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Chapter Text

He did it. He finally did it. He escaped. He was free. His breath heaved, lungs stinging with the frosted air as his sweat started to freeze against his skin. Zagreus could barely recognise his father under the blood that coated his bare chest and arms, red and gold mixed. The sound of their clashing weapons still rang out in the field as his father knelt in the snow, slowly bleeding out. The silence was brief.

“Go. Go then. GO! Get out of here! Get out!” He roared with what little strength he had left in him. Zagreus flinched, despite himself. There was hellfire in that voice, anger and bitterness and he had never felt it so directly aimed at him before. His molten gaze stared at the ground and Zagreus’ chest burned with rejection – his father couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge him, not even now, as this immortality dragged him back to the hells. Not even in their final moments.

“Goodbye father” Zagreus tried to keep his voice even. He would not let him know how his contempt wounded him, more so than any swing of his spear. He watched as the snow around his prone form melted to red, water turning to the blood of the river that would deliver the god of the dead back home. The earth swallowed him then, and Zagreus made himself watch as the figure that was his father sank into the ground, disappearing from sight. Only the echo of his last words remained:

“There... is... no... escape.”

And then he was gone. The snow was as pure as before, not even a spot of red marring the pristine blanket of Demeter’s grief made real.

Now he was truly, for the first time in his life, completely alone.

“I made it...” He whispered into the world, as if he needed it to acknowledge him, tell him yes, he had done it, this was real and he was real and his mother was real, waiting for him.

He stepped towards that glowing arch, holding his breath, waiting for the godly glow to reject him, just another divine intervention holding him back from the truth. Instead, he slipped through gracefully and all at once. That burnt imprint of his feet had already started to fill with snow.

***

It was dark, wherever he was. His eyes adjusted quickly to the low light, enough to see that he was no longer surrounded by snow. The lush wilds of a forest surrounded him, or at least that is what he assumed. The only nature he was familiar with was the lush landscapes of Elysium, ever green and filled with a constant twilight that made the grass glimmer. But this – the sighing of the willow branches, the brambles and roots that hid small creatures, the sharp scent of flowers he couldn’t name – this was real. Not a shade rendering of life, but the muse itself. He thought of Eurydice briefly, and Orpheus. He understood now, he thought, what drove them to sing.

“Is this...?” He spoke to the air, as if waiting for a voice to beckon him onwards, but there was no reply. This was no wind-swept surface, no frozen land wracked by the cold. “It can’t...” His breath caught in this throat for a moment. Had Nyx been mistaken? Her words rang in his head, her soft reverberating voice soothing him, strengthening him, as it always had.

“Beyond the frozen overlook,” she had said. “Await the first glimpse of the sun to your left, then onward through the cold.”

But there was no overlook, no sign of that fated sun, no cold to march through until he found his mother. His heartbeat quickened with a sudden fear. Had something gone wrong? Had he done something wrong? Had the Fates cursed him as he stepped through that portal? Or, perhaps, had Nyx lied? He shook his head before the thought could take root. She loved him as a son. She was his... what? What was she now to him? And, what now was he to her?

A glint ahead caught his eye, halting the spiral of his thoughts for a moment. The flickering of a flame. Small hope unfurled in his chest again, and he began his journey to that firelight.

***

The fear sloshed over me, each wave colder than the last. There were too many sounds, yet it was still so quiet compared to the halls of my father. I was used to the rushing of water, the clamoring of stones, the thick voices of naiads and gods alike ringing loud into the empty passageways.

The still air crawled across my skin and shadows reached out their hands. The feathers of the bed murmured against each other as I moved to squeeze myself against the wall, so that I might be too small for the things in the dark to notice. The shutter-wood creaked like the ropes of ships in a storm. All around me I felt the wild hollows of the island swelling in their dark. At least the birds had stopped their screaming, but that only meant that I could hear more now. A soft rhythmic thud, a shutter that had loosed itself from its clasp. The soft crunch and whisper of leaf under foot. The even pace of a confident stride. I stared into the darkness, straining to hear past the beat of my own blood. Was this my true penance, then? Was it just a politeness to let me believe myself exiled, so that I might be killed more quietly? A silent execution away from the delicate naiads. Or perhaps Aeetes was wrong, and Zeus’s wrath could not be staved, not even by threat of war against the titans. Perhaps he knew, that however strong Helios’s pride, no blood would be shed and no peace truly broken over a wayward child, who was no true heir of the sun, and a daughter at that.

Worst of my children, faded and broken.

“Um, hello?”

I did not think it possible for my heart to beat harder. Fear pinned me and my mind raced, trying to place the voice that had called out. It was not one I’d heard before. Which one of Zeus’s children had been sent to do away with the witch?

“May I come in?”

I was no stranger to staying silent. Many times, I held my tongue, when Perses and Pasiphaë were being cruel, when others complained of my frail voice, or when I simply did not wish to speak. But that was not why I did not answer. I was just simply speechless, as no one had ever in my life asked my permission for, well, anything. Curiosity finally coaxed my voice from the knot in my throat as I stepped out from the sanctuary of my room.

“Who asks for entrance?” I spoke softly, still trained as I was to consider the ears of others who may hear me and grimace at the sound. I bade myself look up, to face the stranger who had come to my door. Their question still resonated within me, and I swelled with some resolution, for this was now my home: I would not cower, not anymore.

Dark hair, black as night, shone in the firelight, wreathed by a laurel crown of scarlet and golden leaves. He stared at me unflinchingly, but despite the hellfire that flamed in his right eye, there was a kindness in him that I had never seen turned upon me before, not even in Aeëtes when he was still small and sweet in my arms. He reminded me of Glaucos as he was before, but this stranger was no mortal. Even if you ignored the oddness of his eyes, there was no way to miss how his feet singed the stone. Despite this, he didn’t glow with divinity like my father or my golden-haired siblings; his was a more subtle power. I could see it in the broadness of his bare chest, the smoothness of his marble skin, the determination of his soul. There was that slight copper smell of blood that followed him when he shifted.

“Oh, right. I should’ve probably introduced myself first.” He smiled softly, and I could see it was a smile he wore often. It fit the shape of his face, like he had been born with it. “My name is Zagreus.” Shyness crept into his expression. “May I ask, is your name...” he fumbled with his words. There was something in his voice that felt familiar, and it coaxed me out further from behind the half-closed door. “Are you Persephone?”

My heart dropped slightly, and, at the time, I did not know why. I had never heard the name before, and so I knew, from the searching look in his gaze, that I would be a disappointment. Though we may have happened upon Aiaíā at the same time, it was not by the Fates design, for he was looking for someone else.

“No. I am Circe.” I said simply.

Chapter Text

Zagreus hadn’t been sure what he was expecting when he approached the house, but it certainly wasn’t her. He knew before he asked that she wasn’t Persephone – he wasn’t exactly sure where this knowledge came from, only that when he looked at her, his bones told him that this was not his mother. Still, he had asked. 

“Circe.” He repeated, trying to bury the sadness, the feeling of failure, that was rising in him. Instead, he focused on her wide yellow eyes, so bright – they looked so much like Than’s. Maybe that was why he felt so drawn to her, even though she wasn’t who he had been searching for. “It’s lovely to meet you. Do you mind telling me where I am?” Zagreus couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him at the pure confusion on Circe’s face. 

“We stand on Aiaíā.” She sounded just as incredulous as she looked. “Is this some trick?” 

“No, not at all!” He stepped forward without thinking, a hand outstretched in reassurance, but she flinched away, and he stopped dead. He didn’t like the look of fear in her eyes, and resolved silently that he would do whatever he could to ensure she never looked at him like that again. “Sorry, it’s just, this is all very new to me, being on the surface and all, and I’m a bit at a loss.”

“You come from my father’s halls?” The fear in her seemed to deepen at the thought, her hands clenching the door. 

“Well, I don’t think so, unless your father is also Hades” Zagreus gave her conspiratorial smile, leaning the side of his face with the green eye towards her. He found that most people responded better when that hellish eye was hidden. 

 “So, you are an Olympian then.”  

“I guess technically, though I think we’re more commonly referred to as Chthonic, if we’re being particular.” Zagreus wasn’t used to speaking with others who didn’t know who he was. It was delightfully refreshing. “I take it you’re not an Olympian either then?” He didn’t know why he asked, but then again, he didn’t know why Circe had mentioned either. From the faint flicker of fear he saw when she spoke the word, he decided maybe he didn’t want to know. Circe was not so practised at concealing her emotions. She looked at him with genuine surprise. It was refreshing, especially after his fights with Thanatos and Megaera. Zagreus could never tell what they were thinking, and it seemed they were not eager to tell him. It sent him mad sometimes, second-guessing everything he did and said, wondering what exactly he had done wrong to deserve the contempt they both constantly wore when looking at him. 

“You left, without so much as telling me good-bye.” 

Than’s words still rang in his ears, like that damn death toll. It was Circe’s voice that brought him out of his thoughts. 

“I’m a daughter of the titan Helios,” she replied. As if that explained everything. Well, he guessed it did for her. 

“Titan? But I had thought they were all gone? Torn apart and scattered through Tartarus, as my father once put it.” Hades never spoke much about the war that had happened aeons ago, and had made it very clear to Zagreus that he didn’t appreciate being asked. The story seemed so fantastical to him, so unreal – these ancient figures of which no one dared to mention, primal powers that set mortals quivering. He didn’t know what started the war, or who was in the right, or how it had even ended. He had asked Nyx once, wasn’t she a titan? 

“No, my child. I am something much older. The word that was most often used to refer to my kind was Primordial.”

It still didn’t make any sense to him, but having met Chaos, he knew that generally the world didn’t have to make any sense, and most often didn’t. 

“Most are gone. But not all.” Her yellow eyes watched him carefully, as bright and intent as a hawk. 

“I’m glad then, otherwise I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of meeting you.” 

Circe hesitated. “You truly don’t know of my father?” Her gaze flittered up and down, and whatever she found seemed confirmation enough. 

“I can’t say I do, no.” Zagreus glanced around the entrance into the large sitting room where the fireplace blazed. It was a beautiful house, filled with glittering treasures and tapestries, but the room’s lavishness didn’t quite seem to fit the girl who stood before him. “Does he live here with you?” Circe couldn’t help the small, unexpected laugh that escaped her, and Zagreus liked the way it lit up her eyes and relaxed her shoulders. He suspected she didn’t often get a chance to laugh. She composed herself quickly. 

“No, he is not here.” She glanced around the room herself, examining the items as if for the first time. “He much prefers his halls and my grandfather’s palace.” She smiled, as if she had just told a secret joke, but didn’t explain further. 

“This place is beautiful though. It must be nice to have it all to yourself.” Apart from their voices, the island was quiet. No rush of the river Styx, no mumbling and worrying of the shades lined up to speak with his father, no deep voice filled with disdain yelling “boy!” at him every time he took a wrong step. Which felt like every step. 

“Yes. It is.” She smiled, as if the thought had only just occurred to her. “I apologise. I was not expecting visitors.” But she opened the door further all the same. They sat before the hearth together. Zagreus stared at the flames, and wondered if they would burn him. For a while, they sat in a comfortable silence, the crackling of the fire filling the room with its warmth and light. It was a sort of peace that neither of them seemed to disturb. But, just like everything in life, its death was inevitable.  

"Who is Persephone?" Circe broke the quiet between them. 

Indeed, who was Persephone. How exactly did one explain that his mother had run away from their home, and that he had only learned of her existence not so long ago? That her existence had been hidden from him by everyone in his life, and the person who had always been his mother had lied to him about who she was? He felt the inky black of the skin that marked his hellish heritage creep across his face. He tried to dredge up his usual carefree voice, desperately gripping at the edges of his usual cheery visage to smother away the boiling anger and hurt that festered inside him. But for the first time in... well, since he could remember, his grasp slipped.

“My mother” was all he could manage to get out, voice tinged with hesitation. "I was told she would be here, on the surface.” Another silence; this time, it was not so comfortable. It was the light touch of a cold hand on his that shocked him out of his thought spiral. Zagreus glanced up in surprise, his gaze meeting Circe’s golden eyes. They stayed like that for a moment that seemed to stretch on for gods know how long, before Circe retreated. Was that embarrassment that flushed her cheeks?

“I’m sorry. I don’t know anyone by that name,” she admitted softly, the weight of her words hung in the air between them. He felt a pang in his chest at the words, but not of disappointment. Rather, it was... recognition. She spoke with so much sincerity, constantly entangled with a barely-there sadness. It wrapped around her like a shawl, and he wasn't sure if Circe was aware of how tightly she clung to it – the exact same way he clutched at his. In that moment, he saw a crack in her enigmatic exterior, and now, he needed to know more.

Her eyes glimmered with something more than curiosity, and he guessed she was looking at her reflection within him. And now that he was looking at her, really looking at her, he found he couldn't stop. Didn't want to stop as his eyes skimmed over her figure, seeing that slight taughtness in the way she held her shoulders back, or the way she hid her hands in the folds of her skirts so that her ever-clenched fists wouldn't give away her fear. Small shadows that clung to her; shadows that carried a weight that was all too familiar.

"So, what do you do here?"

Her eyes narrowed, almost imperceptibly, but it seemed she understood his desire for a lighter topic of conversation. Zagreus had to remind himself that Circe was not from his fathers house – she had grown up in the halls and courts of two of the most powerful and ancient titans. He would not be able to rely on his charm to evade her perceptive gaze like he did with Meg and Than, both of them utterly uninterested in the subtlety of conversation and politics.

The flames danced between them, and he couldn't help but lean in slightly closer to her, almost unaware. Serpentine patterns of light and dark danced across her face, her features sharp and captivating in the shifting glow.

"Seems like this place is just waiting for its purpose to arrive." Zagreus surveyed the room again, trying to find something, anything, that looked like it actually belonged to Circe.

"My coming to reside here was rather... unexpected." Her voice was soft again, slightly strained as she followed his gaze across the mismatched items. "I've yet to make the place my own.” Silence hung for a moment as she debated if she should continue, as if she expected him to interrupt her. He knew that silence well. He gave her a small smile as he waited. He had a feeling she didn’t get a chance to speak of her interests often. When it became clear that Zagreus was not just waiting, but interested, to know more, she continued tentatively.

“I hope for it to be my sanctuary, to continue learning my sorcery." Her voice had dropped down to almost a whisper, but her eyes were sharp, almost unnerving as she watched, as she waited. There was no hiding from eyes like those, especially once she had you in her sights. Though, Zagreus had nothing to hide anyway.

"Wow, that's... bloody amazing!" he exclaimed.

***

I was unsure how long I had stared at him in stunned silence. I had expected horror, disgust, or at the very least a type of indifference that would have him end the conversation then and there. Not this, not… was it awe? His kind eyes gave way to concern, and I realised I still had not spoken. Still could not, for what could I say.

“Are you alright?”

Finally, I broke away from his stare, my mind still racing and yet inert. The weight of his sincerity felt like an unspoken invitation, one I didn’t know how to accept. My gaze drifted to the fire, the crackling embers drawing me in. 

“It’s not as simple as you think. My sorcery is what led me here. It's an isolated existence. A lonely one.” I murmured, almost to myself.

“Does it have to be?” Zagreus asked. I glanced at him, and his expression was open, curious, bearing a level of sincerity I wasn't accustomed to. 

I didn’t mean to think of Aëtes then, didn't want to linger on the small betrayal. My voice trailed off, throat tightening at the memory of his face, the slight gleam in his eyes that had always felt just out of reach. How long would I have gone on, ignorant and unaware of my own power, if not for my petty jealousy – how long would Aëtes have let me think myself alone in this? 

"I did not think it could be otherwise. It is all I have ever been." But it seemed, despite the efforts of my brother, or lack thereof, I was no longer as lonely as I had thought myself to be. “Perhaps...” I paused, weighing my words. It felt like such a dangerous thing, to trust.

“Perhaps, it’s something I can help change?” Zagreus suggested, finishing my unspoken thought with a smile that had my chest tighten. 

“Perhaps.” I agreed.

"May I ask, what happened? Between you and your father?" 

I hesitated for a moment, and Zagreus must have seen the trepidation in my eyes. 

"Sorry, I don't mean to pry, and I certainly don't want to cause you any pain. It's just, I have some experience with 'fiery' fathers who seem to be perpetually disappointed." He was babbling, cheeks turning a slight red, and when he gave me that crooked smile, I couldn't help but smile in return, though it only lasted for a moment. 

"He exiled me here." I wondered if I should tell him about Glaucos, and about Scylla. Should I explain how my reckless actions had turned her beauty into a monster that will last for generations? No. I did not want to corrupt this, did not want to reveal the true extent of the misery my power could enact. He would be all too familiar with monsters, and I did not want to be another such creature to add to his list. 

I waited then, for him to inquire further, to demand the truth or damn me for keeping this curse secret. Instead, he just gave me a wry smile. "Family can be complicated."

It was then that I realised the truth of his own experience, fully grasping how much he must have shared my feelings of loneliness. I could feel it then – the first thread we had tied to to each other, one of recognition and understanding of the other's scars, though they may not show physically. My own hand drifted closer to his, the cool marble slowly growing warmer the closer I came to his skin. It radiated from him, not stifling or overbearing like the fire of my father, but more the kind of heat that comforts in a cold wind.

“You were successful in your escape. You are free from them. From him." I paused, watching his expression. His name need not be uttered, for all knew who ruled the Underworld. "It is much more than I've ever done." I had never heard of anyone, mortal or God, who had escaped the grasp of the dead world. It could not have been easy, and from the sweat that shined on his forehead and the way his sword had trembled slightly in his hand before he set it down beside where we sat, I knew it had taken its toll on him. An unsettling sensation curled within my gut, a whisper of dread that seemed to echo in time with the crackling fire.

“True,” he admitted, a spark of pride igniting his tired face. “But escaping was just the beginning. I still…" His words trailed off, and for a moment, his gaze was far off as well. 

"Zagreus?" I shifted closer again, trying to catch his eye. Still, my voice did not reach him, wherever his mind was. I glanced down at our hands, close to the other but still a hair's breadth away from touching. My heart had jumped at that thought, and it was not something I would normally have found the courage in myself to do again, our brief touch from earlier still lingering underneath my skin. But the longer he stared into the distance, the more my fear started to grow, until it finally overcame my hesitation. 

"Zagreus." I repeated, laying my hand gently on his. His touch was warm, but not as warm as it had been before. And now that I was looking closer, I could see a change had occurred, one I did not notice at first but was now clear as daylight. His skin, while it was a pale shade, had still shined with that godly glow. Now, his pallor was draining, and his heat with it. At least my touch seemed to spark something within him, for his gaze finally returned to mine. 

"Oh, sorry. I… I guess I'm just a little tired, that's all. Not accustomed to the weather, as I think you call it." He tried for a laugh, but it sounded more like a groan of pain. My heart was racing now. Something was wrong. It was not just his appearance that spoke of this change, but I felt it in the earth too. It was not a sensation I had ever felt before – the elements had never given way to my touch, never responded to my calls the way the waters did for my naiad cousins. But this was different. I did not call to them, but I could hear their songs. Could recognise the tug from the ground, the way the island was starting to crumble beneath him. 

“No, that isn't it. There’s something more,” I muttered, desperation threading through my words. I placed my other hand on the ground, fingers splayed as I tried to quiet my heart and instead listen to the earth. I had no idea what I was doing, if I even was doing anything. But there, reaching up from the depths of the earth, something was tugging. There was a longing, a string that's pull was becoming stronger, and I could see the other end now wrapped around Zagreus's soul. “It's that… you cannot stay here?" The words came out like a question to no person in particular, but I felt a sharp tug on the string again as if in answer, and my heart lurched at the realisation. "You can't stay here."

Zagreus was struggling to hold his body up, his head tilted like his neck was too weak, too tired. "Really, you're kicking me out?" He met my gaze with furrowed brows, confusion mixing with an odd sadness, as if he were hurt by the idea. "Why?" He did not understand. Not that I understood much more than he. 

"No, I want you to stay." Not that it had ever mattered much, what I wanted. If anything, it seemed like those tied to my desires had a particular talent for evading me. "But it seems the fates are cruel." I tightened my grip on his hand, as if I could hold him here by my strength alone, but I could feel his vitality slipping through my fingers like grains of sand. "I think… you are bound to that place. Like all denizens of the underworld. Or perhaps it is my curse, my exile, forcing you out. It's like a string unravelling beneath the surface of your being. Either way, the fates will not let you stay." At my words, the earth shifted beneath us, and I knew he felt it too. For a brief moment, his lighthearted facade fell away, revealing a flicker of fear. 

"I can't go back. I still haven't found her." 

I winced at his words. His voice had started to sound so fragile, and the air seemed to escape his lungs like a force was pulling it out of him, each breath he drew becoming a labour of will. A strange ache gripped my heart, watching as his determination struggled to radiate as it had earlier, like sunlight trying to pierce through storm clouds. But Zagreus was not the sun. 

Zagreus opened his mouth to speak. "I..." The words were cut off by a cough, and he slumped to the side. Without thinking, I caught him in my arms before he could hit the marble floor, and my stomach twisted – he was cold, like embers long since faded. 

"I feel awful." He finally murmured, eyes barely open as he looked up at me. "I have to go." Something stirred beneath us, stone turning to earth turning to sand, and then something wet. Red stained my cotton skirts, welling up around where I sat with Zagreus's figure in my arms. Horror flashed through me, and I thought I felt the palm where I had sliced with my father's knife burn. But as quick as it came, I felt a calming presence emanating from the island – my island. Soothing me. This was not blood. Not exactly. 

"The Styx shall take you then." I whispered, the pool of red growing to encompass his entire body, climbing up my arms as if yelling at me, let him go. "But promise me… promise you'll return." I was almost too scared to utter the words as I pulled away, his body being enveloped by the Styx. My heart raced, an urgent tempo pounding through my veins as if I could sense the very earth beckoning him. "Don't leave me alone again." I did not have any right to ask this of him, but still I asked. 

A sudden silence enveloped us, the fire's crackling fading into a haunting stillness. Slowly, his form disappeared underneath the waters of the Styx, and I thought he did not hear my final plea, until– 

"I promise." 

And he was gone. In a breath, the red stains were no longer there, the marble returned and uncracked, like it had never been marred. His sword had disappeared from where he had placed it. The hearth had gone out. It was as if he had never been here at all. 

"Goodbye, Zagreus" I whispered, my words like the last tendrils of a fire's smoke, rising from my lips into the darkened corners of the room. Once again, I was left to my exile. The ache of solitude started to creep into me again, curling around me as I stared at the spot where he had been. It was only when sunrise came that I finally stood. It would be easier this way. Easier to forget. It wouldn't be yet another loss, if it never happened at all. If I could sleep, then I could forget, at least for a little while – and I had never felt so tired in all my existence. Numbly, I started back to my room, which had seemed so terrifying in its emptiness only a few hours ago. There was a wetness on my cheek, and I lifted my hand to swipe away the remnants of the Styx water that still lingered, when it came away clear. I stared in confusion for a moment longer, before another tear fell, and I glanced down. A single drop on my spotless marble floor – and there next to it, two footprints, charred and still smouldering on the stone.