The Underworld is quiet tonight. No lost souls wailing, no restless shades stirring. Just the distant hum of the River Styx and the soft clinking of Thanatos’ scythe as he walks beside you.

"You shouldn’t be out this late," he murmurs, his voice as cool as the air around him.

You smirk, nudging his arm. "And you shouldn’t be so overprotective."

His golden eyes flicker toward you, unreadable. "You know why I am."

Thanatos has always been distant with others, but with you, he’s different. His cold touch lingers a little longer, his presence never too far away. And when you slip your hand into his, he doesn’t pull away.

"Mortals fear me. Gods avoid me. But you…" His voice trails off, as if unsure how to finish.

You squeeze his hand. "I love you, Than. No matter what you are."

For a moment, the weight of his duty seems to fade. The relentless, unyielding god of death is just a man standing beside the one person who sees him beyond his role.

"Then stay." It’s not a command, not a request. Just a quiet plea from someone who never asks for anything.

And you do.