A/N: For us mortal creatures, here is the translation.
the real wares (the friends made along the way)
His boat is his constant companion- the river, his guide. The spirits who scream and cry underneath the stern of his vessel are melodious, ringing in rancorous harmony, the cacophony echoing in his ears in the most pleasant of manners; he adores his quiet, yet dissonant boat rides through the Underworld, for these canals filled with emotions far beyond his reach are delectable, giving him taste after taste of the inanities which rule the humans who live in the mortal plane above.
However, business is harsh. He loves his work- nothing feels quite like striking up a good deal with a new, unsuspecting client- but they are few and far between, for those who are able to navigate past the eternally-wrathful chambers of the Underworld are scarce even in the best of times. The shades of warriors are never able to escape fully, and although their patronage is much-appreciated during their escape attempts, no one ever falls upon his shop more than a few times.
Obols are treasured. He spends wisely- on what, no one knows.
xxx
One day, however, it is not a shade which enters the room in which he has set up shop in Tartarus. Amongst the garish, sickly green glow of the lanterns and spirit cells which light up the corners of the room, the silhouette which steps through the door to approach his miniscule chamber, filled with nothing but wares and relative safety, is hulking, imposing. Charon reflexively takes a step back as he feels even the purplish smoke which curls past his lips vanishing, sucked into a void caused by this figure. The entire chamber grows silent, even for the dead. Not a sound echoes in the air, not a stirring of the still, lifeless wind to be found. Not even his coin purse seems to jingle as he moves, the swishing of his robes swallowed up by the presence of this imposing creature before him.
"You are Charon?" Hades, the Lord of the Dead, murmurs, looking down upon him over a long, strong nose.
Charon opens parched, crackling lips to respond, but his words do not emerge. He ensures that even he is able to nod clearly, though, for this is his liege; he has spent his whole existence trading in Hades' kingdom. It is his duty to respond. He shall not withhold information, for he knows how spiteful the gods can be.
To his surprise, Hades simply looks over to his wares with a keen eye. The god quickly points to a few items in stock, then glances down at the numbers affixed to each one.
Charon lets out a long, drawn-out breath, glowing eyes flitting between the god's stern, rigid face and the wares on display. If Lord Hades is displeased with his prices, then what will become of him?
Fate seems to smile upon him that day, however. Within moments, the required obols are procured and dropped into one of his skeletal hands, and the god takes what he needs. Then, he walks right out the door into the next chamber without another word, back tall and proud, his figure just as terrifying upon leaving as it had been upon entry.
His exit allows the world to sing again, the creaks and groans of the Underworld finally springing forth once again. Charon sighs quietly, feeling his tense figure relax now that Hades is gone. He had not realized just how uneasy he could feel without hearing the river's gentle waves lapping up against the side of his boat, but with the faint screams of the damned returning to haunt the Underworld in the absence of its master, Charon feels right at home once again. Soon, he shall pack up and board his boat, for another sale awaits wherever the river takes him.
xxx
Persephone is different, he finds.
She walks in, leaving sprigs of grass in the wake of every silent footfall; he watches as her presence causes flowers to bloom then wilt, the room growing hot and cold and hot again, her magic oozing through her pores. Her guard is clearly up upon entry, but she quickly relaxes as she realizes the serenity of his little shop, her smile growing so brilliant that he wonders whether another god's might accompanies her, too.
Charon nods towards her. He does not allow harm to pass those who enter his sanctuaries. These are places of business, after all- not violence.
As she grows nearer, however, he can see the truth. This spritely woman bears a burden upon her shoulders which he cannot name, a grief lingering in her eyes that is so achingly hollow that it makes his chest hurt alongside hers. She introduces herself and makes light small talk, her green eyes shimmering curiously as she examines his wares.
He asks her quietly where she is going. "To the mortal world," she replies simply.
It is a baffling thing to even envision, and yet, for some reason… he knows she will be successful.
Perhaps that is why he agrees to make a trade when she admits that she does not carry any obols in her pockets. However, she does have a plethora of darkness, the quantity enough to make even Charon show surprise. He easily guesses that Nyx has blessed her with this darkness, knowing that he is always looking to collect more to trade; while that guess does prove to be correct, he does not fault either goddess for not preparing the obols he requires. Persephone dumps her stash of darkness and in turn cleans out his stock of wares, his food and gems and few saved boons now gone to aid the tiny goddess on her journey.
He wonders whether he shall ever see her again. Her eyes stay with him long after she is gone and he is back on his boat. He never does see her, though.
xxx
The tiny gorgon who tentatively hands him a few obols gives him a response he had not been expecting at all. "If you need an employee, I-I-I promise I'm really good! I can help clean or help arrange stock or-or-or do sales or-"
He holds up a hand, halting the anxious creature in her tracks. She is clearly unlike the other derivative gorgons he has seen lurking in the shadowy flames of Asphodel, and while his heart does go out to her, there is not enough room on his boat for two. He does not need a helper in his work. There is never enough money to go around even for just him, after all.
She leaves, dejected. He does not regret giving her that spare feather duster, though; gifts given on Olympus or in the Underworld almost always manifest extra blessings, and he hopes that whatever comes of this tiny tool will be enough to help little Miss Dusa on her quest for meaningful employment. She seems like a gentle soul.
There are not enough of those to go around.
xxx
While Hades never really comes back, the other gods enjoy disturbing his serene shop more than he would like. Zeus is easily one of the worst offenders, the brash man shattering his wares without even realizing it. His presence always makes the air crackle, and Charon absolutely detests the way his ears pop whenever the god of the skies appears to trade in boons and obols for his wares.
Poseidon is a less aggravating visitor, although Charon would gladly never see the god of the sea ever again. He has a tendency of drowning the most delicate of Charon's wares, and he never seems to have enough obols to pay for the damages. It's such a waste, only ever useful when Ares has been by- for the war god leaves far too many bloody footprints in his wake, which is never good for business when viewed by potential customers. At least Poseidon's eagerness is enough to wash away the bloodstains.
…he does not mind Hermes, though. As far as businessmen go, Hermes is acceptable; he appreciates the neutrality the messenger god bears, for it does not matter whether Olympus or the Underworld is requiring his services. He simply goes where the money takes him, and Charon respects that.
After all, he too is content to go wherever his boat may take him. He is hardly different from Hermes, aside from the latter's exuberance and energy. That vibrant, thrumming energy wouldn't suit Charon's shop, though, so he does not mind providing a different shopping experience for customers. Variety keeps business fresh.
xxx
Cerberus is adorable. Charon longs to run his long, bony fingers through that coarse red fur; he longs to see the creature roll over. He knows his staff would be perfect for giving behind-the-ear scratches, and even though his boat is already cramped with his merchandise and his own form, he could make space for Hades' hellhound any day.
The dog does not like him, though. It is disappointing.
He keeps a stash of fetid meat bartered from the satyrs in the Temple of Styx in the back trunk of his boat anyways, just in case.
xxx
Heroes come and go, and Charon could not care less. None of them are interesting, and the few that are run more annoying than anything else; Theseus especially has been dropping into his store in Elysium more and more as of late, insisting on buying boons bartered by the gods and different tools. He is planning for worthy foes, he says each time. Charon thinks he is full of hot air, which is saying a lot, considering the acrid, burning violet fumes which spill from Charon's own lips with each breath.
Charon would much rather see shades like Patroclus. He knows that the philosopher's former lover in life resides in the House of Hades, but he is not one to share information unprovoked, without a bargain to be made; so, he keeps that knowledge close to his chest, watching curiously as Patroclus drifts in and out of his shop aimlessly, always looking for something to fill the void.
That heartache which Patroclus bears is fascinating. Perhaps that is why he never tells the bedraggled, empty man about his lonely lover lingering in the lowest halls of the House of Hades- he knows he cannot trade for what he truly desires, so he contents himself with simply observing it in action.
What exactly is this thing, 'heartache'?
Not even the river truly knows.
xxx
Athena is kind, and Artemis is pure. Dionysus causes more of a mess than all the other gods combined. And yet, they all feel the same to him at the end of the day. After all, each and every god and goddess upon Olympus (save for Hermes of course) treats him exactly the same: as a clerk, as a machine to collect their obol and boons and trade for his wares. He is not really there to them, but that is to be expected, for the gods have no time to trifle with beings that cannot possibly capture their interest such as he.
He is but a tool. Tools do not require conversation. That is alright.
xxx
Zagreus is different, just as his mother was. Charon recognizes the spark in that green eye instantly, his mind racing back to the flowering footsteps of the goddess of the changing seasons. However, unlike her, Zagreus does not bear the same burden of truth the way Persephone had, for his steps are strong and self-assured despite the bloody wounds sustained all over his body.
One of the Fury sisters awaits in the next chamber. Zagreus seems to understand it, but he is nonplussed. "If they take me out, then I'll just become stronger and come back," he says nonchalantly. His confidence is so unfounded, and yet… Charon believes him.
The coin he has found whilst fighting off wave after wave of the wretches sent his way by his father himself is not enough for Zagreus to buy all of Charon's wares. The young godling spends much time squatting in front of rows of potential buys which do fit in his budget. Charon has half a mind to shoo him off if he shall not purchase anything, but those thoughts are quickly vanquished when Zagreus asks him an off-handed question- not about his merchandise, but about himself.
And then, Zagreus waits for Charon to respond, his smile eager and inviting.
Charon's grip on his staff relaxes, his stiff joints creaking at the movement. Prince Zagreus is different, indeed.
xxx
"Please keep aiding my son."
He nods. He will do whatever he can, as long as coin is offered- as long as the balance is not disrupted.
She smiles, for she knows that that is the best anyone can do in these cold, dark chambers. The river is always watching, after all. The spirits are always watching.
What she does not know is that he has met with her adopted child dozens of times since their initial encounter, and that he has grown fond of this young god who knows how to appreciate silence- who knows how to actually take a step back and listen.
Zagreus always says goodbye to him as if they are friends. It causes Charon's chest to ache. He fills that void with fresh stock, but it never seems enough, these days.
xxx
The bottle of nectar is so unexpected that it takes him a few minutes to actually comprehend what is going on, for the offering is so simple and so pure, so completely free of expectation, that he does not even recognize this one-sided exchange at first.
It is a gift. The word is foreign upon his tongue, swirling around mysteriously. He does not know if he likes the flavour of it.
As per the custom- or maybe more to satisfy his own need to make this a transaction- Charon is quick to return the favour, gifting a small hourglass he had kept in his cloak for many cycles. It has served him well.
It surprises him, though, how much strange, creeping joy fills his heart as the keepsake is imbued with power and Zagreus' eyes light up in awe in response. As long as Zagreus likes the gift, then his debt is paid.
And when Zagreus shows up during another escape attempt wearing the hourglass upon his hip, that joy returns. The river teases him for it all the way to his next destination.
xxx
Demeter begins to approach him, bringing her icy wrath with her into his chambers. Even to Charon, the woman's touch is deathly cold. Her scorn is just as icy, for she offers her blessings that may aid her grandchild with as much contempt as one might give one of Hades' most repulsive wretches.
If it were not for the fact that earning her ire may destroy his shop, and that she was offering him help for Zagreus, he may have turned her away from the first moment she entered his store. As it is, however, he does not want to impede Zagreus' quest. He is the best customer Charon has ever had, after all.
At least, that is what he tells himself when he restocks the things Zagreus likes best. He is just a good customer.
However, the one who Charon does want to turn away is not Demeter, despite her frigid demeanor. No, not at all; the one he cannot stand is in fact Aphrodite, of all deities. The goddess of love is popular, he knows, for the souls which make up the river cry out for her ceaselessly whenever she enters his little shop to offer boons for Zagreus.
He wishes she would stop, though. Aphrodite talks to Charon as if he knows not of what her gifts may bring, as if the weakness spelled upon those under her wing is something that shall forever be foreign to him. While he cannot deny that fact- heartache and longing and pain are all impossible to disassemble in his mind, after all- the fact that she can so staunchly announce that he shall never experience love leaves him far more hollow, far more broken, than he would like.
xxx
Zagreus always comes back, his face lighting up in joy and relief every time he enters Charon's chambers. Charon does not understand why the princeling insists on continuing this journey; each time he comes into the store, Zagreus looks more broken and battered than before. And yet, the smile on his face never fades, his eagerness to buy a new boon and boost his strength with the vaguest hope that maybe this shall be the day he escapes renewed with every step he takes into Charon's sanctuary.
Charon wonders why he keeps trying. There is no way for him to make it to the mortal realm, nor is there any way for him to stay there, even if he does land where he wants to. Yet, Charon finds that no matter the reason, he does not mind having Zagreus continuing this vain journey of his, for Charon has never felt more stability in his life than since Zagreus has begun to seek the surface. His shop changes to suit those who enter it, after all; he has seen no one but the princeling of the Underworld for more cycles than he can count.
Even Hermes begins to notice the consistency in his store's appearance. Every time the god comes by to drop off new wares from the other gods on Olympus, he comments on Charon's shop, absolutely incredulous that it still remains in Zagreus' image.
Charon does not reply. It isn't as if Hermes is listening, anyways- and Charon finds that he quite likes this store design for each region of the Underworld. It feels… cozy, whatever that means.
xxx
He wonders as Zagreus' proud back disappears through the doorframe what would happen if he didn't take Zagreus' coin. Would anyone notice if he simply gave away his wares?
Of course they would, he scolds himself quickly. Those boons would bear additional blessings. I would be found instantly.
He cannot risk upsetting the balance of the Underworld, so he knows that this merchandise shall continue to be sold, and not gifted.
Unfortunately, Zagreus comes into his store poor more often than not, and he usually has difficulty affording more than one item. He never seems to mind it, though, always making light of the situation despite the two of them both inherently knowing that without the goods Charon can offer, Zagreus' journey shall be that much harder. Still, Zagreus is nothing if not positive, no matter what the circumstance.
"Well, I should be off, friend. See you later, Charon! You enjoy your day, you hear me?" With a jovial wave and a wink that is far too brilliant in these dark corridors, Zagreus jogs out the door to face whatever wretches may be sent his way.
Charon watches the door for far longer than he should have after that. His mind knows that he should be leaving, that he should be heading out to the next customer. His wares shall not pack themselves, and yet, every time he sees Zagreus, he finds that his entire body feels a little lighter- a little richer. Even when there are no obols exchanged, he feels like he has gained simply by seeing the young princeling.
It is so odd, this sensation which wells up in his chest, spreading from his heart to the tips of his fingers, invading the very air he breathed and exhaled, every time he feels Zagreus' presence. He wants to repay the young god for this unintentional gift; so, he wonders whether anyone would notice if he lowered the prices, at least. That would be alright… right?
xxx
Zagreus will return. He always does. Charon can no longer deny that he has been trying to get more and more impressive wares as of late in order to support the young princeling; there is no façade he can wear to hide the fact that he simply wants to give Zagreus as much of a fighting chance in accomplishing his goal of reaching the forlorn, empty goddess who had passed through his shop all those aeons before.
Hermes asks him why. As usual, he does not wait for Charon to respond- no one does, other than Zagreus- but Charon is accustomed to this. He does not mind watching the flighty god run his mouth a mile a minute as he hands over the requested boons collected from the other gods. "You're going to make quite a tidy profit off of these ones, I'm almost impressed! Good on ya for driving up prices like this, you've got the monopoly down here, after all!" the god says at last as he finishes handing over the last item.
Charon nods carefully, handing over the required obols.
Hermes' face lights up. He does not linger long, even if he is curious about Charon's reasoning. There is no reason for Hermes to know that Charon no longer changes the price, whether it is a powerful blessing or not; he leaves them all at base price in order to be accessible to the one who needs them the most.
No one needs to know. The river will keep his secrets, and once Zagreus is well-equipped and on his way again, Charon will board his boat, ready to find the next customer who shall fill his pockets with coin.
And if that person is Zagreus in the next level of the Underworld, then even better.
-fin-