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Spoken, Not Said CH3

Rating: T (for now)

Pairing: Theseus/Asterius/Zagreus

Warnings: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Banter, Bickering, Theseus being Theseus, Slight spoilers, Touch-starved Zagreus

CH: 3/?

WC: 5K~

Read on AO3

Asterius is not in Asphodel.

They search the realm far and wide, but he is nowhere to be found. It’s clear—has been clear since the coliseum.

Asterius is not in Asphodel, which means he is in Tartarus.

The realization steals what little breath Theseus has left. Zagreus is quiet as they gather themselves at the center of one of the larger islands.

“I need only a moment to catch my breath,” he tells Zagreus. His body aches, but he can only imagine how Asterius must be suffering through torment after torment.

He seats himself on the coolest rock he can find (it is not particularly cool), too exhausted from the heat to muster enough energy to voice his frustrations at Zagreus. And Zagreus himself isn’t faring much better; a soft sheen of sweat coats his skin, pale and glistening.

“Tartarus isn’t so bad if you avoid the torture chambers,” Zagreus tells him, a pale attempt at humor. Theseus shoots him the dirtiest look he can manage.

“You would be all too familiar with them,” he bites.

“It’s the closest realm to the House. It wouldn’t be my first pick for a neighbor, but you’d have to take that up with my father.”

“Your father,” Theseus repeats evenly. “You still make that claim.”

“Do you really not believe me, after all this time?”

“You are nothing like him! He is the Lord residing over all of us, and you are a small, ungod-like god in comparison.”

“So you finally admit that I’m a god.” Zagreus moves to the other side of Theseus and kicks at a loose stone. He keeps shooting glances in a specific direction; Theseus can only assume that is where Tartarus lay. “You even said my name. I’m impressed you bothered to remember.”

“Asterius has mentioned it often enough,” Theseus says.

“He mentions me?” Zagreus asks, with such honest and sincere pleasure in his voice that Theseus finds himself suddenly seething.

“Only to remind me how easily it is to bring you down!” Theseus stands, then picks up his shield and spear. “Are you quite done wasting our time with your imagined friendship? We—”

“Asterius and I get along quite well, actually.”

“We,” Theseus continues, louder, “have another realm to explore. No thanks to your guidance!”

Zagreus doesn’t say anything for a time. When Theseus looks over, Zagreus is staring at him intently.

Theseus looks away. “Gaze upon me if you must. But when you are quite done, I’m certain Asterius would appreciate a quicker pace.”

“You know, I’m still trying to figure out what problem you have with me. Other than the obvious fact that we fight each other to the death every day, I try to remain at least civil during our interactions. You’re a king, aren’t you? Aren’t kings supposed to be, I don’t know, kind?”

“I am kind to those who deserve it!” Theseus defends. “I have been tasked with stopping you as many times as it takes. Would you expect me to be kind to a blackguard defying the rules of these undying realms?”

“You know it’s not that simple.” Zagreus walks up to him, stopping a few feet away, and Theseus lifts his chin. “Aren’t you going to ask me why? I know you’ve been dying to.”

“I do not care what drives you to do what you do, fiend,” Theseus lies. “I know my duty.”

“I am not a fiend,” Zagreus says hotly. “Nor am I a monster, and I’m not a daemon! I’m none of those things, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop calling me by those names. I said I wouldn’t put up this attitude of yours and I mean it, Theseus.”

“What, have your feelings been hurt by my remarks? Ha!”

Zagreus’ supple lips form a soft frown. “Frankly, yes. Don’t you want the truth?”

I’m better than you. I’m more worthy than you.

“Don’t bother. It changes nothing,” he says vehemently.

“I—”

I’m going to get out of here, and when I do, I’ll have a good laugh with the gods about how pathetic you are.

“Asterius suffers whilst we wait!” Theseus exclaims. “We don’t have time to entertain another falsehood of yours!”

“I just want to see my mother,” Zagreus says then, so softly at first that Theseus isn’t sure he hears him correctly. His own intrusive thoughts come to a grinding halt.

“What was that?”

Zagreus looks down, then when he drags his eyes back up to Theseus, they shine with emotion.

“I just have a few minutes with her, every time. It takes me long enough to reach the place where she is, and then I—“ He turns his head away, speaking towards the lava on his right. “I demanded father let me see her. He refused, and so I have no choice. He forces us to fight. I have to kill my own father so I can see my mother, who didn’t even know I existed until a short while ago.”

“Your…mother?”

“Persephone.” Zagreus takes a breath, then meets Theseus’ eyes. “She’s wonderful. Kind and patient, but authoritative. Her garden is like nothing I’ve ever seen. Not that I’ve seen many gardens.”

Persephone. The Queen.

No, no, no. That isn’t right. That isn’t true. His own duty is noble; it is true.

“You are lying,” Theseus says waveringly.

“I’ve no reason to lie,” Zagreus says. “I don’t care if you believe me. It’s the truth. Though it would make things a little easier if you did.”

“If that is the truth, then why do we fight?” Theseus bursts. “The Queen, your mother, why does Lord Hades keep you away?”

“I think he’s protecting her somehow.” Zagreus combs his fingers through his hair and heaves a world-weary sigh. “In any case, we should get moving. You’re right; Asterius would appreciate a little haste.”

“I—Yes.” Theseus blinks rapidly, then adjust his grip on his weaponry and lifts his chin. “It is as I said. We must find Asterius, quickly. To Tartarus, then?”

“Yes, I suppose. As I said, it’s the realm closest to my father, so I am a bit wary. You know, it’s not too late for you to turn around and go back to Elysium. I’m sure I can find him on my own now.”

“As I would expect, an obvious attempt to undermine my friendship with Asterius. Nay, fie—you,” he finishes, stumbling somewhat. It is not that he cares what Zagreus thinks of his choice in words, but the pathetic expression on his face is impossible to ignore. Perhaps a modicum of kindness is due, but only just! “I will journey with you to your realm and save my friend! Perhaps you should return to provide a distraction for your Lord father.”

Zagreus snorts. “If I spoke with him for more than ten seconds, well, now that would be suspicious of me. No, we’ll go together, but—” he hesitates a moment "—I think it would be best if we split up when we get to Tartarus. The wretches there will be child’s play for the both of us, so you should be fine on your own. I need—if you need anything, call out to me and I’ll find you.”

Without waiting for him to reply, he starts walking. Theseus hesitates, still attempting to comprehend all that he’s learned in such a short while, but then eventually he follows Zagreus towards their next destination.

Though not before adding, “I should be saying that to you! Should you need my aid, speak my name and I will surely come to your rescue. Your untimely death wouldn’t help Asterius in this instance.”

“Right,” Zagreus says humorlessly. Theseus takes no notice of it. He continues to turn what Zagreus has revealed to him in his mind. It is well-known that the gods are vindictive and vengeful on those that deserve it, but Zagreus is… He is…

Don’t I deserve it? Don’t you hate me, King?

He presses his lips together and forges on ahead.

Tartarus is quite unlike anything Theseus had imagined it would be.

Perhaps it is the air which is cloying and clings to his throat like mud. Theseus catches himself swallowing and coughing mere minutes after entering the realm, whilst Zagreus appears unaffected.

“You live in this place?” he asks. Zagreus lifts his shoulders in a shrug and jogs a few paces ahead so he can trigger a trap in the ground that Theseus had hardly noticed. Since entering, there have been several of these. Crude mechanisms with spikes and metal. The shield-bearers in Elysium are far more appropriate for would-be attackers.

“It’s—”

Zagreus’ next words are cut off by a gut-wrenching scream from somewhere nearby. Theseus is immediately on guard, but Zagreus barely gives the direction of the noise more than a quick glance.

“You get used to it,” is what he finishes with, though to his credit he does appear discomforted by the noise. “I’m not sure how Meg and her sisters do the whole ‘torture poor unfortunate shades for eternity’ bit. The Furies,” he clarifies, at Theseus’ look of confusion. When Theseus continues to stare, he scratches his arm. “I suppose they’d be unfamiliar to you. I am acquainted with most of the people in this realm. Those that do the torture, I should say. Not the most pleasant job, but we don’t really discuss that at the House.”

Theseus cannot even begin to imagine what his home must look like. “Such a place of depravity it must be! You have been raised and nurtured in the depths of the Underworld; it is no wonder Lord Hades insists on preventing your escape to the surface.”

It is the only reasonable explanation.

It’s not the answer Zagreus is looking for. "You don’t understand.” He shakes his head. “You’ll never understand. We faced each other dozens of times, and not once did you ask yourself why. Darkness, you won’t even try. Theseus—”

He is interrupted by another horrific scream, followed by several others. Theseus does not flinch from the sound, but it is close. He can stand much worse, unsettling though it may be.

Shooting him a final look of contempt, Zagreus leads them wordlessly through more doorways and passages, on the lookout for any sign of Asterius. They are meant to divide their attention, but Theseus does not mind getting his bearings first, so he sticks to Zagreus’ side as they appear to circle the center of the place. When he inquires as to why they have not ventured in, Zagreus explains that there are renovations going on.

Theseus is unconvinced of the truth of what he says, but unless it involves Asterius, he is not concerned.

“Oh, Asterius,” Theseus mourns, quietly to himself. They have dispatched a fresh set of Tartaran shades and peered into chamber after chamber, but there is no sign of him. He listens for the sound of his voice or any indication he may be near, but there is nothing.

“What torture you must be under!” he cries, unable to contain himself. “It burns my very soul to think of you within these terrifying halls.”

“We haven’t heard him yet, so that’s good. He’s not being currently tortured in our vicinity,” Zagreus says. In the center of the room there is another Boon––this one Theseus does not recognize from before. Zagreus makes the sound in the back of his throat that Theseus can’t properly name.

“Haven’t had this one in a while.” Zagreus walks up to it, but then hesitates with his hand hovering over the Boon’s surface. “You know of lady Aphrodite, I’m sure,” he says to Theseus. “Goddess of love and desire, et cetera.”

“You insult me. Of course I am aware of our Lady! If there is a goddess worthy of praise, it is she. May we thank her for all the love in our lives. For that my love for Asterius never wanes!”

“You really are something else,” Zagreus says to him. His meaning is indeterminable, but Theseus isn’t concerned. He is more curious to see what gift Zagreus will be bestowed in this instance.

However, Zagreus doesn’t accept it immediately. He shifts uneasily from foot to foot, and opens his mouth again, only to shut it firmly. Puzzled, Theseus watches him squirm, assuming his hesitation is due to his upbringing. Certainly, love must be an unfamiliar feeling to such a wretched being. For a moment, he feels pity for Zagreus.

“Gods,” Zagreus says, as the Boon disappears. He shivers inexplicably. “None of the other Boons are like this. She told me—well, she informed me she was giving her Boon a bit of a boost. As long as we don’t run into anyone I know, we should be fine.”

“Explain yourself,” Theseus demands, not because he is curious, but only to be prepared for the worst.

Zagreus turns to him, and Theseus’ heart threatens to stop beating in his chest.

As with all of the Boons, nothing is different about his appearance, physically. His hair is the same, as are his lips, pursed in a subtle pout, and his eyes—

Theseus does not gasp, but it is a close thing.

Oh, gods, his eyes. How did he not realize what depths lie in his emerald gaze? It is a shining verdant green, and even the ruby red glow of his other iris is suddenly striking and remarkable.

“We should keep moving. I’m wondering if I can find Sisyphus around here; he might have an idea where Asterius would be.” He doesn’t seem to notice Theseus’ sudden silence, distracted by more screams and howls from tortured victims. “Did you know Sisyphus tied up Thanatos—that’s death himself—and that’s the reason he’s stuck pushing that boulder for eternity? Than is as unforgiving as ever. Still doesn’t forgive me for leaving. Not yet anyway.”

His lips. His beautiful, luscious, sinful lips. It seems as though they are always moving, always attempting to torment him.

“Theseus?”

The sound of his own name rings like a siren song. The sensation budding in his chest blooms.

His feet begin moving on their own, approaching Zagreus until he is close enough to touch.

“What are you doing?”

Zagreus backs away from him hastily, and nearly triggers the trap a second time. “Is this about the Boon? You don’t have to worry about that. It’s more potent, but it only affects people with whom I—” He clears his throat and straightens, schooling his expression. “You won’t have to worry about it. There has to be something there on both ends. If there’s nothing there, then there’s nothing…”

He trails off, distracted by the sight of Theseus lifting his hand. While he has been speaking, Theseus had been inching closer, the thundering of his heart urging him to bring himself as close as possible.

Zagreus flinches when Theseus’ hand comes close to his face, expecting him to strike, no doubt. But Theseus doesn’t strike him. He lays his palm over the side of Zagreus’ face, cupping his cheek in hand.

His skin so soft, just as he had imagined. Pale, yes, but pleasing to the touch.

Zagreus’ eyes are wide with shock, his breath hitched and shallow.

“Theseus,” he says, but Theseus is too overwhelmed with his sudden and intense emotions to answer. Theseus’ thumb swipes over the length of his cheekbone and Zagreus goes still. For a moment, Theseus vaguely wonders what he will do; how he will react.

And then he melts into his touch, and an unknown sound escapes Theseus’ throat.

Such handsome beauty. He is worthy of sculpture. Seeking a similar reaction to the touch of his right hand, he takes his left and lays it on Zagreus’ other cheek, now caressing him as he would on occasion with Asterius.

He takes a moment to revel in the warmth his touch brings, and that is when Zagreus speaks again.

“Theseus,” he breathes. Theseus remains where he is, so Zagreus licks his lips and says louder. “Theseus, I—Theseus. King. Theseus. Sir.”

At the unfamiliar title, seemingly all at once the truth of what he is doing slams into him. Horrified and ashamed, Theseus pushes him back.

“What are you doing!” he calls loudly, enunciating each word clearly and with precision.

“What am I—you came on to me!” Zagreus gapes at him, a flush high on his cheeks. “You—you touched me.”

“I wasn’t in control of myself! Your dark magic and hellborn nature have overtaken your feeble body. You may try to draw me in, but I will not fall prey!”

He can still recall the exact feeling of Zagreus’ breath ghosting hot over his wrist. The gentle way that he had called his name. Theseus.

“It was the Boon!” Zagreus exclaims, aggravated. Even in anger, he shines. “I told you less than five minutes ago how Aphrodite’s Boon affects the people around me. I just didn’t think…”

He looks at Theseus. His words sink in slowly.

“You’re attracted to me,” Zagreus says, at the same time that Theseus cries, “Fiend!!”

“The Boon doesn’t affect just anyone. She is the goddess of desire, so it stands to reason that she has the power to heighten any feelings of love, infatuation, or desire—”

“You lie! Vicious, Horrible lies! I would never love you!”

“Ouch,” Zagreus says with a small laugh. “You’re not the first to say that. Regardless, point being you feel something, or you wouldn’t have…” He trails off again, rubbing his cheek with his palm like he can still feel the ghost of Theseus’ hand. A feeling unlike any other wells up inside Theseus, threatening to overflow.

I must touch him again.

“Nobody’s touched me like that in forever,” Zagreus adds softly.

The chalice that’s holding all of Theseus’ feelings begins to spill over. He lets out an inhuman cry and storms off in the opposite direction to put some space between them. It is his proximity to Zagreus that must be the cause; if he can remove himself, he will be well again and of sound mind.

“Rid yourself of that Boon! Return it!”

“I can’t just return it! If I find another it can be replaced, but you’d be hard-pressed to find a god that won’t be upset if you try to return Boon they’ve graciously bestowed on you.” There is a long pause. “It would help if maybe you’d stop lying to yourself about how you feel for every little thing.”

Within the time he has spent staring at the opposite wall, the overwhelming feelings have dissipated some. Then, when he glances back at Zagreus, they begin to return.

“The only lies are your own,” he says heatedly. “I understand the need to find a lover to satisfy your own needs, but I suggest you find another!”

He hears Zagreus let out an exaggerated sigh. “I can’t believe I ever looked up to you. So much for the legendary King of Athens. So you’re attracted me, so what? I think you’re quite nice to look at, but I’m not having an existential crisis over it.”

“Blackguard, you—”

Theseus spins around to release his fury onto Zagreus, but movement behind him stops him short.

A giant, hulking wretch rises up from behind Zagreus and raises its arms. Theseus opens his mouth to warn him, but the words catching his throat. Thankfully, Zagreus sees the change in his face and raises his sword just as the lout swings downward. It’s attack sends Zagreus skidding backwards, but he holds strong and then defeats it with a few swings of his sword.

Relieved, Theseus takes hold of his shield and spear with the intention of making some sort of threat, when another voice sounds from the far end of the room.

“Zagreus?”

It’s the voice of a woman. Deep and smooth like nectar. Zagreus goes completely still when he hears it.

“…Hey, Meg.”

“Zagreus,” she repeats, just now noticing Theseus standing some feet away. Her eyes widen, then narrow, lips curling into a snarl. She growls, “What have you done?”

“It’s not what it looks like, I promise,” Zagreus tells her. “Well, it is, a bit, but not for the reasons you’d think.”

Theseus notices that she is wielding a fierce looking whip. She flicks it in their direction, and then pulls it taut.

“This is a new low, Zagreus. Dragging others into the mess you’ve made isn’t like you.”

“It’s for a good reason, I swear. We’re trying to find his friend Asterius. My father—”

“I’ve heard enough,” she rasps. She pulls the whip even tighter, lowering herself into a battle stance. “Don’t you dare try to explain yourself to me. I’m going to make this easy for all of us and send you both back to where you belong.”

“Not without Asterius!” Theseus cries, having had enough of remaining silent. A tormentor she may be, but he is the Champion of Elysium; he has faced worse. He has faced Zagreus at his most powerful and given him a good fight. Surely, he can take this one woman.

Her whip flies in his direction, faster than he can blink. He raises his shield, just barely defending himself against the attack. He hears Zagreus start running back towards Theseus—likely to create some space between him and this Meg—and he notes was some concern how the room that they are in is relatively small compared to others.

“Blood and darkness, this is what I was hoping to avoid,” Zagreus says in a hushed tone once he’s in range. “And now we’re in this tiny room with her and her very long whip.”

“I’ll take her on,” Theseus says, with fervor. He looks to Zagreus, and a protective fury overcomes him. “Stay behind my shield and you will be safe!”

“Your shield wouldn’t keep either of us safe. Not for long anyway. She’s—”

Whatever he is going to say is interrupted by the woman herself flying towards them at breakneck speed. Zagreus barely misses being struck by her whip, dashing out of her way and into the opposite direction.

Meg turns to Theseus. Her lips curl.

“From what I heard you hate Zagreus. Now you’re helping him?”

He doesn’t get a chance to answer. Her whip sails his way, and he’s forced to shield himself.

“I am here for Asterius and only Asterius! I insist–nay, I demand you tell me where he is!” He pauses, throwing his spear in her direction. “Tell me where you have put him!”

“I don’t even know who that is,” she says, and after that, talking becomes a moot point.

The woman—Meg—is incredibly quick on her feet. She is a vision of grace and beauty, and her movements are ferocious and unforgiving. Theseus’ shield absorbs the force of her whip countless times, but if she is quick, she is able to get behind him and strike him. At those times, thankfully, Zagreus is there to assist him—though he provides more of a distraction than anything.

“Again you attempt to slice me with your demonic sword!” Theseus snaps, when that exact event nearly occurs.

“Theseus, I can’t hit her if you’re in my way.”

“I have barely moved from the spot!”

“I’ve noticed that. Aren't you supposed to throw your spear?"

“Stop flirting,” Meg growls, and in mere moments she is upon them, wielding her whip with terrifying strength and aiming it at Zagreus. “I’ll go ahead and make this easy for both of you.”

Theseus dives in front of Zagreus, just-in-time for his shield to absorb the impact. He hears Meg scoff, and the sound of her footsteps begins to fade as she presumably backs away.

“That’s not good,” Zagreus tells him, crouching behind the shield. Much too close for comfort if Theseus were to be asked. His heart pounds loud enough to nearly drown out Zagreus’ next words. “She’s going to call on the forces in Tartarus. At this point, we’d be lucky if my father isn't already on his way to decimate the both of us. Darkness, I hope she doesn’t summon any brimstones.”

Theseus wants to touch him. He wants to—blast, that Boon.

His hand reaches back of its own volition and lands on Zagreus’ shoulder. He squeezes the muscle.

“We will defeat her and find Asterius. And if I am to die—”

Zagreus stops him with a hand over his. The contact is like pure electricity.

“You’ll live, King. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Wretches! To me!” They hear Meg call out. Almost immediately they begin to appear in numbers, summoned by her authority.

“This is going to get ugly,” Zagreus says. He eyes the brimstones with distaste. “You’ll need that shield.”

“As I am all too aware.” Theseus nods. “Once more you will receive my support. You may thank me later!”

Zagreus chuckles, and then he dashes into the first group of enemies while Theseus turns his attention to the brimstones aiming at Zagreus. Their enemies are hardly as strong as the weakest shades in Elysium, but with the Fury constantly at their backs, progress is slow.

Zagreus, meanwhile, is without shield, and so he moves with breathtaking speed. He is never still, swinging his sword to slaughter their enemy shades, alternating between fighting the shades coming in droves and fighting Meg.

Watching the two of them dance in battle, Theseus has an idea as to who will win. In any other battle, he is certain Zagreus would prevail, but with each dash and every quickstep taken to avoid the force of her whip, he can see his strength begin to flag. Zagreus has been fighting at Theseus’ side for much longer, and even he feels exhaustion weighing him down.

He attempts to assist, but Theseus’ own weaponry is easily deflected by her whip. Would that they had the time, and he was fresh from his chambers, not surrounded by brimstone’s and gigantic louts attempting to crush and pin them in a small space, their battle would be a different story.

Theseus grinds his teeth together.

Think, he tells himself. Were you with Asterius, what strategy would you employ?

Almost immediately the low tones of his voice echo in his head. It is far too easy to imagine his friend speaking to him, and he feels a pang at the thought of him.

What does she have that works in her favor?

That blasted whip. Zagreus’ exposed shoulder is decorated with scratches, and his tunic is torn in places.

Disable it. Find the means to take away her advantage if brute force is not an option.

After wiping the sweat from his brow, Theseus scans the length of the room while he takes out more wretches that appear. It reminds him of their fight in Asphodel, when he used his shield to propel him over the lava. If Asterius was with him, he could toss him in her direction and pin her.

You are fond of your shield, King, his imagined friend tells him. She will know this.

He thinks about the way she attacks them; how despite his restricted movement, making him an easier target, her aim is for Zagreus.

She is out for blood, he realizes. That is, it is more than just that Zagreus is in her way; it’s personal.

Theseus maneuvers into the center of the room, backing up against the pillar and trying to make himself as unnoticeable as possible. He cannot remove himself from her awareness, but if he can just find an opening…

Zagreus notices his position and hesitates for a split-second, falsely assuming he has been cornered. In that second, Meg sees his hesitation and lets out a low laugh.

“Go home, Zagreus.”

But before she can fully attack, Theseus bursts from around the pillar and heaves his upturned shield in at her like a disc. She startles, but dodges easily, as he expected.

He did not intend for the hit to land.

Theseus slams into her with his shoulder. She grunts, fingers digging into his skin as she fights against him. He has moments until she overpowers him; he is exhausted, and she is an incredibly powerful foe nonetheless. Still, moments are all he needs.

With one arm still free and holding onto his spear, he stabs at her whip and catches it under the pointed tip. Then he proceeds to wind it quickly around his spear. Once he has a good grip on it, he flings it away from her direction against the opposite wall.

“What are you doing," she hisses, grasping even more wildly. “You’ll be punished for this. Hades will find out. You know this.”

Theseus does not deign to reply. After all, there is nothing to say.

“Tell me where Asterius is, Meg,” Zagreus says, holding the tip of his sword at her throat. She relaxes in Theseus’ hold, and when he releases her, she slides to the ground in defeat, though the fire in her eyes never abates. "Now, if you would, please."

“I can’t do that Zagreus, because I don’t know who that is.”

“We’re looking for the Minotaur. Bull of Minos. Surely you’ve heard of him.”

Her eyes widen, and then she laughs, long and low and dangerous.

“I don’t know where you heard that the Minotaur would be here, but he’s not. You’re wasting your time.”

“Then where is he!?” Theseus bursts, sounding too close to a whine for his liking. “If Asterius is not here, then I demand you tell me where he is.”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” she says, barely sparing him a glance. She lifts her chin at Zagreus. “This is probably the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, Zagreus. I hope you're happy. Now: Either you kill me, or I’ll kill you.”

Zagreus raises his sword. “I’m sorry, Meg.”

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