#✦ Hades || Answered ✦ Speak truth or stay silent

[stardustedstories]

an assortment of dialogue prompts // Accepting!

@kallistcs asked: ❛ promise me you’ll still be here when i wake up. ❜ / little Adonis to Hades!

It was the time of year when Persephone went topside, and it was always hard on those who had to stay behind. Hades himself was used to having to say goodbye to his wife for part of the year, despite the fact that it didn't get any easier and he didn't like it any more than he had initially.

But that was the compromise they'd agreed to, and he'd had plenty of time to come to terms with it. Little Adonis hadn't had as much time, and to him, it likely felt like his mother was just leaving for a large portion of the year. It was why Hades made sure to spend even more time with him for the first week or so after Persephone went up above.

And this year was no different. Hades had spent the day with Adonis, the two of them talking about what this part of this year would look like without Persephone. But even they needed to sleep.

He made sure the little boy was all tucked up snug and safe in his bed, and he'd been just about to leave, to head to his office for a little while longer when he spoke up, asking Hades to promise he'd be here when he woke up.

The god of the dead looked down at the sleepy child, a soft smile on his face. "I'm not going anywhere," he promised, brushing his hair off his forehead. "But you have to get some sleep." He would absolutely still be here in the morning, and he would take care of their son the best he could while Persephone was with her mother.

[storiedhistories]

@stygicniron asked: "I got some new Mythomagic models," Nico declared unceremoniously, spreading the new figures in front of him carefully. That done, he untucked his paints and paintbrushes from underneath his armpit too, setting them off to the side, cleaned and ready to use again. And he realized a beat later that maybe he should have asked first before barging in. "Uh, did you want to paint them with me?" ( @ hades )

Hades glances up as the door to his office opens, revealing Nico, who appears to be carrying something. And sure enough, he sets down the new models on his father's desk, spreading out paints and brushes too.

Even as Nico belatedly asks if he'd like to paint them with him, Hades has already cleared off his desk and snagged a newspaper to put under the figures, in case of any paint drips.

He also sets down a cup of water to clean the brushes, along with some paper towels, just in case they're needed, offering Nico a soft smile.

"I would like nothing more," he responds, looking over the selection in front of him. "I'll work on getting them primed, and if you have specific colour palettes you'd like, I'll do my best." He didn't know a whole lot about this sort of thing, but he'd been finding more out as he went, and he wanted to make sure Nico had everything he needed. And not just for painting models.

[moonbaby26]

Title: Night of the Storm

Pairing: Loki x Goddess!Reader

Summary: Story set nearer the Viking Age. You were a Greek sea goddess who crossed paths with the god of mischief. Continuation of previous chapter. Weeks after Loki’s last appearance you were finally beginning to give up hope, only to find you’d been on his mind all along as he lures you into being alone with him late one night. His other side shows more of itself as things quickly turn into relieving that pent up physical need.

Warnings: People drowning. Also *here comes the smut.* But the start and finish of it is still marked in red within the chapter if you want to skip that part. I know everyone has their own comfort levels. The only thing in this though that I would even consider slight kink is just a bit of biting and tiny bit of blood from that, like really small. Otherwise it’s just needy gods doing what needy gods do.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @rosaline-black , @lawfeys , @loveableasshole , @insanitybyanothername

My Masterlist

——————————

You had replayed your last words with Loki over and over so many times in your head. Had you been too forward after all? Was it too presumptuous to think anything could really come of such a random acquaintanceship?

The more days that passed, the more you questioned what you really remembered of your brief time together versus what you may have only imagined in your optimism.

The night he left, you remembered feeling so sure that he would return. Maybe you weren’t certain in what way he would want to see you next, but you had at least felt he would set foot in your home he called Midgard again. And that he would call your name to the waves once more.

So when the days eventually stretched into weeks with no further sign of him, you had to accept the possibility that you were very wrong on your assumptions.

As you stared upward now from the deep ocean, the blackness all around was only penetrated by the briefest strobes of white. The occasional lightning’s flash silhouetting the wooden ship hulls rising and falling far above you.

It was so late into the night, but your Father’s anger cared not for time. The captain of the fleet above had committed the sin of hubris. He had declared himself a master of the sea after too many trips safely across, and now your Father’s storms aimed to remind this man of a harsh truth.

Your uncle Hades would surely claim souls tonight, one way or another. That was already decided per Father’s orders. But should they all die, then none of the men could carry on this message, this teaching moment either.

So you waited, and you listened. Who among them would plead for intervention as the waters first breached their ships? Father could show his wrath, but he’d sent you to show the other side as well.

Mercy from the gods. Whichever ship contained the most believers, whichever prayed the hardest, that was the one Father had asked you to spare.

But the rest....you could only watch as their bodies joined you one by one in the darkness. And you knew soon that they would only find themselves upon the banks of the river Styx.

You bid the nymphs to comfort the men as best they could, to accept fate rather than fight it. The ocean above was simply rage, but down in this abyss they would only know peace.

When the chosen surviving ship had emerged in your mind though, you pushed only that one forward. The waves began to miss it, ignore it even as the ship fully righted.

“Follow them all the way to their home shores,” You commanded the nymphs. “Let none from that vessel drown under your guard.”

“Yes, goddess.” They answered, swimming quickly to join the now fleeing ship. These mortals would return home with tales of their brush with death. But they would also remember as their prayers had parted the seas only for them.

Yet you felt no satisfaction, even with your duty to your Father done. Your distraction still lingered as you only sank further away from the storm’s flashes in the time afterward, to the colder depths where you intended to again sleep alone.

Floating, suspended in the blackness as you’d closed your eyes, to any that could have somehow seen you, you would have looked most like a corpse as well. Albeit intact, unmarred, and with that smallest pulse of life as the thin slits on your neck pulled in those tiny breaths.

But after only a little while you’d opened your eyes again into the void. Because you felt that someone was watching you. It would seem impossible, but you were so certain of this fact so abruptly then that you called out, your magic giving your words wide presence even within the water.

“And what being are you that should watch a goddess as she tries to sleep? Do you now judge my actions invisible one?”

You waited, but of course the void would not answer back, could not even as the feeling of some ethereal eye upon you would not leave.

What did it want from you?

“Milady!”

You startled harshly, even the distant voice of a nymph shocking you at this depth. She couldn’t reach you though, so you had to swim back upward to her.

When you neared further back towards the surface a quick moving fish cut across your vision. It circled, panicked, and calling again. A younger nymph who could not yet take on any larger form. “Milady, thank goodness I found you. Loki has finally returned! But he is injured!”

That was the last of anything you had expected. But you ordered her to stay where it was safe, to only join the others once more before you tore off into the darkness to head for shore.

———————————

As you emerged from the waves, they crashed rough against your back. You hadn’t realized father’s storms had stretched this far. The rain stung against your now exposed skin as you walked onto the beach in the downpour. Loki had never come at night before. And for it to be now no less, in this tempest, you breathed as you looked around for him in the darkness. But you heard nothing over the wind and waves.

“Loki!” You called.

At last you saw a shadow somehow darker than the rest, shifting then just within the tree line. You hurried towards it.

“They said you were injured!” You spoke over the storm.

“I’m fine.” He grumbled, though seemingly more agitated at the rain as he looked all like a drenched rat fallen off a moor line now, making you wonder how long he’d really been waiting for you here.

“I know a place, come on,” You insisted.

But even in these circumstances, you hesitated to touch him, yet knowing it would have been far easier to guide him if you could have only taken his arm. But you did your best to lead him regardless, further along the shore until you came upon the cave opening you were seeking.

“Even during high tide it stays dry in here,” You explained, now finally able to speak at a more normal volume with the sounds of the storm muted somewhat as you went farther back into the cavern together.

Yet light would be an issue, as you were already looking around for a way to at least make a fire.

But to your surprise one started from nothing, in the center of the cave now flickering as the light then shown on you both.

Loki lowered his hand afterward, evidently having just used some other kind of magic you weren’t aware of.

But as you turned to him, you could now see the deep bruising on his face even in the firelight.

“You said you weren’t hurt.” You spoke, that tone of concern not hidden.

“It is minor.” He answered, but offered nothing more.

You waited for one long moment, before finally deciding that any notion of privacy he may hold was now overshadowed by the obvious need for some explanation. “Minor enough to come here in the dead of night in the middle of a near hurricane?”

He gave you an odd look, but you didn’t shrink back.

“I only had another large, predictable argument with my brother.” He finally said. “He decided to help solve things in the only way he knows how. I used magic, he used his fists, and here I am.” Loki had already started to try and smooth his wind mussed hair back into place though, some vanity evident there even as he continued. “And this was only one of few places he would not follow me. Brother has no interest in this part of Midgard currently. He at least allows me this.”

“I see.” You answered, though feeling something was still not right here even as you tried to choose your next course of action carefully. “Would you like help drying off at least then?” You asked.

“You insinuate that you can control rainwater as well?” He questioned skeptically.

“Only if it’s made by one of my father’s storms, yes. Which this clearly was.” You replied, raising your own hands as you willed the water to leave him. And it did lift from his hair, from his clothes, even his skin as the reformed droplets floated strangely in midair before you cast them back out the cave entrance with another flick of your hands.

He watched the water leave with the slightest bit of interest before turning his attention fully back to you then.

“And what is your dear father so unhappy with tonight?” Loki asked, adjusting his now at least somewhat dryer clothing. You couldn’t pull out every bit of dampness true, but it was far better than being completely drenched.

“He felt a mortal had lost respect for the dangers of the seas.” You answered plainly.

But Loki actually was silent for a moment at that as only a dark smirk crossed his features. That little knot in your stomach seemed to tighten at the sight.

“And they say I’m petty.” He finally said. “How many mortals did you really let drown tonight, goddess?”

“So it was you.” You said abruptly, accusing him then and there as you neared closer. “You were watching me!”

“No.” He corrected, though looking pleased none the less that you had made the connection so quickly. “Heimdall was. Yet by my request.”

“Why?” You questioned, but not really knowing what to feel as a mix of anger and embarrassment rose in your confusion.

“I wanted to know if your parting words held any truth. And if you’d grow restless the longer I waited to return.” He smiled then, but there was still a cruelty to it. “Yet that show I did not expect. Heimdall can be quite good at relaying details when pressed. And sparing only the mortals that plead for you tonight, letting the rest become food for your sea beasts....ah, and yet with your servants still comforting the damned. It was really quite a finishing touch.”

“So this is the kind of god you are then?” You asked sharply, though still not sure what you’d really expected.

“I am.” He offered. “And I also am not.”

You tensed, patience truly beginning to wane. “There is no point to speak in riddles to me. What is your real intention here Asgardian?”

“Tsk. Now you wound? I am only back to the Asgardian again?” He tilted his head slightly. “No, you tell me. Why did you leave the protection of your seas so quickly at only the word I was wounded, so panicked that you did not even think to bring that spear of yours?”

Your eyes widened slightly, that realization only just hitting you with his question. It hadn’t crossed your mind once to bring it, even now as he stood so near with that growing look of triumph in his eyes.

“You play games with me.” You retorted, even as you watched those fake bruises now fade from his pale skin.

“And now I know what you would do if it were all true,” he answered, yet with that smirk returning.

“I could fill this entire cave and drown you where you stand you know.” You countered.

“You could try,” He agreed. “But you won’t.”

“You presume too much.” He was becoming maddening. Everything you said, he only grew bolder, he taunted harder. And the worst of it all was, you were not really fighting back. Why were you not fighting back?

“You missed me, goddess. It isn’t that hard to deduce. Not anymore. You wanted this.” He finally said. “And if it’s all the same, I share that frustration. I kept away long enough to be sure. But watching you, knowing what you’re willing to do...I wanted to come back and see it first hand.”

And in all these weeks, tonight wasn’t the only night you’d let mortals perish in Father’s name, or even caused it yourself as you’d manipulated the seas on his orders. And was that really what excited Loki tonight? Seeing you use your powers to this darker extent?

“Is this really how Asgardians flirt? Over the bodies of the innocent?” You asked, unable to keep yourself to sane words any longer. It had all gone too far so quickly.

“I am not all Asgardians. And you and I both know there is no such thing as innocence.” He murmured just as his hands first touched you, taking your wrists. The grasp of his long fingers was surprisingly cold. That chill honestly the first thing you noticed, even as you didn’t push him away.

You watched only his eyes for that moment. And in your own awe you realized he was actually still waiting for you to deny him. You were being given a choice here. But you didn’t refuse him. You couldn’t. You’d already thought of this possibility more than once in your many nights alone.

And it was only you who closed the gap first as you took his lips in yours. You felt him tense briefly though, as if he was still somewhat surprised himself before he returned the motion in full force.

****SMUT INCOMING, KEEP SCROLLING IF WISHING TO SKIP

The rock wall of the cave soon met your back as he pressed you against it. It hurt somewhat, but you weren’t made of glass.

As he pinned your arms against the wall as well, his tongue pressed its way into your mouth. But the taste of him was something you only wanted more of then. Yet when your own tongue fought quickly back, you felt him pull away just enough to look into your eyes once more.

His face hovered only inches from your own as he eyed you hungrily. “You realize I won’t be able to stop once this starts. It’s been far too long. Speak now...or be silent save for saying my praises, goddess.”

“Prideful beast,” You breathed, shifting in his grip. “You think I do this each night either? Try closer to never.”

He seemed even more goaded at that, pleased at the revelation, “Then tell me what you want, (Y/N).”

“You.” You answered immediately, reservation shattered as his body pressed further against your own.

“Then I shall enjoy the privilege.” He whispered huskily, and you leaned your head back just as you felt him bite suddenly after, his mouth rough on your neck. You were sure he was testing if marks could be made on your skin, trying to claim it any way he could now as he pressed a little harder and harder with those teeth.

The juxtaposition of a man who would sit with you for hours only reading, versus this possessive creature he was now shifting towards was so very interesting.

And as he released your wrists, his hands only moved to the straps of your dress next. Yanking them from your shoulders, and sliding the thin fabric easily from your chest, exposing your breasts to his groping touch before his mouth moved over your chest.

As he roughly kissed one breast, his hand squeezed the other tightly. In another too fast movement though, his other hand had now already pulled the rest of your dress away. He pulled you from the wall just enough for it to fall around your ankles then as you realized just how quickly he’d rendered you fully nude here before him. All while you’d only been nearly still, too wrapped up in the desperate feel of it all.

After the dress had fallen though, he did pull back not long after, seeming to admire the view for a moment before his hand then went between your legs.

“I wondered how much you’d taste of the sea,” He murmured, licking that slight residue of salt from his lips as his fingers massaged your entrance.

You opened your legs a little more, leaning further back against the wall to help support yourself as those little flicks and movements of his fingers weakened you further.

“You have entirely too many clothes on,” You panted quietly, not caring if your tone sounded more like pleading in that moment.

“You just want me in you already, don’t you, goddess?” He all but growled, taunting you even as he slipped his fingers inside then.

Before you could hope to really answer, he was kissing you again though, his tongue probing nearly as hard as his fingers were pressing below.

You could feel the resistance decreasing though, the more your inner wetness grew and his fingers slid in and out all the quicker. Something he no doubt could feel as well as he broke the kiss once more.

“Beg me then,” He commanded against your ear.

Even in your own need, you were realizing how much he wanted to be in control. Power aroused him, just as he’d evidently been watching you exert your own in all these days, and just as he wanted to feel dominant over you now.

But you also knew how little you cared either way in this moment. You wanted him to be satisfied just as much as you wanted your own release.

“I want you,” You tried again, locking eyes with him once more. But as you tried to reach for his clothing he only caught your hand in his free one.

“Not good enough,” He reiterated, needing more.

It was hard to think in depth though as his other hand only kept moving just enough to keep you stimulated, but not enough to finish you off.

But alright, you could play this game if you had to. You growled a little yourself, “Fuck me, Loki”. That’s what he wanted to hear wasn’t it? You could see that desperate look in his eyes grow and you knew you about had him. In the moment though, you added one more thing, this time being quick enough with your hand to grab hold of his crotch before he could stop you. “Do it, King. Fuck me.”

He let out another sound, somewhere between a growl and a moan as he pulled his fingers out from you before grabbing you by the arms to force you away from the wall entirely.

He released you only brief enough to face his palms towards his own body. The dark green cloak he wore separated at once from his other clothing, it then splaying out across the floor of the cave. And with another motion his black leather unwrapped itself, almost like invisible hands pulling it all from him as he stepped out of his boots. Then at once he was to you again as the rest of his clothing folded itself neatly out of the way.

But you wished time would slow down in that moment, yourself trying to see every detail of his naked form in the firelight before his body slammed back against yours. That vivid white skin, lean, but surprising you with the musculature that had still been hiding there.

In the ocean, you knew well that it wasn’t always the biggest, bulkiest predators to fear the most. Some of the leaner, faster ones could have your throat ripped out long before the others should you let them in too close.

And his mouth met yours just as harshly then, urging you down to lay on your back upon his cloak on the cave floor.

If your back was bruised later, you hardly cared, as you wrapped your legs around him and he laid his weight upon you. Your hands were free now, and you gladly used them, running them through his hair, and up and down his body to feel all you could of him. He was smooth, with that chill to him that was still so unique.

You found his already strong erection as well, stroking it with one hand as your other moved back into his hair. You held the back of his head as he moved down again to suck at your collarbone, his fingers digging into your hips harshly as he thrust against your hand, urging you to guide him in.

And you were more than ready, allowing him to push inside as you angled him as deep as he could go.

He took full advantage at once too, pulling almost all the way back out before slamming back inside as you gasped.

He lifted up onto his elbows enough to look you in the eyes as he pulled out again, before repeating the second harsh thrust, then a third, and a fourth.

It ached, yet somehow you couldn’t imagine this any other way tonight. He wanted to claim you now, as hard and thoroughly as he could.

And you could take it as you breathed his name. You wanted him to let out all his frustration as your hands moved to his back and your nails dug into his shoulders with each faster thrust.

He bore his teeth with a hiss of pain as your nails finally broke his skin. But he liked it you knew, even as he bit down on your shoulder in return.

You felt the pressure, maybe a little stinging, but your back only arched into him as his hips continued to slam against you mercilessly.

As his mouth let go of you again though, and he lifted up, manhood still inside you, you could see that slightest bit of gold ichor on his lips. The blood of the Olympians. Your blood.

He smiled, knowing full well what he’d done in his haze of lust. “Is that what the remnants of ambrosia tastes like?” He whispered, licking his lips.

Contact with ichor could kill any mortal outright, and here he was playing with it. Yet you truly had no idea what its effects could be on an Asgardian. “You do take risks, don’t you, King?”

He made a pleasured sound, still thoroughly enjoying that word out of your mouth as he grabbed your breasts again, thrusting hard once more. “Only when the odds favor me, goddess.”

Your muscles were tensing though, as he squeezed your breasts and changed his angle slightly to rub more against that sensitive bundle of nerves at your entrance as his cock slid in and out.

You couldn’t know what you really looked like to him right now, sprawled out on your back beneath him, laying on his own cloak as he fucked you like he’d never have the chance again.

But you could see his own expression, and his eyes were so intense, like under a spell of euphoria as his breath grew more rapid.

Would he pull out you wondered? Did you even want him to?

“Loki,” You spoke, raising your hand up to the side of his face gently, even though you realized his own red blood now dotted your fingernails.

He surprised you when he only turned his face enough to kiss your hand though, still watching you even as you felt him jerk inside you abruptly. You saw him shudder as that orgasm went through him, and you felt his seed pulsing out deep inside you.

But even as he came, his hand went back to your entrance, bidding you to do the same as he tormented your clit. You’d been on that edge for so long, it was easy to finally let go as you trembled beneath him, getting your own release then.

And even then he still didn’t pull out. He only tugged you so that you both rolled onto your sides on his cloak, still facing one another.

You were both breathing rather hard now, and you truly wanted to close your eyes to rest for a moment, but you felt his fingers edging along the side of your face as you opened your eyes again.

He kissed you once more, and you could taste that sweetness that you knew was indeed the leftovers of your own blood.

*

*

****SMUT DONE, CAN KEEP READING HERE

“Have you been sated?” You asked, reaching up to run your thumb across his bottom lip.

He grinned slightly at the touch. “To say yes would only be another lie now wouldn’t it? I am never sated, dear. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t thoroughly enjoy this.”

With that he reached out enough to touch his hand to the cloak beneath you. You felt the material shift before the sides of it suddenly extended, wrapping around you both like a blanket in the cool cave.

More of his own magic no doubt, but there were no complaints from you as you just rested your head against him, closing your eyes again. He allowed it, so you supposed he was also too tired to do anything differently.

You weren’t sure for how long he would actually stay this way. But for now you would only take comfort in this rarity of intimacy as best you could, breathing in his scent, and savoring the feel of his skin still against yours.

———————————-

It was only the extremely persistent calling of seagulls that finally woke you. Groggily you yawned, only startled as you realized yourself fully naked and for one chaotic moment could not remember how in Gaia’s name you got that way.

You sat up abruptly as the green cloak fell away from your bare body. But the silky feel of it brought you back to reality as you ran your hand out across it.

The sunlight was shining brightly into the cave. The fire long gone, and Loki along with it as you now sat alone here. All his clothes that had been stacked against the wall were also gone. Though with some bit of humor you realized your dress was now neatly folded beside the edge of the cloak for you to find. Quite far removed from its original point of just being piled beside the wall last night.

Though with him gone it was interesting that none of the nymphs had yet joined you. Perhaps they had just been too polite. But when you saw those same annoyingly loud gulls with some now walking up and down nervously at the cave entrance, you realized them for what they were.

You pulled Loki’s cloak back around yourself before laying back down, even while calling out. “You can come in, girls! I’m awake!”

With that a flurry of seagulls immediately flew into the cave, landing all around. And in moments they were all beautiful sea nymphs again, staring at you expectantly.

“You cannot tell my father, okay?” Was the very first thing you said as they all nodded highly enthusiastically.

But when you didn’t say anything immediately more, you could tell they were all about to explode in anticipation. “Yes, we coupled. Yes, I’d do it again.” You finally said.

They all squealed, no doubt realizing as well how badly you’d wished for his return in the last weeks. Yet that was also when the questions came.

“But was he better than an Olympian?”

“Was he tender, or rough? Did he try to please you, milady?”

“Was he big? I’ve heard everything is bigger up north. Aren’t they from the north?”

“My gods, girls, I don’t know. It’s not like I do this all the time.” You grumbled a little, curling up further into his cloak. It still smelled like him you realized. A rich scent, likely whatever it was that the royal quarters in Asgard smelled like.

“Oh we know! But it’s just, oh this is so exciting! You’ve finally taken a lover!”

Though as they continued to chat away, you did think of something you could actually ask them in return.

“When did he leave anyway? Did you see him?” You questioned.

“Oh,” They considered this for a moment. “Before sunrise surely, but we were um, asleep...most of us. We roosted outside the cave to wait for you, goddess.”

“I followed him!” Another one said. “But he told me to leave him be and go home.”

“What form were you in?” You asked, surprised he would so quickly recognize a nymph if in another form.

“Oh...well I was a seal.”

You blinked, imagining the ridiculousness of a nosy seal trying to inconspicuously waddle behind Loki all the way back up the beach and hillside last night.

“You should have been a small shorebird, and stuck to the trees to watch from a distance.” You commented.

“Ah, yes, that probably would have worked well.” They agreed.

You sighed a little, but it didn’t matter much regardless. As much as you still wanted to savor last night, Loki was already gone again. Which also meant that once again you could only wonder when, if ever, he might see fit to see you once more.

He’d already showed his capacity to fake his own injuries just to lure you in faster. So there was always the possibility that everything, all of it, had just been some elaborate scheme to bed you. And with that pleasure won, he may only be off to his next challenge far away from here.

You would have to accept whatever the Fates allowed, because what other choice did you have? But there was still no question. If you could see him again, you would gladly do so.

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

[joyfulsongbird]

Bruises And All- Chapter 8

I've moved a couple things around so that I don't have to commit to decisions in the story I'm anxious about quite yet. enjoy this chapter!! after months of silence!!

here's a link to chapter 7!

ao3 link to chapter 8!

***

ORPHEUS knows he’s naive.

Knows he doesn’t have a perfect understanding of what the world is really like. He’s been told enough times. Mister Hermes says he’s different, says he’s special. That doesn’t feel right. He’s not any more special than anybody else, than Persephone, or Hermes himself, even Hades. He’s just a boy. Not much else matters, as long as they’re good. Good people aren’t special, they’re just people. They look like anybody else.

“Eurydice?” he catches her hand when she’s passing by the bar after lunch, she’d disappeared for awhile, he doesn’t know where to. But he doesn’t stop her because of that, he stops her because she looks upset. Her eyes are ringed with pink, like she’s been crying recently. He doesn’t like that, he doesn’t want her to cry. He just wants her to be happy, to stay.

“Are you okay?”

She slips her hand out of his, smiling softly. “Perfectly fine. Thank you.”

In the moment between her saying that and her stepping to leave, he follows her eye line, confused at minuscule pause. And even more confused to find that she, though very briefly, catches Hades’ eye. He’s frowning, deeper than usual, and dipping a mug of what looks like black coffee.

She’s turning to go before he says her name again. “Eurydice.”

Her eyelashes are so long. And they’re wet.

“Did- did Hades say something to you?”

She’s quick to reply, quirking her lips into a smile. “No. No, he didn’t. Don’t worry.”

“But he-”

“Nothing happened. Okay?” her expression turns stern, as do her words.

“Um- okay.” he starts to turn away first this time, hurt bubbling in his chest that he doesn’t want to show on his face.

“Hey. Hey, Orpheus.” she reaches for his hand first this time, taking it in both of hers. “I’m sorry. I’m just- I’m tired. I’m stressed and tired. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

“Why are you so stressed?” he asks, still relishing in the way she hasn’t let go of his hand yet, and doesn’t seem to want to.

“No specific reason, really.” even he can tell she’s lying. “Just about the future.”

“The future?”

“Like I said, nothing specific. Just… a lot of thoughts.”

“Well that’s gotta be tough.” he aims for lightness but it falls flat, she just smiles weakly at him, dropping his hands and walking towards the bookshelf against the wall. When the bar is open, they always pride themselves on having other things for people to occupy themselves with besides getting drunk. Books on history fill the walls, some fiction mixed in, but mostly old school books Orpheus read after he’d dropped out of school and the occasional folk story Mister Hermes had collected over the years. He liked to do that, to listen to people’s stories and write them down. Keep them as reminders of the past. He claimed he didn’t really read them after he’d first written them down but sometimes, Orpheus saw him leaned up against the wall, holding a book in his hands and his eyes skimming down each page hungrily. He loved those stories, though he didn’t want to admit it.

She picks out a thick book from the wall, holding it gingerly. Orpheus tries not to look like he’s staring at her, he’s really trying not to, but the way she moves just constantly draws his eye. Gracefully, she floats about, but with a heavy air to her. Like she has the weight of the world on her shoulders but she has learnt to bear it so skillfully. So beautifully.

“When do you think the storm will let up, Hermes?” Persephone calls from her table where she sits, playing solitaire by herself.

“Shouldn’t be more than a day, by now. Hurricanes like these leave a lot of damage but never last too long.” he says, as he dusts off a couple glasses. Orpheus isn’t watching Hermes or even Persephone, his had been on Eurydice even before Persephone had started speaking but her reaction to Hermes’ answer makes him frown. She briefly clenches her fist over the sides of the book and glances up, eyes scanning across the bar, stopping once more on… Hades.

Orpheus may be a little naive, sure, but he can figure out when something strange is going on.

He can’t bring it up though, until almost that night, when he finally gets a moment alone with Eurydice. When they’re cleaning up after dinner, put in charge of washing and putting away the dishes. The three others are scattered upstairs and downstairs, Hades and Persephone turning in for the night upstairs in bed. And Hermes is downstairs tending to the furnace.

As she cranes her neck over the sink, reaching for the sponge that she had dropped, she pauses.

“What is it, Orpheus?”

“W-what?”

“You’ve been acting weird all afternoon, what is it?” she straightens up, her jaw set tightly, her arms up to the elbows are covered in suds and soap and it only looks a little ridiculous to see her stony expression and then take in the rest of her.

“You keep- every time anyone seems to say something about the storm ending or anything like that, you look at Hades. Why?”

She freezes, everything in her body turning taut for only a moment before it all releases but for a moment, there was genuine panic in her eyes. Fear like he hadn’t seen before. Like an animal looking for an escape route, a fear he can barely even comprehend.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not.”

“We just had a conversation, it’s fine. I’m handling it.” She turns back to wash the dishes some more but Orpheus catches her wrist, not hard, gently so she could pull away if wanted to. And she does, after a moment or two, but doesn’t continue with washing the dishes, she just stands there, head bowed slightly.

“Does he want you to leave?” Orpheus asks, outright.

She swallows slowly. “No.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I told you, it’s nothing.”

“Eurydice-”

“For gods’ sake, Orpheus, can you just leave it alone? I’m not going to bear every inch of my soul to you.” he steps back at the harshness in her voice, how… angry she sounds. Pain ripples through his chest and he steps back, leaning against the back counter of the bar. Things go on in utter silence for a while, Eurydice washes the dishes and places them on the rack. He’s supposed to be drying them but he’s afraid she doesn’t want him close right now. They’d have to be standing almost hip to hip for it to work well and she’s already so skittish… and angry… he doesn’t want to upset her anymore.

After too long, she turns off the faucet, and braces herself against the sides of the sink. Her exhale is loud enough for him to hear, before she turns around to face him.

“I’m sorry.” she says quietly. “I feel as if I’ve been so terrible to you today. And I really am… so sorry, Orpheus. I don’t mean to lash out. There’s no excuse, really, I just don’t know how to cope, it’s ridiculous. One thing starts upsetting me and it’s like I have to burn all of my bridges and hurt everyone around me.”

He stays silent, what can he say to that? What can he say to console her? To tell her that he’d never, ever blame her for her past bleeding into the present? Tell her that he’d forgive her a thousand times over?

She wipes her nose with her sopping wet hand, which does nothing to help. “I told you I wasn’t very nice.”

He doesn’t want to cry in front of her, though it’s an inevitable end, but when she lets her eyes rise to the ceiling and her arms come around her torso, trying to soothe herself. He can’t help it.

“Can I hug you?” his mouth comes out strained and like he’s on the verge of tears (because he is). Her eyes snap to him suddenly, her mouth forming a perfect O in surprise before she nods once, stepping forwards.

She’s warm. And much smaller than he thought. It takes a few moments before she relaxes into his embrace befores she stands on tip toes to bury her face into his shoulder. He sniffles, trying not to pay attention to the way she wraps her arms so tightly around his neck, like she never wants to let go. The way he holds her around her midsection, he doesn’t want this moment to end. Where they’re both just teary-eyed, affection starved kids who need a damn hug. Instead of a… whatever they are now. Something worse. Something far more complicated.

When she pulls away, she’s smiling. Her thumb brushes a tear from under his eye, he wants to replay that moment of tenderness a hundred times.

“You’re so nice, ‘rydice.” he murmurs. “I really like you.”

“I know.” she whispers back.

“I can’t force you to stay, I can’t ask you to give me an answer, but… I don’t want you to go.” it’s the truth. It’s one of the most truthful statements he thinks he’s ever said. Nothing he has said before this moment has ever been more true.

She nods, unable to speak even a word. He does not ask again, doesn’t ask about the side glances between her and Hades, doesn’t ask why she’s crying over this simple confession. Doesn’t even ask why she’s so on edge all the time, when she’s safe here with them. He wants to tell her she is safe but he has a feeling she wouldn’t believe him.

She places a hand on his cheek, his eyes follow that slender arm down to her shoulder, where once again, he sees those prominent bruises. He tries, he really does, to tear his eyes away from her pain. It doesn’t last more than a few moments, before Eurydice lets her hands drop away from him.

“Come on, we’ve gotta finish up.” she says and he nods silently, moving to pick the rag up off of the counter and begins drying the dishes. After a long, painful silence, in his peripheral vision, he sees her jump up to sit on the counter, not too far away from him. Just swinging legs back and forth, looking awfully young.

“Thank you, by the way,” she says finally.

“For what?”

“For being kind. For making me feel… safe.”

He can’t help the smile that creeps up onto his face, he hums quietly under his breath. “I’m really glad you feel safe.”

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. He wonders what she looks like when it does.

[dolls-self-ships]

It’s Going To Be Okay

(a purely comfort/fluff fic where Hades comforts a distraught Kassandra in the middle of the night because ya girl started feeling sad again)

ship: pomegranate seeds (hades/kassandra)

cw: crying, super subtly and lightly implied ‘not wanting to live like this’, implied mentions of intrusive thoughts (nothing specific)

“Hey, hey, sweetheart, look at me, look at me.”

Warm, boney hands gently cupped the princess’s tear-stained cheeks as she wept. It was late, actually, it was in the dead of night,(no pun intended) maybe 1, 2 am. All was silent except for the heaving, choppy breaths and sobs coming from the princess as she sat knees bent on her shared bed with her fiancé, the lord of the underworld, Hades. Not really the kind of guy you’d go to in a time of crisis, because you’d figure he’d just want to make it worse. But not with this, no, this was different. The room was pitch black, no other light except for the flames on the God’s head and his yellow, slightly glow-in-the-dark eyes, which both illuminated his lovers distraught face.

“You’re okay, hey, they’re just thoughts, they can’t hurt‘cha.”

Kassandra let herself fall into his chest as a loud cry escaped her, it was all she felt like she could do. Immediately on instinct, Hades enclosed her tightly in his arms, comfortingly petting her soft hair as he shushed her.

“why…” the woman whispered in between tears. “why won’t they go awayyyy?” she wailed, feeling like such a horrible person, in so much pain she wanted to scream.

Hades felt a pang in his cold, dead heart, like someone had reached in and started grinding it into a powder. He hated, hated seeing her like this. It was worse than Tartarus, and he’s seen the stuff that goes on in there, he runs the place. “I… wish I could tell ya, babe, but.. I dunno..” he sighed, looking down at her heaving shoulders and shaking body covered by her pink nightgown. Hades began to rub her back in a soothing circular motion, hoping that might help her calm down a bit.

“I don’t want to be this person.. I don’t want to be dangerous..” The princess sniffled.

Hades looked shocked for a second, he shook his head. “Hey, you are the least dangerous person I know, trust me.”

She didn’t deserve this, and Hades knew that, she was the most… friendly, bright and kind person in the cosmos. But the princess felt otherwise, she thought because she occasionally had a nasty thought or two, she was suddenly worse than, well, him.

“wh..” the princess took a gulp of air, hoping to find some more strength to speak. “why is this happening to me..”

“I…” in truth, Hades didn’t have an answer for that. Which bothered him to no end, what’s the point of being a god if you can’t be omniscient? “I couldn’t tell ya that either, sweetheart.”

There was a bit of a long silence, and some muted sniffles and sobs from the princess. For a few minutes it was nothing but the dark, and the warming embrace of the soon-to-be-married couple until the princess spoke up in a whisper.

“.. I don’t know if I can live like this..”

Hades’s eyes widened as a surge of panic shot through him, which didn’t happen often. But this set something off for him, there was no way she was suggesting… that. Mhm, no not on his godforsaken watch. Quickly, but trying to still be gentle, he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back to face him so that their eyes could meet. “Whoa, whoa whoa whoa, yes, you can, okay? Look,” Hades, deciding to put on his ‘smooth-talk’ a bit to try and make her feel some levity, gave her a small, cheesy smile. “we gotta plaaan, ‘member? After our wedding we have that thing with the physiatrist and we’ll get’cha diagnosed get you to therapy maybe I dunno some meds and badabing you’re all cured boom done!”

The princess let out a stifled giggle, which Hades internally celebrated. “Well, that’s not exactly how it works, hon.” Kassandra reminded him it wasn’t as ‘quick and easy’ as he was selling it to be, chariot-salesman indeed. A flood of new worries overcame the princess as her face slowly started to drop again, her lips becoming downturned and her eyebrows slanting upwards. “And what if-?”

Hades knew exactly what she was going to say, he lightly pressed a finger to her lips with an affectionate “shhhh”. “We’ll worry about that, if, and or when it happens, babe.”

Kassandra sighed, leaning into Hades’s hand as it moved to cradle the side of her face. Another tear slipped out from her eye, which his thumb caught halfway down. “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be. You’re with me~”

Another small chuckle escaped Kassandra, a smile threatening to put her in a slightly better mood. Well, with Hades in the room it was hard for her not to be. And the same went for him with her.

“Can we just.. stay up for a bit?” Kassandra proposed, really not wanting to have to fall back asleep and be alone in her head with all those thoughts and worries, despite her fiancé being right next to her.

Hades waved a hand, a cool smile plastered on his face. “Yeahhh suuuure of course whatever you want! I’ll get Pain and Panic to turn on the tv for us okay? How’s that sound, good?”

Kass nodded, her smile growing a bit. “That sounds good.” She looked away for a second before Hades redirected her gaze back to him, using his hand that cupped her cheek still.

“And hey” he paused “I’ll always, be here for you. Okay? No matter what. Cross my heart and hope ta- well, it’s uh… little late for that but eh… heh, you-you get what I mean.”

A full blown giggle escaped the princess’s lips, finally, that’s the sweet sound that Hades wanted to hear.

“I know exactly what you mean, love, thank you.”

[pomegranates-and-blood]

νοσταλγία (Chapter 22)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: This is a retelling/romantization of the Greek myth of Persephone’s abduction with Ivar as Hades and you as Persephone. The Reader character is a Byzantine woman, follower of the Greek Pantheon/Religion, and a devoted follower of Persephone. This takes place after 5A, but the universe of this is a little changed in relation with the series, of course. Thank you for giving it a chance, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: The usual

A/N: Hi! I’m sorry, this chapter kinda jumps around a lot, like seven different things happen, I’m sorry. A few chapters are gonna be like this, I’m afraid.

Also, some things at the beginning refer to stuff mentioned/detailed in Ivar’s PoV, which will be uploaded on Tuesday, so any doubts regarding what is mentioned about those first few days after the wedding will hopefully be cleared up then. Regardless of that, I always welcome any and all questions, of course!

Thank you for reading, sorry for the long note, love ya!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson @peachyboneless @1950schick​

The celebrations for Ivar’s wedding last more than a few days, you lose count -refuse to count, if you are honest-. It proves to be…not as awful as you believed, to be his wife, to be queen.

You are still by no accounts used to people calling you that. You sooner grew used to Ivar calling you his wife -which he does, a lot- than to the people of Kattegat calling you their Queen.

Of course, Ivar has noticed. He is exceedingly good at noticing things about you, in a way that if you were a sane woman, would frighten you.

The ring you bear on your hand, you noticed once the blood was washed off, is engraved with runes you aren’t familiar with, but bears the design of branches and leaves. A wreath of flowers to wrap around your finger instead of being placed on your head.

The crown he gifted you on the first morning you spent as husband and wife is also skilled metalwork with the delicate motif of flowers. You asked why, and his answer was, simply enough, that he knows you like flowers.

On that same first morning he also pointed out he’s noticed your very deliberate intention to avoid having your hair braided in any way. It resulted in this silly game that still goes on, where you exchange a braid in your hair for the day for a question he must answer with the truth.

You’ve learned many things, and the thralls have been told to make intricate work of the braids he insists on seeing on you. You’ve learned more of Sigurd, and how he is somewhere in the Danes with an Earldom and a child on the way; you’ve learned of what happened with Margrethe when Ivar was younger, you’ve learned of his ambitions to be even more of a legend than his father ever was, you’ve learned of what he thought of you when he saw you across that battlefield.

And it is not just Ivar that has learned to notice things about the person at his side. You have grown keener to noticing the tells in his expression, in his voice, in his posture.

It is terrifyingly easy to find routine amidst all this madness. To find safety, peace.

It has always proven to be easy, when it comes to Ivar, for you to forget there’s a world past him. In Aneridge, the door to the hut closed and there were no Saxons, no dead and no living, no names. And now, here in Kattegat, you sit at his side on a throne of your own and there’s no chains, no past or future, no walls.

And now, in the borrowed time that it seems both you and Stithulf live in, there’s a freedom in being at his side you weren’t able to allow yourself before.

You know it should scare you, and sometimes it does. When easy steps guide you to him every night and familiar fingers run down your back unlacing your dress, you feel that in reveling in this familiarity, in being soothed by this strange peace, you betray your people, your home. When you slip under the furs of your shared bed and close your eyes and feel safe and warm and like you’d never want to leave, you are haunted by the question of why you deserve to choke with the hope you can still taste so long after the kiss you shared with Ivar, while Narses choked with the poison you fed him until the day he died.

____

You’ve realized many things, in these past few weeks.

Something they don’t speak of, something you frankly hadn’t considered before now; is how, regardless of your intentions, intimacy grows between two people that share most aspects of their lives, and every night they go to sleep together and wake up every morning together.

It makes you realize, the easy familiarity, the reluctant intimacy, that grow between you and Ivar, why it is so easy for arranged or unwanted marriages to fall into contempt, into resentment for one another.

Granted, that intimacy, that trust to close your eyes and trust you are safe even if alongside someone you did not want; it also explains the respect, the formal but honest affection you saw in the marriages of many elders back home.

If you are honest with yourself, which is something you’ve been trying to do more often, you know you will not grow to resent Ivar, you know you trusted him even before he became your husband.

No, you know -and fear, you fear to your very core- that all this familiarity, this intimacy, does is soften your foolish heart, make your chest fill with a warmth you shouldn’t feel in this land of cold.

But it doesn’t matter, you don’t have to make a choice, not yet. You don’t have to face what the choices you would have made would have said about you, for you didn’t make them; and you don’t have to face what this choice you could make says about you, because you haven’t made it yet.

It is a strange limbo to live on, a limbo that may last months or days or years, but you find you do not mind.

Point is, you’ve realized many things, in these last weeks.

This morning, as Ivar gets out of bed and in his absence lets the cold air enter the space he occupied before with no regard to your body so unused to Scandinavia’s cold, you also realize why so many women kill their husbands.

You grumble curses in your own tongue as you burrow further under the furs, and you could swear he huffs a laugh in response. Regardless of your reluctance, you know you are to get up soon as you hear the thralls walk in and leave the platters and pitchers on a nearby table.

You quickly prepare and let the infusion of red clover and chickweed sit before you skip your way over frozen ground to the dress you quickly fasten around you.

With your feet in the warm shoes and your body covered in something more than a flimsy nightgown that does nothing to protect you from the cold, you go along with what, surprisingly enough, has become another familiar routine for you since becoming his wife.

Turning your back to Ivar you fasten an earring as he tightens and ties the laces at the back of your dress.

Taking one hand off his task, he touches the hanging pendant that now adorns your ear, and asks,

“These are new.”

“A gift,” Before he can ask from whom, because of course he would, as if someone would be stupid enough to try and court Ivar the Boneless’ wife, you shrug, “A shieldmaiden gave them to me.”

“Why are you surprised? You are their Queen; they should want to earn your favor.”

With a shrug, you offer the only truth you can, “They don’t hate me, your people. I thought they would.

You sigh, and work on putting your other earring as you think on how to say this.

“I want you t-…” You stop yourself, and clearing your throat start over, “I have noticed that you shouldered a responsibility that was supposed to be mine, and I know-…Life hasn’t changed much for me or for the people here since I’ve become their queen, and…I know it is part of the reason they don’t hate me,” You straighten your head as Ivar finishes lacing up the dress, and turn around to face him. “I want you to know I am grateful.

But because pride wins, you join your hands in front of you and add,

“This could all have been avoided if you hadn’t forced me to marry you, of course. But, regardless, I…”

“You are welcome.” He interrupts you, his expression in equal parts exasperated and smug as he silences you.

You take a seat and wrap cold fingers around the hot drink, lifting your feet from the floor and bringing your knees closer to your chest.

Choosing to test how well you’ve taught Ivar your language, and how well he’s taken to understand it, you start, slowly and enunciating clearly,

“How far along are we from winter?”

He replies with a smug smile and a tilt of his head,

“A month, at most.”

“Your Greek is getting better.” You reply, knowing pride seeps through your voice.

“Your Norse is still that of a Greek.” He taunts without missing a beat, and you roll your eyes even if your own lips betray a smile.

The doors to your rooms open and you are startled into attention. Prince Ubbe stalks into the room, muddied and battle-worn, but his eyes, and his rage, are settled on his brother.

The Prince departed what you’d like to say is two -three?- weeks ago, shortly after the wedding, to follow a trail further North with a small army. Ivar ordered him to, even if you know Stithulf will retreat to Strepshire.

As to why Ubbe was sent North, you don’t know. Maybe Ivar knew of some route to some village, maybe he knew something he didn’t share with you or his brothers. You don’t know.

What you do know, is that Prince Ubbe has returned and apparently has done so with a lot of pent up anger. You lower your legs back to a proper position, and stay silent and still as you wait for an explanation as to why the Viking barged into your rooms.

Ivar smiles, the cruel visage of the King of Kattegat as he starts to play, “Welcome back, brother. What did you find?”

The other man snarls, “Nothing. Not a fucking trail, Ivar. The Saxons are not traveling North, and we just gave them all the time they needed to get away.”

But Ivar doesn’t seem phased at all, shaking his head with a knowing and mocking smile.

“I know. They are moving for Strepshire.” He assures. You frown his way, begging him silently to stop being so fucking secretive.

The Prince finally takes notice of you, and a wide gesture of a big and dirtied hand towards where you sit precedes his loud words,

“Why are you so certain? Don’t tell me it’s because of what your witch tells you, brother, be-…”

Ivar interrupts him, mocking smile dimming and seriousness settling in his features, even as he speaks with gesturing hands and raised eyebrows, “Because my wife was right. If they think we are not pursuing them they will move. I sent men disguised as merchants to travel the area, and while your little army made noise on the other side, they caught the Saxons moving for Strepshire.”

You are startled into silence, and for a moment you think so is his brother. Counting on his vitriol and his reluctant agreement with many of the things you say when the Vikings argue of the war against Stithulf and his men, you never expected Ivar to take your words to mind when planning his next move, not truly.

Prince Ubbe’s expression starts to switch from an enraged snarl and the eyes of a man raging over presumed failure; to realization and a hint of a surprised smile hidden under his beard.

“You sent me on a blind chase,” He huffs, fond exasperation in his voice, “You little shit, you could have told me the purpose was to distract them.”

Ivar shrugs, even if the mocking and mirth is still on his eyes, the tension between the brothers seems to lessen.

“It wouldn’t have been as convincing, brother.”

Half-hearted curses flow from Ubbe’s lips as he clasps one hand roughly on his younger brother’s shoulder, shaking the other Viking as he laughs. You have a feeling secrets of blood shared flow between them in those brief interactions, so you lower your gaze to your red clover and chickweed infusion and watch the herbs twirl.

“Witch,” The Prince calls, and you lift your gaze. With a sigh, he amends, using your name instead of the unwanted title before he continues, “I do value your counsel,” Your skepticism shows in your face, for the man huffs a short laugh and corrects, “I should value it.”

“Thank you, Prince Ubbe.”

The older man takes his leave and when Ivar returns his gaze from the door to you, he frowns when faced with your wide smile.

“What?”

“You trust me.” You boast, a giggle leaving your lips. Ivar rolls his eyes in response, taking some almonds from a platter in the table and eating as you still stare at him with a smile.

“You are a strange woman.” He mumbles in response, but you shrug.

“I have been called worse,” Seeing he refuses to acknowledge your words, you insist, “And you trust me.”

Ivar’s eyes narrow, “I don’t trust easily.”

Whether that is a rebuttal of your claim or a warning to honor his trust in you, you cannot know for certain. Instead of giving him an answer, you offer a smile and drink from the almost scalding infusion.

____

“If we reach out to Sigurd, we can get a legal claim on that land, our people can-…”

“We don’t need a legal claim if we erase the Saxons from the earth, Ubbe. We can gather a bigger army, we can return to York, start raiding from there again.” The King interrupts his brother, and the other man is quick to jump into a discussion. The Prince’s voice raises, his hands gesture wildly, and of course it all is returned tenfold by the King.

Your eyes travel from Ivar to his oldest brother, back and forth as the two argue on and on and on and…

It has surely been too long of this, and you have only been here a couple of months. Hvitserk, on the other hand, has been dealing with this for Hera knows how long. He may be close to planning a coup and murdering both of his brothers, and you cannot say you would blame him.

You find Hvitserk’s gaze across the table, a middle ground between the two sons of Ragnar here in Kattegat in more ways than one. While Ivar yells for the army and resources to move for Wessex again and Ubbe argues with gritted teeth about earning more land to settle North; Hvitserk bites into an apple, granting you a half-hearted shrug in response to the rising voices of his brothers.

You hide your own smile behind the rim of your cup as you drink. Soon enough you and the Prince find yourselves discreetly battling for dominance as you throw almonds to battle his cashews, playing in turns to try and throw the pieces carefully so that they push the enemy pieces off the imaginary board.

The game evolves and changes, and after a while you are breathing little laughs as you try aiming some dried fruits and nuts into Hvitserk’s open mouth.

You ready another throw of a dried piece of some strange fruit, but a hand grabbing onto your wrist stops you. You lift startled eyes to meet Ivar’s enraged ones.

“Would you two stop acting like fucking children?” He growls, eyes jumping between you and his brother.

“We are having fun, brother,” Hvitserk answers around a mocking smile, drinking from his cup before adding, “Not that you would know what it is.”

You keep your gaze on Ivar’s profile as you pointedly tug your wrist out of his grasp, even as his attention remains on his brother.

“Hivtserk…” Ubbe sighs, and you watch him drag a hand over his face.

“What?” The other Prince shrugs, defiant before he turns eyes to the King. “He keeps her chained to his side, like some pretty bird in a cage. Least he could do is keep her happy.”

“So you’ll be the one to keep your brother’s wife happy?” Ubbe presses with a shake of his head, “Just shut up and eat.”

“I kept yours pretty happy, didn’t I, Ubbe?”

Instead of letting the conversation between the Princes go on, Ivar asks, cruel and cold but you know there’s more anger to him than his tone lets on,

“You want to fuck her, is that it?”

Well, that wasn’t what you were expecting. You turn wide eyes from the King to his brother, but Hvitserk only smiles slightly, completely calm.

“Ivar!” You hiss quietly, but he doesn’t even turn to you.

“All of Kattegat wants into her bed, brother,” Hvitserk replies, drawling out the words, “But you know this already.”

Ivar shows a smile as cold as it is feral, and even if it is not directed at you -thankfully- you still feel a thrill of cold run down your spine. Not so difficult to imagine, if that’s how he looks at his own brother, why the people of Kattegat fear their warlord King.

“And do you?” Ivar insists, making you frown.

“I didn’t take you for the sharing kind, brother.” Hvitserk replies easily, a merciless sort of mischief shining in his warm eyes.

“Stop this,” You warn, raising your voice a bit and dreading the few eyes that turn to look. Glancing at the Prince in silent admonishment, that he surprisingly accepts by lifting a hand in silent surrender; you then turn to your husband and state lowly, “It does not matter, I married you. I am your wife and I will not be spoken of as a slave to be passed around.”

He shakes off the touch of your hand on his arm, a gesture you didn’t even realize you did. Not noticing you had reached out to touch him, it shouldn’t hurt as it does to see him reject you, but it does.

“I think it’s time you go prepare for tonight’s feast, wife.” He dismisses without even looking at you, cold fury in his voice.

Even though you did nothing wrong, even if it is not your fault his temper flares without warning or motive; he dismisses you like an unwanted pet.

You grit your teeth and beg to Persephone, Freyja and all the Gods that your eyes do not betray the furious and powerless tears even if your eyes sting as you stand up and walk away.

The Gods made you many things, but none of the things you are would walk out with lowered eyes, with your head downcast, letting a man forget what he has done when trying to silence you.

____

When you are summoned to stand alongside Ivar for the start of the feast, you walk in with your head held high and what is sure to be what Sieghild called your Athenian nobility shining through in every step you take.

You cross your legs, and tilt your head to the side. Your mother very obviously bristles at the display.

“Narses will follow my-…”

“Commands?” Galla interrupts, sly smile on full lips.

“Advice. He will refuse to negotiate with the Saracens,” You insist, before shrugging, “There are no pacts-…”

“Don’t say it.” Sieghild warns, but you ignore it.

“Between lions and men.” You finish with a smug smile. Your mother sighs in exasperation, rolls her eyes and drops her head to the back of the chair she sits in.

“Gods above. I dread to imagine the kind of uptight little monster you’d be if I hadn’t been the one to raise you.” Sieghild grunts.

“Yes, thank you, Sieghild. You raised a noble-blooded Athenian with the courage of a Varangian. A delightful woman to be around, especially when she doesn’t get her way.” Galla grumbles before standing up with a curse, and you frown.

“Hey, I can hear you, both of you.”

You bow your head in greeting to the Princes and King, and you could swear Ubbe and Hvitserk share a look between them, but say nothing.

Once the people are distracted enough, Ivar leans towards you from his place on the throne and states, “You are angry with me.”

“What a perceptive man you are, truly.”

“Don’t mock me, it won’t end well for you.”

“What will you do? Humiliate me in front of everyone?” You intone with a tilt of your head, furious eyes set on his.

____

Hope you liked this, would love to hear your thoughts on this! As for why this was the mess that it was, idk, my writing either drags on and on or is a convoluted mess, I don’t have a middle ground it seems. I’m very sorry if this chapter is a shabby one, I did my best. Thank you for reading, have a nice day/night! <3

[therainbowwillow]

For a Price AU Part 4

In which Orpheus is raised by Hades.

(Ps. I cut this part in half, which is why it’s comparatively short. Real-life springtime comes with a whole new world of tasks that must be accomplished and I’ve had less time to write.)

Eurydice rarely leaves her cabin. Day after painstaking day, she cares for Orpheus, forcing him to drink and eat and keep breathing. She desperately tries to pry information out of him when he’s conscious, rare events, few and far between. It is a struggle to get him to say anything without a coughing fit to follow. And when he does manage speak up something, his words are hardly coherent. 

He’s awake now and Eurydice attempts to coax information out of him once again. She has a million questions. Where are you from? How far did you walk? What is happening to you? She asks only one. “Is anyone looking for you?”

“I... don’t know.” His words are strained, but he’d given a coherent answer. She pulls him into her arms as he begins to cough. Somehow, he’s still conscious when his fit ends.

“Who would look for you?” One more answer. Please.

“Mom and dad. My family.”

To her shock, he doesn’t start coughing. His breaths are shallow, but he’s breathing. That’s plenty enough to will her to continue her questioning. “What are their names?”

“Persephone and Hades.” She tenses. What cause does a man have to lie when he is on his deathbed? 

She keeps her voice even. “The queen and king of the underworld?” she asks, sweetly.

He nods, his head against her chest.

His breaths are labored now. She doesn’t have much longer before he passes out. “Do you live with your father?”

“Yeah.”

Eurydice forces herself to take a deep breath. “Does he know you’re here?”

“No... mama left... in the morning...”

“Is she looking for you?”

“It’s springtime,” he chokes out. Then he’s coughing again. Longer than usual and far worse. 

When he falls silent, he’s unconscious, barely breathing. Eurydice leans back against her pillow, holding Orpheus next to her. When she rests, she sleeps beside him in case he wakes. Or worse, he doesn’t. 

Today however, she doesn’t sleep. If he is telling the truth- and she is nearly sure he is- then she is harboring the son of not one but two deities, the heir to the underworld, clearly some kind of young god himself, if his song has anything to say on the matter. And he’s in her arms, barely breathing. 

She hates herself for her selfish inquiries, but the questions press at the back of her mind. What happens to her if he dies? Would she be struck down by the Lord of the Dead himself? By some other family member of the well-connected poet? Tortured for an eternity for her failure to save him? 

Orpheus coughs. His breaths suddenly quicken. “You’re awake?” She tries to hide her surprise. Already?

There are tears on his cheeks. For all of his pain, he rarely cries. Perhaps he doesn’t have the energy. Eurydice pulls him a little closer. He relaxes at her touch, as he always does. 

“Your mother visits the surface, right?” She hates to question him like this. She is no detective and he is not a prisoner. Still, she asks, in fear that she soon will not receive answers.

Orpheus nods wearily.

“I’m sorry, Orpheus. I just want to keep you safe,” she says, leaving out the saving-her-own-skin part for the sake of his trust. “Will your father get word to her of your absence?”

Another nod, very slight.

“You’ve gotta answer this out loud,” she warns him. “How can I contact your parents?” The instant the words come out of her mouth, she regrets them. Isn’t the whole point of all this simply to survive? Keep Orpheus alive long enough to sing a garden into existence, pray he disappears again, and be sure to advise him never to return at every chance she gets. That’s the plan. Stay on the good side of the gods. Save her own ass. To hell with the rest.

Absent from the plan is purposely contacting his divine parents to come smite her for failing to protect their son. And yet here she is, protecting Orpheus’s safety over her own.

“I don’t know,” he tells her. Eurydice sighs in relief. She tried. At least she won’t have to live with not having tried.

“Thank you for answering my questions.”

“Mm hm.” He hums, absentmindedly. She follows his gaze over his shoulder, fixed upon his guitar.

“You want to play?” she asks.

“I can’t sing anymore.” Eurydice hates to see him so defeated. He had seemed so sure of himself once. Where had his confidence gone? His joy?

She stands and retrieves the instrument. She helps Orpheus sit upright, propped against a pillow. She takes a seat next to him and lets him lean on her shoulder. “I’ve never played before. I can sing, and you can teach me how to strum the right notes,” she explains.

Orpheus grins. “It isn’t so simple.”

“I’m learning from the best. I’m sure I’ll figure it out,” she teases, trying to keep him distracted. He hadn’t spoken so much for days.

“You’re holding it wrong,” he remarks.

“Oh.”

Orpheus laughs softly. Eurydice watches the way his eyes crinkle up. And when he laughs, the sound is almost like music.

He adjusts the positioning of her hands. “Strum.” She does. “That’s the first chord.”

“Simple enough,” Eurydice shrugs. 

“Ah, but you have to sing on top of it.”

She glares at him. “Well now you’re making it harder on purpose!”

“You have to dance too!” he says with a laugh. 

Eurydice rolls her eyes. “Spare me from that, at least.” 

“Fine, fine,” he concedes. “Here’s the second chord.” Orpheus plays it for her and she repeats it. 

This process continues until Eurydice has learned the basics of a few simple lines, singing the notes and all. As long as she sings, Orpheus seems a little stronger. His eyes are brighter, his skin cooler to the touch. Still, he tires quickly, and soon, he does not guide her hand as she strums his guitar, opting instead to lean up against her, his eyes closed, simply taking in the music. His breathing slows as he drifts into sleep. Eurydice continues to sing, considering it her payment for the garden he had once provided her.

...

“Lord Hades.” Thanatos speaks, Death embodied. Hades recognizes his voice. The King of the Underworld does not open his door, dreading what he might hear.

Thanatos does not wait for an answer. “Forgive me, Lord Hades, but this is a matter of immediate concern.” Hades says nothing, only lifting his head from his papers. 

“I have located your son.” Hades wants to shout at him, demand word of Orpheus’s location, but Thanatos continues: “He cannot survive much longer. My Lord, I will not harm him so long as I can prevent it, but my duty to death is not preventable.”

Hades forces himself to keep his breaths even. “You found him and made no attempt to return him home?”

“That is not my domain. I fear I would have harmed him further.”

“Is Hermes aware of this development? And my wife?”

Thanatos nods. “I spoke to them both before yourself. I believe Orpheus may survive until they locate him.”

There is no comfort in those words. “Will he or won’t he live?” Hades growls.

“I do not have an answer.”

“How long does he have?”

Thanatos considers for a moment. “No longer than days, if that.” 

“Bring him no harm,” Hades implores.

“I will try.”

...

Orpheus does not wake in the morning. His breaths are shallow and his skin is colorless, as it had been before he had disappeared. Eurydice curses herself for sleeping so long. Maybe she would’ve noticed the progression of his condition if she had not been resting herself. 

She searches her shelves methodically for something to eat, turning up only a few dried leaves. Her stomach growls, but she does not eat them. Instead, she shakes Orpheus until he wakes, half conscious. He groans in pain. She brushes the tears off his cheeks. “What is it, Orpheus?” she asks.

He coughs in response, half sobbing. Now Eurydice is afraid. She has always known that her care isn’t adequate. She has no medicine, nothing filling to eat, and her meager shelter is hot in the days and cold as ice by night. Even so, she had been hopeful that it might be enough. Orpheus had been improving. 

“Please,” she begs. “Say something.”

“I love you.”

Eurydice squeezes his hands. “I love you too, Orpheus.” She has no time to be shocked at the words she’d just spoken before Orpheus is overcome by a coughing fit. Eurydice pulls him into her arms, gently patting his back and whispering words of comfort. Comfort, she tells herself, not lies. His coughs grow weaker and weaker.

“Shh... shh... You’re alright,” she attempts to comfort him, “Breathe.”

Suddenly, he does not breathe. He does not cry. “No... no!” Eurydice shouts for him, receiving no reply. He doesn’t turn to ash or bloom into a flower or ascend into the sky. He simply lays in her arms, motionless, as any mortal might. Eurydice screams and shakes him and pours the last of her water across his face, praying the shock might wake him. It does not. 

He’s dead. It hits her like a rush of cold air in the summer’s heat. He can’t die. Not like this. Not her Orpheus, who had sung the world back to life in the dead of winter and walked a thousand, thousand miles just to speak to her one more time. 

“Lady Persephone, hear me!” Eurydice begs. There is nothing proper about her cries. She has nothing to sacrifice, no words to recite. “Lord Hades! Someone, hear me! Anyone...” If she is heard, no one answers. 

Eurydice feels like a madman, screaming into nothingness. Maybe Orpheus had been lying all along and she had only bothered deities who cared very little for her mortal fears. She pulls Orpheus into her arms and sobs. “Don’t do this to me,” she whispers, as if he has a choice in the matter.

[stardustedstories]

@nectaric asked: ❛ the only one who gets to kill you, is me. ❜ hera to hades maybe?

Hades flipped through the paperwork on his desk, looking for one file in particular. There had been quite a few awkward situations recently, with paperwork not being filed correctly, which meant that the soul it was attached to didn't end up where they were supposed to be. And he hated that. Not only did it make his job harder, it wasn't fair to those in his domain, under his care. Yes, they were already dead, but they should be able to count on their afterlife proceeding as it was supposed to, without paperwork being misfiled, which could mean that they were essentially misfiled.

He didn't notice the door to his office opening until Hera was right there, in front of his desk, clearly annoyed with him if her tone and her words were any indication.

"Good to see you too," he quipped, setting down the paperwork in his hand to look up at Hera. "Why is it you want to kill me this time?"

[storiedhistories]

Anonymous asked: ( for hades ) do you feel guilty about your affairs?

Send My Muse Anons About Their Relationships // Accepting!  

Ah. This question again. Well, he supposed he couldn't blame them; he had three children that were not Persephone's, despite the fact that he was the only one of his brothers NOT to break their agreement.  Then again, he had fewer demigod children than ANY of his siblings, if he was remembering correctly.

"Persephone and I have had our differences through the years...., and during that time was one of them," he started, leaning back in his chair, resting his hands in his lap.  "We were.....separated at that time, with no indication of when we were gonna reconcile."

They hadn't so much been affairs as they had been......relationships of their own.  He wouldn't disparage the memories of either Maria or Marie by saying they had been flings; Hades didn't really HAVE flings.  The lord of the Underworld had seen something in both women, something that had reminded him of Persephone, of the better times they'd had...., but they had been their own people, too, with unique thoughts and feelings, and he honoured that in their memory.

But the question had been if he felt GUILTY for those relationships, something that was.....complicated.

"I regret having hurt Persephone...., but I do not regret or feel guilty about my children's lives.  If I had not done as I had...., they wouldn't have existed, and that is not something I would change."

[delicatelyherdreams]

Pragma(tic) 6: He Never Listens

Pairing: Persephone!Bucky Barnes x Hades!Reader

Summary: In a world where the old gods never truly died, you must learn to navigate your way through the ups and downs of immortality. And if living forever wasn’t hard enough, an ancient evil is now threatening to break free after centuries of silence. And as if that still wasn’t hard enough for you, now a pesky and infuriatingly handsome god is trying to wedge his way into your life. Gods, work, love, and conflict—what more could a goddess need? [Hades & Persephone AU]

Word Count: 5244

Warnings: Language

Pragma(tic) Masterlist

Previous 5: She Deals With a Pest

“Where’s your head been lately, Buck?”

“Hmm? I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean,” Steve said turning his torso to face his best friend, “you’ve been distracted these past few weeks, and I want to know why.”

Bucky only shrugged, his eyes glazing over as he stared down at the mortal city before them. “I dunno, man. I guess I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“Like what?” Steve was persistent, prodding, desperate to know what was troubling him. “Come on, man, you can tell me anything.”

This was true, but Bucky wasn’t sure he could tell him this: that he was still sneaking into the Underworld when their backs were turned or when he had a spare moment. He wasn’t sure that he could tell Steve that he was enchanted by the only goddess he was forbidden to talk with.

It’d been about two months since his and Hades’ first meeting, and he’d been down there a total of four times since. The first time, she caught him at the border and sent him back after a scolding. The second, he made it to beautiful Elysium, spooked a couple spirits, and had the time of his life before she dragged him out, less annoyed and more amused than the first. But these last two times, even though she told him that he wasn’t allowed to be down there and sent him back, she talked to him like he was an acquaintance. She answered his questions (“Where do you live?” “On the mountain.” “Is it lonely?” “Sometimes, but that’s why I have a dog and friends.” “Am I your friend?” “No.” “Are we ever going to be friends?” “I cannot say.”) and even gave him a smile. That was a personal accomplishment for him.

He felt like he was getting to her, breaking down the walls little by little. Gods, he knew he still had a long way to go, but he couldn’t help but feel proud that he’d gotten as far as he did. The last time he was down there, she didn’t even kick him out that harshly; she just walked him out as if walking guests out from a party and actually said “Goodbye, James” when she left. If that wasn’t progress, Bucky didn’t know what was.

Bucky pursed his lips, debating on how to tell his friend what was going on without really telling him what was going on. “I guess it’s just…” He trailed off, his brain running with ideas and words, none of which were good enough to conceal the truth.

“Yes? It’s just what?”

He nodded his head to the side, before finally saying, “There’s this girl, and I can’t get her out of my head. She’s so different from other people I’ve met before, and it’s wonderful. But I’m not sure how I feel about her or how she feels about me, y’know?” He sighed and lifted his head up to the sky to stare at the clouds. If he focused hard enough, he could almost make out her face in the patterns, as insane as it was. 

“I mean, kinda?” Steve shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve never really had that before. What’s her name?”

“Hade— Harriet.”

Steve snorted, his chest jolting with the sudden movement. “Hade-Harriet? What kind of name is that.”

Bucky could feel the color rising up his neck as it tried to creep on his cheeks. He turned his head away. “Her name is Harriet.” *Harriet.* Really? Was that the best he could come up with? Welp, it was going to have to work for now. “She’s really cool, but she’s also stubborn and strict. She’s really insistent on boundaries.”

“Uh-huh, and where did you meet her?”

*Dammit, Steve. Stop asking questions.*

“I—uh—I met her in the Mortal World. You and Sam were napping and I wanted to go shopping, so I went down to the mainland to see what stores there were. And we just kinda ran into each other, you know.”

Bucky was impressed with how easily he had fabricated the story, he just hoped that Steve bought it.

Steve didn’t, but he didn’t get a chance to call Bucky on his bullshit.

The wind picked up, swirling all around the two men. The grass spun around them, blowing violently, bringing the smell of plants along with it. The wind funneled, creating a narrow tube. The wind grew hazy, thick with grain and greens, as it moved to a spot in front of them.

Steve straightened up, his shoulders rolling back to appear more formal.

Bucky did the same, for he knew what this wind meant: the arrival of his mother.

When the wind cleared, a woman with dark hair to match Bucky’s and startling green eyes stood before them. She was dressed in a deep green suit, gold ornaments woven into her hair. She beamed down at the two, her eyes sparkling when she laid eyes on her son. “Hello, James,” she greeted, her voice as strong as her finest plants and her smile as warm as the sun that fed them.

“Mother!” Bucky rose to his full height, a good five inches taller than his mother, and took fast strides over to her to engulf her in a hug.

“Oh, my baby boy,” she said as she hugged him tightly. “It’s been too long! How are things? How are you doing? Staying out of trouble I assume?” 

“Oh yes, Mrs. B,” Steve chimed. “Sam and I have been doing a good job at keeping James here straight.”

She smiled. “Good. Speaking of which, where is Sam?”

“Oh, he’s down in the city grabbing us some cheeseburgers. He lost rock paper scissors and got sacrificed to go on the food run.”

At this, Winnifred frowned. “You know I don’t like you boys going down there. Why don’t you go up to Olympus for lunch instead? There’s this cafe that makes the best ambrosia ever! You simply must try it.”

Bucky gave her a polite smile. “Alright, Mother. We’ll go there next time for lunch.” He cleared his throat, starting to change the subject. “So, why have you come?”

“Oh, you know. I had a bit of a break at the office and decided to come visit my son, make sure he’s doing well and— Wait, what’s that smell?”

*Fuck.*

“Wh-What smell?” Bucky asked, trying so hard to keep his voice steady and even. He knew damn well what smell, but he wasn’t going to point that out.

His mother scrunched her nose in disgust. “It smells like death. What the—” She turned her eyes towards Bucky, seemingly fixating on him and glowering.

Bucky felt the color drain from his cheeks. He was done for. She knew. She knew it was him and—

“What the hell is happening here?” She marched towards him, passing him with an air of agitation. She stopped at a tree several yards behind the boys and stared at it with a glare. “James, this tree is dying, and you didn’t save it?” She reached out and pressed her palm flat against its trunk. Instantly the dark bark began to lighten with life as she rejuvenated it. “Honestly, James. You’re supposed to be a god of spring. The least you can do is keep alive what little area I gave you.” She shot a teasing smile at him over her shoulder.

Bucky almost laughed with relief, but instead, he adopted a more serious demeanor. “I’m sorry, Mother. I’ll do better next time.”

“You’d better if you want to become an even better god!” She pulled away from the tree before walking back to the boys. “Well, I’m sorry to have to leave so soon, but I only came for a short visit. Work is busy as ever in the spring and I need to keep tabs on all the harvests.” She smiled at Steve. “You tell Sam ‘hello’ for me and keep an eye on my boy, you hear?”

Steve nodded politely. “Yes, ma’am. We’ll keep him out of trouble.”

“Good. Then…” She turned to Bucky and held her arms out. “Give your mother one last hug.”

Bucky chuckled but complied. “Mother, you don’t have to treat me like a kid anymore. I’m more than a thousand years old.”

“I know, but you’ll always be my baby boy.” She kissed his cheek before pulling away from him. “I’ll see you soon, my child. Until the next time.” And just like that, she was gone; vanished into a cloud of grain and wheat.

As soon as she was gone, Bucky let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in. He was always tense around his mother, even more so now that he had something to hide. He just hoped that she would never find out his dirty little secret.

———

It was another few days before Bucky was able to sneak away from Steve and Sam again. It was in the dead of the night, when they were sleeping, that Bucky crept away, staying as silent as possible. He walked away from the clearing that the boys had chosen to sleep in, and summoned a pair of dark jeans and a blue shirt to clothe him. The garments materialized on his body as they did for every god, taking the place of his pajamas. Using the cover of night, he slipped away.

A perk of being a god, even a minor, fledgling one like him, was the teleportation. With a destination on his mind, Bucky could travel anywhere on Heaven and Earth that he wanted. And it was through this, that Bucky appeared on Cape Matapan, a small landmass at the end of Greece’s Mani Peninsula. The mortals had said that the elaborate network of caves there concealed an entrance to Hades. They were right, although it was a difficult journey. But Bucky had been using these caves to get into the Underworld ever since Hades sealed off the Dikteon Cave and tightened security at the Acheron. She wasn’t quite aware of this entrance yet and Bucky wanted to keep it like that. After all, he was starting to run out of ways to sneak in under her nose.

Bucky took a couple of steps into the cave before pausing and leaning down. A flashlight was nestled against the wall of the cave, right where he’d left it the last time. His fingers wrapped around the metal cylinder of the flashlight and he flicked it on. The beam pierced the darkness of the cave, illuminating the tunnels ahead, and he began the short journey down.

Slopes and declines in the path took him deeper and deeper into the earth; and as he descended, he could feel the life seeping out of the air—a telltale sign that he was nearing his destination.

He walked for twenty or so minutes before he hit the end of the tunnel network. The cavern opened up slightly, still darkened with a black that swallowed up any and all light around. 

Bucky grinned. He’d made it down, and now all he had to do was take a step in. He flicked off the flashlight, plunging the cave into darkness and set it down on the ground before walking right into the mass of black before him. It was cold as always, stealing any sign of warmth and life from his bones, and it made him shudder, but he pushed on. Eventually he was tossed out onto the other side, right at the edge of a flower meadow. The cave behind him sealed, taking on the facade of being a simple wall, but Bucky knew what it was. He stumbled a bit as he emerged, but he caught his footing pretty quickly. He wasn’t going to fall like he had the first time, not when there were so many spirits around to bear witness to it.

He straightened up and looked over the area.

Shades milled about the field—the Asphodel Meadows, he thought it was called—all minding their own business as they floated aimlessly. Very few paid him any attention, but that didn’t bother him. The less attention he drew, the better. Beyond the Meadows, he saw the gates of Elysium rising high and the mountain right next to it. The black mansion at its peak was daunting as ever, and yet that was his destination. Bucky wondered how close he’d make it this time before Hades found him and sent him home.

Determined to at least make it to the base of her mountain, Bucky started walking. The shades around him parted, making a narrow path in his wake and allowing him easier means to reach his destination. Of course, he could’ve just walked through them, but that would’ve been rude and his mother had raised him to be a gentleman.

The mountain grew larger as he neared, towering over him and becoming more and more intimidating with every step. He could begin to make out the details of Hades’ mansion now and even see figures moving behind the frosted glass of the windows. She was home, and she had company. 

He hesitated. If Hades had guests over, as surprising as that would be, maybe he shouldn’t impose. He could always come back another time or—

“Back again, I see.”

He squeaked and whirled around, lifting his hands to defend himself in case of an attack. But none ever came.

Instead, Hades just crossed her arms and smirked, her red-coated lips quirked up with amusement. “Did I startle you, little prince?”

Bucky scoffed, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “No. You just caught me off guard.”

“So I startled you?”

“Well… Maybe.” He shook his head and looked her over.

The other times he’d weaseled his way in and she’d come to greet him, she’d always looked professional, prim, and proper. She would always be adorned with a black business blazer, pressed pants, and an elegant pair of flats. Her eyes would always be shrouded with a smokey eye and her lips would always glow as red as her eyes. Her hair would always be styled, not a single hair out of place. But this time there was no makeup on her face that was apparent to him, strands of loose hair flew every-which-way in a fashion that was unruly but still attractive, and she was dressed in a more casual attire of black jeans that hugged her legs, a plain grey shirt that hung loosely from her shoulders, and black sneakers. 

If Bucky had an opinion, he would’ve said that she looked as attractive as ever, but he didn’t have an opinion. He lifted his chin with a smile. “How did you get down here so fast?”

“I sensed you coming. Using the shadows, I came to your side.” She gestured down to the shadows of the flowers that fell on the ground. She was standing in one like she’d just risen from it. 

“But I just saw you and someone else in the window and I thought that you had company.”

“Oh, I do,” she said with a nonchalant shrug. “But it’s just Peggy. She was on her way out anyway; she has her own paperwork to get to.”

“Peggy? Goddess of magic, crossroads, ghosts—”

“And other things,” Hades confirmed. “The mortals call her Hecate, but her name is Peggy.” Hades turned her head away from him and looked up at the mansion on the mountain. “She’s up there with my dog. I sometimes think that she likes him more than she likes me.” She chuckled.

“I didn’t know you had a dog.” Bucky smiled softly at her, keeping his head down so he could see her easier and she could see his face.

She scrunched her nose. “Really? You seriously did not know that I have a dog? Cerberus is in nearly every myth about me, and he helps guard the entrance to the Underworld to make sure the souls don’t get out.”

Bucky had no idea. He never read the myths, he only knew some names of the other gods. With a sheepish laugh, he rubbed the back of his neck and shifted his weight from side to side. “N-No I didn’t. I—”

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence because, at that moment, Hades brought two fingers up to her mouth and whistled. The sound rang loud and clear through the still air and a crash followed it almost immediately.

Rapid movement from the mansion atop the mountain drew his eye, and he saw a black mass bounding down the path of the mountain. It was moving at a speed that shouldn’t have been possible for a normal dog, drawing dangerously close with every second. Bucky was tempted to run away—he’d never seen anything like this before—but Hades, with her calm demeanor as she watched the figure approaching with only an amused smile betraying her emotion, coaxed him to stay. He stood his ground, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the black mass.

As it neared, its details became clear. He saw the animal’s shaggy black fur shining in the dim light of the Underworld and its glowing red eyes staring at him and Hades. Its tongue was hanging out of its mouth, its lips spread wide as if it was grinning. When it came within three yards of the pair, it let out a loud yelp before leaping into the air right at Hades. Bucky was certain it was going to knock her down, but she opened her arms and caught him as easily as if it were a child.

She laughed, the sound music to Bucky’s ears, as the wolf-like creature attacked her face with its tongue. “Cerberus!” she cried, her voice as light and airy as Bucky had ever heard it. “Get down! I’ve taught you better than this.”

It was then that Bucky realized that this was her dog. His lips split back into a smile. “Well isn’t he a handsome thing.”

“You think this is great, you should see him at his full height.” She grinned down at her dog, cupping his face in her hands. “He’s huge, and all three of his heads come out. It’s sad though, I only have two hands and I can’t pet them all.”

Bucky snorted, but said nothing, opting to observe instead. He was fascinated with the scene in front of him. He’d never seen Hades so relaxed; she was always ushering him out as fast as she could, and it was amazing for him to see her like this. It made his heart race in his chest and his smile widen to an uncomfortable size. It made his head light and his stomach flip. It made him happy.

Hades pulled away from Cerberus and turned to look at Bucky. “I figured you two ought to be acquainted since he’ll be helping me kick you out from now on, or doing it himself if I’m too busy to deal with you.” She glanced at him through her eyelashes.

Bucky feigned being hurt and clutched his chest with his hand. “I’m not even going to have the pleasure of being escorted out by the Queen of the Underworld?”

“Not when she’s too busy dealing with queenly things to take care of your ass.” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Now, come on. You know the drill.” She jerked her head in the direction of the Acheron. 

Bucky groaned. “Oh, come on! I just got here!”

“And now you’re just leaving.” She rubbed Cerberus’ head one more time before reaching forward and grabbing Bucky’s wrist. “I’ve got shit to deal with right now. Filing away souls, welcoming new Elysium residents, going over appeals for Elysium admittance; my job is never done.”

Bucky walked with her, staring at the hair on the back of her head and tracing the patterns of the strands. “Yeah? What else do you do?”

She shrugged, but answered, “A variety of things: manage the other gods down here, maintain border security, deal with difficult souls that want to cause disturbances, walk my dog, sometimes go around Elysium and mark up renovations that need to happen. You name it, I probably deal with it in one way or another. That’s what happens when you rule a realm.”

Bucky nodded, his eyes glinting with interest. “It seems like you really care about people down here.”

“Oh, I do,” Hades agreed. “They’re my subjects, mine to protect and guard. I love them like my family.” She smiled fondly, her lips twitching up as her eyes crinkled at the corners. “There’s a bunch of good people down here, but there are also some bad…” Her smile dissolved and her eyes flickered towards the far wall of the Underworld where the Phlegethon flowed. “But that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is how you’ve managed to keep sneaking down here. Would you care to clue me in?”

He smirked. “You know, I would but then you’d just go and block it off and I’d never be able to return.”

“You’re damn right. You’re causing major security concerns whenever you get in without me knowing until you’re already down here.” She was deadly serious now, and Bucky could feel it radiating off her in waves. “If you can get in, then that means other things can too. And I don’t know if you’ve been made aware or not, but we’ve got some big-shot prisoners down here that enemies of the gods would just love to set free. If they were to find out that the Underworld has a security breach, then who knows what kind of chaos they could unleash.” She glanced at him, just barely turning her head in his direction. “I need to know, James. How are you getting in?”

Bucky nibbled at his lip and turned his head up. He was thinking. 

On one hand, he could see where Hades was coming from, and logically he knew he should tell her where his entrance was, but on the other he was afraid she was going to seal him out forever. He’d grown attached to the Underworld, finding it interesting, unique, and beautiful. He wanted to know more about it, explore it, and see what made Hades love it so. He wasn’t ready to give it up, but he knew he had to share. 

Bucky crossed his arms and pressed his lips together, reluctance rolling off him in waves, before admitting, “Cape Matapan. The myths said that if you go down deep enough into the caves, then you’ll reach the Underworld and, well, they’re right. I’ve used them the past couple of times.”

And at that, she smiled at him. Not one of the half-smiles she’d been giving him, but a full-blown smile that lit up her entire face. 

It made Bucky’s heart flutter with exhilaration, and he couldn’t help but think that he should do things to make her smile more. She was breathtaking; drop-dead gorgeous.

She continued to smile at him as she said, “Thank you, James. I really appreciate your honesty.”

He smiled back and nodded. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry I’ve been a pain in the ass, but there’s just something about being down here that I can’t quite put my finger on.”

She chuckled. “I know the feeling. It’s very peaceful and calm down here. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

From there, they started walking in silence, drawing nearer and nearer towards the Acheron. At some point in time, they began to walk next to the Cocytus, the river that fed into the Acheron. The water wailed beside them, the pitiful cries of souls long past that had become trapped in the water’s rush filling the air. The sounds made shivers run down Bucky’s spine.

But it wasn’t just the noise that made Bucky uneasy, although Hades seemed unaffected, it was the figure standing about a dozen yards away from him and Hades.

The man lurking along the river bank was obviously a naiad. He sported the same blue tint to his skin that all water nymphs did, the water beside him only highlighting the features. His dark hair was coiffed and his jawline was marked with a short stubble that came from not shaving in a few days. His heavyset, brown eyes cut through the air as they stared at him and Hades, filling the air with suffocating intensity. His arms were crossed as his eyes trailed Hades. He watched her, studied her, with his unrelenting and almost predatory gaze. 

Bucky wasn’t sure why, but looking at that man watch Hades like she was his made Bucky’s blood boil. For the first time in his life, Bucky wanted to pick a fight with a man—this man. He sneered. “Who’s that?”

“Hmm?” Hades tore her gaze away from the road ahead and followed his line of sight towards the man on the river bank. She stiffened, her lips forming a hard line as she stared at him. “No one,” she murmured, but Bucky wasn’t entirely certain that was the truth.

He could feel his body gravitating towards hers protectively, his shoulders rolling back and his chest puffing out to make him seem more like a threat. He did all in his power to radiate “back off’ vibes, but he wasn’t sure how successful he actually was.

Successful or not, the naiad stayed away, opting to simply watch them as they passed.

They followed the river the rest of the way until it fed into the Acheron before stopping. 

Hades stood at the river’s edge, the water just barely missing her toes where they sat. She looked up at Bucky. “Well, I guess this is your stop.”

Bucky didn’t want it to be, but he said, “Yeah, I guess it is.” He looked down with a frown.

As if sensing his dismay, Hades sighed and dug into her pocket. “I cannot believe I am doing this,” she muttered, pulling out a small leather pouch. Bucky watched her with curiosity as she fiddled with the straps and held it out to him. “Here.”

Bucky took the pouch and pulled it open. Inside there lay about two dozen brown seeds, none of which Bucky recognized. His brows furrowed. “What are these?”

“They’re Asphodel seeds,” she answered, shifting her weight. “They’re what I use to get to the Underworld. You plant one, and a hole will open up for about thirty seconds. Jump in, and you’ll pop out here with only a flower in your stead. You’ll be deposited back into the Asphodel Meadows, but you’ll still be down here.”

Bucky stared at her, dumbfounded. “Wait, you mean you’re just giving me a key to the Underworld?”

“Yes I am, but don’t make me change my mind.” She rolled her eyes. “This is simply because I don’t want you hurting yourself trying to find a way in. And just because I gave you a way in doesn’t mean you can come down every day. You only have so many seeds and each is good for a one-time-one-way trip. There are no do-overs nor repeats, you hear?”

“I hear.” He smiled softly down at her. “Thank you, Hades.”

“(y/n).”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

“My name. It’s (y/n). You keep calling me ‘Hades.’ No doubt you got that from the myths too, but that’s just the name the mortals gave me. (y/n) is my true name.” She shuffled her feet anxiously, but Bucky couldn’t have been happier.

He didn’t know why, and perhaps she didn’t either, but she was opening up to him. It made him happy, and he figured that if she was willing to share something, he should too. “Then my name is Bucky. Only my mother calls me ‘James.’ To everyone else I’m Bucky.”

Her nose crinkled. “Bucky? Where the Hades did they get that from?”

“My middle name: Buchanan. I know it’s a little weird, but it’s the most familiar name to me. James just feels so formal and uptight; I’d much rather be Bucky.”

“Bucky,” she repeated, testing out the syllables on her tongue. “Alright, Bucky it is.” She straightened up and smiled at him, holding out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Bucky. My name is (y/n), goddess of the dead and Queen of the Underworld.”

Bucky took her hand, a matching smile adorning his face. Her hand was cold as death, but he didn’t care. The warm feeling the contact brought to his chest was worth it. “It’s my pleasure, (y/n). I’m Bucky, god of spring. I hope we can get along and be friends.”

“Yes… Friends… I think I could get used to that.” She nodded and squeezed his hand. “Then, until next time.”

“Until then.” Letting go of her hand, he pulled away and mounted the ferry that had come to take him home. His eyes never once left her, not even when the boat pushed off and into the river. He only lost sight of her when he crossed over into the Mortal World and a wall of mist and fog separated them. He sighed as she vanished, turning to the ferryman—Phil Coulson, he thought was his name.

Phil looked down at him sympathetically. “You’re never going to stop coming down, are you?”

“No, I don’t think I am.” Bucky smiled softly up at him. “I guess you’ll be seeing me a bit more often now.”

“Oh joy. Yet another god I have to deal with.” Phil rolled his eyes. “I just hope you’re less of a pain in my ass than the others.”

Bucky chuckled. “I will do my best to be better than them.”

“Then we’ll get along just fine.” Phil smiled as they came to the mortal side of the Acheron and stopped at the bank. It was dawn now, the sun was just barely rising above the horizon.

Bucky frowned in confusion. “Morning already? It was night when I left and I know I wasn’t down there for that long. How is already morning?”

“Time seems to flow faster works in the Underworld,” Phil said as he tied the ferry to the land. “They say that death feels like nothing.” He pulled the ferry to a stop in the Mortal World and turned to Bucky. “You take care of yourself, godling.”

“You too, Phil.” Bucky stepped off the ferry and appeared again just outside the field where Steve and Sam should’ve been sleeping. He had to be quiet. This early in the morning, his friends were easily aroused and he didn’t want them to know he’d left.

Bucky had teleported right behind a tree where he had a full view of the field. Steve and Sam should’ve been sleeping in the middle of the meadow, but there was one body missing. Bucky frowned and crouched down. Where was Steve? Did he get up early? Oh shit, did he notice that Bucky was missing? Bucky held his breath as his eyes scanned the field, searching for his friend desperately. 

“Looking for somebody?”

Bucky nearly screamed. He turned around, probably white with fear.

Steve had his hands on his hips and was glowering down at his best friend, his eyes intense and slightly pissed. “Where were you?”

“I… Uh…” Bucky had to lie, and lie now. “I went down the mountain to the village.” 

“No, you didn’t. I checked there. I checked the whole island.” Steve’s glare only intensified. “Now, where were you?”

Next 7: Her Thoughts Conflict

[ineedbackgroundmusicinmylife]

Hey guys! Here is another short story based on one of the prompts by @writing-prompt-s (thanks a lot!). I hope you enjoy reading it! Feel free to give me your suggestions

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Prompt :

You can taste lies. One day, you're comforting your best friend after a tough breakup and almost vomit at the foul taste the words "After all, you're only human" bring

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Story :

I know you are lying.

The number of times I have used this sentence tends to infinity. Many people are surprised everytime I catch their lie. How did you do it? You are really good at body language reading! How do you know that? No one else has ever caught my lies! I hear these quite a lot.

But I'm not good at body language detection or reading people. The truth is, I can taste lies. Not figuratively. Literally. I hear a lie and a foul taste develops in my mouth. Bigger the lie fouler the taste.

Due to this reason I never made many friends. You must be wondering how being able to taste lies is linked with me not making friends.....

The thing is, people lie quite easily and quite a lot these days. Any party I attend or any event I go to brings a foul taste to my mouth. A constant gagging feeling. So I never went out much. I have a couple of good friends though. And I am happy in my small group.

No one know about this ability of mine. Well, no one except my best friend. But she doesn't believe me. She thinks I'm joking.

Fast forward to today, when she comes to my apartment looking like she has been crying for eternity. I had no clue about what had happened. I take her inside and sit down on the couch with her.

"What's wrong? Why have you been crying?"

No reply.

I get a glass of water for her and start rubbing her back. Waiting for her to speak. We just sit there in silence. She finally speaks up.

"We broke up."

I close my eyes. I knew this was gonna happen one day. The guy she was dating always lied about where he had been and what he had been doing. I even tried to tell her. But she never belived me. She was too happy in her own world.

I pull her into a hug as she starts sobbing uncontrollably.

"Hey hey hey. Listen to me. It's okay. You deserve someone better than him."

She pulls away from the hug and stares at me as if I had said something offensive.

"It's okay? Are you serious? How will it ever be okay? He just cheated on me and dumped me for that other girl. You really think I deserve anything? No. There is obviously something wrong with me, whuch is why he had to find someone else."

I shake my head.

"No. That is not how that works. It was his fault. He shouldn't have cheated. If he had an issue with you, he should have talked about it."

I hold her hands and look at her.

"No-one is perfect Rose. After all, you are only human."

The moment these words leave my mouth, I gag on the bitter and foul taste that fills my mouth. It makes me want to vomit. I stand up and step away from her. I don't know why I did that. She looks up at me, surprised and slightly hurt.

"So even you don't wanna be with me now. Great."

She gets up and starts walking towards the door. I am too shocked to react.

"What are you?"

It comes out as a whisper. I wasn't expecting her to hear it, but she stops in her tracks and turns around. We stand there in silence. She slowly lets out a breath.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You know damn well what I mean by that."

She raises her hands up in frustration

"No I don't!"

Another lie.

"You are lying. You know I can catch lies. There's no use hiding whatever your secret is. I know you are not- I know your something else."

She closes her eyes and lets out a sigh.

"So you can really taste lies huh."

I stay silent. She stays silent. 5 minutes pass. 10. 15.

She finally takes a deep breath and sits down on the couch, gesturing me to do the same.

I don't move.

"Please. Give me a chance to explain. And if you think I'm lying... Well there is no point in me lying is there?"

I give it a moment's thought. If she wanted to harm me, she would have. We've been friends for a long time.

I slowly take a step towards the couch and take a seat, maintaining some distance between us.

She closes her eyes and starts speaking.

"Ok so. First of all, you were right, I'm not human."

I scoot away from her a little. She notices the move and I can see the hurt in her eyes. I shouldn't have done it. But I couldn't stop myself. She continues.

"Have you ever heard of The Erinyes?"

I shake my head. I hear her let out a sigh.

She mumbles something under her breath.

"The Erinyes? The Furies? I'm sure you've heard of them."

The Furies. That name rings a bell. Some mythological character. Was it Roman? No, Greek? Hades?

"Aren't they like the punishment enforcers for Hades or something?"

"Yeah sure. Why not."

She sounded very annoyed.

"Well, I am one of the three Furies."

It takes me a moment to comprehend that statement. I'm not throwing up which means that she is speaking the truth.

But how could this be possible? One of the Furies? My best friend? What was going on?

She lets the silence hang over us. No explanation, no reasoning. Just a plain simple fact.

I look at her and manage to get a single word out.

"Why?"

She blinks in disbelief and bursts out laughing.

I am just left staring at her in disbelief. She tells me she is one of the most feared creature of the Underworld and then she laughs? Seriously?

"I was not expecting that question."

"Well I expect an answer."

I want to smack myself. Why am I even takimg to a Fury like that? If she wants she could yeet me to the Underworld right now. Ughh.

"Ok. I'll give you an answer. Come on."

She gets up and offers her hand to me. I obviously stay glued to the couch.

"Where are we going?"

"To see Lord Hades. Where else?"

I lost it at thus point. I get up from the couch and bolt for the door. I was not going to let this crazy lady-creature kill me.

But obviously I don't go far before she pulls me back.

"Oh come on! I'm not going to kill you! Just come with me. This wasn't supposed to come out but now that it has, I have to take you to Lord Hades. He is the only one who can explain this mess."

After she realises that I am not going to move from my place, she lets out an exasperated sigh and rolls her eyes.

"Look. I said I won't kill you, means I won't kill you. The underworld is a big place. It has more than one door. And please, don't delay this. I'm already annoyed thinking of the conversation he is gonna have with me."

She groans.

"I should never have come to you after the break up."

Dang. Both of us completely forgot about the break up thing huh?

"But if you are a Fury, how come you were dating him? Was that a setup?"

She looks at me and winks.

"A lady is allowed to have her fun. As long as I am stuck in the human form, why not have the full experience, right?"

"Now if you are done with your questions, we have a long journey ahead. So please. Let's go."

I think about for a moment.

"Ok then. Let's go."

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Taglist :

@awesomeuvinthings @sitorrothekitsune @grace-k-sterling @scarletteflamerald

[sourstars]

HELLO BABYDOLL !!! i am requesting the answer to atlas on your greek mythology question list ??? bc i feel like that’s a cool and underrated question

also i love you and i hope you’re having a good day. u mean so much to me !! stay hydrated <3

Atlas: favorite myth?

OH MY GOD WAIT I DIDN’T EVEN SEE THIS ONE??

okay okay wait bc it’s tied between three or four

Orpheus and Eurydice: a tragic love story of to two lovers doomed to be kept apart. they pull on your heart strings whether it be in the original myth form, or even the musical Hadestown.

one of the original versions is that a nymph named eurydice, daughter of apollo, had caught the eye of orpheus, who was considered one of or the greatest lyre player in the world. He had wooed her with song and thus married her, however, tragedy quickly began to take root. on her wedding day, eurydice was bitten by a viper, and died shortly after. overcome by grief, orpheus traveled his way to the Underworld to persuade the hades to return her. the king and queen of the underworld were moved by his song, as were the fates would were described as "unable to keep tears from their eyes", and under one condition, eurydice would be able to return to live again;

she was to follow behind him through a dark path, to eventually reach the light of the sun. but orpheus was told he should not turn to her until she was out into the light. due to this, orpheus' doubt of hades began to grow, and with both belief it was a trick and the inability to hear her voices or steps (she was a shade who would turn back into human once above), orpheus lost faith and turned, thus causing eurydice to fall back to the underworld once more.

The Apple of Discord: the great trojan war was not out of thin air. in fact, it began with an apple.

during the wedding of thetis and peleus, the goddess of discord, eris, was not invited. due to this, she felt offended and arrived the wedding regardless, tossing forth a single golden apple, saying to the fairest and it was claimed by all hera, athena, and aprhodite, igniting a disarray of beliefs among the three. turning to zeus, they asked for his opinion, and shocking all of them, he said a mortal man and the rightful heir prince of troy, paris, should choose.

and paris had grown up as a sheperd, unaware of his royal blood due being abandoned as baby by the oracle’s prophecy of him bringing forth his city's destruction. because of this, the goddesses each offered him a gift to sway his decision. hers offered wealth and power, athena offered wisdom and glory, and aphrodite offered him love from the most beautiful women in the world. he chose aphrodite instantly, handing her the apple, and in turn she began to offer council to paris, leading him back to troy and telling him of his royal blood, which caused the war in the future.

Eros and Psyche: it is another love story, yes, but with a happy ending.

in greek myths, love is held to a great regard, and so psyche was a very astonishing mortal girl. she was claimed to surpassed even aphrodite in beauty and it was so well traveled that it caused men from all over to visit her and to admire. of course, aphrodite was enraged and jealous, and decided to give the girl a punishment. her son, eros, who deals with matters of love and could make a mortal fall into love with a single arrow, was told to make her fall in with the most cruel and horrible being on the earth.

but eros could not, due to him falling for her himself once he laid his eye upon her. due to this, he could not carry out aphrodite's wishes and did not strike her, causing years to go by with psyche still unmarried. eventually, her parents decided it'd be best to ask the god apollo for advice, and the oracle said for her to dress in black, climb the highest mountain and remain until the winds picked her up to carry her off. and when it did in fact happen to her, eros begun the route pf climbing into bed with her into the dark, where she could not see his face, and he would lie beside her every night. psyche beloved to know he was not a monster, but a loving man and the possible husband she';d always seem looking for, but eventually, like orpheus, faith and trust could be crumbled within seconds.

after days and time passing with visiting and seeing her family, psyche’s sisters began to feed her whispers of eros being a beast, the horrible creature, and it overwhelmed the girl so much, that one night, when eros was asleep, she'd kill him if she checked his face and he was indeed a monster. if he was not, she'd go back to sleep. but a drop of the oil of her candle touched his face and he awoke, immediately vanishing off and telling her heartbrokenly love cannot live without trust, and due to her overbearing sadness, she reached out to aphrodite, who sent her off to carry out three impossible tasks, and psyche completed them with the help of the nature around her.

with aphrodite enraged once more, she intended to never let the girl go and the other olympians bore witness to this, sending hermes off to tell eros. eros was touched by her love for him so greatly that he returned and as a wedding fit, zeus allowed psyche a taste of ambrosia, the drink of the gods, and aphrodite was now sated with the truth that men would forget psyche and once again worship her instead.

Narcissus and Echo: another tragedy. at least we know why I love angst so much, right? but truly, this one breaks my heart

echo was a wood nymph, who was cursed by the queen of the gods, Hera, to never be able to speak properly, but instead only ever be able to repeat anyone's last words to her. one day, she saw a handsome young man on the mountains. narcissus was his name, and when her eyes fell upon him she fell in love. but due to her cursed state, she could not speak to him, instead following him from the shadows, silently, loving him greatly from a distance, and lying in wait for the right moment to appear. when narcissus eventually realized she was around, he asked, is anyone here? and echo replied here. the conversations could only go so far with repetition, and when narcissus beckoned her to come out and make love to him, she was revealed as a wood nymph and thus refused to give himself, saying he would rather die.

heartbroken, echo raced off and hid in a cave, losing her appetite and craving for food and water, and eventually she let herself starve until her body disappeared. but the story was not over. when the goddess of revenge, nemesis, had witnessed the treatment of soft echo, she made narcissus fall in love with himself, dooming him to remain at his own reflection and meet the same fate as echo had. and before he withered, he cried out farewell dear boy. beloved in vain, and echo's voice repeated his last words from the cave as he passed. to this day, echo still repeats phrases in caves or labyrinths.

also the myth of Sisyphus is wild too - the man escaped death two to three times and then was made to enterally push a rock up a mountain.

[lifeofroos]

Part 29. Let the uncomfortableness begin!  

In Short: Nico gets therapy from Dionysus. In this chapter, Hades blows them all away. More chapters can be found on AO3, FanFiction.net and under Tumblr tags like Nico di Angelo, fanfiction, Trials of apollo etc. 

This might be crazy: Chapter 29: Gray Ginger Soda

‘Is there anything specific you want to talk about today?’ Dionysus asked. 

I slowly scratched a ketchup stain of the table. ‘Hm…’

‘Eh, Yes, there is.’ We both looked around. My mouth fell open. None other than my father was standing in the middle of the Denny’s, with three cans in his hands. 

I shot a glance at Mary, who was looking at Hades with her mouth open and her arms protectively wrapped around her baby bump. I could not blame her. I would be freaked out too if the lord of the dead was suddenly in my restaurant and I did not know him personally. 

I turned back to Dionysus. He looked more surprised than angry (For now at least). 

Hades strided over to our table (it wasn’t walking, one couldn’t call it walking. He was striding). When he was close, he slowed down for a second, before choosing to sit on the chair that was close to mine and far from Dionysus’s. He put the cans in the middle of our table. ‘There is… I have a few things we can talk about.�� 

Dionysus and I glanced at each other. Silently, we agreed to let him speak his mind. From behind the counter, Mary signed something at us that probably meant ‘is everything okay?’ I nodded, as a sign that it was okay. I had no idea what she would have done if it wasn’t, but that didn’t matter right now. 

Hades snapped his fingers. In a moment, the front doors locked themselves and all the lamps, except for the one above our heads, shut off. I heard Mary gasp and scoff. 

Dionysus sighed. ‘Hades, Mary is standing in the dark. 

Hades rolled his eyes. The light above the counter flicked on again. Mary took a deep breath, before giving Hades a cool look. 

Dionysus mimed something that might have meant ‘I’ll make up the difference for the customers that can’t come in.’ I wasn’t sure, but it seemed like a logical thing to mime at that moment. 

Hades stared at us for a few seconds. Now that I could see him up-close, he seemed nervous ‘Eh… do I just… begin?’ 

Dionysus narrowed his eyes. ‘Yes, that might be productive,’ he answered. I looked at the cans. Gray Ginger Soda. Whatever it was. 

‘Uh, I wanted to say something about… Nico coming to my place, and how I think he is... progressing.’ He was silent for a few seconds. ‘And I believe you are the one he usually speaks to, so it might be good if… you hear it as well. And, eh, I want to know what Nico thinks about it.’ Now he wasn’t just nervous, he seemed to be in a panic and a half. 

Dionysus eyed the cans. ‘Thanks for the drinks, although…’

‘As if I would drink anything made by you.’ Oh, now the old man was his stern self again. 

Dionysus rolled his eyes and leaned back in the chair. ‘Well, tell us your thoughts.’ 

‘My thoughts?’ He shifted uncomfortably. ‘Erm… I think…’ he stared at Dionysus. An expression of pure unwillingness rolled over his face. 

Dionysus did not say anything. Usually, when I was having therapy, he would try to comfort me if it became too much to handle. But Hades was given no such treatment.

‘It’s okay, dad. He can’t tell this to anyone else.’ I gave Dionysus a look. He did not confirm nor deny my statement, which I took to mean that he would not blab it further, even though he totally could. 

It was clear that dad did not believe me at all. But he swallowed, and went on: ‘I like that you come to the Underworld every once in a while.’

I nodded, while reaching for one of the cans. If nobody was going to drink it, I would. ‘I like that too. That’s why I keep coming.’

‘Oh.’ He shot a glance at Dionysus. 

‘It is not like I force the kid to go,’ the wine god said. 

Hades’ gaze got harder. ‘Of course not. But anyway, so, I like it.’ He gave another look to Dionysus. ‘And actually I don’t care if you tell the other gods about that.’ Dionysus rolled his eyes. 

‘Hades, I won’t tell anybody anything about this, I promise,’ he sighed. Hades just stared at the cans, before continuing. 

‘And also…’ he paused for a second, ‘I think that it has been going better with us. I… I helped you with those greek sentences.’ He swallowed the sentence ‘Even though they were ridiculously easy.’ 

I nodded, with a small smile. ‘Well, yes dad, I think it has been going better as well. And that is what I have been telling Dionysus.’ I nodded in his direction.

‘He keeps defending you and saying everything will be better,’ the wine god piped in. ‘Basically all the time.’ He raised his eyebrows. I looked at my can. Well, yes, maybe I defended my dad a lot. But he really was trying to be better. 

Dionysus shrugged. ‘And I guess there is some truth in that. After all, you came here, prepared to say something, because you want to talk with not just him, but with his therapist as well.’ I looked up. Was that Dionysus defending Hades? Unbelievable.

‘Eh… yes.’ Hades shifted on the chair. I took a sip of the weird drink. It tasted like someone slamming me against the side of my head.

Hades took a deep breath. He looked like he was about to say something he revised for ages. ‘I…’ 

Dionysus stared out the window for some time, clearly trying to force himself to not be sarcastic. ‘It’s okay, go on,’ he said, so softly that it was almost unhearable. 

‘I… is there any more I can do for him?’ 

Dad shut off. He looked at the cans. His shoulders were hanging down, as if this question defeated him for real. No, it wasn’t the question. It was the fact that he was asking it to Dionysus.

Dionysus couldn’t even say anything at first. ‘You… are asking me for advice about what more you two can do?’

Hades seemed to melt to a pile of misery on his chair. 

‘Dionysus…’ I muttered. 

‘No, no, I think that is… that is amazing, Hades. Eh…’ 

I took another sip. This was surely something. 

Dionysus took a deep breath. ‘You should try to do what you are comfortable with and what you want to do. If… eh… you feel like giving him a hug, you should do that. But knowing you, it might be better to… I don’t know, walk the dog together or something.’ He shook his head and took a deep breath. ‘It is probably the best to work on communication and respect, like it always is,’ he said after a moment of reflection. ‘From what I have heard, you... still have some work to do there.’ 

‘Eh, yes,’ I cut in. ‘Well, dad, I would like it if we... talked more. And get better at seeing what the other is actually meaning with what he says. Or, eh, you could help me with more... life-y stuff. Other than Greek verbs.’ 

Hades stared at the table. I wondered what of what we said he had actually heard. ‘This is difficult.’

‘But you are doing it,’ Dionysus and I said at the same time. 

He even managed to conjure up a laugh, even though it was laced with nerves. ‘Nico… what could I possibly help you with that is more... life-y? I…’ He shrugged. ‘I am the lord of the dead. What do I know of anything that concerns you? Then you could better…’ he waved in Dionysus' direction. 

‘Yes, but you are my dad.’ 

His expression went completely blank. ‘Eh… yes.’ He shook his head. Two of the cans disappeared. Just mine stayed behind. Hades slowly got up. 

In a last stretch of energy, he forced himself to look Dionysus right in the eye. ‘I…I… think I have to thank you for what you do,’ he whispered. 

‘I should thank you for giving it a chance,’ Dionysus muttered back.

Hades shook his head. ‘You shouldn’t.’ 

It was quiet for a few seconds. ‘Thanks for the advice,’ Hades whispered. Then he disappeared. 

Dionysus was completely knocked out of the park for a few seconds. Then, he took a very, very deep breath, while the lights flicked back on and the doors unlocked. Mary turned her head towards us. ‘Was that… planned?’

Dionysus shook his head, slowly. ‘No, Mary. I promise on the river Styx that if something like that is ever planned to happen in this Denny’s, I’ll tell you.’ 

I moved my head around, trying to comprehend it all. ‘That was... unexpected.’

‘It was. But… I think you might be right. He might… truly be willing to turn over a new leave.’ 

‘Yeah I… think so.’ I shrugged. ‘It’s… alright. I am going back on the 19th of september.’ 

‘Hm. The day after summer has ended.’

‘Yes.’

‘You know what that means, right?’ 

‘Yes.’ 

He shrugged. ‘Watch out, Nico.’ 

When we stood up, Mary waddled towards us. ‘Good luck with that man, Nico.’

I picked my can of table. ‘Yes, thanks.’ 

Dionysus put a few banknotes on the table. ‘I’ll have to pay for all the money you could have made…’ 

‘That’s… it is never a lot.’

‘This is the evening shift, it is busier than during the night.’ 

Mary shrugged. ‘Still.’ 

‘Please take it. You need to buy stuff for the baby.’

‘We already have a lot of…’

‘No, believe me, you’ll need to buy more baby stuff.’ 

Mary put a hand on her stomach. ‘Okay. But next time I’ll give you double the drinks and you can’t say no.’

‘Deal,’ I said. Dionysus put his hand on my shoulder. ‘Goodbye, Mary,’ I said, before we disappeared.

When I walked past the Demeter cabin, I noticed that the flowers were already beginning to whiter. And summer wasn’t even here yet. I took a deep breath, as if to already mentally prepare myself for september, nineteen. 

A/N: Persephone will be next and then I’ll finally get to Maria, like I promised an eon ago. (Okay, I’ll bite: How many years is an Eon? We don’t use this word a lot in the Dutch language).

Now go get yourself a glass of water. Or a can of Gray Ginger Soda, if you somehow have an entrance to the Underworld somewhere.

[shardweavers]

Chapter Eight - Creative Thinking

Shoto and Angel got up from the table where they'd been sitting. The Scholar peeked into the room as she slowly opened the door…

And found the Ascian was sound asleep on the bed. He was still recovering from his injuries, after all. The female Miqo'te carefully stepped into the room, thought for a moment, then looked back to Angel; he'd followed her inside just as carefully.

"I wonder... Where did he get most of those injuries? I checked for external wounds, and I only found," she frowned as she paused, "...I only found the scar... from where I struck him through…" She trailed off. 

"Were there internal injuries?" Angel asked, frowning. "I-I mean, given--"

"Yes, both Eos and I could sense the internal wounds, but they didn't feel...connected to the last battle," Shoto mused. The two Miqo'te spent a long, silent moment in thought... 

"You're both aware that I am not deaf, correct?" came Emet-Selch's voice, cutting through to interrupt; he sounded more than a little annoyed. Angel gave a squeak of surprise, and Shoto jumped slightly.

"W-well, look, we thought you were asleep, and--!!"

"I might be, but there were two noisy felines just now, mewing on and on," the Paragon replied, opening one eye fully, studying her with it before glancing to Angel and heaving a loud sigh as he shut his eyes again. Shoto pouted and looked away.

"Fine, we apologize for the disturbance. Were we too loud for Your Radiance out on the terrace, too?"

"Perhaps, but the Emperor shall forgive that indiscretion," Hades said with faux imperiousness as he pushed himself up to a sitting position, waving his hand for extra effect. "I'll concede it's hardly fair to chase you out of your own living quarters, and I'm sure at least one of you doesn't trust wicked old me alone in here." He smirked.

"How generous," Shoto grumbled, crossing her arms as she went over to the edge of the bed. "So, you're going to stay awake?" "For the time being. The night you so generously returned to Norvrandt hasn't settled fully yet, and the evenings here are abominably bright." 

'From his tone, you'd never guess that he had any role in bringing the Flood of Light about,' Shoto thought, a little bitterly.

"If you intended to ply me with further questions," Emet-Selch continued, interrupting her train of thought, "why, that might help ease my boredom, just a tiny fraction." His amber eyes bored into Shoto, and she felt almost compelled to speak. "...What did you mean when you said…'eight times rejoined'?" The Ascian blinked and then gave another overwhelmed sigh, leaning back against the headboard of the bed and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Or, I suppose, you could attempt to ask me a question so stupid it permanently kills me." "Wh--You--!!"

"Or counts as a form of torture. Aren't heroes supposed to be against torture?"

"It's a legitimate question!" Shoto sputtered in embarrassed fury. "It's an incredibly disappointing question," Hades quipped back, his own expression disgruntled. "I was given to believe that you understood word one of what I said regarding Amaurot? The Final Days? The Great Sundering, and how our world was shattered into the Source and its thirteen reflections? Yes?" "Yes!" "Then ‘eight times rejoined' means exactly what it sounds like it means. There have been seven reunions, what you call the ‘Umbral Calamities', of shards unto the Source. Each time, the soul of those who lived in the time of Amaurot comes closer to wholeness. You are, like it or no, one such soul. Ergo…" He trailed off with a languid gesture.

Angel bit his lip. It couldn't be that simple, could it? 

...Hadn't the Seventh Umbral Calamity been when they first began to really experience the Echo…?

"This time is different," Shoto argued. "Or...it feels different, at any rate! Angel and I have been...causing...things to just, just appear out of thin air!"

"...What?" Now Emet-Selch had a turn at looking surprised. "How do you mean--wait, no--"

"I mean it like it sounds," Shoto growled petulantly, even if she found she didn't really enjoy the wince on the Ascian's face. "Alright, alright, I deserved that." The Ascian brought a hand to his chin, fingers partially covering his mouth, in thought. "...I wonder...These appearances, are they linked to intense periods of...concentration?" "Yes. In both our cases." "...Curious. Very curious." Amber eyes looked to the floor, then back up to track over both of the Miqo'te before him. "Tell me, when you were traveling...my Amaurot, did you chance to hear about…'Creation Magic', perhaps...?"

Angel almost leapt into the air as he listened to the answer the Ascian gave, and he felt his tail puff up, his ears flickering violently. 

"The...The Bureau of the Architect," he whispered, almost involuntarily…

What he was leading into matched almost perfectly to what the Amaroutine shade at the Bureau had told the Warriors and the Scions when they asked about that same term. 

"Picture a bouquet of fresh, fragrant flowers, all the colors of the rainbow. Now picture those selfsame flowers formed of delicate crystal, impossibly fragile and radiating hues beyond the visual spectrum."

That was, in fact, exactly what they had described to one another, wasn't it? 

A fish he hadn't seen before; but had thought about very clearly; had just appeared in his empty aquarium. A flower that wasn't there; that she could very clearly see in the vase; was then suddenly there. The Keeper of the Moon's eyes were wide as saucers, and his ears pinned back as he realized Emet-Selch was staring at him, had definitely heard his whisper.

"Crrreation Magics...? A-Are you trrrying to say... one soul sharrrrd can make... such... a difference...?"

He trailed off again, staring back at the Ascian, his mouth open slightly in shock.

"It's quite possible," Hades replied. "The Bureau existed because that sort of gift wasn't at all uncommon in Amaurot. Certainly, one needed quite the level of talent at manipulating aether, but we rather prided ourselves on our ability to forge it into a concrete form."

"But…" Angel shook his head, wanting to argue against this...this whole sequence of ideas, even without evidence. "Shouldn't it be the same for all of us, then? I mean, Ice only felt like his soul was...stronger…"

Emet-Selch smirked and arched an eyebrow...his expression was almost kind, or as kind as his smirk got. "Why would it be the exact same, pray? Despite our unity and the commonality of our dress, we Ancients were hardly all identical drones. If that came off as the case, perhaps my re-creation of Amaurot really did err." 

He shrugged. "More than likely, in his own way, your compatriot possesses something similar, but it manifests differently, the way a warrior differs from a magus. In his own way, he was quite observant. If this is, indeed, Creation Magic, it's not some alien power bestowed upon you, you know. You're re-learning it as a result of your soul becoming, well, stronger."

Angel looked down to the ring on his left hand, resting it on his chest. His mind felt like he was caught in a vortex of some kind; his thoughts swirled. He was shaking, he realized.

Amaurot, and the Final Days...The Bureau of the Architect…

His husband's words, and his cheerful smile...

"Aside from feeling a bit stronger, I don't really feel that different! Sorry to disappoint, Angel, heh."

His father's, Kohji's voice, harsh and cold…

"Mages are weak. Worthless. They can't do anything without a warrior to protect them. Are you saying you intend to be weak, boy…?!"

"...It's like the Echo," Shoto interjected, looking over at Emet-Selch with a bit of a cryptic stare. "Isn't it? The Echo feels like it's always been with us, but it only really awakened after the Seventh Umbral Calamity."

The first time he'd ever felt the Echo, Hydaelyn's voice reverberating in his mind like a crystalline orchestra…

He could almost hear it now…

Hades sighed and spread his arms, a wide-ranging, insincere "who can say???" evident in his gesture. "It's possible, certainly? I can't speak to it being the full truth, dear hero. Our understanding of the Echo is so much different from yours."

Hear...

Shoto's lip curled. "This is going to be like when Lahabrea went on about how we knew nothing about it and were worms before him, right?"

Feel...

Emet-Selch's eyes narrowed and his smirk became more devious. "Heavens, no. I meant more that we use it for its full and noble purpose, whereas your use of the Echo seems limited to prying into others' personal business."

Think…

"Now see here, you--"

Even as he stared at his ring, the room spun. His head hurt, suddenly, a violent, piercing pain; there was something like a sound, like a too-tinny bell at the edge of hearing. 

Speak not the name of the Voidsent, or it shall appear before thee; apparently this applied to the Echo, in truth.

And yet, as he gripped at his forehead, and saw Shoto similarly overcome...Was it his imagination, or was Emet-Selch also…??

There was no time to question. The room in the Pendants disappeared, everything instantly felt distant and muted as though they'd all been suddenly pulled underwater.

The quiet sound of gentle bells followed a young Amaurotine through the long hallway. The cowl of his robe pulled up, and positioned just so; his white mask precisely centered on his face. The boy's pace hurried to keep up with the far taller people that led him through the Words of Lahabrea, deep within the Bureau of the Architect...the very heart of Amaurot's magickal engineering program. 

The foremost users of Creation.

The only sounds in the wide marble halls were their footsteps, and the rhythmic, gentle bells behind them. The boy, who was distracted from these sounds by the thunder of his own nervous heartbeat, glanced back to the bells, briefly, to find a fluffy, three-tailed mammalian creature, with bright, golden eyes; the soft glow off of its fur indicated this was an arcane creation, no kind of natural beast. It casually hopped along, at pace, back and forth in a zig-zag pattern. 

At last, all of the Amaurotines stopped before a pair of large double doors; their leader, the tallest of the four surrounding the boy, turned to their young companion first, regarding him seriously.

"You are ready to assist, correct, Asopus?"

The boy felt his throat dry instantly, but he closed his mouth, then took a breath through his nose...releasing it, he managed a resolute, calm reply, despite still feeling shaky. "Yes, Chief Researcher Telemachos."

The tall man nodded and went over to the doors, placing his hand on a security mechanism; lines of light quickly flowed across the surface, and the doors opened wide.

The young man squared his shoulders and turned his masked face to look up at the woman closest to him, the one who had asked him here. He opened his mouth to ask her a question…

But no sooner had he done so then there was the sound of clicked teeth from a third member of the four.

"Really, Xene. This is the help we were promised? This is your ‘savant'?"

"Chrysanthos," she shook her head, then took a step forward, "don't start in, especially not now. This concept is very large and very intricate, thanks in no small part to you, and the Concordance reassigned Vaseilos to a pressing matter in the field. As much as you might not--"

"Don't try and make this about him! This is your failure! You said we would have someone of equal skill. This," Chrysanthos looked down to him. The white mask hid most of his face, but his tone dripped with contempt and his mouth was a sneer. "child still depends on a Familiar, Xene."

"As though that's proof he's incapable? Faidon, Aristotelis, and Eftychia all delegate a measure of their aether to their own Familiars," she crossed her arms over her chest, "Especially on large, intricate projects where we need the extra willpower. Like this one."

"They are peers of the Bureau, Xene! You haven't even brought us an Akademia graduate, you've brought us Prorektor Apollo's spare son!" Chrysanthos snarled. "Need I remind you the cost of errors in this Summoning? If there's even a minute flaw in the concept, it could--"

"That's enough," came Telemachos' calm, quiet voice, the leader sweeping his hand as if to swat Chrysanthos' words out of the air. "Our guest is here to assist, to learn, and to demonstrate why Master Lahabrea favors him, not to serve as linchpin of the summoning. If you must worry about something, Chrysanthos, worry about your own role."

The boy flinched. That was why he was really here, wasn't it? Lahabrea's favor. His father's role. Not his own talents.

Chrysanthos hissed through his teeth but seemed to drop the matter as they stepped into the summoning chamber, Telemachos striding into the center and removing a pair of crystals from his robe, which he slotted into pre-configured places on the altar.

Xene seemed to notice the young Amaurotine's distress, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry. You're here because of your own capabilities, not High Speaker Lahabrea's preferences, I promise."

"...I…"

"She's right," another woman spoke up, removing the Conceptual Pattern and Matrix scrolls from a set of filing drawers. "Favor or not, Chief Researcher Telemachos would send you packing if he didn't think you could do it, youngster."

"Artemisia, I'm not sure that's helping him feel better," Xene chided. "It's a compliment!" Artemisia insisted, giving a small smile to the young man as she unfurled one of the scrolls. "I need him to believe in himself just as much as you do, or I won't get my early lunch." She stuck out her tongue and laughed good-natured even as Xene sighed in exasperation.

"Artemisia…! Augh, she's impossible sometimes. Pray, pay no mind to them. Show them your skill, and even Chrysanthos will be silenced."

He opened his mouth to reply, then stopped.  He nodded instead, then turned to the altar and its subsidiaries. Telemachos had unfurled the Matrix and now set it on the altar, adjusting the crystals...the pattern of the matrix began to write itself in aetheric light in the engraved magic circle of the summoning chamber. Artemisia unfurled the Plan with a flourish.

"This is the concept we're to create for testing, but the caveat is it has to be perfect upon creation. Can you tell why?" Xene explained, then gestured to the Plan. The boy read over the Concept Plan carefully, as the orange creature climbed up onto his shoulders.

He blinked then looked up to Xene and Telemachos in surprise.

"It's..."

* * * "An immortal bird?" Hades repeated as they made their way through the restricted area of the Bureau of the Architect.

Hythlodaeus nodded. "To be precise, it is not a living being, but magick woven in the likeness of a bird. One possessed of puissant healing powers. And as befits a masterwork of the Words of Lahabrea, it is a thing of beauty."

"I don't doubt it. So what, then, is the problem?"

"As I said, it is not a living being. The concept proposed was...well, to give a very basic outline, a magick in avian guise. With this in mind..."

* * * The doors opened soundlessly, but the change in light drew their attention. 

Artemisia knelt beside the boy who cowered in the corner. His mask broken into pieces, his cowl torn and around his shoulders. Pale, blue hair was tinged red with blood from visible injuries on his face. His orange Familiar stood defensively before him; it watched the flying bird above them, but it seemed a bit scared. 

The boy was holding his hands over his ears as the fiery bird screeched horribly, then rammed itself into the wall with a sickening sound; the young man flinched visibly each time. 

Artemisia was the one trying to comfort him, the others seemed to be missing. There was debris and destroyed furniture all over, which made it hard to tell who had entered. The woman strained to see around, but recognized the shape of the one Hythlodaeus had called, even as that shape changed and grew, warped to massive size. Her voice seemed relieved when she said his name.

"Hades! Oh, praise the Cycle." she turned to the boy in the corner, "You can breathe now," she reached up to his head, gently. He shook his head and whimpered.

"It's my fault. It's my fault. I...I did this, if I hadn't…"

"You did just fine," she softly reassured him. Hades' transformation completed, and Artemisia looked excited to see the sorcerer's full form, "Look now, and see something grand!"

But the injured boy was too frightened to look up, "The bird... H-He... He blames..." 

There was one last, terrible screech, which made the boy cry out in fear. His Familiar turned, and immediately leapt onto his lap. Then all was silent for a moment. 

Hades slowly returned to his normal form beside the highly impressed Hythlodaeus; who was quietly clapping.

"A wonderful first impression from the most eminent Emet-Selch," he teased.

Hades sighed at his friend, "Stop that." He turned to leave, but noticed Hythlodaeus had yet to move. "Is there aught else?"

"I say, dear friend, I think we may now be quite finished…!" 

"Another cre--?" Hades turned, as the dust and rubble finally settled. A softly glowing, orange creature drew his attention first. Then the smaller black-robed figure, being comforted by a taller woman, one of the researchers. For a moment, the High Councilor was confused as to Hythlodaeus' meaning, but then…he saw the dark, malformed creature beside them, the failed Concept that had been hidden by smoke and mist.

It was no bigger than a large canine, like a hound or wolf, but had three heads, and a thick, long tail. It was focused on the taller figure, as it bared its over-sharp fangs, and breathed steam. 

"You'll be alright. We should get you back to the medical ward in Anyder," Artemisia was saying--she put an arm gently around her young compatriot's shoulders. 

The boy jumped, and the canid creature pounced…!

Snap!

A sharp sound cracked through the room. Artemisia had turned in time to see the creature nearly take her head off... then vanish with a snap. Hythlodaeus calmly walked over to the boy, then Hades followed to check on the woman beside him.

"Calm, child, everything is as it should be," Hythlodaeus knelt down, then spied the broken mask nearby. He calmly picked it up, then put his free hand on the boy's head.

"Hades," Artemisia said, shakily, "Or, I suppose I should call you Emet-Selch now, hm?" She smiled a little, then stood up. "Thank you for all the help. This was--"

"An accident. I understand. They happen. Though," he looked over to the near-unconscious child, as his friend put his arms around him, "Pray tell, why is he here?"

"His innate skill at creating creatures," Artemisia replied, then looked to where the canine had been only a moment ago. She reached up to her neck, then looked back to Hades. "Since Vaseilos was reassigned, Xene thought we should bring him in to finalize the balance of the summoning. I agreed, because I thought if we could showcase his talent to the rest of the Bureau, they might let go of their prejudices, and Telemachos approved of it, even, so--"

"Does Lahabrea know he's here?"

"Of course he does, he was over-excited to hear that we'd recruited Asopus, he all but insisted we make him part of this particular concept-summoning." She sighed and bit her lip. "I must help with recovery efforts and trying to get the summoning chamber in less of a...state. I beg you, tell our Emissary that his brother performed perfectly well, the accident was not his fault. Master Lahabrea will be pleased with his progress...and I will attempt to calm the others' nonsensical ramblings about curses while he recovers."

"You were very brave, Ambrosia, I'm certain Asopus will give you a treat when he wakes," Hythlodaeus smiled at the little creature as he gathered the slumped, unfighting Asopus into his arms. 

Hades made a face at all the information he'd been given. He nodded in reply to Artemisia, then swept from the room, and followed his friend out to the streets in silence.

Once outside, Hades broke off, then headed back towards the park he'd come from.

"Hmm? Are you off to sleep again?" The question gained no response, to which Hythlodaeus grinned, "Should I inform her of your news on the way to Anyder?" 

Emet-Selch stopped, then glanced over his shoulder with an unreadable expression. 

Hythlodaeus turned to head off, "Go rest, my friend! I'll let Perseph--"

"You'll do no such thing, I can handle that myself," Hades responded with a very deep sigh. His friend had prodded him intentionally and it had worked. He'd go find her and tell her of today's events himself. 

Hythlodaeus chuckled, clearly pleased with himself, and away towards Anyder's medical wing he went, the boy in his arms drifting away from consciousness...and as he did, the vision, too, faded away, the room in the Pendants flowing back into sudden focus.

When it seemed like the room was stable again, Angel and Shoto opened their eyes, the grip of the Echo loosened. The female Miqo'te shook her head sharply, to clear the aftereffects from the Echo away, causing her teal-flecked hair to bounce in and out of her face. She spied the male Miqo'te, now kneeling on the floor. He shook his head much more carefully... 

Was he crying? The Keeper stopped, then reached up to wipe at his eyes, which confirmed that she hadn't been seeing things. She frowned. How hard had the Echo been on her friend…?

Wait! Emet-Selch!

They both immediately looked around the room, only to find that the Ascian was still right where they'd left him, his golden eyes staring sharply at them both, piercingly. Gone was any of his usual affect; the look he gave them was almost that of a lion staring at smaller animals.

"...What did you see?" The question was more or less a demand. 

Angel felt his stomach flip-flop. The Ascian must be furious. That scene had been torn from his memories, after all, hadn't it? 

He bit his lip before he quietly replied, "I...w-we...saw... a young boy," he trailed off a bit, then looked over to Shoto; he was after reassurance that she'd seen something similar. "It seemed like... he was a parrrt of... some sort of... summoning...? I-It was…" 

The White Mage gripped at his robes, up near his neck. He was at a loss of words on what it was they witnessed. The feelings of unease that had come from the boy felt too familiar, more so than just a simple Echo vision; his mind began to wander in the silence. 

《Hm~? When was the last time the Echo hit you this hard...?》

Angel stayed silent, but the voice's question was still accurate--when was the last time he felt completely exhausted just from a vision...?

"The Bureau summoned something...Not a Primal, some sort of bird…?" Shoto's words seemed to bring the male Miqo'te back to the present, though he still seemed slightly distracted. He nodded as she continued, "It was supposed to be pure magick, life given to aether, but...something went terribly wrong. It almost felt like Phoenix, and what went wrong...With..."

She trailed off. 

While he did his best to relax his expression, Hades couldn't help how tense he felt at her positive identification of the memory.... The day when young Asopus had first been brought into the Bureau, an attempt to uncover the full depths of his potential. Lahabrea's idea, of course; the Speaker had been practically obsessed with both of Prorektor Apollo's sons.

Poor Asopus. The boy had been talented, true, but he was timid, his skills imprecise, and he was a great ball of unrefined aether. The results had been predictably tragic. By Hythlodaeus' request, he had cleaned up the ugly aftermath of the experiment, and saved the other Bureau researcher from being savaged by a rogue concept summoned from the boy's terror and the still-active matrix. 

How curious that the Echo dredged up that particular memory? Perhaps it was simply an object lesson, he thought, relaxing a little at last. 

"Well, then, I believe I understand what you saw; one of the Bureau's mishaps with the very creation magic we were just discussing. Just as it was commonplace for concepts to be summoned forth, it goes without saying that creation magic is quite dangerous for those who don't properly understand it, hm?"

Shoto simply nodded mutely, and Angel didn't respond; the Ascian let out a long, drawn-out sigh. "Perhaps it'd be best if we dropped this particular subject, for now." He glanced curiously over to the nearby bag Angel had brought with him.

Angel followed the Ascian's gaze, 'Right! I brought that here to help!' he thought, as he carefully stood. His ears flicked as he hurried over to the desk, pushing aside some lightheadedness. The Keeper shifted the jumbled sandwiches around, and tried to put the previous topic; and the swirl of confused, violent emotions he was still feeling; out of his mind. He removed the sandwiches that were still edible from their packaging, then pulled out the slightly bruised fruit. Lastly, he pulled out a smaller; now crumpled; bag, and held it out to Shoto as he leaned on the desk.

"It's a few days worth of herbal medicine for a bird, but... it should be about two doses for a person. We could mix it with food or drink or," he looked to Emet-Selch before he continued, "...he could swallow the bitter medicine on its own." 

It was hard to tell if Angel had worded it intentionally or not, but Shoto, at least, knew how much Angel hated bitter things... so... maybe it was just a coincidence. 

The Ascian raised a brow at the mention of food and drink; he didn't know how he felt about the medicine. 

"I'm surprised," he drawled. "So far, that's two Warriors of Light willing to play at being my nursemaid, without anything asked in return. Has my wicked charm really become so devastatingly effective? Aren't you afraid I'll suddenly take the advantage, turn the tables on you?" 

Shoto glared at him with a somewhat serious expression as he said that, and stepped forward, pointing at Emet-Selch. "For one, we haven't said we trust you. For another, you were the one who offered ‘peace in our time', as I remember it, not a little while ago, due to your injuries! And for a third thing, you probably should've taken the time to go after us while we were crippled by the Echo just now, because--"

Emet-Selch laughed and put his hands up, though he seemed surprised, at least a little, at Shoto's vehemence. "Alright, alright, goodness me! You take my jests so poorly, Hero." His shoulders slumped a little and he gave a wry smile, spreading his arms into a shrug again. "I will note for you both that my goal, even now, has not changed. I wish to bring about the Rejoining. But," he added, noticing Shoto visibly tense up further as he spoke, "do calm down. I want to investigate...different approaches. After all, despite the lack of a Calamity and its attendant aether, your souls have been rejoined quite successfully. So I now wonder...what other options might be present, though I still desire Amaurot's resurrection? That's not so terrible, is it?"

"...Hmph. No, I suppose not," sighed Shoto. Hades allowed himself a small smile, which allowed him to hide the growl of his stomach, thankfully audible only to him thus far, though his amber-eyed gaze followed the food without him consciously willing it. Damn this mortality! He was above base urges like hunger!

"I-I can... make some tea... to go with the food," Angel offered, as he carefully handed the sandwiches and fruit to Shoto, then headed over to the little kitchen area of her quarters, still clearly troubled by...everything. 

As he removed the teapot and three cups from the cupboard, that familiar voice entered Angel's thoughts, as he started to prepare a quick, hot tea.

《Are you gonna try to ask Ice about this little Echo vision...?》

'Anubis,' Angel thought in reply, as he put the kettle on the stove to heat the water. 'I... I don't know yet.'

《Something felt different that time. I don't think you've had a reaction like someone kicked your kitten before...》

The voice trailed off, as Angel gripped the hot pad he had meant to set on the counter. 

'Perhaps... a different... metaphor,' Angel growled quietly, then released the hot pad and shook his head a bit.

《Oh, right~... Your 'Stray Problem'...》

The White Mage glared at the teapot in silence. He chose not to respond to what felt like a pure taunt. The lack of response didn't seem to stop the voice, though. He continued as Angel reached over to get the canister of tea leaves.

《...Y'know. The Paragon's right about you being too kind. Too trusting. You take in every stray you find, without ever questioning anything...》

'S-So...?' Angel fumbled with the lid of the canister. Anubis paused, then spoke a bit coldly, his question heavy with implication.

《...Isn't that how you always end up getting hurt...?》

"Shut up!" The White Mage hissed as he dropped the canister with a quiet clatter. The lid had stayed attached, but he didn't pay attention to that. Angel instantly covered his mouth as his eyes widened; he hadn't meant to respond out loud. 

Shoto had walked over to put a sandwich and one of the fruits on the nightstand for Emet-Selch; she turned her head to look at Angel. The Ascian was blinking and looking at him as well.

"Angel? Is everything okay?" She tilted her head a bit. The male Miqo'te blushed, then uncovered his mouth as he turned his head to reply with a slight nod. 

"Y-Yes. I-It's fine. I'm f-fine," he then turned back to the teapot, hurriedly stuffing tea leaves into the strainer...after a moment of watching this and looking between the two, Hades cleared his throat, deciding upon another change of topic.

"I do hate to pry, but given the current state of my clothes, might I bother you in particular, dear Keeper of the Moon, for any spare clothing beyond this?" He put his head on his palm rather dramatically, glancing to Shoto and affecting a theatrically put-upon tone, though he grinned as he spoke. "I'm aware, of course, that the lady of the house prefers my current attire, but it's so dreadfully exposed, don't you think?"

Shoto growled in her throat and pinched the bridge of her nose as her cheeks flushed red again; she had put out of her mind that the Ascian was still in the bathrobe from before. Ugh. Of course he'd choose to be a pain about it! She looked to Angel herself as Emet-Selch finished the question, the other Miqo'te catching her gaze even as he processed Hades' words.

"Well... I have a... sparrre," he flicked his ears, then shook his head to clear it a bit with a frustrated pout. "I have a spare traveling robe... I-I keep it here, in the Pendants, in case it's too cold," he frowned, "but it's in Ice's and my room... at the other end of the hall." He made a face as he looked to Emet-Selch for a moment, then realized how tall he was compared to him. "I-It's made to reach my ankles, so I think... it would still... be a little short... on you." The male Miqo'te tilted his head a little, "But it would probably cover you... more... than a bathrobe would?" He trailed off a bit.

《An Ascian, wearing your clothes, in Shoto's room...?》Anubis spoke up once more, as he pointed out the problem with this situation; albeit with a slightly mocking mental tone. Angel hadn't thought about that... but he'd already offered. 《By the Twelve, Angel... What will Ice think about this scandalous turn of events...?》

A heavy, guilty feeling sank into his stomach, and his throat tightened a bit. His heart pounded a bit faster as he suddenly wondered how he would even begin to explain any of this to his husband. 

The kettle started to boil and interrupted Angel's thoughts with a quiet whistle. He hurriedly turned to pour the water into the prepared teapot, looking away from Shoto and Emet-Selch again. The White Mage was grateful for the sudden distraction. 

After a few moments, Angel carefully brought the tray over to the desk, the three teacups, some sugar cubes, and a small container with cream all placed around the pot in the center. He spoke as he headed over.

"J-Just so you know... Sh-Shoto and I help, because th-that's just... how we arrre." He stopped to sit the tray on the desk to let the tea steep, "You... You knew that... back then... so... I-I think," he looked back to Emet-Selch and finished his sentence, "..th-that's why we'rrre... all in this mess... togetherrr." His tail flicked, to accentuate his point, even as he pushed aside quiet mental snickering from the voice of Anubis in his mind, and fervently wished he could better quiet his nervous purring habit in times like this. 

Shoto thought for a moment, looking over their Ascian guest herself, who seemed to be digesting Angel's speech.

"Wait. I have an idea." She once more walked over to the armoire from where she'd gotten the fresh linens earlier, and carefully dug around for a few moments before she exclaimed, "Aha! Here we go!"

Emet-Selch's attention drawn, he watched her closely as she returned to him with a folded set of dark-colored, silken clothing, which she held out to him rather proudly. Rolling his eyes for melodramatic effect, his smirk became a genuine wince as he moved to get up, instantly catching the headboard with one hand to steady himself. Without thinking, Shoto immediately moved over to help steady him. 

Her hand braced his arm, and the feeling of connection, that shared aether between her and the Ascian, lit up like a firework. She very suddenly felt his pain; the pain of the wound that radiated through his core. Her ears flattened as she mirrored his wincing expression, gasping with the sudden agony…

And then they had separated again, and the feeling was gone.

"Are you okay…?!" Angel had hurried to her side, all concern for Shoto's well-being; she simply nodded. Hades, too, looked worried...but then his eyes darted to the side, he took the clothes, and he hurried into the bathroom to change. Shoto stood there in a daze, willing the sensation to pass and the room to stop spinning, which it slowly did.

'There it is again...But I didn't feel this way when the Echo overtook us earlier…? What is this connection…?'

After a few minutes, Emet-Selch returned, now wearing a black dress shirt, the sleeves short with a bellow accompanied with a simple white vest, and a pair of dark gray dress slacks.

Shoto blinked and couldn't quite help herself from staring at him, her mouth a small ‘o' shape of surprise. She'd picked out the clothing, yes, but she hadn't expected him to look quite so...dashing in this outfit! It lacked the regal arrogance of his Garlean robes; instead it seemed to let him present an almost gentle...confidence...what was she thinking?! Her cheeks red as dragonfire, she quickly looked away.

Emet-Selch raised an eyebrow as he realized she'd been giving him the once-over, but shrugged nonchalantly, deciding to let her off the hook this time.

"It's not my normal attire, but it shall do." He headed back towards the bed, but had to pause once more, as pain shot through his body again after the quick movement. Shoto looked back to him, then shook her head, biting her lip.

"You should lay back down. We can bring your tea over to the bedside." 

Emet-Selch made a face at that; he'd always hated exposing weakness, and there were very few he wanted to show vulnerability to, let alone depend on the aid of. Stubbornly, he trudged back to the bed on his own, then laid back on the bed with visible reluctance as he watched them. 

Angel moved aside to let him pass, and then retrieved the tray of tea; it was well-steeped by now, and ready to serve. He picked up the teapot, and began to pour the tea into the cups before looking to their Ascian guest.

"H-How do you like it?" Angel blushed, then quickly added. "Th-The tea. Yourrr... tea." He sat the teapot down before he dropped it, he'd only gotten two cups poured. 

"I will take it as is." Emet-Selch waved his hand at the fuss. 

Shoto nodded to Angel, then picked up the first cup and saucer. She brought them over to the Ascian, and sat them beside the sandwich and fruit she'd placed on the nightstand while Angel was making the tea; to his credit, the Ascian quietly picked up the cup and sipped the tea. He seemed to appreciate it, wordlessly, then began to eat and drink in silence, allowing Shoto to walk back over to Angel. 

She stood with her back to Emet-Selch, and spoke to the male Miqo'te in a low whisper, "We can not let Ice know about this just yet. You know how he'll react," she frowned at the thought.

 Angel matched her hushed whisper as he responded with a shaky nod.

"I-I do... He'd be down here in a hearrrtbeat." He flicked an ear in annoyance at his purrs, but was focused on his concern for Shoto. He glanced to Emet-Selch, then back to Shoto, "But I--," 

Shoto shook her head slightly, and immediately interrupted his argument as she continued.

"It's getting late. You should head back." She looked over her shoulder towards the Ascian, "I can keep an eye on him." 

Angel again glanced to Emet-Selch, then back to Shoto; his expression was still worried. The White Mage bit his lip, then pinned his ears back. "...I don't really want to leave you alone with him either. I'd feel just as guilty if something happened to you than I would not telling my husband about what we just did." Angel heard the hissed snicker from the back of his mind, which didn't help the tightening knot in his stomach. 

"I understand," Shoto nodded, "but I should be fine. I'd rather not leave him alone." 

As they spoke, Emet-Selch finished his tea, sat the cup and saucer on the bedside table, then cleared his throat. "My thanks for the meal, but while you two conduct your...private business, I'm going to rest. I'll need my strength if I'm to keep up with you two." 

Both Miqo'te jumped at his response, ears perked as if they hadn't heard correctly, then looked directly at the Ascian. Shoto spoke first, a bit of panic in her tone.

"What do you mean 'keep up with us'?!" He lazily turned his back to them laying his head against the pillow.

"Hoh...? I mean what I say. Someone has to keep your decisions from becoming dangerously poor, no? Especially given what we've learned today. On the morrow, dear heroes.

The Ascian yawned and gave a lazy half-wave as he finished speaking, then closed his eyes with a small, triumphant smirk on his face... 

Shoto and Angel both took a moment to process his proclamation-- he clearly meant to follow along with the party in the morning. 

Shoto looked back at Angel, to see that the look on his face said he had realized it too.

"Well, I," she gestured to the door, "I guess we should... get some rest?"

Angel curled his tail as he nodded to Shoto, still worried.

"If... If that's," he trailed off and pinned his ears back, "N-Now I have to tell Ice... If only to warrrn him... It would be farrr worrrse if he's surrrprised by him in the morning." The White Mage frowned at the thought, then shook his head a little. He moved to leave, still visibly hesitant to leave her alone. He stopped with his hand on the doorknob, then made a face. "Shoto," he turned back to her, "If you need us, forrr anything, y-you know... wherrre ourrroom is... o-okay...?" He winced at the slurred purred words. The thought of trying to explain all of this to Ice without him barreling right back here in five minutes was wreaking havoc on his already frazzled nerves. 

Shoto simply nodded as she opened the door for the White Mage to head back. She gave him as reassuring a smile as she could so he'd feel okay leaving her alone for the night. 

Angel paused just outside the door, "Just please...be safe…" With that, the Keeper headed back to his room, his thought trying to parse far too much from just the last few hours... and still no clue where to start explaining any of it. 

The little voice in his head was not helpful at all in his silent trip up the darkened hallway.

Notes: Artwork this week was done by @angel-lockhart​. :3

[Emet-Selch joined your party without your consent.] Really leave the room? [Leave] [Cancel]

This week we referenced the 4th story of the Tales from the Shadows. If you haven't read the side-stories, and are interested in doing so, you can do so here: https://na.finalfantasyxiv.com/lodestone/special/tales_from_the_shadows/sidestory_04/#sidestory_04

[therainbowwillow]

When Hell Freezes Over AU: Part 6

Apologies for the wait. I honestly did not have an idea for what, exactly, I wanted to happen. Then I found inspiration! And then Tumblr deleted my draft. So... overall, this took far too long. Enjoy! There will be an epilogue shortly.

As Hermes approaches the bar, he notices the air has already begun to warm. People trickle into the streets to witness the miracle they’d played no role in causing. How many of them had refused to help search for Orpheus? How many deaths could’ve been avoided if they’d found him sooner? How much of this had been his fault? As he’d run home, Hermes had seen so clearly every mistake he’d made. Every one of them could easily lead Orpheus to his death.

At a glance, the boy looks dead already. Orpheus’s faint heartbeat and shallow breaths remind Hermes that he still has a chance, a slim chance, to survive. He spares the bar no more than a glance, instead turning towards the train station. The cars are always pleasantly heated, another of Hades’s attempts to appease his wife. He lifts Orpheus inside and gently lays him across a booth.

Hermes finds a stack of blankets under a seat. He drapes them over Orpheus, bundling him up like a young child. He brushes the young man’s wet hair out of his eyes and takes a seat beside him. Orpheus tosses in his sleep, draws in a shaky breath.

Orpheus gasps and sits bolt upright. Hermes catches him before he falls back against the booth. “Orpheus?”

“We... we need to go,” Orpheus stammers. 

“We don’t need to go anywhere. Eurydice will be here soon.”

“I can’t let them hurt her,” he pleads. “The Furies will come for us.” 

“No, Orpheus, we’ll be fine.”

“Take me to Hades. Let him decide what will become of me. But if he lays so much as a finger upon Eurydice, I swear to the Styx-”

“Orpheus...” Hermes warns.

“I swear to the Styx I will end him.”

Hermes pulls him closer. “Hades has kindness in his heart. You’ll both be alright.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean-”

“Hush. I don’t want your apologies.” Hermes pops the cork out of a nearby bottle, its contents still steaming. “From the River Phlegethon. It’ll help.”

Orpheus takes a sip. He winces. “It’s hot.”

Hermes nods. “But it will help. Get some rest.” Hermes gently lays him back against the booth. 

...

The doors roll open and Persephone steps inside, half-carrying Eurydice. Almost immediately, the train begins to move, willed forwards by some unseen driver.

“Is he alright?” the young woman asks, her voice trembling. Persephone lowers her into a booth. 

Hermes hands her a stack of blankets. “Fine. He needs rest.” 

“What happens now?” she wonders. 

“You won’t be separated from Orpheus,” Hermes says. “You will be spared from the worst of your punishment.”

“How can you be certain? Orpheus...” she lowers her voice. “You saw the chaos he caused.”

Hermes nods. “My agreement with Lord Hades stands.”

“And what was that agreement, exactly?” Persephone inquires. “The terms. Specifics. I know my husband.”

“Eurydice was to stop the winter,” he explains. “She succeeded, which spares them from the worst possibilities. The Furies were... not satisfied, but Hades’s deal was final. I ensured Orpheus’s safety, as well as Eurydice’s. Your husband will decide his terms, but there will be a reward for Eurydice’s success. And like I said, the worst is ruled out.”

Persephone half-smiles. “You always were a good liar, Hermes.”

He glances at Orpheus. Afraid, Eurydice thinks, for her lover or of him? “Persephone?” He almost sounds offended. 

“Not a lie, I suppose, but certainly not the whole truth,” Persephone corrects herself. “My husband did not let you off so easily. What did you sacrifice? What did you sign away?”

“Nothing,” he snaps, anger flaring in his eyes.

“Hermes... After all these centuries, I’d have hoped you would have more trust in me.”

“Seph...”

“Give me the truth.” Her voice is firm.

“That’s the trade, I suppose,” he mutters. “Your trust.” She narrows her eyes, says nothing. “Stop him. By whatever means necessary. That was the deal.”

“If I failed...” Eurydice begins.

“You wouldn’t have gotten the chance,” Hermes tells her. 

“The knife.” She reaches into her pocket and draws out the blade she had so desperately tried to rid herself of. It had returned. It had always returned to her pocket. She examines it now, up and down. Two metal snakes weave their way up the hilt. “Take it,” she growls.

He does. In his hands, the blade transforms into a staff, wrapped up with the very same serpents. “This was my only choice.”

“A 50/50 shot to kill Orpheus?” 

“The alternative...”

“What the hell did you agree to?” Eurydice snarls.

He looks away. “The knife. You wouldn’t have been given a choice. You... still belong to Hades. He would have guided your hand and Orpheus...” his voice trails off.

She smiles, as if admiring his madness and she laughs, soon cut off by sobs. Hermes seems to consider giving her some gentle touch of comfort, but Persephone is at her side first, shooting him a sharp glare. “You...” Eurydice wipes her eyes. “You would’ve watched me murder him.”

“Would you have preferred the furies?” he asks, not rhetorically, Eurydice realizes. She remembers the screams of disloyal workers. Thieves who had stolen from the work lines. Shades who had dishonorably killed men in life. 

“Yes.” Her answer is almost a gasp. Would she really prefer his pain over... What? Her guilt? She knows it is selfish, but to kill him would have been torturous. No amount of Lethe water could wash away ingrained horrors. And oh, how desperately she would have tried to forget.

The rest of the train ride is silent. Hermes sits as far from Eurydice as he can get, never taking his eyes off of Orpheus. Persephone speaks under her breath, as if preparing an argument. Eurydice stays at her lover’s side, half wishing he would wake. 

She remembers what she had seen in the woods. The road to Hadestown. But the underworld hadn’t taken her. She had woken, Orpheus in her arms. He’d been so cold. So helpless. He hardly looks any better now. His wounds had been bandaged, but he would bear scars. The madness of his attackers would survive by him. 

...

The train lurches to a halt. If Orpheus notices, he makes no motion to show it, still deeply asleep. Between Persephone and Eurydice, he’s easily carried. Orpheus had never been heavy. Always slender, light as a feather. His time in the woods hadn’t done him any favors. 

Hades meets them at the station. “Persephone.” 

“Husband.”

“Once again,” he remarks, “mortals prove themselves more capable than one might expect. Take the boy to my office.”

Persephone scoffs. “What now?”

“It is warm, Seph,” Hermes says.

She whirls, dropping Orpheus into Eurydice’s arms. She catches him with a grunt. “And who asked you?” Persephone snaps.

“He is my son. I haven’t forgotten my love-”

“Love?” she mocks. “You would have let him die. Not a word to me. Not a word to the girl who would’ve killed him.”

“He lives,” Hermes reminds her.

“For how long?” Eurydice asks under her breath, quiet enough that the others don’t hear her. Orpheus looks terrible. His hair is matted and his skin is still cold to the touch. She’s reminded, painfully, of her journey back to Hadestown after he had turned. She feels him slipping, just as she had. She speaks up now, louder this time. “Something’s wrong.” 

Hermes checks Orpheus’s pulse and presses a hand against his forehead. “He’s too cold. Listen to Lord Hades. I know it seems... well...” He lowers his voice. “Eurydice, he’s your shot at a future. Both of you. Even if Orpheus doesn’t survive.”

She flinches at the proposition, but rises to her feet, aided by Hermes, who takes the burden of Orpheus’s weight. Persephone rolls her eyes, but Eurydice waves her away. “The office,” she agrees.

Hades guides them down the thin streets of Hadestown, beneath high rises, where thousands of souls reside, and finally to his own office building. The first twenty-five floors, Persephone had explained once, over a bottle of wine, make up his bedroom. And the other seventy-five are his office and personal library. Eurydice had assumed it was a joke. But now the building stretches up before her and she’s sure there must be more than a hundred floors.

Persephone pulls open the doors. “Welcome to the castle,” she says, sarcastically. Hades steps inside, letting his hand brush against his wife’s as he moves past her. Persephone guides them to a lounge room where Hermes lays Orpheus across the over-sized couch. Eurydice strikes a match and the fireplace instantly roars with flames.

Hades takes a seat in the stiffest chair in the room. Persephone drags her cushy armchair beside his nearly solid seat and sinks into it. “A deal,” Hades begins.

Persephone groans loudly. “You’d think the God of the Dead would have a little more empathy,” she emphasizes the word, “for the sick and dying.” 

Hermes just about collapses into his seat, across the room from the others. An argument, he remembers. He needs to pose some argument. The room is spinning. He blinks, trying to force the spots out of his vision. He’d felt like this since his first venture into the woods. He’d considered mentioning it, but he’d never found the chance. 

“And I don’t just mean Orpheus,” Persephone adds. “Hermes?” He glances up at her. 

“I’m sorry,” he mutters.

“Go find yourself a blanket,” she tells him. He doesn’t move. If he stands, he’s pretty sure he’ll pass out. 

“Can we just... get on with it?”

“You want a drink?” He shakes his head slightly. He hadn’t eaten or drunk much at all since Orpheus had disappeared. It made it easier, somehow, to know exactly how his son felt. It was starting to wear on him. Hunger, thirst, his lack of sleep... but a god should be able to bear it, and so he does.

“I will not waste time,” Hades continues. “It appears that our poet...” Hermes almost smiles. When had Hades begun to consider Orpheus anything more than ‘the boy’? A phrase he said as if the young man was a bag of dirt. The King of the Underworld continues: “May not have long to live.”

Eurydice squeezes her lover’s hand. Hermes hadn’t dared approach them once he’d set Orpheus down, but even from across the room, he sees how shallow Orpheus’s breaths have become. 

“If he dies, he is mine. No amount of willing otherwise will change that fact, so we must come to an agreement before he does,” Hades says, matter-of-fact. “Eurydice,” he flicks the young woman a coin. “He may need it. Bodies fade far faster the nearer they are to the Styx. You won’t have time for a funeral rite.”

She nods numbly and slips the coin into Orpheus’s hand. “Now, our deal,” Hades goes on, “Your achievements are admirable, Eurydice. As are your lover’s. I will not keep you apart from him. Still, he cannot simply go free. Orpheus killed at least a few dozen mortals by his own hand and many more by the power of his storm.”

Hermes tries to say something, but he finds no sound comes out of his mouth. Persephone fills in. “Hades... he’s a boy in love.”

The King of the Dead nods. “I have no desire to punish him. To the dismay of The Furies, that is. However, I must keep an eye on him. This will ensure his safety, to some degree, for our relatives on Olympus may not find him here.”

“Their terms then?” Persephone says, bluntly. 

Hades sighs. “Nothing harsh. He has suffered the loss of his lover twice over and he will contend with the horrors he saw for the rest of his days.” Eurydice strokes Orpheus’s tear-stained cheek. 

Hades continues: “The underworld is overpopulated. I had not planned for so many new shades. I have no housing or work for them, so they will be sent to the surface to live out their lives as they deserve. Hermes, you will guide their souls to the overworld. Slowly. Do not disrupt the flow of Hadestown.”

Eurydice smiles, solemnly. Her lover will appreciate that, she knows.

“As for the both of you, Orpheus will remain underground for the time being, as will you, Eurydice. Do not think of this as cruelty,” he quickly adds. “You will be safe and provided for. Your stay will not be forever.”

“How long is ‘not forever?’“ Eurydice asks carefully.

“For now, let us say ten years. You signed a contract, Eurydice, so you are legally mine,” he reminds her. “Orpheus did not. One of you is bound to this realm, the other is not. Thus, once I deem Orpheus ready to leave or our ten years is up, you will together spend six months on the surface and six months underground. Half the year for your death, half the year for his life.”

“That’s all?” Persephone asks.

Hades groans. “Don’t sound so surprised, my love.”

“Do we have a deal?” he asks Eurydice.

"And if he dies?” she mumbles.

“The deal stands. He did not sign a contract, he is not bound to this realm.”

“Then I accept your terms,” Eurydice says. “And in the name of Orpheus, I accept your terms in his place.”

[undertale-rho]

Multiverse Saga: Taken!Altertale - Chapter 3

"Toriel!? Frisk?!" Asgore shouted as he ran out the door. "Are you two okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine." Toriel said, still trying to get the box to appear while still clutching at her stomach. "What about you?"

Asgore clutched his own stomach. "Well, to tell you the truth, there's a sudden... gnawing here in my gut."

"So do I." Toriel said. "What do you think it means?"

Asgore shook his head. "I have no idea."

Toriel looked back at Frisk, finding that her eyes seemed to be wide with... something.

Frisk shot off, running further into the town.

"Frisk!" Toriel shouted. "Wait up."

Frisk didn't slow down, at least not until she got in front of the Snowed Inn. Once there, she stuck her hand out into the space between the Snowdin Shop and the Snowed Inn.

Nothing happened.

Frisk's eyes widened further as she continued to try and do something.

Toriel finally reached her. Not wanting to lose her again, she grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her in such a way that they were face-to-face.

"What's going on? What did you do?" Toriel demanded.

"I-I-I don't know!" Frisk stammered out. "I... I can't SAVE."

Toriel's grip loosened slightly.

"What...?" she asked.

"I can't SAVE or LOAD." Frisk said again. "I can't even RESET!"

Toriel let go of Frisk's wrist. Her face felt cold; not from the biting air, but from... something else. She looked back at Elysium, the source of the tolling bells.

"Sans." she mumbled.

At that point, Asgore finally caught up with them. Before he could speak, however, Toriel shot him and Frisk an authoritative glare.

"Frisk, go with Asgore back to the house and lock it up. Don't answer it for anyone but me, Undyne, or Sans."

"What? Why?" Asgore asked. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to Elysium to find Sans and Papyrus. That... wave, or whatever it was, came from there."

"Well then I'm coming too." Asgore said defiantly.

"No!" Toriel shouted.

Both Frisk and Asgore stepped back.

"Gori, please. I'll be fine. It'll only be a few minutes."

Asgore sighed. "Fine, but I expect you to return in the next hour!"

"Deal."

And with that, Frisk and Asgore retreated to the house they'd emerged from only a few minutes earlier.

Toriel watched them disappear through the front door. When the door closed, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, focusing on Elysium. But when she opened them again, the sight of her still being in Snowdin Town surprised her.

"Wha... what am I still doing here?" she mumbled to herself.

She closed her eyes again, focusing harder on the palace.

"I... I can't feel the shortcuts anymore."

Toriel opened her eyes and looked back to Elysium. Her jaw tightened.

"Damn it..." she swore as she began running across the town, past her house, and into the mouth of the Waterfall Caves.

The Waterfall Caves were a dark, dank maze of tunnels, bogs, and caverns, and also the only safe way from Snowdin Town to Elysium. Toriel ran as fast as she could, past numerous disgruntled Monsters who'd been questioning why the bells were tolling or who'd been clutching their stomachs in pain.

Upon reaching the Quiet Village—the second largest single settlement within the Caves—Toriel nearly ran right into Undyne, who was in the process of calming the townspeople down.

"Toriel!" Undyne yelled when she saw her running. As she got close, Undyne wrapped her arm over Toriel's shoulder, whispering "What's going on? Are the Humans invading now that we've broken the Barrier?"

"I don't know." Toriel responded. "I was just heading to Elysium to find out why the bells were tolling."

A smile spread across Undyne's face.

"Great!" she said. "I'll come with you."

"No, I need you to head back to Snowdin and make sure Asgore and Frisk are okay."

Undyne looked back over the small crowd.

"Nah," she said, "Asgore's good on his own. He's got this, I know he does.

"Besides," Undyne said before Toriel could raise protest, "I'm... I'm worried about Papyrus."

Toriel looked down at the ground, thinking on this. After a minute, she simply sighed.

"Alright." she said. "But we gotta be quick."

Undyne's smile returned. "Right behind you!"

The remainder of the Waterfall Caves passed quickly, and Toriel and Undyne soon arrived at the base of Mount Hot. Near the place where the Caves transitioned into the Hotlands stood a great metal laboratory. Cutting to the left of the laboratory, into the dark maw of the mountain, Toriel and Undyne found that the L1 elevator—an elevator that could take them straight to the summit—was broken. With nowhere else to turn, they both returned to the laboratory and walked inside.

"Alphys?" they both called upon entering.

"STAY BACK!!!" a desperate voice screamed as soon as the automatic door closed.

Toriel and Undyne looked around the lab. There, in the far corner, sat Alphys. She fidgeted with her hands wildly.

"Alphys, are you okay?" Toriel asked, slowly stepping closer.

Alphys screamed again as she approached, shooting up from her corner and sliding along the wall to the nearby door.

"Alphys, calm down!" Toriel shouted, running and grabbing the Monster. "Undyne, help me."

Undyne sprinted over and grabbed Alphys's arms. Alphys, in turn, began freaking out even more.

"LET ME GO!!!!" she screamed. "HE'LL KILL US ALL. BUTCHER US LIKE ANIMALS. I SAW IT, I SAW IT ALL. ALL OF IT WITH MY EYES."

"Let's get her up to her room." Undyne said.

"Alphys," Toriel said. "you need to calm down. Nothing's gonna hurt you."

"NO, YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" Alphys continued to scream. "HE'LL HURT ME. HE'LL HURT ALL OF US. I SAW HIM. THEIR MANGLED BODIES ARE BURNED INTO MY EYES, THEIR SCREAMS ECHO IN MY HEAD. LET ME GO!!!"

Alphys sent out a wave of electricity, which shocked Toriel and Undyne, forcing them to let her go. Taking this opportunity, Alphys ran away from them, towards the door.

"Alphys, come back!" Toriel shouted, running after her.

"NO!" Alphys shouted back. "I won't sit here and wait for him to come. I won't wait for him to tear me apart like he did to all of them."

She ran through the door. By this time, Undyne had begun running again. When both Toriel and Undyne had run through the door, Alphys was standing near the cliff to the river of lava below.

Before their very eyes, Alphys leapt from the rocky pathway into the boiling magma, screaming as she fell. Upon entering the river, she burst from the surface, her skin melting off and showing off the bone beneath. After a few seconds, she sank back in, never to return.

"Wh... what the hell...!?" Undyne worked out. "Why?"

Toriel, wordless, stepped back into the lab, towards the screens she passed on the way in. They were all shattered, their electronics ripped from their core and scattered along the ground.

"Why did she do it?" Undyne asked Toriel when she approached.

Toriel simply stared at the broken electronics before her.

"I think... she saw something on these screens. Something that horrified her so much, she..." Toriel tapered off.

Toriel and Undyne stood, silently, in the lab for a few minutes longer. Eventually, Toriel stepped back towards the door Alphys had run through what felt like a lifetime ago.

"Where are you going?" Undyne asked.

"We need to get to Elysium and find Sans and Papyrus." Toriel answered.

Undyne, still in shock from Alphys, slowly nodded and followed Toriel out. Together, they both climbed up the face of the mountain.

Taken!Altertale : The Bells of Hades

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