#zagreus.copy

Darkness embraced the Prince of the Underworld once more as the current of the Styx pulled him beneath its crimson tide. The water, thick and cold, washed over his countless cuts and bruises, dulling the pain until it dissolved into something distant, almost dreamlike. Death had long since lost its sting for Zagreus. Now, as the Underworld’s security specialist , a position that suited him perhaps too well, he allowed himself to drift, surrendering to the familiar quiet between battles.

There had been so much unrest in the House of Hades lately. New disturbances, old tensions resurfacing, and now, word of a sister from the future who needed his aid. Whatever the cause, Zagreus had thrown himself into his work, pushing through the Underworld’s defenses with relentless determination, searching for any sign of their grandfather’s stirring. In the face of such constant struggle, the cool embrace of the Styx was almost a mercy. A rare, blood red reprieve.

As he floated deeper into its current, Zagreus dreamed, as he often did, of battle. He relived his final moments: the blow that felled him, the taste of iron, his blood mingling with that of countless other lost souls in the river’s eternal flow. The Styx did not fail him, bringing him back to the House every time. Perhaps she was kind to him… or perhaps she simply could not refuse the Prince.

Then, his dreams shifted. He saw them, his shade. Always there, waiting beside the Pool of Styx, watching the records with Hypnos and keeping idle count of his returns. They were his shade, his alone, no matter what others might say. Even when they laughed at his latest defeat, teasing how the great Prince of the Underworld could have fallen to such a foe, Zagreus never minded. Their laughter, their smile, those small moments of light, were caused by him, for him, and it made everything better.

They would sit together in the lounge, as they always did. Zagreus’s first bottle of ambrosia was reserved for them alone, a quiet ritual after each return from death. They would drink and laugh, and Zagreus would tell his stories: of the shades wandering Tartarus, of the blistering heat of Asphodel, of the endless fight against the champions of Elysium, and the biting snow of the surface world above. His tales never seemed to end, each one vivid and alive, and the shade would listen with rapt attention, eyes bright as gemstones, as though his words were the only light left in the afterlife.

When the amber drink had settled warmly in their veins, they would retreat to the Prince’s bedchamber, a messy sanctuary of soft blankets and lavish pillows, far removed from the gloom of the House. There, the shade would speak in turn, voice gentle and unhurried, telling stories far more ordinary: of their endless administrative duties, of misplaced scrolls and impossible deadlines, and of the small frustrations that made up their afterlife. And Zagreus would listen, smiling, because though they were his shade, he was their Prince, and that balance felt more sacred than any vow.

The dream began to dissolve like mist on the river. Zagreus stirred, the cool pull of the Styx loosening its hold as he rose once more from the Pool, weapon still clutched in hand. The familiar clamor of the House greeted him: shades drifting about their tasks, attendants bustling through the marble halls, and Lord Hades himself presiding over a mountain of paperwork, hearing the endless petitions of the dead.

Zagreus’s gaze drifted to Hypnos’s post, the usual place where his shade waited to greet him with laughter or mockery over his latest demise. But this time, the spot was empty. Hypnos’s usual jabs fell on deaf ears as Zagreus’s attention lingered on the absence.

“They must be waiting for me in the lounge,” he thought.

The walk to the lounge is a short one. Zagreus greets friends and familiar shades along the way, trading a few words with his father, Hades, and with Nyx, before stepping inside. The lounge hums with its usual life, the soft chatter of shades, the clink of glasses, the faint echo of music. His eyes sweep the room: Megaera and Dusa sit gossiping together in the corner, Achilles and Patroclus share a quiet drink at the bar, a handful of other souls linger over cards and conversation.

But not his shade.

Perhaps their duties in the administrative chamber are taking longer than expected. Or perhaps, he tells himself with a small, wry smile, they simply have other things to do. Friends to see, a life (or afterlife) of their own. It would be unfair to assume they should spend every waking moment by his side. Still, an unexpected heaviness settles in his chest as he turns away, making his way toward his bedchamber.

There, Zagreus finds them.

Curled up amidst the silken blankets and soft pillows, their form rises and falls in the quiet rhythm of sleep. For a moment, he just stands in the doorway, the tension melting from his shoulders. A laugh, low and fond, escapes him.

“You missed the date I had planned for us,” he murmurs, the words more a caress than a reprimand. He moves softly through the dim chamber, setting aside his weapon before slipping beneath the covers. The shade’s body is cold against his, yet the moment he gathers them into his arms, warmth floods through him, not the searing burn of Asphodel’s flames, nor the biting sting of battle, but something gentler. Something whole.

Love, he thinks.

Zagreus rarely sleeps, Styx offers him rest enough. But tonight, as he closes his eyes and lets the world fade into dream, he allows himself this peace. Because they are his shade, and he is their Prince.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ꕥ ❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Oh you’d fit right into the House of Hades. The endless gloom suits you almost too well. The quiet halls, the muted torches, the whispers of the shades, it’s as if the Underworld itself made room for your melancholy.

It’s hard for most to believe you and Zagreus share blood. He burns with restless defiance, while you flow with quiet sorrow, fire and water, each mirroring what the other lacks.

Still, that doesn’t change the fact that Zagreus treasures you above all else. He’s not a difficult man to get along with, especially when he tries, and everything he plunders from his numerous escape attempts (gems, keepsakes, ambrosia, etc) becomes yours the moment he thinks you might like it.

Some whisper that your gloomy nature comes from your father. Zagreus refuses to believe that for even a moment. Hades is nothing like you! You’re kinder, calmer, infinitely more pleasant to be around.

He hates it when others compare you to anyone, to your father, to himself, even to Nyx. You are you, and that’s all that matters. He would do anything to make sure you see the worth in that.

There are times Zagreus finds thoughts weighing too heavily on him, things he can’t say to Achilles, or to Nyx. It’s in those moments that your grounded nature steadies him, anchoring his reckless soul before it burns itself out.

That said, he’s still stubborn as ever. You might have his ear more than most… might.

If something makes you smile, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Truly. No hesitation.

He tries, oh gods does he try, to make you smile. With gifts, with news from the surface, with ridiculous gossip from Olympus. When all else fails, he may even resort to the desperate tactic of tickling you. (Please, for his sake, don’t be immune. It would devastate him.)

Dry banter between you two is a House of Hades staple. To onlookers, your exchanges might sound like thinly veiled insults, but anyone who truly listens can hear the affection tucked between every word.

Some might imagine Zagreus feeling threatened by a sister who might one day surpass him as a more fitting heir to the throne. But the thought has never once crossed his mind. You’re his little sister. If you wanted the throne that badly, he’d personally drag Father off it and sit you down in that oversized chair himself.

Mention wanting anything around him, and you’ve sealed your fate. Nectar? Gems? Easy enough to plunder. A relic from the surface? Trickier, but he’ll find a way. Perhaps a deal with Charon, or a favor from Hermes.

And if you speak of wanting to see your mother? The tone of his fights with Hades changes entirely. He’s not just struggling for himself, he’s fighting for you. For your chance to know her. For your family to be whole again.

Whenever he’s cast back into the House after defeat, he doesn’t tell you how it went, though he knows you already know of it from the administrative records. He doesn’t want to burden you with more fractures in the family. Instead, he fills the air with stories. About his travels, his victories, the shades he met along the way.