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“I heard it’s Thanatos’ birthday,” Achilles mused during one of his usual postmortem chats with Zagreus. “I thought of getting him something, but I don’t know what he’d like. Or if he’d like anything.”
“How can you tell it’s someone’s birthday down here when there’s no day or night?” Zagreus asked.
“I heard it from your mother. She still operates on her day-night schedule.”
That was right. His mother, Persephone, fresh blood once again in the underworld. It puzzled Zagreus, but he found her slinking off into her bedroom every now and then. He’d found out after he asked his father about it, got promptly told to mind his business, and that his mother needed her rest.
“Perhaps you’re getting him something? You two are quite close, aren’t you?” Achilles prompted. Zagreus scratched the back of his head sheepishly. Close was one word to describe it, but complicated was a better one. Thanatos was… distant. That’s just how he was. Zagreus wondered if Than was afraid of feelings, or of getting attached to people, and that’s why whenever he thought they were making developments in their relationship, Than would shy away.
“I…” he was lost for words because, honestly, he didn’t even know Thanatos had a birthday. He hadn’t even thought that Thanatos would appreciate a gift, much less thought about what to get for him.
“Your silence speaks volumes, lad,” Achilles chuckled. “I think a simple ambrosia would suffice.”
“How old is Thanatos turning?” Zagreus asked, an idea sparking in his head. One bottle of ambrosia for each year he’s aged–it was perfect. Simple, meaningful, and no god would turn down a sweet, sweet bottle of ambrosia.
“That, lad, I do not know. All of us–we’re so old, nobody keeps track anymore.” Achilles frowned at the defeated look on Zagreus’ face. “Just take a guess. Thanatos should appreciate it anyway.”
“Well, how old were you when you died?”
Achilles titled his head and hummed. “Thirty-three, maybe.”
“Is that old?”
“Good Zeus, no. I was still young.”
Defeated, Zagreus sighed, “I’ll just guess.”
Later, while sifting through his belongings, bounties from his underworld runs included, he discovered he had exactly twenty-three ambrosia. And so, Thanatos would be turning twenty-three this year.
Zagreus packed them all into a sack he found lying around and marched over to Thanatos’ usual brooding spot next to the river of blood where he found him, undoubtedly, brooding.
“Hey, Than,” Zagreus greeted as he approached him. The Chthonic turned around, arms crossed, face blank.
“Hello, Zagreus.”
“I, uh, heard it’s your birthday?” Zagreus offered. Thanatos tutted and glanced off to the side.
“I don’t have a birthday.”
“Well, sure you do. Everyone has a birthday. We just… don’t celebrate, for some reason.”
“Zagreus, I am eons old. We all are. We’ve forgotten our birthdays by now, and I see no reason for the god of death to enjoy the day he was given life.”
Zagreus sighed and rubbed his temple between his fingers. “Here,” he said, dropping the sack of ambrosia at Thanatos’ feet. “Happy birthday.” Thanatos knelt and opened the sack, pausing for a moment before he rummaged through it.
“Sorry, it’s a little unoriginal, but I know you like it.”
“Who doesn’t?” Thanatos grumbled.
“Lighten up, Than.”
“Why are there twenty-three of them?” Thanatos asked after a long pause, during which he squinted at Zagreus.
“You counted?”
“I have eyes, Zag.”
“Well, um, I thought that since we don’t know how old you are, I could take a guess. Happy twenty-third birthday.” Chuckling nervously, he scratched the back of his head.
“That’s nowhere near my age.”
“Plenty of humans are twenty-three.”
“And I am not.”
“Have an open mind, Than.”
“Goodbye, Zagreus,” Thanatos said, lifting the sack over his shoulder, “and thank you.” Then, he was gone in a fit of gray smoke, just like that.
-
“I heard from a certain Achilles that it’s your birthday today,” Meg said in her usual monotone, taking a sip from her jug.
“It’s not,” Thanatos deadpanned. One of the shades nearby slid a jug of underworld alcohol on Thanatos’ table, which he promptly took a swig from. “He’s making it up. And since when do you talk to shades?”
“We were all born someday.”
“Birthdays are for children. I am far above that.”
“Aren’t we all children of someone?” Meg pointed out with a smirk making its way across her face. Thanatos rolled his eyes and turned away from her in his chair. “Anyway, how are things with you and Zagreus?”
“...Fine.”
He heard her stool creak as she turned to look at him. “Be honest, Thanatos. We all know you two have a thing going.”
“It’s… complicated. I’m still mad at him.”
“He’s down here for good. This has been established.” Meg sighed. “You need to get over it.” She stood up and walked around to sit in the stool across from Thanatos, forcing him to look at her. “Did he get you anything for your birthday?”
“It’s not my birthday.”
“Answer the question.”
Defeated, he sighed, “Yes.”
Meg leaned in closer. “What was it?”
“Ambrosia.”
“And you didn’t like it?”
“You wouldn’t like it, either.”
“No, I wouldn’t.” She pursed her lips. “But it was nice of him to do that anyway, especially for your birthday.”
“I suppose.”
“Look, Than,” Meg exhaled, standing from her seat and stretching. “I have to go. But maybe give it some thought… why would Zagreus go out of his way to get you a gift?” Then, she was gone, leaving Thanatos alone in the lounge with his jug of spirits.
It did give him some food for thought. He knew Zagreus liked him and, well, he liked Zagreus back, but ever since Zag began trying to escape from the underworld, especially without telling him, his opinion had become skewed. If Zag truly cared, he would’ve said something, or at least stayed a little while longer.
But, since Zag truly cared, he got him twenty-three bottles of ambrosia, and why was that not good enough for him? Maybe it was because he would prefer if he stayed in the underworld forever, or stopped trying to escape, or– well, maybe Meg was right, considering all of those wishes had come to fruition in the recent days.
Thanatos glanced down at the sack near his feet, brimming with ambrosia. He bent down and fished one out, pouring its contents into the jug before him, mixing it with the cheap alcohol. He wished he’d said a better thank you to Zagreus, wished that maybe he’d told him how much he loves him.
Later, as Thanatos was walking back to his usual brooding spot, he swore he saw Meg and Achilles talking, saying something about how their plan worked.