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Love.
Love, as far as Hymns and Stories said, was supposed to be buoyant and frantic. A happy anxiety that would turn colours brighter, warmth warmer, and life livelier. Generally, it was described as something purely positive, with circumstances and choices being the things that sometimes twisted it into something more like War.
Which mortals and Gods alike immediately saw as something else – something separate. The moment that Ares dipped his blood-crusted nails into a situation, Love was no longer involved. It had been the spark, the positive intention, a misguided hope, the start - but Love itself didn’t have a place in War. Because it, as an emotion, was purely positive, and so it couldn’t be the source of pain and strife.
Because if Love caused pain, then it wasn’t really Love anymore, was it?
Hypnos considered that as he listened to Hades and Nyx by the grandiose desk in the Hall. He’d been sleeping, so he had missed most of the conversation, and they spoke quietly, but there was no mistaking the guarded and hurtful tone in Lord Hades’ voice. He was talking about his upstairs family.
Hypnos let his gaze wander to the top of the desk, and waited for his eyes to focus. A gleaming golden scroll was lying on the desk, its edges slightly singed from a rage that would have evaporated anything that wasn’t of Divine origins.
“… making demands, as if his crown puts him above me!” Hades hissed. Hypnos only knew that the tone hid raw hurt because he’d seen his Lord’s nightmares – back when Hades actually slept, in those first few years in the Underworld.
Mother Nyx, mom, was quieter when she replied. Hearing her voice murmur, the words lost to the distance between the desk and Hypnos’ station, he almost drifted off again. “…-will belong to you in time-… -advice patience for now- …”
Hypnos knew better than most Gods: Pain and Love were part of one another. Like twins in the womb that grew together like a pair of young trees planted too close together. There was no Love without Pain.
Hearing his mother speak softly and so close to him, felt like the ache of a burn-wound. Ages and ages ago, her voice had lulled him to sleep and accompanied him in dreams. Her stilted stories, often of what animals did under the cover of her night, had been the source of the first dreams he ever spun. Her arms had been the first bed he’d slept in.
Hypnos knew he loved her, because her order not to speak with her or approach her had felt like being scalded by a pot of boiling water. Starting at the top of his head, burning his eyes, and then running down his body like cruel rivers of pain. Inescapable.
If he didn’t love mom, then it wouldn’t have hurt. Then it wouldn’t still hurt every time he was reminded of her.
By the desk, Nyx had floated closer to Hades, letting the edges of her cloak barely brush against him. As close to a sign of affection as she ever got. Hades, for his part, had shed some of the snarling mask he always wore, returning to the despondent and empty husk that he’d been at his core since the start of his Lordship here.
He murmured something that Hypnos couldn’t hear, and Nyx replied with something that seemed to bolster him. He took a deep breath and blew out embers when he exhaled. His shoulders straightened, his mask clicked back into place, and he started scratching an answer onto the golden scroll with letters that burned like lit coals.
Hypnos loved Hades too. He knew this, because it hurt when Hades was disappointed in him.
Hades had slept often in the first years of his arrival to the Underground. His dreams had been frightening and all-consuming, and his waking moments had been empty and quiet. He’d spent untold days in a corner of the cave that would once become the House, just staring, contemplating.
Hypnos had learned to eradicate nightmares by practicing on Lord Hades’ dreams. The first time he succeeded, Lord Hades slept for nearly an entire year, and when he woke up, he had smiled at Hypnos, and thanked him. It was the first time that Hypnos had been directly thanked for his gift. Mortals hadn’t yet learned of his existence at the time.
Hypnos knew that his love for Hades was not as strong as the love he held for his twin brother and mother though. Hades’ disappointment felt like a slap to the face – a momentary sting that made his eyes water, but which faded into humiliation and nothingness soon after.
Hypnos loved Hades the least, out of all the people he loved. But maybe he liked Hades the best, out of all the people he loved.
Nobody liked pain after all.
-
Hypnos assumed that Thanatos loved him.
It was hard to tell if he did. People wore masks – nobody liked to show their pain off to the world, and the Chthonic Gods didn’t let their feelings slip as easily as the Olympians did with all their tantrums and spontaneous outbursts.
What Hypnos did know, was that Thanatos always sounded strained when they talked. He always left early – sometimes mid-sentence – and he was always frowning at Hypnos. And that was enough like pain for Hypnos to know that his brother loved him in the same way that he loved Thanatos. If he had the energy to just teleport all over the place, he’d probably also teleport every time he saw his mom, or Thanatos! Nobody liked pain!
Hypnos knew Thanatos, and so he understood that his brother was too closed off to show his affection. Between the two of them, Thanatos had been the shy quiet twin, in spite of his energy levels. Hypnos had been the first to leave mom’s skirts to explore, and he’d been the one to test out new and scary things first, so that Thanatos would dare to do so as well, once he’d seen everything was okay.
So, he understood the pressures that Thanatos was under. He remembered how much those first years on the job had affected him, and how much his Aspect had changed as the ever-growing complexities of mortals and nature had started to affect it. Death Incarnate had only become feared when mortals started to understand fate, the march of time, and their own mortality. Hypnos had found him with red-rimmed eyes often. Had helped fight off some nightmares of grasping mortal hands and pleading mouths.
If there was anything Hypnos knew, it was how to read his brother, and what he read was that Thanatos loved him. As much as Thanatos loved anyone. And that was enough.
And then there came that day where that assertion was … challenged.
Hypnos’ awakenings were often rough. It was kind of inevitable when your natural inclination was to sleep all hours of the day, and you lived in a House full of immortal Gods and Shades that didn’t need any sleep. Still, being woken up by a hand on his face had to be a new record of unpleasant wake-ups.
He barely had the chance to open his eyes before the Prince’s hand was already pushing him aside – sending him floating topsy turvy through the Hall. It was a good thing Hypnos hadn’t eaten anything for a while, because going into a spin right after waking up was a recipe for vomiting!
“Hey!” He yelled. He went ignored.
“Than, please just talk to me already!” The Prince fumed, doing his best to catch up to a furious Thanatos as the House’s furniture slid into his path to obstruct him. Ah. That must’ve been why Hypnos had been pushed aside.
“I have nothing to say to you,” Thanatos said to Zagreus. There was a trembling undertone in his voice that Hypnos had almost forgotten. “Leave already so I can forget you for good. I have work to do.”
Hearing his brother’s voice like that, Hypnos came to a realisation. He could hear Thanatos’ pain.
He thought that he’d become pretty good at sussing out when his brother was feeling pained by their interactions. Rolling eyes, scrunched up nose, blank stares, scoffs - … that was the way Thanatos showed his love! …
Except right now, Thanatos sounded as if he’d been stabbed. His breath was hitching, as if he was stifling a sob, and he was curled up a little as he floated. His arms weren’t crossed in defiance, but in that sad, self-hug kind of way that Lord Hades often resorted to. Thanatos was in pain. True pain.
… It was nothing like what he showed when he spoke with Hypnos, and that realisation was petrifying.
“You can’t mean that, Than, come on,” Zagreus said, in that fake, always-so-agreeable-and-reasonable tone of his. “I’ve told you how I feel about my place in the House, I thought you’d -… Than, please hold up and just listen-!”
Hypnos blinked the sleep out of his eyes and wiped at the tears hard kernels that had ended up in the corners of his eyes. By the time he felt like he was unfrozen enough to parse through what had happened, both Zagreus and Thanatos were out of earshot.
It was a good thing that Lord Hades was not at his desk, and that Nyx was not in her favourite corner. Hypnos wasn’t made for pain, and he was fairly sure that stacking the multitudes of it would have him breaking down where everyone could see.
He was still … fairly sure that Thanatos loved him. Apparently just not as much as he loved Zagreus.
Like many times before, he thought about setting out to intentionally hurt Thanatos, to get some kind of tangible proof that Thanatos loved him. But that wasn’t really how Love worked either. Nobody but Aphrodite could force it, and Hypnos was pretty sure that she was doing some real insane Godly Magic to make that happen. If Hypnos hurt Thanatos, it wouldn’t be the same as when Thanatos’ own love cause him pain.
It was still so, so tempting to try and put some of his own hurt into the world. It just didn’t feel fair at all that Hypnos felt like he was being punched in the solar plexus and choked of air every time he saw Thanatos, but Thanatos apparently didn’t feel much at all. Going from the signs of annoyance ( which was apparently really just annoyance, and not just Thanatos’ impeccable mask turning hurt and pain into something less vulnerable ) maybe Thanatos felt mosquito stings or horsefly bites.
Hypnos curled up into his cloak, wrapping his arms around the spot where it felt like Thanatos had kicked him. His throat felt squeezed shut, even though Thanatos and his frowning brows weren’t actually here to stare at him.
Well. At least he knew that he loved Thanatos.
And that … that had to be better than nothing.
-
Hypnos loved Megaera too, in her own way.
She was different from everyone else at the House, in the sense that she seemed to get it. She understood that love and pain were the same thing, and that you showed love to others by hurting them. She hurt a lot of people, from shades to Gods, but – and this was the crucial part that made Hypnos both pity and envy her – she never seemed to be in pain herself.
She was free, in a way that Hypnos desperately wished he could be whenever he’d tried and failed to catch his mom’s attention. She also couldn’t feel love, which Hypnos wouldn’t wish on anyone.
In his dreams, he sometimes taught her what love was like. In the, erm, romantic way. He imagined drawing tears from her eyes as she experienced love for the first time, and he imagined crying with her as she dug her claws into him or whipped him. Irrevocable proof of their love for one another.
Of course, it’d go beyond that. He was in charge of the domain of dreams until some other God claimed that domain, and he was going to use that for all it was worth! So, he shaped some ill-fitting narrative about Hypnos and Megaera coming to a deep understanding of love, to the point where the only pain they felt was the symbolic kind. The kind that they chose to feel, to prove the existence of their love for one another.
Things like the pain of her fingernails clawing furrows into his back as they shared a bed, or her fangs leaving bleeding crescents on his shoulder and neck when they reached their climax. He could wear the pain of love on his body for everyone to see and feel proud, claimed. Chosen.
…Love would be so much easier if its accompanying pain was physical.
-
There was one person that Hypnos couldn’t figure out if he loved or not, and that person was Zagreus.
He liked Zagreus. Always had. It was difficult not to like the guy, even though he was always waking Hypnos up and butting his nose into everyone’s personal business. Hypnos just wasn’t sure if he loved Zagreus, because interacting with Zagreus didn’t hurt. Just… never!
Sometimes it hurt to see him talking with mom (why was Zagreus allowed, and not Hypnos?!) but that was mom-pain, not Zagreus-pain.
Zagreus listened to Hypnos. Visited him every once in a while. Talked about some of the things going on in his own life. Brought gifts… He’d been bringing more gifts of greater and greater value ever since he’d started his escape attempts, and all of it felt … good. No pain.
Following the logic that had dictated Hypnos’ life since childhood, that meant that Hypnos didn’t love Zagreus. Except … except that didn’t feel right either. If Hypnos had to describe it, what he felt towards Zagreus was a little bit like how the songs and stories described love.
Something energizing. A little frantic and anxious, but uplifting and warm all the same. All of the good things, and none of the bad, just like in the stories.
His heart lifted every time the Styx gurgled, and he’d caught himself feeling disappointed every time he saw Megaera walking down the Hall rather than Zagreus. His smile felt wide and warm every time he bantered with Zagreus over deaths, shades, wretches, and the ongoings in the House. He soared every time Zagreus gave him another trinket or bottle of nectar, lovingly looted from his father’s domain.
Love. Love was supposed to be synonymous with pain. Hypnos had never known it any other way, so why was Zagreus different? Why didn’t it hurt?
The Styx gurgled, and Hypnos snapped out of the light doze he’d been drifting in. Zagreus came running down the hallway a moment later, lush with life and good spirit, as he always seemed to be. Hypnos checked what had done him in this time, and thought about what he would do to avoid that death next time.
“Oh, I see the witches’ circle in Asphodel got you again! They’ve killed you a lot by now! Have you ever thought about just not going in the room where they are?”
Zagreus laughed, “Great idea Hypnos! If only they didn’t constantly shift around! Say, while I was ransacking, I found something that you might appreciate – got a hand free to take it?”
“Oh boy, do I!” Hypnos said. He still had some of the other bottles of nectar, unopened, but he was pretty sure he would never get enough of them. Just looking at them, lined up on a shelf close to his bed, made it seem as if Zagreus was with him – making more of that bubbly, happy feeling.
Turned out that this time around, Zagreus was bringing ‘illegal contraband’ to a whole new level. The enormous decanter had a neck so wide that Hypnos’ fingers only barely closed around it, and if he wasn’t being buoyed by the sheer energy of being handed something so grand, Hypnos probably would’ve let it slip from his hands.
As it was, he held it with both hands, pressed lightly to his chest to hide it from the eyes of Hades, just a few meters away. He felt like he didn’t even need to drink it to feel the effects of the Ambrosia. Hypnos couldn’t help but feel like the drink itself would pale in comparison to what he felt when he was near Zagreus.
He barely remembered what he said in thanks. Something about being friends, he was fairly sure. It was the highest marker he knew to give their relationship, because what he was feeling couldn’t be love, because if it was love, it would hurt, and it didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt!
… could it be that there was a form of love that didn’t hurt?
-
Zagreus changed some of the contracts with the Shades that lived in the House.
Orpheus began singing again, and Hypnos got a thorough reminder in what most people thought Love looked like. Songs about the pureness and goodness of the emotion itself, and the circumstances that could kill it like a weak baby bird to make room for the fires of War.
Hypnos wasn’t really sure if he understood Love anymore. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to know, because if he had been wrong about Love and Pain being intrinsically linked - … what did that say about his relationship with his brother and mother and Hades and Megaera?
Did… did he not love them? Or did they not love him? Was it both? Why would loving them hurt so much, if it was possible to Love and just have it be good, like in the songs!? Why couldn’t that be how they loved one another!
It was enough to keep him awake for longer than he should be, glaring down at his list and making even worse progress than when he napped.
He was in pain again, but he couldn’t soothe it anymore by imagining it as a side effect of loving and being loved. Zagreus had ruined that. Hypnos wanted to dislike him for it, but that was impossible when just thinking about him made him want to float to the ceiling of the House and dance in between the rafters.
Hypnos felt as if he was on the verge of cracking and doing something stupid. Something like going up to mom and screaming at her, or curse Thanatos with narcolepsy. Quitting his job at the House. Admitting to his crush on Megaera right in front of her and then telling her he hated her.
Then he overheard Zagreus talking to Dusa. About him. He didn’t care much for the Gorgon’s opinion – just one shade among millions with a less-than-positive opinion of the Gods, big whoop – but then Zagreus responded.
“I’ll keep talking to him, so nobody else has to.”
And then there was finally, pain.
Different from the other kinds, as seemed to be the standard. Not nearly as all-encompassing as Than’s choking gut punch, or mom’s boiling hot burn wounds. Just… more deadly. The stab of pain hit in a way that didn’t hurt, so much as it killed. It felt like Hypnos had truly died, for a moment there. His heart had stopped, his blood had crawled to a stop in his veins, his muscles had refused to work, and he’d seen the black black edges of eternity. Just for a moment.
Then the world resumed, and all that was left was the feeling of having swallowed a needle. A needle that stabbed him, every time he remembered Zagreus.
It hurt, it hurt so much.
It was also relief. A return to a truth that had dictated how he held himself – how he maintained his relationships. Love and Pain were one and the same, after all. Thanatos and mom-… they loved him, and he loved them, because love hurts, and Hypnos hurts.
When he took his break after overhearing that conversation, he cleared away the bottles of nectar and Ambrosia, the needle stabbing him with every twist of his stomach.
At least he had confirmation that the songs were wrong now. Maybe it was possible to feel that kind of love for a short while, but the pain would always come – and then it’d never leave.
Hypnos laid down on his bed, and stared into the button eyes of his plush sheep. “If that’s how it is… then love just isn’t worth it.” He admitted.
The sheep plushie had nothing to add to that, and Hypnos held it to his chest in some hope to let it sponge away the pain. Then he rolled over, and slept.
He had no intention of waking back up anytime soon.