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demonprosecutor · 3 years

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YOU REALIZE THAT HANDSOME MEN ARE THE TALK OF THE TOWN

the sheets smelled of lavender with the underlying hint of sweat, something unfamiliar and reminded you that you were far away from home, which was wasting away in the revelry of satyr-like monstrosities. the lack of warmth behind you was enough hint that zagreus was long gone from his post, the indented area cool to the touch.

in spite of the previous day’s... excitement, you felt incredibly well-rested even with the troublesome aches that came from riding myroclus without his saddle pad. hair clung to your cheek, eyes blearily blinking to take in the contents of the unremarkable room that you found refuge at. the travel pack was dumped onto the wooden table near the center of the room, animal furred rugs adorning the floors, and the window was scantly opened to allow sunlight within - brightening the insides in a manner that made it feel homely for the wayward traveller.

stygius was propped at the corner, almost careless in the way it was left, and you stare at it hard. you had been meaning to inquire zagreus about the weapon, about its origins. after wielding it briefly yesterday against anura, it was unnerving. alive almost. filled with a battle-hunger that you knew that you would not be able to sate. (whispering about ichor and ancient cyclopean hands crafting it and titan-flesh cleaved like flayed meat)

perhaps these were the moments where curiousity such as yours was not wise and you tear your gaze from the weapon meant for more than war (for desolation, for abject violence). a shudder marches like the myrmidon army, down your spine, unrelenting. it was time to turn thoughts towards more pleasant things.

you stretch, arching your spine and popping joints with a satisfaction of a well-fed feline, walking towards the door to open it. a bit of fresh air wouldn’t hurt anyone, you reasoned internally, only to find zagreus on the other side - poised to knock and awkwardly balancing plates of food and cups of wine, looking too much like a first-day servant in the palace of a king.

“oh! you woke up.” he says, shouldering his way in when you move to the side to allow him in. there’s a hint of disappointment in his voice that makes the arch of your brow go even higher than usual whenever zagreus was involved in a sentence.

“you sound...” the door clicks close, as you gesture vaguely. “disappointed.” the prince lays the plates and cups without spilling a drop, something that must’ve been noteworthy considering the way he softly cheered and grinned.

zagreus turns to you, smiling sheepishly and rubbing the back of his head. “i was looking to get you breakfast. in bed.” the meal was... strangely extravagant. a hot stew with meat bobbing inside the broth, steaming bread and wine. this would be more appropriate to call lunch or dinner.

“this... is breakfast?” you ask, voice pitched uncertainly. how chthonic gods ate in the underworld was beyond you, but this meal seemed to be... pricy. that’s when the strangeness of the morning hits you, you rush over to the travel pack and open the significantly-lighter pouch before looking up at zagreus with accusation brimming your gaze, hissing. “you took money?”

“erm. yeah. it was just laid out there and i thought it was something that the both of us could use.” he looked genuinely confused by your ire, the breakfast and nice gesture left forgotten. “it wasn’t even that bad! just 2 dekadrachm for two meals and wine!”

you white-knuckle the strings to the pouch, hard enough that it creaked underneath your hands. “you got swindled, zagreus. two dekadrachm for that? i could’ve made that myself and in better quality!” the pouch now held drachmas, and obols. he had just spent the equivalent of twenty drachmae. you feel like a bull with the way your breathing goes heavy. “we’re going to talk to them.” zagreus was still two heads taller, yet in your fury, he looked smaller. you poke his chest, “and we are getting that dekadrachm or die trying.”

he looks crestfallen with the reaction given - completely opposite of what he had intended. “of course, let’s get that money back.” and as always you feel slightly bad.

hesitation pauses your actions, reaching out to lay a gentle hand on his arm before he turns, “look. i appreciate the gesture, ok? this was...” the words float around your mind, plucking it like magic. “-- sweet. but we have to save money now. we don’t have access to all of the same amenities as before.”

zagreus still doesn’t manage to meet your gaze, nodding slightly, taking the plates in the same silly manner as when he entered before the both of you leave the room.

the town was quaint enough, dirt roads flattened by the hooves of mules and the feet of men, a district for shrines of the gods, and a whole avenue for food and shops. zagreus leads you towards an innocuous restaurant, one with the seediest little man you’ve ever seen. oh zagreus.

the man rubs his hands together villainously, upper lip sparse with facial hair and receding hairline emphasizing the shine of his baldness. “hello there, traveller, have you come back for more?” he raises his knives in ready for the next order.

zagreus grimaces, setting the wine and plates down onto the table nearest to the chef. “not quite. my friend has something to say to you.”

the chef blinks, registers the food before levelling his smarmy gaze onto you, as if realizing you were there for the first time. sneering once the realization came that you couldn’t be duped as easily as the poor prince. “what is it.” he sets the knives down, and crosses his arms, lined with muscle and looking too much like he could snap you in half. however, you are reassured by the presence of zagreus who was definitely a million times stronger.

you gesture to the food aggressively - “two dekadrachm for that?” it’s difficult to not let accusation flood tone, but the two of you had a particularly stressful day yesterday and felt entitled to the bit of snappishness that came along with hunger and exhaustion. the chef, understandably so, was offended by the tone of voice, by the sheer aggressiveness of tone, and the status of occupation that was easily seen by the state of your clothing. it was clear, from first glance, that you were a servant. a servant for a goddess, but a servant nonetheless.

he sneers at you, smarmy eyes and demeanour completely different in comparison with how he spoke with zagreus. it takes you aback slightly (even if its something that you’re well-aware about, lady persephone and zagreus had always treated you as an equal...) the chef gives you a once-over that makes both you and zagreus bristle. “tch. what do you know about quality? you’re a mere servant, probably content to eat food off of the ground like a stray dog.” he spits on the ground, a sign of dishonour that makes your hands clench and brows knit together.

how rude. does he think you went into service like this because you wanted to? partly, yes, you wanted to thank the goddess for her willingness to allow you into her fold. but a lone, traumatized individual fresh from the horrors of desecration and war -- you were a lamb ripe for the picking. it was necessity.

hot shame curdles in your chest, tears pricking your eyes. zagreus notices your distress, the way your shoulders curled slightly forward as if to protect yourself, and its almost boyish the way he plucks at the back of your chiton. you have half a mind to allow him to go off on the chef, but you stop yourself - you cannot always rely on the prince to fight your battles.

so you swallow the bile down and straighten, zagreus’ knuckles bumping against the curve of your back. “i may not know much as a servant, but i do know my way around food. how would your customers feel if they figured out that you’ve been stinting them on the meat? that you use fats to thicken your stew to waste less ingredients? or that you’ve been swindling them for far too much money? servants are not good at many things, but they are good at gossip.”

your little tirade was loud enough to garner the attention of potential customers who look at the restaurant and the food that had been laid out for view pleasure with a grimace before swerving and moving away to other restaurants. the chef, of course, notices this, panic evident on his features, shushing you quickly.

the speed that it took the other to fold surprised the both of you, even more so with the way he tossed the dekadrachm onto the ground for you to pick up, plumes of snow tossed in the air by the action. zagreus looked rightly mad with the careless way the coin was given back, teeth gritted and body posture leaning forward, but you got what you came for and that was enough.

cheerfully, you hook arms with him and with no small amount of effort, yank him away before starting a morning brawl with the wrong person. “what the---- i was going to give him a piece of my mind!” there’s a brief moment of struggle before he acquiesces with the stern look levelled at him, not bothering to unwind his arm from yours. too much like a guard dog barely leashed. “you shouldn’t let people walk all over you like that.” crest-fallen, sad, indignant on your behalf, which was flattering, but.... you round the corner, nose lured by the smell of baked bread and cheese brought to you by the gentle winter breeze, something that had your mouth watering.

even if stew was something nice, winter had always begged for baked bread and it was a good staple to have on journeys. “oh shush. enough of that business.” you say dismissively, coins jingling in your pouch, as you stop before the quaint bakery.

the main baker was a dark-skinned woman, dark eyes gleaming like tilled earth and smile reminiscent of the snow. her hair, voluminous and curled, was held back with two strips of faded-green cloth that characterized the average grecian woman’s hair adornments. “hiya! how can i help you both?”

you lean in, peering at her exquisitely-made bread and pastries, a block of cheese on a clay tablet nearby. zagreus mirrors you, as you rub your chin in careful consideration. “your bread looks so... well-made.” you praise, mouth watering once more. “crispy, fresh, and warm -- family recipe?”

the woman laughs, a jovial sound that makes you flush slightly. “you got that right! passed down for generations and no, i’m not going to give it up just cuz a pretty face asked me to.” you think she was talking to zagreus who had moved further down the display to eye one of the pastry makers make their desserts, but she chuckle-snorts at you. “not him, was talking about you.”

oh. you stare wide-eyed, straightening and blushing hot enough that you couldn’t feel the cold of demeter’s winter settling on your unfortunately-unprepared self. “oh. i...” the words leave you easily, flapping your hands as subtly as you could. happiness? fluster? who knew. “erm, thank you.” the baker’s smile warms as she peruses her wares with a hint of lord hermes-esque mischief. zagreus notes this, the way your face warms in a way that is starkly different from the heat that comes from the chill of winter, lips spreading wide in a smile. your gazes meet and he wiggles his brow impishly, prompting a look from you. he has the audacity to laugh out loud, laurels around his head flickering quickly before they fade back to a charcoal-black of inactivity.

“here you go!” the baker prompts your attention, holding out a clay plate filled with bowls. “i snuck you in something extra, seems like your friend there is someone who tends to eat a lot, on the house!” you blink owlishly at the plate, even moreso when she grabs your bag and carefully wraps the bread, cheese and tarts to be used for travel.

“this is too much,” you say weakly, attempting to deposit the proper amount that would fit her services. she looks at the pieces in her hands, picking out 3 drachmae before pushing the rest back into yours.

“it’s alright. like i said: on the house!” she exchanges a warm smile with you before turning her attentions to other customers. you stare after her, starstruck - well, at least until zagreus loops his arm with yours, chuckling quietly.

“it appears you have the wiles of lady aphrodite, my friend.”

that has you flushing even harder, swatting his arm with a hand, “quiet, i was merely... taken aback. that’s never happened to me before.” there’s a sense of giddiness in your chest. of course, you have never had... interest directed at you, so suddenly having it was... flattering! (if a better word could be found...) your eyes flicker about, spying the coy glances that passerbys tossed zagreus, men and women alike, eyeing him with an interest that he seemed oblivious to. a smile graces itself on your features, craning your neck to whisper, “and besides - i’m not the only one with the wiles of lady aphrodite. it seems that you have fans.”

as if for the first time, zagreus lifts his head and looks around, finally noticing the looks and the stares. a faint pink tinged the pallour of his cheeks. “oh.” the smallness of the word makes you snicker, and the way he waves almost shyly to a group of men and women, nearly has you cackling. “stop that! this is... new to me. this interest.”

you both are nearing town square, heading towards the shops that boasted more travel-appropriate items. you hoped that you could trade some of your nicer chitons for weapons and travel-clothing. but that wasn’t at the forefront of your mind. “wait, so you’re telling me this interest...” you gesture at the people doing double-takes at zagreus, brow arched, “is a new thing?”

zagreus shrugs lightly, “i mean: i guess i had people interested in me, and i them, but... you know, majority of people i interacted with were either my cousins, assholes or not a viable romantic interest.”

well, the cousins part made sense, he was related to the olympians, but the other two had your interest piqued. “i see. well, who was your first interest?” you had arrived at the avenue with all the shops, bustling with patrons and exploding with colour in spite of the temperature. various shop-owners displayed their jewelry and pots proudly, haggling with customers and counting drachmae with greedy fingers.

the prince ducks his head, avoiding a low-hanging banner, face contorted as if not sure he was willing to reveal his secret or not. you’ve learned to be patient with him because you knew that he was comfortable with you and that he usually needed to work up the courage to talk about personal things such as this. (not that love or crushes was ever a topic you had tread upon.) “My first interest was... achilles.”

you think you misheard, nearly stumbling over a loose stone, looking at him in confusion. “achilles as in... ‘fought in the war at troy’ achilles? theeeeee.... ‘ended a whole war because his philtatos died’ achilles? that achilles?” zagreus nods at all of that, as you absent-mindedly go to the nearest clothing shop, running fingers over the cloaks and furred boots. “seriously?”

“as serious as death.”

“huh.” you weight the cloak before holding it out to measure it against the width of the prince’s chest. “well, he was a looker, good choice. did he reciprocate?”

zagreus allows himself to be measured, “no, his heart had already belonged to another. it’s a long story.” he takes the cloak and hangs it over his arm, as you look for a size most appropriate to you.

“well, i mean we’re going to be stuck together for a while, so i guess i have time for long stories.” you selected something warm and good at bracing against the cold, haggling with the owner with the cheapest price possible before moving on to a blacksmith.

“how about you? who was your first interest?”

you look up from an arrow displayed, thumb stroking the tip. “i don’t think i had any, i mean? there was a noble a long time ago, but i think it’s been a long while since i’ve had interest.” you toy with the idea of buying another weapon, even if it made your skin sweat and crawl. “do you think we’ll need another weapon?”

the cloak looked dashing on him, furred and lining the broadness of his shoulders attractively. a wayward travelling prince. “i don’t think so. you got your dagger and i got stygius - it’ll be fine.” that was true, and besides, if things got bad - you trusted zagreus to keep you safe.

by the time you had returned to the inn, night had fallen, the sun dipping below the horizon and townsfolk scurrying back to their warm homes. you both were exhausted, despite just shopping, and lugging your wares for the night. a travelpack, dried food, medicinal supplies, and proper travel clothings. it was a good haul, if you were being honest. thank the gods that one of your skills involved haggling.

you stretch, rubbing your eyes, as you opened the door to your shared room ---- only to scream once you realized that someone was in the room. zagreus barrels past you, fists raised and eyes sparking with anger, pausing at the sight of hermes. “hermes? what in hades are you doing here?”

the initial shock wore off and now that you had time to truly study the other, there was a sense of otherworldliness that makes your insides tremble. his scarf floated around unnaturally, winged sandals fluttering to allow for him to float. lord hermes waved playfully, “hey boss! i knew that i would find you here. i tried looking for you at the cottage once i realized that the protections were down, and hooowe! what a mess that place was, crawling with satyrs.” the god spoke fast, not bothering to pause for breath. “and whoooo do we have here?” suddenly, he was in your face, eyes scanning over your features and breaching your boundaries. if it was anyone else, you would’ve shoved the back, but since this was an olympian... you let him have his fill of staring.

zagreus clears his throat loudly, “that’s my friend, lord hermes. we managed to escape the attack by the satyrs - is there a reason why you’re here?”

parcels overflowed his messenger bag, fluttering to the ground before fading away, lord hermes looked through it all, humming to himself. “well, coz, the family is in a bit of a tizzy right now! especially demeter, persephone had disappeared, and well, we heard some more troubling news! she disappeared in an area where it’s heavily shielded by magic. we suspect that the satyr cultists originate from there. we would go and raze it, buuuuuut there’s just too many.” he was far too nonchalant, barrelling on despite the fact that zagreus was still fixated on the part where his mother had disappeared. “anyways, i’ll give you one of my blessings.” lord hermes placed a hand on zagreus’ head, his entire being shining like a beacon, dazzling you before it dies down.

where hermes once was, he no longer was there, leaving a map behind.

sparks of light danced on zagreus’ body, face grim. “my mother disappeared.” he says quietly, sitting down on the cot and draping his forearms on his knees. you let him sit, bending down to grab the map and read it. it looked like a long, arduous journey - perilous, judging by the marks that indicated great danger. he sighs loudly, looking up at you, face pained. “you should stay here. it’s safer.”

the paper crinkles underneath your hands and you take a moment to set it onto the table, curling into fists once they were freed. “i don’t care. i’m coming with you!” you shake your head firmly, “i pledged my service to lady persephone and now, i pledge my service to you.” you drop down to one knee, fist against your heart. “prince zagreus, son of hades, son of persephone, charge of the goddess nyx, i swear that i will do everything in my power to help you.”

he looks soft, pulling you up to your feet and hugging you tightly. “ok, ok. we’re in this together. we have a long day tomorrow, let’s rest.” true, you were terrified. but you were determined to help zagreus and find his mother. then this family would find the peace they deserved. you arrange yourself in a familiar position, curled on your side with zagreus behind you, carefully wrapping an arm around your waist, he murmurs out a quiet good night, something that you return and allowed your eyes to flutter shut.

----

you’re awaken by a beam of sun hitting your shut eyes. a groan leaves your lips, as you push yourself into a sitting position. zagreus, like yesterday morning, was not there - his spot cold to the touch. maybe he was off getting breakfast from the nice baker. your body finally starts aching less, and you stand up, ready to wash your face to prepare for the rough journey ahead.

but something was off. half of the travel supplies were gone, stygius was gone, the map was gone. your mind was slow to alarm, but once the dots had clicked, anxiety rose like an unrelenting crash of waves upon the shores. “what the...” you look for the things, the conclusion settling itself onto your mind, before your attention is captured by a piece of parchment on the table. you lift it up and begin reading it:

when you wake up, you’ll find that half of the things are gone and i’m sorry for that. but the journey is too dangerous, i can’t have someone i care about get hurt for me. i want you to stay there and wait for my return, i won’t be long.

- zagreus.

ps. i borrowed myroclus for the time being.

you read the words over and over until they’re tattooed behind your eyelids. then rage swells in your throat, releasing in an angered yell, as you bang your fist onto the table, shoving it so that it fell to the side.

that bastard, that arrogant, little ... prick! you can make your own decisions for yourself. you didn’t need some prince to decide what was good for you and what wasn’t. argh!

it takes you a few minutes to stop screaming into the cot before you stomp down to the stables and yank the nearest stableboy to your face, seething. “i am very angry. did someone take my horse? about this tall, laurels around his head and mismatched eyes?”

the stableboy quakes and nods, “sir told me not to tell you, he took the horse and travelled out.”

“where?” he shrugs and you release him, tears brimming your eyes. how could he do this to you? how could he leave you behind? in a town with no friends and no one to turn to for help ---

you stop, spine straightening as you stare into the open air. you knew someone who could help you. your steps take you straight to the baker who was already getting ready for the day’s rush, she turns her head to smile at you, only for it to fall at the sight of the tears on your face. “----Thisbe? i’m going to go out for a bit, someone needs my help.” deep within the bakery, someone calls out an affirmative.

the baker grabs your hand and pulls you into her home, and seats you on a chair. she busies herself with brewing tea and grabbing bread, “you look like a mess, what’s wrong?”

you take the offered cup of soothing tea, tasting honey on your tongue before explaining everything that had happened. well, omitting the part about hermes and satyrs and so on. you look to the ground, eyes brimming with tears, “i thought he trusted me. but he left me here... i don’t have money or a horse or anything!” your hands cover your face, crying quietly.

she is silent for a long moment and she leaves your side. you think she’s going back to the bakery to ready for customers while you cried your heart out. but the sound of metal hitting together has you looking up. “here. this should be enough to last you until you hit the next town. if you go into the stables near here, the guy owes me something. he’ll give you a horse.”

she guides you to your feet, laughing at how baffled you look. “why are you helping me?”

the baker holds your hands, squeezing gently - “when i was trying to escape war, someone did the same for me, helped me start my life back up. i don’t know why, but it feels like lady hestia is telling me to help out. to... pay it forward.”

you dry your tears with the back of your hand, “can i know your name? not just... for the guy to know, but so that i can remember the person who helped me.”

“menelaia,” menelaia leans forward and kisses your cheek gently, placing a piece of bread into your hands and nudging you outside. “go get that stubborn prince back.” you nod and rush out of the bakery, pledging to come back here to return everything to menelaia.

true to form, the man at the stable offered you a hardy steed. a chestnut stallion with a midnight black mane and a fire in his eyes. “he’s tough and fast, trust in him.” you stroke the horse’s side, “his name is amydros, he will get you to where you need to be.”

you place a saddle pad over your horse’s back, amydros nickering quietly, patient. you were pleasantly surprised to find that your stay had been paid for, but that made you that much more determined to catch up to zagreus and give him a piece of your mind.

the sun had scarcely risen above the frost-covered trees, amydos hitting the snow-covered ground with his hooves. you didn’t exactly remember the entire contents of the map, but you knew that he was headed to the next town. hopefully it had a temple to hermes, just so that you could pray to him and ask for help. (help with wringing zagreus’ neck until he got sense back).

your heels dig into amydos’ sides, prompting the horse to run down the well-beaten path of the open countryside, the next town scarcely able to be seen. as long as you stayed on the path, you’d be fine, you hoped...

#hades the game #hades supergiant #zagreus hades #my writing #aku writing #ZAGREUS YOU JERK!

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