Chapter Text
Ever since he was young, Thanatos had always understood his place.
His place, since he could remember, was to be quiet. To be good, especially to mother Nyx, and to help her as she requested. She was not a warm parent in words, but he knew she loved him, her chilly hand on his head when he would hide in her skirts. Where talkative Hypnos took up all the attention of the household as well as their favor, he knew he had to work hard for everyone’s respect. When he was small, that meant being obedient and quick, and while Hypnos was the brother who made everyone laugh at his antics, Thanatos was the one who earned Hades sullen regard. Thanatos knew how rarely Hades bestowed that respect, even to his own mother.
“Consider yourself lucky, Nyx. Your offspring is of clearly higher caliber then my own whelp.” Hades grumbled at her after Thanatos had made his very first report: He had managed to warp outside the house for the very first time, and reported that a load bearing column in the halls of Tartarus was starting to crumble.
Nyx did not smile at the remark. “Zagreus has his own talents that will reveal itself in time. Do not be so hasty to come to that decision.” Her rich, multitonal voice held an edge that no one in the hall missed.
Zagreus was seated beside his father in the almost laughably small desk that had been commissioned for him. Unlike Thanatos, Zagreus’s every emotion showed on his face—shame, hurt pride, and anger flashed.
While Hades and Nyx were jousting over another issue facing the realm, Thanatos watched Zagreus silently scramble into the shadows leading into the eastern hallway. Thanatos, knowing where he would go, silently followed him, knowing neither of them would be missed for the time being.
He found Zagreus sitting on his heels, sulkily kicking sparks at the gate before the garden. Zagreus had always wanted to explore the area, but no one was allowed in, not even the Crown Prince. Thanatos approached silently behind Zagreus. “Zag.” He said, both greeting and question.
“Leave me alone.” Zagreus said, his voice wavering. “Father won’t miss me. He likes you better anyways.”
“That’s not true.” Thanatos said by reflex. “Anyways, Mother loves you better.”
Zagreus snorted, but didn’t reply. Thanatos sat by him, facing the gated entrance to the garden as well. Unlike the rest of the house, cold and proud, the garden gave a faint scent of richness, of something sweet, of something that Thanatos could recognize as life. Sitting close to Zag, he thought he could recognize that same strum of energy around his friend as well at times.
“I don’t understand.” Zagreus’s voice came out pained beside him. “I do everything he asks of me…I try anyways. And no matter what he just picks at me and makes me feel worse than useless. It’s as if he hates the very sight of me.”
Thanatos inched closer to Zagreus, who was now staring hard at the ground with eyes swimming with tears. “Don’t cry, Zag. You know that’ll just make Lord Hades angry.” Zagreus shook his head but didn’t reply. Thanatos recognized the quivering lip as a sign of impending tears, and quickly reached into his robes. “Here. Take this.”
“Is that Mort?” Zagreus’s eyes opened comically wide, all sadness forgotten. “Are you giving him to me?”
“Tsch, no.” Thanatos nudged little Mort against Zagreus’s arm. “I’m just letting you borrow him. Keep him while Lord Hades has you at the desk, and you won’t feel as bad. I have to keep practicing warping until I can finally make it up to Asphodel at least and I don’t want to lose him.”
Zagreus’s face now split into a brilliant smile, and Thanatos was dazzled with it. “Than, thanks so much! I know it’ll be so much easier to handle all that boring paperwork with Mort with me!” Suddenly, Zagreus pulled Thanatos into a bear hug, all gangly limbs, his face burying into Thanato’s shoulder.
“Come back soon, though okay? Or Mort will miss you too.” Zagreus whispered.
The contact of Zagreus’s hug made Thanato’s head swim. For a moment he felt overwhelmed with warmth, light, the color of red in his mind, the same color of a pomegranate seeds, bursting and spilling on the ground. The scent of the locked away garden suddenly surged, blossoms and bones, petals and ashes, life and rot….
“…Than? Than? Are you all right?” Thanatos came to, realizing Zagreus was looking at him with concern, holding him by the shoulders.
“…I’m fine.” Thanatos said in a daze. He realized he was still holding onto Mort, and Zagreus’s hand was covering his. He let go of Mort in a hurry, his hand now feeling as if it had been burned. Zagreus opened his mouth, clearly to ask what had happened to Thanatos, and before he knew it, Thanatos had warped himself back into his own room, his skin still thrumming.
When Zagreus later dropped Mort into the Phlegethon river, Thanatos was the one who was comforting Zagreus, letting himself pat Zagreus’ hair while Zag apologized over and over. But when Zag tried to go in for a hug again, Than quickly stepped back. The fear of a repeat of that episode, of the near unbearable sensation made him hesitant. Over time, despite Zagreus’s best efforts, the prince learned to give Thanatos his space, any physical contact now limited to the sparring sessions they would do under Achilles together, order of Lord Hades.
Even with the limited contact of practice weapons against each other, Thanatos learned that the feeling of his heart would still threaten to burst in his chest, distracting him sorely. Avoiding it like a pained tooth, Thanatos threw himself into his work more and more, and left Zagreus to the sole tutelage under Achilles.
After all, Thanatos knew what he was. He was Death, twin brother to Sleep, and the scythe bequeathed to him would end all the lives on the surface world, and eventually of the worlds above and below as well. His scythe snapped clean the threads of life for the spring flowers, the summer harvest, the autumn grapes, and the winter hearths. He cleansed the heavens of the birds and the stars.
His place was to not touch Zagreus, god as he clearly was. God of the new born lambling in the night, the first flower buds in the snow, new blood red as the river Styx. Of all things, Thanatos could not bear that Zagreus ever be marred by Death.
The first time Thanatos saw Ares was precisely where one would expect to meet the God of War.
Thanatos was a god of death, certainly but he was not the only one who harvested and guided mortal souls to the Underworld. His domain was more to those who died peaceful deaths, though the definition of peaceful could certainly be stretched. His brother Charon could collect on occasion, Hermes and Atropos had their own share of responsibility, and the Keres, his numberless half sisters did their part to feast on the souls from the battlefield, souls who had met violent dooms. They had been doing the work, piecemeal, for far longer than Thanatos could comprehend. They themselves had inherited the tools of their trade from older, nameless gods. Charon and his boat, Hermes and his winged sandals, and Thanatos, gifted the eyed scythe when he had officially come into his own as a god.
As much as Thanatos had trained with Achilles and had been guiding the souls of Tartarus, his limbs were not used to the endless task of harvesting souls. Sweep after sweep, households swept up like ripe grain, and yet there was always more work to be done yet—the plague stricken begging for release, the old who lay weakly in their beds. The rich man who clung so desperately to life, the beggar cold at the crossways—all were equal of his attention. And Thanatos, still so young, was secretly staggering at the weight. He never could find time to rest, to go back to the Underworld for more than a moment, to even see Mother Nyx, Meg, Zagreus even….
Thanatos alit on the roof of a palace, the center of a great city that was a blanket of lights under the night sky. He felt the light tendrils of his mother’s influence, lightly carding through his hair, a faint reassurance from Nyx’s physical aspect in Tartarus, and then disappear.
He was here to collect the soul of a great politician, an old, tottering man now. Thanatos found his bedroom easily, the entire place still lit brightly with torches, servants fluttering about actively to and fro to the nidus. The man himself lay still on the bed, wasted away, while his sons watches silently at the side, his aged wife already wailing to herself as she rocked back and forth.
Instead of being by himself, as he had expected, Thanatos was surprised to see his sister, Eris already there, as well as two male deities he had never met before. Eris was waiting idly on the windowsill, seemingly fascinated by her jeweled color nails, her fanged Rail leaning on the wall beside her. The two young men looked like twins of each other, both with blood red eyes and long black hair. They stood preternaturally still, floating in the air, holding hands. Despite their stillness, Thanatos could still sense the effect of their presence on the people in the room, the set jaws and unstill eyes of the politician’s sons, watching each other, the cowering and silent servants.
“Little brother.” Eris waved idly at Thanatos. “You’re finally here. It’s very rude of you to make us wait, isn’t it?”
“I apologize, Sister Eris.” Thanatos replied stiffly. He was not very familiar with his elder sisters, and Eris least of all. The few times she had briefly visited the Underworld she had smiled sweetly at Thanatos besides Nyx and had patted his cheek, her sharp nails scratching him. All the children of Nyx had golden eyes, but hers were cat bright and cruel. “A plague in the highlands. I didn’t expect you here.” His gesture encompassed Eris and the twins.
“No time for your excuses, my dear little brother.” Eris smiled. “Once you complete your work, ours can finally begin. You have never met Phobos and Deimos before, have you?” She waved her hand at the twin gods. “Fear and Terror. You’ll see more of them soon enough in this city. Plenty of work for you too.”
“I see.” Thanatos inclined his head at them in greeting, they did not respond. “Well, I must get to it then.”
Pulling out his scythe, Thanatos smoothly harvested the old man’s soul. As the body shuddered out its last breath, the woman began to cry aloud in earnest, and the servants now rushed to the door of the room to look. One of the sons bent at the bed to hold his father’s hand, and the other two swiftly strode out, hands on the daggers at their belts.
“There.” Eris purred. “Now for our work.”
As Thanatos moved out of the room through the window, he began to hear screams in the courtyard of the palace, the sound of swords ringing out. He felt the tug of his scythe towards the source, and realized there was more dead to be collected—
And swarming around him now, in endless numbers as to knock him to the cobblestones, were his other sisters, the Keres, their black wings alight and all of them singing their strange, wailing, song together, so loud in his ringing ears that Thanatos couldn’t see how all the mortals didn’t freeze at the sound.
Our turn, our turn now. They sang at him, as he got back on his feet. Go back, little one. They are ours to feast on.
And for the first time, the young god could only watch as the Keres around him feasted on the souls of the servants and the soldiers who were struggling amongst torchlight, the blood that soaked the stones like wine. He could hear Eris’s laughter somewhere distant in the palace with more sounds of struggle, new pulls at his scythe, and felt the influence of the watching, silent twins.
He had seen violent deaths at the hands of murderers, mobs, wild beasts. And yet none of them were as terrible as his first battlefield, even such a small skirmish as this. Here was bloodlust, and chaos and terror, like nothing he had ever seen even in the depths of Tartarus.
He heard the sound of the cry of galloping horses, before he felt an arm wrap around his waist, and pick him up from the stones as easily as if he was air. Thanatos nearly dropped his scythe in the surprise, as he was pulled roughly into a chariot, led by fiery horses, the sound of a woman’s laughter in his ears.
“What do we have here?” The owner of the arm asked in a rumble, letting Thanatos down gently on the floor of the chariot. His horses had stopped, and Thanatos could finally look up to see the figure of a tall man, looking down at him with amusement.
“A little godling, to be sure, Ares.” A small woman, not nearly the size of Thanatos’s hand was flitting to and fro. “Look, he even has Death’s scythe. Surely that’s the replacement Eris was speaking of.”
“Then well met, little one.” Ares smile crinkled the corners of his eyes as he bowed to Thanatos in a mock flourish. “It is you we have to thank for this fine night.”
Ares. The woman had called the man Ares. Thanatos realized he was gaping at one of the Pantheon, the Olympian in charge of war. The black laurels of the god shone under the moonlight.
“…Lord Ares.” Thanatos swallowed, trying to keep his voice steady. “I have duties to attend to. I do not belong here.”
“On the contrary.” Ares replied. “This is where you’ve always belonged.” He gestured to the scene occurring below them, more soldiers spilling into the courtyard, more screams and moans as the bloodbath continued. “Enyo and I would be delighted to acquaint you to your duties. You looked so lost, standing there helpless in the midst of all that carnage.”
Something in Ares’s blood dark gaze made Thanatos want to shiver. God of death as he was, and hated among the deathless, he felt oddly vulnerable, a stripling among full grown deities who had ruled earth long before he had been born. “I have work to attend, sir.” Thanatos had to bite back the world please.
Ares continued to regard him, and for a moment Thanatos wondered if the god told him no. Could Ares keep him here against his will? He was Death, and yet Thanatos felt a flash of—fear? Uncertainty?
He was a half moment from warping from the city when Ares held up his hand. “Peace, little one. Before you leave, you should right yourself.” Thanatos looked down at Ares’s gaze to realize that in the chaos of the Keres arrival, he was missing a sandal.
“It’s all right—” Thanatos was about to explain, that really he didn’t need sandals, per se, but Ares had already stepped down from the chariot. Another moment, and he was in front of Thanatos, gesturing him forward, holding up Thanatos’ lost sandal.
“It wouldn’t do for you to hurt yourself, would it.” Ares voice was a low dark rumble now, and Thanatos, dizzy with confusion, found himself sitting down before he realized it. Ares reached forward and gently grasped Thanato’s shoeless foot by the ankle, his touch hot as molten metal. With an almost paternal tenderness, Ares deftly tied on Thanato’s sandal back on, his thumb briefly brushing the length of his instep
“Ares.” Head dizzy, Thanatos barely heard the voice of his sister. Looking up, he saw Eris, her expression oddly flat as she stared at Ares. “You’re late as it is. Let my brother work.”
“But of course, my dear Strife.” Ares replied smoothly. He let go of Thanatos’s ankle, who took the opportunity to quickly stand up. With a quick mumbled “My thanks.” Thanatos quickly warped out of the palace, despite his desperately thrumming scythe, his heart beating just as quick. As he threw himself into the work in the surrounding city, taking care to avoid the places with the loudest fighting, he felt his ankle burn with Ares’s phantom touch.
Eris had later taken the time to warn their mother about Ares. “He’s a very good colleague.” Eris said, while cleaning the sights on her Rail, still steaming with fresh blood. “Damn good at what he does, even for a man, and always fair to the rest of us.” She looked straight at Thanatos. “No offense to present company.”
“Of course.” Thanatos said drily. Nyx stayed silent, waiting for Eris to continue.
“But you can’t forget he’s an Olympian, and son to Zeus, who thinks the whole world is his personal brothel. He’s tumbled his own fair share of nymphs and demigods, not to mention fucking Aphrodite’s silly brains out when her husband isn’t watching.” Eris finished the finicky business of cleaning parts with an eclat, and the Rail snarled and showed its teeth in hunger. “I don’t want him thinking my little brother barely of age is fair sport for him.”
Thanatos made a noise of disgust, and Eris laughed at him. “What? Did you think he stopped to paw at you in the middle of a battle just because he was being kind?”
“I’d rather not think about that.” Thanatos said stiffly. He’d rather not think about anyone touching him at all in a manner with intent. Not in front of his mother anyways, whose sharp eyes were watching him now.
“Well, ignore it or not.” Eris said, hefting the Rail over her shoulder as she prepared to leave. “Just remember who you are. You are Death, even if you are still too young for the job, in my opinion. Have a care, and don’t let him lead you into any dark corners.”
She dropped a quick kiss on her mother’s cheek before she left, her walk light as if she had just left a pleasant homecoming, rather than an older sister’s mission to preserve her siblings innocence.
Nyx turned to face Thanatos now, and he could almost sigh in annoyance at the concern on her timeless face. “Mother. You don’t have anything to worry about me. I’d hardly forget my place around anyone, let alone a god like…that.”
“Perhaps.” Nyx said, still considering her youngest son. “But Eris would not come down to speak to me out of baseless rumors. Lord Ares may not give you a choice about his attentions.”
“Like my sister said, I’m the god of Death.” Thanatos replied. “He can’t force me into anything. If I so chose, I could make his enemies immortal and shame him on the battlefield. I’m not some wood nymph of an insignificant glade.”
“There are ways to force a person’s hand, my son.” Nyx said, her eyes becoming shadowed. “Please, do not be careless. It is true that you are of age, but I would not have you suffer unnecessarily.” She paused for a delicate moment. “Unless of course, his attentions are not…unwanted?”
“Mother!” Thanatos felt himself flush hotly, in disbelief he was having this conversation with his own parent. His mind flashed back to a memory of callused hands cradling his ankle, as if they were holding something precious…
There was a sound in the courtyard, and Thanatos turned to see Zagreus leaning against the columns, his expression an odd mix of annoyance and another emotion he couldn’t quite gauge. “Well Than? You were about to tell Nyx what you think of Lord Ares, don’t let me stop you.”
“Ugh, not you too.” Thanatos sucked his teeth. “Haven’t anyone told it’s rude to eavesdrop on a private conversation?”
“Oh.” Zagreus replied, eyebrows raising. “So Lord Ares is a private topic to you now.”
Thanatos heard his mother hum, and he saw her turn to go. “I must attend to my duties, my son. But you have time to catch up with Zagreus, he has been waiting your arrival most anxiously.” He thought he caught the faintest hint of a smile around her eyes, but couldn’t be sure. As she left in a blink, Zagreus ambled up to Thanatos, hands tucked around the belt of his blood red chiton.
“What are you doing here?” Thanatos sniped at Zagreus, who came to stop in front of him. “I only have a little time to spend, and now you’ve chased Mother Nyx off.”
“Than, please, don’t be like this.” Zagreus said, his expression now resembling that of a sad puppy. “I didn’t mean to pry, I just haven’t seen you in so long. I’ve missed you.”
Thanatos felt a queer beat in his heart, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. “….I’ve missed you too, Zag. I’m sorry, I’m just in a poor temper lately. Haven’t had much time to rest with all the wars on the surface.”
“Oh well….” Zagreus shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Is it just all the wars, or is a certain Olympian taking up your time as well?”
“Zag, seriously?” Thanatos mock cuffed Zag around the ears, who avoided his fist easily, his easy laughter filling Thanatos’s ears. It had been so long, and yet they still fit together so easily like this. Thanatos felt a strange pang of guilt. “Is Achilles still working you hard? It looks like your reflexes are better.”
“Well actually…” It was now Zagreus’s turn to look bashful. “Megaera the Fury has taken over my training at this time. I have to say, she really keeps me on her toes with that whip of hers.”
“Ah.” Thanatos watched Zagreus fidget with his hair, now not meeting Thanatos’s eyes, and he knew. “You’re sharing a bed together then?”
Zagreus began to splutter, and Thanatos forced a thin smile on his face. “Congratulations. I know you’ve had a crush on her for ages. Somehow you’ve managed to use that silver tongue of yours to overlook all your failings.”
“Oh, well if we’re talking of silver tongues…” Zagreus quipped, almost as if in spite of himself and his embarrassment. “I’m sorry, that was just too easy. But yes, we’re….together in some sort of way. I’m not sure if she’ll kiss me or kill me next time we meet.”
“Best stay on her good side then.” Thanatos looked away, unable to look at Zagreus a moment longer. Something about the besotted look on his face made him want to grit his teeth, ignore the burning in his chest. “I better go. I have a special assignment I should be getting on.”
Zagreus’s expression fell, and for a moment Thanatos felt guilty. He really could wait a little more, and catch up with his best friend, not to mention the other members of the House. But the thought of seeing Megaera, even by accident, made him turn away.
“Can’t wait to get a leg over Lord Ares then? Don’t let me stop you!” Zagreus called at Thanatos’s back as he warped out of Tartarus.
Thanatos would run into Ares frequently of course. Part of the job responsibilities did include collecting the dead of the battlefields. Now that he was of age, Charon and Hermes could focus on their primary duties, and it was him who harvested the souls, and brought about the inevitable end of the clash, the dead littered on the field and the living either victorious or fleeing his scythe.
While he often felt Ares’s gaze at his neck while he counted souls, Ares made no move to speak to him in particular outside of professional niceties, and Thanatos tried to maintain a distant politeness. Not that he particularly put any stock in Eris’s words, but well….better to be cautious then sorry.
Sometimes in his spare moments of quiet, his mind would wander off to that first night of their meeting, recalling the strength of Ares’s arm wrapped around his waist, and he could admit to himself that well…Ares was hardly bad looking. A handsome god, in fact, with broad shoulders and a warrior’s body, not to tell of the man’s fine features, the striking red eyes.
The red eyes that in some lights, mimicked the color of Zagreus’s mismatched right eye.
One time Thanatos watched Ares in a particularly bloody battle, his broad hands digging into the throat of his enemy, a burled general who spat and swore and eventually went limp with the sound of breaking vertebrae resounding in the air. Ares turned, too quick for Thanatos to pretend he wasn’t looking, and Ares had the nerve to wink at him, as he cleaned the blood off of his hands. Thanatos turned away, his skin prickling all over in some unidentifiable emotion, and delivered a particularly brutal sweep of his scythe to the fallen warrior.
In the end, it all came about through Sisyphus’s manipulations.
“Come now, Sir Death.” Sisyphus’s smile was bland as he sat on his throne, his body language relaxed as he laid back and consumed a grape from his dais. It was his eyes that gave him away, shrewd and black as night. A king full of hunger, and an ego that far outsized whatever wits that was given to him. “You know you can’t get out of these shackles without my help.”
“I will not help you.” Thanatos snarled, even as the king’s guards gave him a sharp butt of the spear. To be shackled and at the mercy of doltish apes of mortals, who barely had the time to scratch at their arse and sniff before they withered…. “And I look forward to seeing you in the bowels of Tartarus for this.”
“Well you know, agree to disagree.” King Sisyphus said. “But Sir Death, won’t all the other gods be angry at you? Dereliction of duty and all that, letting mortals get above themselves, et cetera, et cetera. I imagine Father Zeus has some very choice words for you right now, with all those sacrificial goats and bulls that can’t be killed at his altars. He may just strike you down with a bolt before you even got to open your mouth about how you ended up here!”
“Not just barn animals.” Thanatos hissed. “Your sick, your old, and your executed criminals holding their own heads in their hands. You spite the natural order of things by keeping me here! And for what, a chance to be King a little longer?” He struggled at the shackles around his wrists by instinct, though he had struggled against them without effect for the past several weeks. Hephaestus made, the irons that Sisyphus had managed to clap around his wrists made him weak as a mortal, all his divinity suppressed.
“I said,” Sisyphus replied, with a sad expression. “I wish to live forever, Mister Death. And it can be so easily done. All you have to do is make a solemn oath that you will not collect my soul to the Underworld, and you’d be free to do your job. Along with the terms and conditions that you and your kind would not pursue vengeance against me and my kingdom, of course. I’ve no doubt your colleagues have ways to make an immortal being very uncomfortable.”
“Oath breaker.” Thanatos emphasized, staring King Sisyphys in the eye. “Niece fucker. Breaker of the sacred ties of hospitality. Murderer. You deserve the worst of Lord Hades torments.”
“Well if that’s the way you feel about it now.” King Sisyphus clapped his hands, and the guard’s hands lifted him roughly by the arms. “Back to the usual torture day and night until you break, hm? But let me know if you change your mind.”
And back in his dungeon cell, bristling with wards that prevented anyone from scrying his location, the guards continued their work.
Pain was not new to Thanatos. He had trained with Achilles after all, and had his spats with other minor deities that could draw blood. But with the shackles, Thanatos was now weak as a mortal. Or even more so.
They were careful not to kill him. After all, once he died, he could come back from the River of Styx, and come back with a vengeance, scythe ready.
First they had been hesitant, terrified that even their clever King could have missed a detail, and Thanatos would struggle free somehow. But after days of Thanatos unable to retaliate, and Sisyphus threatening torture for their families, they had grown more accustomed to their work.
He didn’t even realize water could do such thing as burn his lungs, Thanatos noted dully, his head forced underneath the filthy water of the trough. A rough fist at his hair, and he was pulled up, coughing for air.
“Do you yield?” The voice asked, more out of rote then genuine curiosity.
“No” Thanatos gasped. The rage in his heart, that he of the Cthonic pantheon was now reduced to being on his knees, half drowning in silt water, instead of making these worthless mortals scream for mercy. “You might as well drown me completely and be done with it.”
“No such luck for you.” The man laughed, and Thanatos was yanked ungenteely on his back. The flare of pain of his lashed back flashed white hot, and for a moment Thanatos was wordless, lights flashing in his eyes.
“Wait.” He heard another voice say, as if from underwater. The last words that man would speak, in fact, as the sound of a blade swinging through the air followed, as well as the rumble of crumbling stones, and bright light broke into the cell, making Than wince and close his eyes.
His head aching, he thought he heard some vague screams, quickly cut off into weak gurgles, and distant sounds of battle. Battle. Oh.
He opened his eyes, as he felt familiar molten hot hands cradle around his upper arms. Ares stared down at him, expression flat, his armor splashed with new blood.
“Little godling.” Ares voice was a deep rumble, pulling at Thanatos to get on his feet. “You have been sorely missed.”
“I’m sure.” Thanatos said, swaying forward. He found himself tired, so tired, not even caring how Ares’s stepped forward, his arms holding him up. “I’m glad that you have found me.”
“Fighting a battle isn’t the same without you.” Ares’s hand came up to rest at Thanatos’s cheek, delicately removing a smear of blood. “Can you come with me?”
“I can’t….” Thanatos limply shook at the shackles. “I was tricked. These dampen my powers. I’m worse than useless.”
“Thankfully they do nothing to mine.” Thanatos saw Ares duck down out of his line of sight, and wondered for a moment what was happening, before he felt an arm sweep his legs up, and he was ensconced against Ares’s chest, carried bridal style.
“Where are you taking me?” Thanatos said, trying to fight the tiredness out of his darkening eyes, but the warmth emanating from Ares body saying sleep, rest, you’re safe now. “I have work to do, if you’ll free me.”
“You need to rest.” He felt himself being lifted, and gently placed astride the warm back of a horse. Ares quickly mounted behind him, and Thanatos felt a hand lay flat against his belly to steady him, while Ares gripped the reins with the other. “We’ll collected what is owed to you when you are in a fit state to do so, and not before.”
At the mention of the word owed, Thanatos felt a tinge of some worry in his chest. An old word of caution? And it was gone, as he fell into his own deep sleep.
When Thanatos awoke, he was in a very different place then the squalid cell he had left.
He was first aware of the soft sheets enfolding his limbs, and the gentle perfume of sandalwood and flowers in the air. He blinked his eyes open, and saw the soft golden light painting a high ceiling, frescoed by a master hand. It took a while for his eyes to focus, to realize what he was looking at, all while slowly realizing he was in a soft bed, and his body no longer ached the same way it had for weeks. A scene of battle, of victory won, and countless piled bodies. The victors, now claiming their rights in gold and slave bodies, women with torn clothes being carried off into the groves, their arms raised in supplication.
“You’re awake.” Ares voice rang out, a trace of amusement in the words, and Thanatos sat up, to see the god of war seated by his bed, his crimson gaze trained on Thanatos. “Do you like my rooms?”
Ah.
“I’m in Olympus, then.” Thanatos said. “But why?” He raised his wrist, realized belatedly he was free of those hated shackles as well. His wrist was pale and rough where the iron had clasped hin for weeks.
“What Hephaestus makes, only he can break.” Ares replied. “You slept tender as a lambling through it all.”
“Then…” Thanatos had to force his mind his work, his body still languid, wanting to fall back into the scented sheets. “How did you bring me here? The other Olympians loathe the sight of me.”
Ares huffed a rumble of amusement. His hand rose, and Thanatos felt oddly unable to move, only watching as the god gently tucked a stray strand of his hair behind the curve of his ear.
“The earth and the heavens have not been in ease while you were gone, little godling. No one knew where you had gone, and not even Hermes could keep up with the dead in your absence. Finally I was able to hear of your whereabouts and came to find you. Even my father is disgusted at your treatment by a mere mortal. He’s agreed to give you sanctuary for a time, while he finishes smiting the rest of the King’s realm. Says otherwise it sets a bad example for the rest of the mortals.”
Thanatos next inhale, and he watched Ares watch the movement of his body, with something that was not just friendly concern. “You made sure I owe you, then. You could have given me up to my sisters.”
The smile on Ares’s face did not pretend to be anything other than pleased, but he withdrew his hand to lace them loosely over his knees, still watching Thanatos with intent. “I should apologize, little godling. But I admit, I have always wanted to see you in my bed. Even if you were only sleeping in it alone.”
“But that’s not all you want.” Thanatos studied Ares’s face. “Is it.”
Ares didn’t bother to answer, and Thanatos exhaled, shakily. “I can feel it…I owe you a boon now. For saving me.”
“I could ask of you anything.” Ares replied silkily. “That is the way of a blood debt. Perhaps I could ask you to collect any soul I wished, and so create a war eternal on the earth. It would be magnificent to see.”
Thanatos shook his head. “You know that I can’t do that. It would spit in the face of the balance of the Fates.”
“Well then.” Ares smile was now openly full of want, his eyes trailing down the length of Thanatos’s body, and he had to stop the urge to curl up and hide himself from sight. “What are you willing to offer me in exchange then?”
Thanatos felt like screaming. He was caught. Mother Nyx, Eris was right, he hadn’t been careful and now he was truly in a bind. Ares could ask him for his own life and he would have to give it to him by the laws of a blood debt. He could ask Thanatos to cull every living thing on earth and he would have to do it, if he was so asked.
The thought of Zagreus then flashed in his mind, the red light of his right eye, yet so different from the way Ares was looking at him, as if he was spoil, the rightful property of the victor to be used with as they liked. And in truth, he was now.
And if Ares should be angered, and ask for the eternal war that would make him king of the gods on Olympus, and the surface world be a pit of snarling gore, swallowing up the new blossoms, the young doelings, the cycle of life and death and rebirth, to be broken, leaving the tie between him and Zagreus to be broken, and Zagreus perhaps become whittled to nothing, a whisper, a withered thing—
The moment was growing too long, and Thanatos knew he could not risk angering Ares, and with a slow, hesitant movement, while looking away, he drew the bedsheets from his body, exposing his unclothed limbs. He couldn’t see Ares’s reaction but he could hear the sharp inhale of breath. A moment of uncertainty, Thanatos feeling his face burn, wondering if Ares was about to laugh at him and his pitiful offering, but then he felt Ares's hands on him, pushing him down on his back on the sheets, Ares bracketing over him, his breath warming the join of Thanatos’s neck as he continued to look resolutely away.
“Little godling.” Ares voice was now a baritone, deep with hunger. “I accept this boon then.”
“Now speak truly, Thanatos.” Ares growled, his teeth digging into the meat of Thanatos’s shoulder. “Have you ever done this before?”
Thanatos could only whimper, the noise becoming a sharp yelp as he felt Ares’s thick fingers curl inside him, the electric pulse of pleasure wiping his mind blank. Ares, dissatisfied with Thanatos’s reply, moved his head down to bite sharply at Thanatos’s nipple. “Well?”
“You know—you know I haven’t.” Thanatos cried out, trying to fight back the tears swimming in his vision. Gods, but Ares’s in bed was a beast, all biting teeth and unyielding strength, quickly leaving Thanatos overwhelmed and helpless, gasping on his back. Ares’s laved at the abused nub, molten mouth soothing the hurt, and Thanatos felt himself arch into the touch, his body begging Ares for more.
Ares purred in pleasure at Thanatos’s reply. “So I am your first then? A truly magnificent boon you have given me, little one.”
“Hardly….little anymore, am I.” Thanatos sighed in reply, Ares’s mouth kissing a luxuriant path down his belly. “You’re deflowering me as we speak.”
“Oh we haven’t even really started, little godling.” He heard Ares speak, the vibration of his voice against the most tender part of him making Thanatos’s toes curl. And then—
Thanatos found himself arching, his mouth falling open, Ares’s volcanic hot mouth now consuming him, swallowing him down to his length, his hands spreading his thighs open as if they were nothing, long fast strokes of Ares’s mouth that left Thanatos mindless, only crying out, his body pulsing around Ares’s fingers as he worked inside of him, touching the very core of him, his body shaking around Ares’s in an inevitable rhythm—
As he came, his very first peak, Thanatos vaguely remembered what the mortals would call this—a little death? How right they were, he thought, feeling his spend pulse hotly around his belly, his thighs, but Ares’s fingers still coaxing more and more out of him, until he felt as if he was truly about to black out, hurtling over an abyss he had not known could exist. He heard himself crying, and Ares was now kissing him, properly, his mouth tasting of Thanatos’s surrender, consuming him as he rode the last of the little aftershocks, back into his aching, sore body.
“Ares.” Thanatos heard himself breathing, as Ares kissed his tears. “Please.”
He didn’t know what he was even asking for, but it seemed as if Ares knew. Before Thanatos knew it, he found himself pulled and turned, onto his hands and knees, Ares’s ruthless strength giving him no quarter to beg for mercy, his hands hot as he smeared Thanatos’s spend over his hole. Another moment that Thanatos could hardly comprehend, still in his post fucked-out haze, and he felt something blunt press into his entrance, another white hot moment of pain, of burning, and Ares’s was impaling him properly now, the strangled gasp in Thanatos’s neck as he thrust inside.
If before was overwhelming, this was another beast entirely. Thanatos had inhaled to cry out, the pain too much, and Ares’s hand was now at his throat, cutting off his breath, mercilessly taking him before he was really ready. Thanatos tried to pry off Ares’s hand but it was no use—the god of war snarled and bit into Thanatos’s shoulder, hard, and something in Thanatos snapped, some resistance in him became only want low in his belly, Ares now fucking him hard enough to make the bed shake with each thrust, enough to leave bruises, Thanatos finding himself going sweetly limp, as he let himself be taken, wanting to be taken.
Ares was still wearing his armor, the metal grinding into Thanatos, leaving burning scrapes and yet Thanatos found himself growing hard at the sensation. A new emotion prickling his skin, as Ares forced his way through the pain, and into a blinding pleasure.
Fire and blood, battle and bloodlust, war fucking death, fucking the whole earth, and leaving nothing but ashes and bones. A terrible cycle, and yet a fated one, Thanatos could feel the binding between them down to his bones.
“Sweet.” He heard Ares snarl into the nape of his neck. “So sweet. You fuck like you were made for it, little godling, like you were made for me.”
Not for you. Thanatos suddenly thought, and tears sprung in his eyes. As Ares rhythm grew more ragged, his thrusts more desperate and deep, Thanatos thought of another, whose touch made him feel electric, whose mismatched eyes were all he could think about, as he came, a wrenching terrible peak like a fall, while he heard Ares shout, his hand tightening at Thanatos’s throat, while he filled Thanatos’s belly with warmth like fire.
They had slept afterwards, and then Ares had awoken Thanatos for another bout, that time lazily fucking into Thanatos on his side while he petted Thanatos’s flank. Another few hours of rest, and then Ares had dragged them to the baths, and taught him the use of his mouth, until the water was chilled. Now it was night, and Thanatos stepped noiselessly out of Ares’s bed, out of the dirtied sheets, finding his chiton ready and hung on a nearby chair.
The old agitated thrum of his blood debt was now gone on his skin, and Thanatos knew he was now free to leave, free to go back to his responsibilities, free to wreak his vengeance against King Sisyphus, free to go home and see his family again.
“Slipping away, little godling?” A voice lazily drawled, and Thanatos froze, in the middle of tying his robe. He turned and Ares was turned on his side, head pillowed on his arm, watching Thanatos like a cat. “You have duties, I know.”
Thanatos cleared his throat, still rough. “I do, Lord Ares. If I have your leave?”
Ares yawned. “No need for formalities now, hm? I’ll be seeing you soon.” Thanatos stiffened and Ares rumbled a huff of laughter. “Not like that. There’s war on the surface still. But consider your blood debt to me paid now.”
Thanatos tied on his belt swiftly, deigning not to answer back. The join where his thighs met burned and ached, and his whole body felt as if he had been mauled. “Then I’ll be seeing you, Ares.”
Ares smiled. “Ah, before you go.” He reached over at the bedside table, and tossed a small dark item at Thanatos’s chest. “I’ve been told this belongs to you.”
Thanatos caught the item, feeling something soft and familiar in his hands—“Mort?” He said in disbelief. In Olympus, in Ares possession, and yet it was truly Mort, the little mouse friend that Zagreus had lost, his little smile unchanged from the last time he had saw it.
“One of my subjects was out on a vermin hunt, and found it ruling as king of the mice.” Ares said, yawning. “The tag has your name on it.”
“Oh.” Thanatos said stupidly. He couldn’t believe. How on earth did Mort end up on the surface, after falling in the Phlegethon? But it was Mort all the same, still the same, after his long and no doubt, complicated journey.
He felt a familiar tinge of energy about Mort, from its previous owner, of life that persisted, despite all odds, and he felt a small smile on his face. “Thank you.” He felt a familiar thrum on his skin, and he frowned up at Ares. “Really?”
“A debt is a debt, even a small one like this.” Ares smiled. “But you won’t deny me a kiss, will you?”
Thanatos had to resist the urge to roll his eyes, but walked up to Ares all the same. Bending at the waist, he leaned over Ares, mouth meeting his, a surprisingly tender kiss. Death and war on the same footing now, old friends and newly acquainted, the cycle continuing.
“I’ll see you.” Thanatos said when they parted. “Work only from now on, understand?”
“As you wish.” Ares smiled.
And with that, Thanatos went home, Mort still in hand, following the scent of the energy of life.