reasons

He does not say goodbye. He never does. The others who work in this house have previously called him egocentric and prideful, too wound up in his own world to even spare a thought to giving others the closure they may potentially need; he does not mind these descriptors, for if they believe he is doing this out of selfishness, then perhaps they will never think to ask him why his heart feels ready to shatter as he walks towards his personal chambers after announcing his resolve yet again.

He turns his back on the silhouette of a familiar scythe held in hands he knows far too well- hands that know him too well. Their outline glow a garish green and bloody red thanks to the lanterns situated in all the wrong corners of the hall, shimmering through countless shades that lurk in groups, milling about the House of Hades with little else to do until the god of the dead reconvenes his court yet again. He does not react to the shades as he passes them by, barely seeing them with his mind still fixated upon the figure who he is leaving behind. He has so many things to say to that silhouette; the words rest upon the tip of his tongue, ready to spill forth in a barrage of emotion that he does not dare convey within his father's haunted halls. He longs to let them spill forth, to find closure for a journey of which he cannot see the end.

Taking the first step is always the hardest part, though.

I'm leaving.

He does not say these words. He cannot.

…everyone else can ask him the reasons behind his silence. He can lie to the rest of them, for there is enough truth in his glib stories that he knows he will always maintain face with the others. It's not the same case with Thanatos. He was never good at lying to Thanatos.

I'll just end up back in the house.

Despite all of his confidence and swagger, Zagreus cannot hide the thread of fear and doubt which has sewn shut the lid to his hope, binding his heart. No matter who he asks, no one can tell him how in the world he is supposed to find an exit to the Underworld. No one can get out, they say; no one can escape the grips of Hades and his legions, not even Hades himself.

Zagreus knows this, but Zagreus is also so, so sick of being told he has no value in these wretched halls. If his mother got out of the depths, then he should be able to as well… right?

The possibility of escape is always shadowed, thrown to the wind the moment he is offered a boon, a token of power that shall aid him in his journey onwards. He appreciates the help of his relatives, even if he feels that they aid him more out of sport than out of goodwill; he is happy to accept their favour, for if he can gain an edge in the battle against the wretches of the Underworld, he shall take it. He is prideful, not stupid.

However, these boons will only last him so far. Each time a supposed relative comes to offer him a gift, the gods and goddesses of Olympus bear smiles which are curious, amused, engaged; each one of them is so distinct, their booming voices and striking figures reflecting the incredible magic they bestow upon him again and again.

Yet, these boons are what destroys his hope the most. The gods always word their offerings as do the Fates. We shall grant you strength for this attempt.

No one expects him to escape. No one expects these boons to be enough to escape the inescapable. He does not want to say goodbye, only to return a moment later.

Maybe he is too prideful after all. He tells himself that that is the case- that it is indeed his pride that stops him from saying those words to the one god who needs them the most.

He'll find me anyways.

The river of Styx shall carry his body back to the House of Hades no matter how far he gets. After all, if he goes into Tartarus, his father will send people after him no matter what, and Thanatos may be one of those hunters. If he dies along the way, Thanatos will definitely know, for their spirits are so irrevocably intertwined that he is certain his childhood friend-brother-heart will sense his death each time.

There is no need to tell him anything. The moment Zagreus does go too far out of his reach, he shall utter those words to the reaper. Until then, he shall grow stronger and bear this task proudly like the challenge- and burden- it is.

…Thanatos used to tell him that Zagreus was his hero when they were lads. He hopes he still retains a modicum of the grace and wonder that Thanatos used to see in him, even though his blood runs thick, plentiful, in the river Thanatos himself has cultivated.

There will be nothing left tying us. He'll join forces with my father properly.

The bell rings, and for a moment, his heartrate skyrockets. Hades has been accosting him with more and more wretches as of late amidst the ever-shifting labyrinth of the Underworld, and that bell is always the sign that more demons have come to slay him.

And yet, it is not a horde which arrives amidst the glimmering jade fields of Elysium. The figure which emerges in a burst of shadow, arriving knee-deep in sweetgrass and silence, is enough to make Zagreus' knees weak, body immediately relaxing, begging for the comfort of strong, wiry arms which he knows can wrap around him perfectly.

Once the shadows clear, his breath catches. For a moment, he mistakes the hood of Thanatos' cloak for long, silvery hair; he still remembers when he could run his fingers through those long locks. His fingers twitch at the memory. He had never touched that hair enough, back when Thanatos had worn it long. The other god had always insisted that he play with Megaera's hair instead. And what a great decision that turned out to be, he thinks wryly as he straightens up, approaching the cloaked figure.

The humour in his mind does not translate to their interaction. Their conversation is tense. He does not explain himself beyond the same basic, tired reasoning he has given everyone else. I'm looking for my mother.

"Mother Nyx loves you as her own. Why is she not good enough?"

It's not about Nyx. They both know it.

"You won't betray Nyx, Than," Zagreus mumbles. "You know her part to play in this."

"A fool's errand," Thanatos replies. He does not look Zagreus in the eye as he says this, though; for a moment, Zagreus wonders whether the scythe in Thanatos' hands shall cleave him swiftly and be done with it. He stiffens, ready for the blow.

It never arrives. Instead, Thanatos merely looks down, his cloak hiding his eyes for a moment before he vanishes, leaving behind a centaur's heart- a commodity amongst these frantic escapes- and a small purse of coin for the boatman's wares. Zagreus does not focus upon these items, however, for all he can see long after Thanatos is gone is the sight of white teeth biting a full lower lip anxiously, the pristine shine contrasting perfectly against his darker skin.

Perhaps if he says goodbye, Thanatos will no longer provide these boons. Or, even worse, that quiet, tormented heartache- bitten lips, anxious heartbeats- will disappear, too. It is selfish of him, and he knows it, but while Zagreus does not want to hurt Thanatos, he doesn't want to let go of the reaper, either.

Goodbye sounds… too final.

If he makes it out of the Underworld… then what? Will he ever see Thanatos again? Is there any place in the mortal realm, or upon the peaks of Olympus, for the god of death to meet with the prince of the dead?

He does not want to let go, does not want to make that decision himself. He's always been a little too indecisive. Than's always been better with the big things, he thinks sardonically as he hears a bell ring in the distance, chiming in time with the swaying of the shades in murky emerald light. I'm never very good with words when it comes to him. He had never needed to be good with words, after all. Their hearts had always been able to connect just fine without.

He shrugs, then keeps going. Even if I get out, I guess I'll see him when I die.

The inevitability of it all is what strikes him the most.

I can't give him what he wants.

"Stay," Thanatos whispers. "You're throwing everything away- or, at least, you're throwing away any chance you had of your father ever accepting you."

"Why?" he retorts automatically. "Why should I care what the old man thinks? He does not want me here, that much is clear; I might as well go where I can make a name for myself on my own terms."

Thanatos' eyes darken, his aura growing more sinister for just a breath before it all grows dull, void, empty. His rage is not a pretty thing, but as usual, he is good at keeping his cool. Zagreus almost wishes the reaper was more willful; maybe then he'd find the courage to speak, too.

If Thanatos asked him to stay not for Hades, but for the bond they shared between themselves…

He dares to put it into words, reaching out instead. For just a moment, his fingers trace the outline of lips he has known fleetingly against his own, in the few moments where they could hide away from the view of the others; those lips are just as cool, just as soft, as he remembers.

Gods, how he longs to hold him again, just one more time-

Thanatos recoils from his touch, however, cementing his resolve.

Clearing his throat, Thanatos explains, "You could still make a life here."

"But what would I be living for?"

The reaper stiffens, freezing in place. "You'd be living for…"

For me.

Zagreus doesn't know if that is indeed what Thanatos wants to say. He both hopes and dreads the very thought that he is correct, that his wishful thinking has managed to accurately predict the depth of feeling in the other's heart. Either way, when his attention falls back upon the reaper, the space where Thanatos had stood is already empty, and Zagreus is alone.

What if he thinks I'm choosing freedom over…

He dares not finish the thought.

Dusa asks him tentatively, "O-oh… y'know, Prince, whaddya think you're gonna find up there?"

"I don't know, Dusa," he murmurs, looking up at the wall of the lounge. "Whatever it is, it's better than here. I need freedom, and to find my mother. I've been lied to for too long."

The answer is good enough to appease, yet worry her, and for that, he is sorry; she is so sweet, always scurrying around, trying to accomplish impossible feats to please the eternally-sour Hades. There is no way for her to ever be respected by the master of these halls, but Zagreus shall not be the one to tell her that. He adores the little light in her eyes as she works, and he does not want to be the one to destroy it.

She splutters, "I-I mean, I'm sure you'll be successful eventually! I'll miss you, though."

I'll miss you, too.

His eyes are not focused upon her, although she does not notice, scurrying away into the rafters the moment she has uttered those words. He is left behind to look solely upon the image of Thanatos on the wall, his face in the conjured painting set in a faint scowl, his eyes staring back at Zagreus with such weary resignation that Zagreus wants to beg for forgiveness that he knows he shall never receive.

I'll miss you. If he thinks hard enough, he can almost hear Thanatos' voice saying those words- almost.

If I say goodbye, then I'll have to lay everything else out on the table, too.

Thanatos does not hold those same reservations. "I don't want your apologies," he mutters brusquely as he doles out another boon, the bodies of slain wretches proof that Zagreus has bested him in this inane competition.

Zagreus laughs before he can stop himself. "You've got to learn to pick up the pace, then, Than," he teases, his heart soaring as he realizes just how normal his voice sounds. "A god of death slower than the Prince of the Dead? Come now. I won't apologize for you slacking off on training."

"It's hard to train without a partner."

The joy in his heart dissipates in an instant. "…fair enough. I'm-"

"I told you," Thanatos says coldly, turning on his heel, "I don't want your apologies."

But I've already hurt you if an apology is warranted in the first place. "You know that I do not regret my time with you, Than," he says, voice soft, far more earnest and vulnerable than he'd like. "I do not regret any time with you."

You are not something I shall ever regret.

Thanatos' reply is curt, almost business-like. "You say that, but you still try to escape. No one can, Zag."

Zagreus' heart seizes, clenching his innards, his soul, so wholly that he almost begs Thanatos to kill him there on the spot, to send him back to the House, to that miserable life in death. "…you haven't called me that in a while," he whispers.

By then, Thanatos is already gone, and the boon he leaves behind is not enough to fill the space in Zagreus' heart.

This is all I'll have to remember you by.

"You're wearing it."

Zagreus opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again. The sentiment is clear as day upon his face, he knows it. He has never been very good at hiding his feelings from Thanatos, after all. He doubts that he needs to truly spell it out for the other, to tell the man that Zagreus will wear Thanatos' keepsake forever, just in case.

"Why would I not? Keepsakes hold power, after all," he finally laughs. The sound is empty when it enters the cold, still air.

Thanatos snorts, his grimace almost comical against a face so beautiful that Zagreus cannot tear his eyes away. "Of course. Power."

Zagreus curses his word choice. He chooses to play the fool anyways. "What's wrong, Than?"

"You wore it- I just…" There is a furrow between the reaper's pale brows that Zagreus itches to smooth away. He clenches his fist, ignoring the desire welling up within him as Thanatos admits, "I thought we were…"

Family.

"We always will be," Zagreus lies smoothly. It is almost frightening, how easily those words slips past his lips.

There is no joy in Thanatos' smile when he departs, leaving behind the same boon as usual.

In his wake, Zagreus lets out a long, weary sigh before readjusting his grip on the Stygian blade. "No, Than," he whispers as he heads for the next chamber. "We're not family." They've always been so much more, and if Zagreus successfully makes it out of the Underworld, he's going to lose Thanatos- lose this other, better part of himself, forever. So, he holds the pierced butterfly just a little tighter to his heart. This, at least, he can take with him to the ends of time. He shall never let it go.

It'll break his heart.

He wonders who is the stronger one: him, in all his bravado and determination, fighting through the Underworld again and again and again-

Or Thanatos, who has yet to break after seeing him die again and again and again. If he had to watch Thanatos suffer the way he has at the hands of his father's demons… Zagreus would have broken long, long ago.

And yet, as Thanatos appears to challenge him to a simple bout yet again in order to aid his quest under the guise of duty, Thanatos' eyes no longer spark the way they once had, back when they were boys- back when life was simpler, kinder. That lack of a spark remains no matter where Zagreus finds him- in the fields of Elysium, in the fires of Asphodel, in the halls of Tartarus. Even when he crawls out of the river yet again, finding himself yet again at the feet of the reaper his heart longs for, the light which used to make Thanatos' face radiant and bright is nowhere to be found.

As he leaves the lounge in a flash of dark fire and ash, all Zagreus can wonder is whether he is wrong- whether Thanatos is broken, after all. Maybe he just never noticed Thanatos' heart breaking. He's never been too good at noticing details.

No goodbye means that he has left open the door for the Fates to weave their strings back together again. Their story shall not have an end- not here. If the price to pay to see him again is death, that he shall die as many times as it takes once he is outside of the Underworld. And if that hurts Thanatos in the process, well…

He'll cross that bridge when he gets to it. For now, another attempt is calling.

I'll beg you to come with me.

He knows what Thanatos' answer would be. He does not know if his heart would be able to handle that rejection, though; so, he keeps fighting, keeps climbing, keeps putting himself to work in order to ignore the fact that if given the choice, he might choose a life with Thanatos over a life outside of the Underworld.

If given that choice- if given the chance to hold Thanatos in his arms again, not as family but as his everything- he might take it. He cannot risk that. He needs to know the truth, otherwise he'll regret it forever.

"You won't make it out, Zag."

"See you later, Than."

They part. It is only for now. Until then, the butterfly remains pressed near to Zagreus' heart, for keepsakes hold immense power, and Thanatos' hold over him, even more so.

-fin-