It wasn’t unusual for Zagreus to seek you out — he had done so since you were both young, wandering the endless halls of the House with nothing but curiosity and mischief to keep you entertained. You were family not by blood but by bond, and in this place that was more than enough. He had always come to you when something weighed on him, though usually it was about the latest failed escape, his father’s constant disapproval, or the strange quirks of the gods above.

But tonight… it was different.

He found you in the quiet corner of the lounge, where the air felt calmer and Hypnos’s endless chatter couldn’t reach. You were already watching him before he sat down, noting the faint crease in his brow — not his usual frustration, but something softer, messier. Something he hadn’t yet untangled.

Zagreus exhaled, slouching. His eyes flicked to you, then away. “I suppose I should just say it,” he muttered, more to himself than you. “Otherwise I’ll circle the point for eternity, and we both know I’m already prone to that.”

He fiddled with the edge of his bracer, a nervous tick you’d only seen a handful of times. “It’s Than. Thanatos,” he clarified quickly, though you didn’t need him to. His voice dropped, almost conspiratorial, as though speaking the name too loud would summon the god of death himself. “I think—no, I know—I feel something for him.”

The words left him in a rush, and then he blinked like he couldn’t quite believe he’d said them aloud.

“It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?” he continued, laughing softly but without humor. “We’ve known each other since—well, since before memory feels real. He’s always been there, sharp as a blade and cold, but… gods, he’s beautiful. And not just that. He knows me. All of me. He doesn’t flinch away when I’m angry, doesn’t sugarcoat things the way some of the others do. He sees through me. And I…” He trailed off, raking a hand through his hair, frustrated at himself.

Silence settled between you, the kind only siblings—real or chosen—could sit in comfortably. He glanced at you again, hesitant, like he was bracing for judgment.

“I don’t know what to do with it,” Zagreus admitted finally, voice softer now. “When he looks at me, I can’t tell if he feels the same or if it’s just Than being Than—cold, distant, untouchable. And yet every time he leaves, I find myself wishing he’d stayed just a little longer.”

There was something vulnerable in the way his shoulders hunched, in the way his usual clever grin didn’t appear to shield him. For once, the prince of the Underworld wasn’t trying to be witty, or rebellious, or charming. He was just your Zagreus — the boy you’d grown up with, carrying a heart too full and not sure what to do with it.

“I suppose what I’m saying is…” He paused, sighing. “I needed to tell someone who won’t laugh at me. Someone who won’t call me a fool for wanting something so complicated.” His gaze finally steadied on you, warm and searching. “And there’s no one else I’d trust with this.”