people to do in a bed.”
Shooting him a dubious look, you can’t help but want to agree, just for the hell of it. Maybe it’s a mistake, but in the Underworld, nothing ever dies, and nothing ever changes—unless you take it up yourself to force a change. Maybe this is what you’ve been looking for. “Alright.”
“That’s it? Just… alright?”
“Oh, dearly beloved prince, the fountain of your generosity runs never dry. Esteemed am I to have been graced with the blessing of your presence. I shall name after you my firstborn child and swear unto you my eternal fealty in exchange for this gracious offer,” you amend dryly.
“Okay, okay!” Zagreus laughs, throwing up his hands. “Alright.”
“Just alright?” you echo.
“Just alright.”
“Alright.”
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I like attention. O, to be perceived. aka send asks
