Work Text:
Snow is cold. It felt weird to feel snowflakes upon his cheeks, despite the fact they dissipate on his skin within seconds. It almost tickled; but the thing Zagreus felt most was the adrenaline seeping into every crevice of his skin.
He wants to laugh almost; he’s fought and ripped apart so many Wretches, yet his heart is pounding between his ribs every step he takes to meet his father.
Perhaps it’s the fact that he’s not in the best shape because of those said Wretches, among many other nuisances trying to stop him. Maybe it’s the small wound on his arm that hasn’t stopped bleeding ever since he met a particularly harsh Strongbow in Elysium.
“Father,” Zagreus says. The word sounds funny coming out of his mouth. It doesn’t sound so familial when the man before him, his father his whole life, is drawing a sword towards him.
His father does not say a word, just stands and grunts.
“Bit cold, aren’t you?” Zagreus tries to play it off, as if he and his father aren’t about to duel to possible permadeath.
Once more, there is silence from him.
“It’s because of the snow, Father. And you’re ignoring me. But that’s quite alright; I’ve been doing the same thing to you now for quite some time.”
“Silence, boy,” erupts a voice so loud, that Zagreus flinches and the snow begins to melt, pooling at his feet.
He does as he is told.
“You have everything you could ever want here, yet you try to leave. I don’t understand.” His father’s sword is still drawn towards him. His eyes are closed. He looks utterly exhausted. “I do everything in my power to keep you from leaving; even using Cerberus as a tool, and yet here we stand.”
Zagreus does not know how to reply; mostly because every failed attempt he tells his father why he must leave, and he pays him no heed; simply waves him off, and pretends to listen to the Shades before yelling some sort of colorful word at them before they dart away into the darkness to be long forgotten.
“Persephone is my real mother. As much as I care for Nyx, I must find her.” He’s quiet a moment before he says, “I’m kind of tired of saying that, you know.”
Hades pretends to not hear that last bit; Zagreus notices, but tries to not let it bother him.
“Why aren’t you scared?”
That takes Zagreus back a bit.
“What do you mean?”
Hades sighs in annoyance and gestures towards his sword. “You still want to fight me and you’re near death; it’s a foolish choice. You will not make it out alive, Zagreus.”
“I’m always near death,” Zagreus chuckles, “we live in the Underworld; not to mention I am also quite acquainted with Thanatos.”
“Do you really care about your life so little? To make jokes when you can barely stand on your own?”
Zagreus shakes his head.
“I already know that I’m going to make it.”
Another scoff from his father. “What makes you so sure of that? I could annihilate you in seconds. I have.”
Zagreus ignores this low blow, but he’s balling his hands into fists inside the Twin Fists. “Surely you must know by now that I’ll always come back. Honestly Father this conversation itself is almost more draining than the Wretches.”
“Then let’s start.”
Zagreus nods. “I thought we never would.”