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"You don't understand," the prince spat. "You don't have a father."
Zagreus is correct. Thanatos has no father. He only has one parent, who is wondrous and is his role model in all things, who has raised Zagreus as well. When he reminds the prince of this fact, of Mother Nyx's love, it does not have the intended effect. The scowl grows darker, and, although he would never dare say it out loud, he looks exactly like Lord Hades in their shared black anger.
"If Father could have me by himself, I am sure he would have saved himself the trouble."
The words are strange. Thanatos does not understand them, but he tries anyway. His first reaction is denial, but the set of the prince's shoulders has taught him that will be met with an explosion of frustrated anger. The House seems too small for him these days and with each frantic pacing course through the halls, the flame of his feet seem to gutter a little more. He thinks back to when they were smaller, when Zagreus was more manageable, when a trinket or a story would send him spinning in excited circles for days. Or are these memories a trick of his own mind? He is unsure. He remembers suddenly the feeling of small fists beating against his chest. The prince had howled with tears, his father's disdain a fresh wound on his tender flesh. Perhaps the suffocation began a long time ago.
His second reaction is placation, but the words leave his mouth empty, like the dead air of the Underworld. He swallows. His mouth is dry. Sensations are heightened around the prince; it is an awful thing he realized a long time ago, when his palms came away sweaty in Zagreus' grip.
Thanatos tries and tries and comes up empty. In the end, all he can offer is a weak statement, a repetition of what was already said.
"You are right. I cannot understand as you do. Not having a father and all."
To his surprise, that is what blunts the prince's anger. Zagreus sags, the fire of his feet flickers, and he comes to press his face against Thanatos' chest, muffling his words.
"Than..."
If he was his mother, perhaps he'd raise his hand and stroke his head, whispering words of comfort. But Thanatos is Thanatos, a fatherless god who, even now, lacks the grace and wisdom of his only parent. He stands there and lets the man he loves cry into his chiton, trying to ignore the terrible warmth spreading across his chest with each damp, shuddering breath.