#Looking for a certain Lord Of The Dead are we? Something tells me Hades' not gonna be very cooperative 😂🙈

[keepmovinjunior]

planned starter for ˗ˏˋ @vigilantdesert *

Megara's not sure she's ready for this.

❝ MEG, LISTEN. This is easily the last gig you'll have to do, eh? ❞ Hades's voice rings in her head; she remembers his speech from only yesterday. The way he'd moved in next to her, one arm thrown, uninvited, across her shoulders ━━ looking out, dreamfully, to the horizon, a greedy spark in his eye ━━ this was the last phase of his takeover. She can still smell the sulphur on his breath in her ear. Ugh.

❝ Picture it, okay, see, it's like this. There's the Gerudo flute, okay. And the one Chief. She fights, bam, the end, we lose, okay, it's back to the Styx for both of us. The flute plays, bam. We lose. You get it. Two simple objectives for you. Easy remedy. But with your fabulous acting skills, we've practically got this in the bag! You pull this one off right, see, and Mt. Olympus is mine; freedom is yours! You're off the hook. Never have to do a thing for me again for as long as you stay alive and kickin'. What could be better than that, eh? ❞ Hades knows exactly how to get under her skin, because nothing is, and she hates him for it. ❝ 'Course, ❞ with a flash of his hideous crocodile smile, as if he's read her mind, ❝ you're always welcome to call anytime, babe. We'll miss ya. ❞

There is nothing she wants more than to be free of Hades.

And so, with a heavy and tired heart, unfeeling and unabashed, she had agreed. She will infiltrate the Gerudo. She will distract the Chief; she will steal the flute. She will help the Lord of the Dead release the Calamity Ganon. She will finally be free. What else does she have to do, really?

Perhaps, once she is free, she will find something. Anything. But that was a line of thought for another day.

* * * * * * *

The sun is blaring, unforgiving; dunes of sand around her expansive and seemingly endless in every perceivable direction. Megara is struggling to walk in a scorching sea of golden barrenness. It's the time of day in which the light sits highest in the sky, and the sweat that gleams off of her forehead, dripping from her hairline, is real. Glancing upwards at it, Meg frowns. HELIOS HAS NO IDEA WHAT IS TO COME. Or, WELL, if he does ... he's sure not telling Zeus about it.

What a schmuck, she thinks, and then she wants to sneer, because it's such a Hades thing to think.

Her head and shoulders are covered in a simple gray cloak. It's poorly, and leaves her looking as such purposefully; torn at the seams on one shoulder, as if she had been attacked somewhere along the road. There's a Yiga symbol on the back of the hood, sun faded but strategic, and Meg is certain the Gerudo will recognize the symbol. This is the point.

She has one objective before her; she's supposed to find Urbosa. Any of the Gerudo would do, of course ━━ but Urbosa is the best. She will be the hardest to fool; the one in which all of the others will, consequently, look to. Hades has placed Meg here, knowing Urbosa would likely be training nearby, a blazing fury in an otherwise empty desert. If only Meg could find her, she thinks, as she struggles to walk up a dune ... she groans to herself. Everything looks empty...

And then?

In the distance, suddenly, Meg can spot a figure. COULD IT BE? The silhouette is tall; the hair large and unmistakably red. After a moment, there's a BOOM: and a CRACK ━━ and LIGHTNING. Meg's eyes widen at the majesty of the force she commands even from afar. Yes, there is no question now: this is Urbosa herself.

For a moment, Megara pauses.

Does she really want to proceed? Does she really want to be responsible for the destruction of a people, and possibly the world?

Come on, Meg, she coaches herself, closing her eyes, gathering the last of her strength, her passion, taking a few deep breaths. You can do this. One last job, and you're free.

Opening her eyes, deciding at last, she runs.

❝ HELP! Please! ❞

Megara screams to the Chieftain, her voice begging. It's desperate albeit softer and full of more femininity than usual. A helpless maiden in extreme peril; that's who she is. Were she able to feel anything at all, she might have impressed even herself with the level of conviction in its timbre. As if on cue, not planned, but certainly not unhelpful, Meg trips; losing her footing in the sand. She stumbles, falling to the ground, and stays there.

[pomegranates-and-blood]

νοσταλγία (Chapter 30)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: The usual

A/N: Like eleven things happen in the course of one chapter. I’m sorry lol

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius​ @heavenly1927​ @toe-vind-ek-jou​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @pieces-by-me​ @angelofthorr​ @samsationalwilson​  @peachyboneless​ @1950schick​ @punkrocknpearls​ @ietss​   @itsmysticalmystery​ @revolution-starter​​ @chibisgotovalhalla​

Ivar crawls over you, cages you against the cold ground, his lips a breath away from yours, “Half a kingdom for a promise...”

When you wake up the next morning, luckily free of any dreams you can remember, you are rather surprised by how not even Ivar getting out of bed, getting dressed, or the thralls that are walking around the room were able to wake you up.

And, of course, Ivar notices.

“Are you well?”

“Of course I am,” You reply easily, going through the motions of your day and slipping into the warm blue dress. When you pick the earrings and trinkets to wear today and walk back to your husband, you are greeted with a murmur of your name. After a deep breath, you amend, “Dreams, nothing more. I promise.”

“Don’t hide things from me.” Ivar reminds you, and you accept his words, feeling strangely reprimanded.

You start putting on the blue earrings you like to believe are the ones Ubbe gifted you shortly after your wedding, you muse, “‘Half a kingdom for a promise, half a soul for a ring’. That’s what they say about my Goddess, and her…”

“Marriage?”

“Abduction,” You correct, turning your back to him and trying and failing to suppress a shiver as he moves your hair out of the way with ease, fingers skimming over the bare skin of your back. “She had only to vow to be Lord Hades’ wife to earn half a kingdom, yet she had to give up half of her soul to bear his ring.

You toy with your own wedding ring absently, a nervous gesture you have found yourself doing more than once ever since Ivar first put it on your finger.

“You think that’s a bad deal?” Ivar insists, voice low by your ear, “She was made Queen.”

“Not fully, she…she is not fully anything. Not fully his, because he gives her up each spring, not fully her mother’s, who still mourns her every winter. Not dead, not alive. Nothing.”

“Or everything,” Ivar whispers, and he tugs a little harder on the laces of your dress, a playful reminder you ought to straighten your back. “I’d think you more than anyone would understand the privilege of being fully bound to nothing.”

“It wouldn’t be a privilege. I don’t know who I’d be, if…” If Fate weren’t tearing me in two.

“You could have been happy.” Ivar offers, voice low. You have a feeling he not only speaks of you and the circumstances of your life and what they made out of you.

You close your eyes, and let silence reign, because there’s no answer you can give that doesn’t lie.

Before you take your leave, you gather your strength, what your mother called your Athenian nobility, and call out Ivar’s name.

“You said I have your trust,” You start, certain steps taking you to the dresser where the golden snake a very skilled craftsman made into a bracelet lays. Without hesitation, you grab it, and put it on, on the same wrist Ivar did when he gifted it to you. “I want to talk with some men that arrived a few days ago. They come from Greece.”

He stops by the door, turning to you with a frown, “Your home?”

“Macedonia, further North from my-...from Eleusis. I want to know what…what the Gods have made of my land, of Greece. They surely have information.”

Ivar considers you for a few moments, before sighing, and limping towards a chair, where he sits.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he narrows his eyes, “I trust you, but I am far from an idiot.”

“If I were intending to fool you, I wouldn’t be telling you this.”

His head tilts to the side as he regards you. After a few moments, Ivar frowns and turns to you, “Am I the one being tested now?”

You offer him the same words he did once, “Can you blame me for my curiosity?”

Ivar considers your words, before accepting them with a movement of his head.

“Fine. But I want to be there.”

____

“The world you left behind isn’t the one it is now, Eleusinian.” The man tells you, offering a shrug. Your eyebrows lift, and you wonder if you ought to be offended, if there’s truly an edge of accusation behind the man’s words.

“Then tell her about it, hm?” Ivar presses, eyes set on the man that spoke, making something quite close to fear cross his features.

“I-I don’t know much.” The man stammers, but you step closer.

“It’s alright, I-…just tell me what you know.”

He shrugs, “There was an invasion by the Byzantine Empire on Laconia. It was all done on the orders of the Patriarch of Constantinople. To convert the…pagans of Laconia.”

The same crusade was sent to Attica, and they razed it all. They killed, and defiled, and burned. They won.

You grit your teeth, but force yourself to keep your voice steady as you press,

“And?”

“Sparta was well aware of the army they sent, they…prepared, and they fought. Anax Lysander was victorious. They burnt the Christians alive, left their bodies high up in the walls, for everyone to see.”

You smile slightly, brokenly. Leave it to Lysander to remind the Christians of their sins, burning their defeated warriors like they once burnt you. Who would have thought the mighty Anax of Laconia was capable of sentimentality?

“Those Athenians will not let you fight,” The Anax stands, arms crossed over his broad chest. “They will never follow a woman into battle.”

“I will not fight, Lysander,” You argue, “I do not need to.”

“Ah, I’ve heard that tone before,” Lysander’s mother chuckles, weathered skin wrinkling with her smile. Even her smile, you notice, is coated in iron and blood, backed by the mettle that makes Spartan women famous as they are. “You have your mother’s ambitions, child.”

“And my father’s drive. I do not come here empty handed, expecting Sparta to accept me without giving something in exchange.”

“And what is it you offer, sweet one?”

“An army,” You turn to your cousin, “Narses, the Strategus of Attica, he has put his men at my disposal.”

“For us to…what? Retake Greece from the Empire and their God?”

You smile. You know it is madness, you know it is a lost cause, but you still smile. And Lysander returns the smile, hungry and mad.

The man nods, slightly comforted, or reassured, it seems, by your smile.

“If I may,” One of the men says, stepping forward. He bows his head in greeting when he comes to stand before you, before speaking, “The Empire retreats from Spartan land. Your cousin has bought our lands and your Gods a few decades, with this display. The caliph recognizes Laconian independence from the Empire, if only because they have a common enemy. So do the Kievan Rus, and the Rashidun.”

You simplify his words with a phrase, and yet you know as you utter the words that you are standing there, begging for them to confirm it as true, to reassure you there’s no lie, no twist, in this.

“Laconia is free of the Empire. O-Of their God.”

The Macedonian man smiles, and nods his head, “It is free.”

You over your mouth as a sob threatens to leave your lips. Free.

The man bows his head again in a sign of respect.

“We honor your fight, even if we do not share your drive. May your Gods keep you, and our home.”

You nod your head, but you can’t say anything. Free.

“You can leave.” Ivar says somewhere behind you, but it sounds like you’re underwater.

The men leave, and you cannot move. Not because you don’t want to, but because you don’t think you can control your own body right now. Free.

Ivar stands before you, eyes searching yours. You cannot stop shaking.

You think you say his name, your voice small and broken.

His hand finds the back of your head, you think he is trying to soothe you with the soft caress of his rough hand on your hair.

A murmur of your name, and you can only look at him with wide eyes, begging him to have an answer to the chaos that brews inside you.

Ivar brings you to him, quickly and roughly, and you think dazedly that you wouldn’t have been able to thaw if he hadn’t made you move. Your face is pressed against his chest and you feel you can finally breathe since you’ve heard the word free.

Your hands scramble for purchase against him, and your breaths are quick and out of your control, and you…you…

The jarring movement of Ivar’s left arm as he thrusts his crutch deep into the ground, as if to find a way to keep you both upright, makes something break within you.

The panicked breaths become sobs, and you shut your eyes tight. You cry, you cry for the grief you carried for so long, you cry for the nostalgia that chokes you, you cry for the relief of being finally free of the flames.

Ivar doesn’t say anything, or if he does, you don’t hear it.

His free hand is warm and certain at the back of your head, keeping you safe and whole as you hold on desperately to him, trying to find any semblance of certainty in the world that has turned upside down.

Or maybe it is upright, for once, for the first time since they dragged your mother out of that temple and set her alight in front of you.

Free. Laconia is free of the Empire, of the Christians and their God.

You started a war you knew was doomed from the start, a war for the freedom you deserved, for the freedom your Gods had promised you. You hoped, you dreamt, you prayed, you died for that freedom; but deep down you always knew that it wasn’t a war you could win.

You believed for a while, when the pain of the burns was not so fresh on your body but still fresh on your mind, that maybe you weren’t meant to survive this war, that maybe you wouldn’t live to see the day the Gods were rightfully honored again. That maybe you’d die defeated and afraid in some realm that belonged to no one but the Christian God.

Each soul you lost on the way…their ghosts have haunted you with the memory of your failure, taunting you that for your arrogance and your pride you started a doomed war that only brought death and chaos to your home.

And there aren’t words to speak of the weight you feel lifted of your shoulders, and you can only grasp with shaking hands at whatever you can reach of Ivar, hoping he can somehow keep you from disappearing.

For so long, to so many people, you were nothing but the symbol of their hopeless fight, nothing but the rallying call of an already-lost war. And now, the fight proves not hopeless at all, the war isn’t lost yet.

And you feel like you’ll unravel at the seams, you feel like all the hopes and expectations and titles they put over your head, around your wrists and ankles, will disappear and prove you are nothing without them.

You know Laconia isn’t Attica, you know the war against the Christians will not end for many years, if ever; but…it is a victory.

You realize as your breaths slow, that when you once would have resented not being a part of a victory in this war, now all you can feel is relief.

Because as you loosen your hold on the Viking that seems to be trying more than anything to keep you standing and realize he might as well be the reason Fate hasn’t torn you in two yet; as past the mist of panic and chaos and emotion you find the peace that comes with knowing they don’t need you to fight or to win; you cannot help but take a breath and send the Gods you’ve given everything for a single plea.

To let another be the symbol of the fight, let another be the rallying call of the free Greeks. Let another fight and die, you have done so already.

To let you live. Let you choose, let you be free, too.

“Thank you.” You whisper when all that reigns between you and Ivar is silence.

Ivar’s hand moves down from the back of your head, settles somewhere at your back. His chin rests at the top of your head, and you feel him sigh.

“Don’t. I’m not here for gratitude.” He tells you gruffly, stubbornly, giving you back the same words you told him mere days ago.

____

You watch the men train, so differently from the orderly soldiers you would ogle as a teen back in your homeland. They go after one another brutally, grunts and shoves and yells and if blood is drawn then so be it.

You try it deny the part of you that is intrigued by it all, but apparently it cannot be hidden even from the Prince that stands at your side overlooking the training as well, judging from the chuckle he lets out.

“Different from you peace-loving Greeks, isn’t it?” He boasts, looking at the warriors with something akin to pride.

You offer a smile and a nod, “Quite.”

After a few moments of silence, he turns his head towards you, eyeing you for a few moments. You turn to him as well, the question written in your eyes going unanswered. The man instead walks ahead, reaching for a shield and an axe.

“Women in your homeland aren’t allowed to fight, are they?” He questions, turning to you.

Excitement that you try to bring down courses through you as you answer with a shake of your head. He tosses you the shield. It is heavier than you thought.

“We ought to care for the home.” You offer as explanation, but he laughs.

“Can’t you do both?” The Prince taunts, testing the weight of the axe in his hand. Nodding to the shield you hold, he instructs, “Defend yourself.”

“What?” You ask, panicked, but he has already lounged. The axe swings with a lot of strength but is stopped by the shield you raise just in time. “Gods!”

Even your leg suffers the strain of holding your stance when his weapon lodges in the wood. You hear Hvitserk chuckle.

“Now, push back,” He orders, and you are about to follow his command, putting all your strength in your torso to push him back, but his foot finds your leg and brings you to the ground. You let out a groan of pain as your back collides with the hard earth, and he chuckles, again, “That was for telling them about Thora, sister.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He offers you a hand to help you up, but you refuse it. This turns his smile a little proud, you dare say, as he readies his stance again and regards you with interest in his dark eyes.

You raise the shield the way he instructed you to you offer him a smile of your own. Hvitserk goes through axes and swords, gives you a smaller and a bigger shield. His short phrases telling you how to stand, where to put your strength help you, but after a while your body, unused to this, begs for retrieve.

When the Viking knocks you off your feet for the fourth time in a short while, he puts the axe back in the rack where he took it from, and offers you a hand to stand up.

“Turns out that fighting is as hard as it looks. Thrilling.” You dead pan, licking your lips and wondering why you taste blood.

The Prince smiles your way and tugs on a lock of your hair that by now has fallen in complete disarray and no longer resembles the traditional updo you worked on this morning.

“This won’t work if you want to learn to fight,” He laughs, “Don’t you know how to braid your hair?”

“Sit.” The Varangian asks, motioning behind her.

“No.” You state back, arms crossed. Her green eyes flash with fury for a moment before she sighs, running an inked hand over her face and attempting again.

“Sit, child.”

“I do not need to learn because I will not wear war braids, Sie-…”

Her expression when she lifts her eyes again to yours silences you quickly.

“Sit.” She orders.

You do. It never hurts to learn, after all, right?

She teaches your fingers to move with voice alone, and when you tug a little too hard, when you catch a knot and end up with a tuft of hair in your brush, she says nothing. She just grunts and tells you to start from the beginning.

You learn to make war braids, learn family is what we make it. Learn the Varangian is a mother to you, by Fate if not by blood.

“I do,” You reply, trying to ignore the pang in your heart at the reminder of the gently brutish woman that spared your life and raised you. “But we wear them differently in my homeland.”

He raises his eyebrows in question, and in a moment of confidence you do not have you motion for the wooden steps at the entrance of the longhouse, offering to show him.

Hvitserk laughs, but nods his head, “Alright, show me your magic, witch.”

You sit behind him and work meticulously on disarming the braids at the sides of his head, before moving upwards and separating the last one.

“You’re fast at that.” He notes.

You hum in response, focused on your task. Your fingers make quick work of his soft hair, finding it incredibly easier to disentangle than Sieghild’s. 

You start with the small braids by the sides of his head that would fall loose like a woman’s curls to frame his face, trying to recall the hair you saw actors of Leonidas wear when you were young.

You lose track of time as you work on his hair, but judging by the way he asks for an apple to one of the passing merchants and starts eating quietly, you do not think he is in a hurry.

While you are working on the braid that makes the hair move back and away from his face, you feel a tap on one of your knees where they rest one on each side of Hvitserk’s body.

“About Ivar’s decision to give me time to avoid losses in Strepshire,” The Prince starts swiftly, “Thank you.”

“I did nothing, Hvitserk.” You mutter back, but find your work interrupted when Hvitserk tilts his head back to look you in the eyes, skepticism written all over his face.

“Why do I find that hard to believe?” He sentences dryly, almost resting the top of his head against your stomach and messing up the braids, so you roll your eyes and push him so that his head is upright again.

“Because in my experience you sons of Ragnar are incredibly odd in your relations with one another.”

He laughs at your words, and you think it is an acceptance of them. “You don’t know half of it.”

From an errant thread of your own sleeve you manage to close the loose knot of braids at the back of his head. Although these people’s hairs are straighter and thicker than the ones you worked on back home, Hvitserk still could look like one of the depictions of young King Leonidas you saw when you visited Athens.

When you release his hair and lean back, he immediately reaches up to touch the braids, scrunching up his face.

“It’s strange.”

“It’s what we peace-loving Greeks wear.” You smile, correcting your work with a few light touches.

The Prince stands up and you do the same, but he still wears that uncomfortable expression on his face.

“I hate this.” He mumbles, looking indignantly at a minuscule braid that falls to frame his face.

“I don’t blame you,” You reply, shrugging. “I can disarm it, if you like.”

His eyes stray from yours and his eyebrows lift.

“I think you do not have any more time.” Hvitserk offers with the beginning of a knowing smile on his lips.

When you look over your shoulder you catch the King’s angry gaze set on you. Ivar stands unmoving by the entrance to the training grounds, making you question how long has he been watching you interact with his brother.

“Oh.”

“You see, I have dealt with…that my whole life. It’s your turn, witch.”

You watch him take his leave, and don’t miss the way the King’s eyes follow his brother as he walks past him. You are almost certain words are said, but you cannot hear them. Even then, this only seems to make Ivar even more angry, nostrils flaring and lips pressed into a thin line, but his eyes quickly return to you, silently berating you for breaking a rule he didn’t set.

Still, you take a deep breath and walk towards the King. Before you have a chance to speak, his growled words reach your ears.

“What did he tell you?”

“Huh?” You ask, dumbfounded. He takes another step closer, the movement of his shoulders as he moves his crutch only helping remind you of that injured Lynx you stumbled into as a young girl. “He didn’t tell me anything.”

“I don’t want you spending time with my brother.”

“Well, I don’t recall asking for your permission.”

He holds your gaze for a few moments, nostrils flared and eyes cold and yet furious; but eventually just grunts for you to come with him. You do, and you bite your tongue and keep silent as you do so, even if you itch to talk.

“You and Hvitserk seemed…content,” He starts, a muffled grunt leaving his chest when he moves his braced legs. If you weren’t so weirded out by his choice of words you would ask him if he’s in pain. Either way, the King soon continues, “Must be that he’s not a monster keeping you captive, right?”

“What?” You frown, stopping when he does. Ivar turns to look at you with fury in his eyes, however held by the mask of cold and distance of the King of Kattegat.

“Is that not what you think, hm?” He asks through a smile as false as it is cruel, “You have no interest in being at a monster’s side, isn’t that right?” It feels strangely like having your own words spit back at you, but you cannot dwell on it, for Ivar steals your focus and breath as he moves. None of the usual grace in his movements and another muffled grunt leaving his lips, he crosses the distance between you. You hold your ground, even as he towers over you with the eyes of a man that would kill for less offenses than yours, “You have been wishing and praying for a way out, but you won’t get one.”

You feel your heart beating wildly in your chest, and your temper begs to rise to meet his, to argue back with just as much fire and return as much as you get.

But, you force yourself to keep your calm, looking into his eyes and trying to see what is making him say these things. Surely it was not seeing you and Hvitserk together? No, this is something else, something else entirely.

“What…what brought this on?”

“You’ve blinded me, and you know it. Did the same to that poor bastard you promised to marry. I won’t let you-…” He snarls back at you, eyes blazing and mouth curled too alike an animal baring its teeth. Even though he stops himself, you hear the words he doesn’t say: I won’t let you tell me one day that it was all a lie. With an even lower voice, he reminds you, “Give me reason to believe you’ve betrayed me, and I won’t keep any promises I made to you.”

“Don’t threaten me. That’s not-…this is not what I want, for us to fight.” You try, your hands tightening to fists to keep your anger at bay. When you look into his eyes, you know he also hears the words you don’t say, it isn’t what you want either.

A clench in his jaw, his eyes hardening, his voice low as he speaks, “What do you want, then? What will you ask for now, hm?”

“Honesty.” You reply without hesitation, voice low.

To your surprise, Ivar tilts his head to the side, and accepts your words with a gesture of his mouth. It all looks awfully performative, false, an act, and you stand your ground, ready for whatever it is that he has driven himself mad with.

“Alright, let’s be honest, wife,” His gaze pierces into yours, and his mouth curls into a snarl, “How long did you wait for someone to come save you before you lost hope?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You have kept your eyes on the people coming and going, on the ones close enough to your homeland. You have been waiting patiently for a chance to have them take you to your home, have them save you from me. But it never happened, did it?”

The edge in his voice, the bite, the tone, it all reminds you of that first dinner you had with him here in Kattegat. It reminds you of manic words, of deluded convictions.

“You sound…”

Ivar smile manages to make you feel cold and small. And you realize that is exactly what he wants, that was the game he was playing, the part he was playing. To corner you into defeat.

“Like a mad man?” His smile trembles, and for a moment you see the mask slip, for a moment you see him, and you see the fear, you see the pain, you see the desperation. But Ivar pushes, “That’s what happened, isn’t it? You waited and waited for someone to come save you, and when they didn’t you…” He gestures with his hand, the nonchalance in the gesture completely lost at the rage written in his eyes, “Caved.”

“Caved?”

He shrugs, but you see past the façade, “Agreed to play pretend, to…to keep the monster happy, to keep yourself safe.”

“I don’t cave, Ivar.”

His smile is mocking, “Oh, but you do. You like to pretend you don’t, your insufferable pride likes to pretend you don’t. But you do, and you have,” Ivar nods to himself, the cruel smile on his lips earning a manic edge you haven’t seen in a while. He presses, “Will you deny that’s what you saw in me? I thought you wouldn’t lie to me, wife.”

“I thought those things when everything was different!” You insist, gesturing with your powerless arms and not caring if someone is to hear.

Ivar moves closer again, and this time you meet his stride, also stepping the distance between you and looking into his eyes. Your Gods and his both know you may lose a battle of power with him, of strength, of courage. But not one of wills.

He will have to kill you to have you relent.

Still, he insists, and if the mask slips, if the so tightly held control vanishes through his fingers, if the armor cracks, if his questions are true and not cruel tricks, who can truly know?

“How are things different? How is any different how you see me now than before? To you I still am the monster that imprisoned you, nothing changed since the first time you saw me.”

“No. Ivar, if you’re a monster…what does that make me? I stand by your side, I trust you, I-…”

It makes you a monster too.

But the woman that lured Narses to the cliff the Varangians pushed him off of, the woman that accepted the thrill of war knowing she would lose and die, that woman was a monster already, and didn’t have anything to do with Ivar.

Maybe you both are monsters, maybe you’ve just been playing at being human.

The thought doesn’t unsettle you as much as it should.

Ivar holds your gaze, before he takes his eyes from yours with a breath that seems to shudder past parted lips. You keep your attention on his expression, on the tremble of his brows, on the conflict between vulnerability and anger.

After a few breaths you hold, Ivar lowers his head, leans closer, quietens his voice,

“Tell me things have changed. Tell me I’m not...seeing things.”

You cannot help the foolish and hopeless beating of your heart, that both soars and breaks at his despairing request. The words that that same foolish heart wants you to say back are at the tip of your tongue, held back by sheer will even as Ivar’s uncertain and unmoored blue eyes look into yours looking for…anything.

But you can’t give in. If you give words to it, if you name things you make them real, and if the flutter in your heart, if the emotion tight in your chest, if the truth even your mind accepts are real, then you are nothing, you’ve failed your legacy, your homeland, your people.

But you cannot return to fighting, to this mad chase for a freedom that never was and never could be.

Because you know the bindings keeping you tethered to Greece are as punishing and as suffocating as those Ivar first set on your wrists. Learning of Laconia’s victory wouldn’t have felt the way it did, you wouldn’t have threatened to break when the chains loosened, if you weren’t a prisoner to them as much as you are to Ivar.

And you’ve realized you are also nothing of without Sieghild, without her guidance and her Gods, without Kattegat and all the freedoms it has granted you, without…without Ivar.

So you look into his eyes, and you can’t do what your heart tells you to, but you can’t do nothing. So you step closer, you lay a hand on his chest, let your palm rest over his heart.

Your voice is hushed, “Everything changed. O-Or maybe nothing did, and I just don’t lie to myself anymore,” You take a breath, and after a moment you offer a helpless shrug, “Maybe we changed. You aren’t the man that put chains on me and forced my hand, I’m not the woman that would have ran from you at the first opportunity.”

Ivar’s eyes search yours, but it seems the fight leaves him for once, and he bites back the anger. Still, he grits his teeth, his head moves with a gesture of annoyance -that you dare think is at himself- and he huffs an angry breath.

Ivar stops leaning so close to you, and with a stab of his crutch on the wooden floor that looks more forceful than need be, he turns his back to you, and leaves you behind.

____

Two things: one, yes I probably broke the poor reader, I didn’t plan it but hey, these characters do what they want at this point, and two, I think somewhere in between I also broke Ivar, also didn’t plan it but hey, fuck it. These two wanna rush like three chapters ahead? Fine, go ahead, I suppose.

Bright side is, look at them argue and giving in/being honest instead of screaming their heads off! :P

Oh, and the Laconia stuff is just me playing loose with history, but Laconia was able to withstand the Slavic invasions of the 9th century and remained pagan till the 10th. I’d have to check, cause I decided on this plot point a long time ago and I can’t remember, but I think there was a failed attempt at christianization in the 9th.

Thank you so much for reading, I love you!!

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 13: I Have Trust Issues But Okay

We spent two days on the Amtrak train, heading west through hills, over rivers, past amber waves of grain. We weren't attacked once, but I didn't relax. I felt that we were traveling around in a display case, being watched from above and maybe from below, that something was waiting for the right opportunity. We tried to keep a low profile because Percy and I's name and picture were splattered over the front pages of several East Coast newspapers. It seemed like when they saw me with Percy they realized me and my family are gone. The Trenton Register-News showed a photo taken by a tourist as we got off the Greyhound bus. Percy had a wild look in my eyes. His sword was a metallic blur in his hands. It might've been a baseball bat or a lacrosse stick. I was holding his hand with my knife on the other hand. The picture's caption read: Twelve-year-old Percy Jackson, wanted for questioning in the Long Island disappearance of his mother two weeks ago, is shown here fleeing from the bus where he accosted several elderly female passengers. The bus exploded on an east New Jersey roadside shortly after Jackson fled the scene. Based on eyewitness accounts, police believe the boy may be traveling with three teenage accomplices. It has been found out one of which is Y/N L/N, a twelve-year-old girl who went missing with her family during a trip. Percy Jackson's stepfather, Gabe Ugliano, has offered a cash reward for information leading to his capture.

"Don't worry," Annabeth told Percy. "Mortal police could never find us." But she didn't sound so sure. The rest of the day we spent alternately pacing the length of the train (because I had a really hard time sitting still) or looking out the windows. Calm Once, I spotted a family of centaurs galloping across a wheat field, bows at the ready, as they hunted lunch. The little boy centaur, who was the size of a second-grader on a pony, caught my eye and waved. I looked around the passenger car, the adult riders all had their faces buried in laptop computers or magazines, Percy and I saw an amazed look. Another time, toward evening, Percy said he saw something huge moving through the woods. He swore it was a lion, except that lions don't live wild in America, and it was the size of a Hummer, then it leaped through the trees and was gone. I told him he might have been seeing things and Annabeth agreed. Our reward money for returning Gladiola the poodle had only been enough to purchase tickets as far as Denver. We couldn't get berths in the sleeper car, so we dozed in our seats. My neck got stiff. I sat between Percy and Annabeth. Grover kept snoring and bleating and waking Percy up. Once, he shuffled around and his fake foot fell off. Annabeth and I had to stick it back on before any of the other passengers noticed. "So," Annabeth asked me, once we'd gotten Grover's sneaker readjusted. "Who wants Percy's help?" "What do you mean?" "You heard it too didn't you? When he was asleep just now, he mumbled, 'I won't help you.' Has he told you what he's dreaming about?" "Gossiping about me?" Percy yawned. "Pretty much everyone is. So I think we'll join." I said. "Annabeth wants to know about your dream. I could tell he was reluctant to say anything. It was the second time he'd dreamed about it. Then he finally told her. Annabeth was quiet for a long time. "If you think it's Hades, that doesn't sound like Hades. He always appears on a black throne, and he never laughs." She pointed out. "He offered my mother in trade. Who else could do that?" We could. If you bring us together we could trade. "What?" Percy and Annabeth looked at me in worry. "Something on my face? Is there something close?" "Y/N, you did it again." Percy said. "Did what?" "You... Talked. Differently. Like weirdly." "Your definition of weird doesn't describe me. I did nothing wrong. I haven't even given an in put on your topic. Which we should get back on." I don't know why I had no idea what they meant by me talking weirdly, but I felt like I should stay away from that topic. "I guess ... if he meant, 'Help me rise from the Underworld.' If he wants war with the Olympians. But why ask you to bring him the master bolt if he already has it?" She explained looking at me as if I was the one that needed convincing. I shook my head, wishing I knew the answer. I thought about what Grover had told me, that the Furies on the bus seemed to have been looking for something. Where is it? Where? Maybe Grover sensed my emotions. He snorted in his sleep, muttered something about vegetables, and turned his head. Percy readjusted Grover's cap so it covered his horns. "Percy, you can't barter with Hades. You know that, right? He's deceitful, heartless, and greedy. I don't care if his Kindly Ones weren't as aggressive this time-" "This time?" I asked. "You mean you've run into them before?" Her hand crept up to her necklace. She fingered a glazed white bead painted with the image of a pine tree, one of her clay end-of-summer tokens. "Let's just say I've got no love for the Lord of the Dead. You can't be tempted to make a deal for your mom." "What would you do if it was your dad?" "That's easy," she said. "I'd leave him to rot." "You're not serious?" Annabeth's gray eyes fixed on me. She wore the same expression she'd worn in the woods at camp, the moment she drew her sword against the hellhound. "My dad's resented me since the day I was born," she said. "He never wanted a baby. When he got me, he asked Athena to take me back and raise me on Olympus because he was too busy with his work. She wasn't happy about that. She told him heroes had to be raised by their mortal parent." "But how ... I mean, I guess you weren't born in a hospital...." "I appeared on my father's doorstep, in a golden cradle, carried down from Olympus by Zephyr the West Wind. You'd think my dad would remember that as a miracle, right? Like, maybe he'd take some digital photos or something. But he always talked about my arrival as if it were the most inconvenient thing that had ever happened to him. When I was five he got married and totally forgot about Athena. He got a 'regular' mortal wife, and had two 'regular' mortal kids, and tried to pretend I didn't exist." I stared out the train window. The lights of a sleeping town were drifting by. I wanted to make Annabeth feel better. I don't know but the only way I could think of was a hug. So I wrapped and arm around her shoulders. She stiffened unsure of what I'd done. "My parents, they loved me all the same. The closet I got to talking about Gods was when they thought me. Not a single hint was dropped about me being a halfblood. I mean if you count my grandma Hestia. Which I think is just named after the goddess. I mean yeah, you had a not so wonderful life... But at least you're who you are now." I smiled at her. Eying Percy I gave him a nod towards Annabeth telling him to comfort her since he'd started it anyway. "My mom married a really awful guy," he told her. "Grover said she did it to protect me, to hide me in the scent of a human family. Maybe that's what your dad was thinking." Annabeth kept worrying at her necklace. She was pinching the gold college ring that hung with the beads. It occurred to me that the ring must be her father's. I wondered why she wore it if she hated him so much. "He doesn't care about me," she said. "His wife-my stepmom-treated me like a freak. She wouldn't let me play with her children. My dad went along with her. Whenever something dangerous happened-you know, something with monsters-they would both look at me resentfully, like, 'How dare you put our family at risk.' Finally, I took the hint. I wasn't wanted. I ran away." "How old were you?" "Same age as when I started camp. Seven." "But ... you couldn't have gotten all the way to Half-Blood Hill by yourself." "Not alone, no. Athena watched over me, guided me toward help. I made a couple of unexpected friends who took care of me, for a short time, anyway." I wanted to ask what happened, but Annabeth seemed lost in sad memories. Luke had already told me some of these part where he went here with Annabeth and Thalia. So I gazed out the train windows as the dark fields of Ohio raced by. Toward the end of our second day on the train, June 13, eight days before the summer solstice, we passed through some golden hills and over the Mississippi River into St. Louis. Annabeth craned her neck to see the Gateway Arch, which looked to me like a huge shopping bag handle stuck on the city. "I want to do that," she sighed. "What?" I asked. "Build something like that. You ever see the Parthenon, Y/N?" "Only in pictures." "Someday, I'm going to see it in person. I'm going to build the greatest monument to the gods, ever. Something that'll last a thousand years." Percy laughed. "You? An architect?" Her cheeks flushed. "Yes, an architect. Athena expects her children to create things, not just tear them down, like a certain god of earthquakes I could mention." "Percy! I think she'll be incredible." I pinched his arm. We watched the churning brown water of the Mississippi below. I took Percy's hand in fear that the water would just grab me and drag me down. "Sorry," Annabeth said. "That was mean." I nudged Percy to apologize as well, "I didn't mean to make fun of you. I'm sorry." "Can't you two work together a little?" I pleaded. "I mean, didn't Athena and Poseidon ever cooperate?" Annabeth had to think about it. "I guess ... the chariot," she said tentatively. "My mom invented it, but Poseidon created horses out of the crests of waves. So they had to work together to make it complete." "Then you two can cooperate, too. Right?" We rode into the city, Annabeth watching as the Arch disappeared behind a hotel. "I suppose," she said at last. We pulled into the Amtrak station downtown. The intercom told us we'd have a three-hour layover before departing for Denver. Grover stretched. Before he was even fully awake, he said, "Food." "Come on, goat boy," Annabeth said. "Sightseeing." "Sightseeing?" "The Gateway Arch," she said. "This may be my only chance to ride to the top. Are you coming or not?" Grover, Percy and I exchanged looks. I wanted to say no, but seeing the stars in Annabeth's as she watched, she was too adorable to say no to. Grover shrugged. "As long as there's a snack bar without monsters." The Arch was about a mile from the train station. Late in the day the lines to get in weren't that long. We threaded our way through the underground museum, looking at covered wagons and other junk from the 1800s. It wasn't all that thrilling, but Annabeth kept telling us interesting facts about how the Arch was built, and Grover kept passing me jelly beans, so I was okay. I kept looking around, though, at the other people in line. "You smell anything?" Percy murmured to Grover. He took his nose out of the jelly-bean bag long enough to sniff. "Underground," he said distastefully. "Underground air always smells like monsters. Probably doesn't mean anything." I took a peek at my knife and saw there was a very weak glow, or maybe a sunlight reflection. Somewhere in between. "Guys," I said. "You know the gods' symbols of power?" Annabeth had been in the middle of reading about the construction equipment used to build the Arch, but she looked over. "Yeah?" "Well, Hade-" Grover cleared his throat. "We're in a public place.... You mean, our friend downstairs?" "Um, right," I said. "Our friend way downstairs. Doesn't he have a hat like Annabeth's?" "You mean the Helm of Darkness," Annabeth said. "Yeah, that's his symbol of power. I saw it next to his seat during the winter solstice council meeting." "He was there?" Percy asked. She nodded. "It's the only time he's allowed to visit Olympus-the darkest day of the year. But his helm is a lot more powerful than my invisibility hat, if what I've heard is true...." "It allows him to become darkness," Grover confirmed. "He can melt into shadow or pass through walls. He can't be touched, or seen, or heard. And he can radiate fear so intense it can drive you insane or stop your heart. Why do you think all rational creatures fear the dark?" "But then ... how do we know he's not here right now, watching us?" I asked. Annabeth and Grover exchanged looks. "We don't," Grover said. "Thanks, that makes me feel a lot better," Percy said. "Got any blue jelly beans left?" Someone else could be watching. Hades isn't the only one to blend in the shadow young vessel. But worry not, all in the darkness, shall be your ally. So Hades will also be my ally? As air and water refuse, land and all there is shall be your ally. Can't I be allies with all? Hades, Zeus, Poseidon. Everyone. The three of them looked at me in surprise. "Don't say their name!" Grover whispered loudly. "Whose name? I haven't said a name!" I could talk through you young vessel. Is this the first time this happened? How can you forget about our conversation? Talk through me? Who are you? I am one of which that'll make sure you become one with yourself. "Y/N!!" Percy yelled. "What? Geez, you're too loud." "We've been calling your name for three minutes." Annabeth said. "Are you... Okay?" "Yeah why wouldn't I be?" When the tiny elevator car came. We got shoehorned into the car with this big fat lady and her dog, a Chihuahua with a rhinestone collar. I figured maybe the dog was a seeing-eye Chihuahua, because none of the guards said a word about it. We started going up, inside the Arch. I'd never been in an elevator that went in a curve, and my stomach wasn't too happy about it. "No parents?" the fat lady asked us. She had beady eyes; pointy, coffee-stained teeth; a floppy denim hat, and a denim dress that bulged so much, she looked like a blue-jean blimp. "They're below," Annabeth told her. "Scared of heights." "Oh, the poor darlings." The Chihuahua growled. The woman said, "Now, now, sonny. Behave." The dog had beady eyes like its owner, intelligent and vicious. I said, "Sonny. Is that his name?" "No," the lady told me. She smiled, as if that cleared everything up. At the top of the Arch, the observation deck reminded me of a tin can with carpeting. Rows of tiny windows looked out over the city on one side and the river on the other. The view was okay, but if there's anything I like less than a confined space, it's a confined space six hundred feet in the air. I was ready to go pretty quick. I could see Percy was too. So I took his hand and gave him a reassuring squeeze to calm him down despite my breakdown. Annabeth kept talking about structural supports, and how she would've made the windows bigger, and designed a see-through floor. She probably could've stayed up there for hours, but the park ranger announced that the observation deck would be closing in a few minutes. I steered Annabeth while Percy with Grover, toward the exit, loaded them into the elevator, and we were about to get in myself when I realized there were already two other tourists inside. No room for me. The park ranger said, "Next car, sir." "We'll get out," Annabeth said. "We'll wait with you two." But that was going to mess everybody up and take even more time, so I said, "Naw, it's okay. We'll see you guys at the bottom. I'll keep an eye on him." Grover and Annabeth both looked nervous, but they let the elevator door slide shut. Their car disappeared down the ramp. Now the only people left on the observation deck were me, a little boy with his parents, the park ranger, and the fat lady with her Chihuahua. Percy and I smiled uneasily at the fat lady. She smiled back, her forked tongue flickering between her teeth. Wait a minute. Forked tongue? Before I could decide if I'd really seen that, her Chihuahua jumped down and started yapping at Percy. "Now, now, sonny," the lady said. "Does this look like a good time? We have all these nice people here." "Doggie!" said the little boy. "Look, a doggie!" His parents pulled him back. The Chihuahua bared his teeth at me, foam dripping from his black lips. "Well, son," the fat lady sighed. "If you insist." Ice started forming in my stomach. "Urn, did you just call that Chihuahua your son?" "Chimera, dear," the fat lady corrected. "Not a Chihuahua. It's an easy mistake to make." She rolled up her denim sleeves, revealing that the skin of her arms was scaly and green. When she smiled, I saw that her teeth were fangs. The pupils of her eyes were sideways slits, like a reptile's. The Chihuahua barked louder, and with each bark, it grew. First to the size of a Doberman, then to a lion. The bark became a roar. The little boy screamed. His parents pulled him back toward the exit, straight into the park ranger, who stood, paralyzed, gaping at the monster. The Chimera was now so tall its back rubbed against the roof. It had the head of a lion with a blood-caked mane, the body and hooves of a giant goat, and a serpent for a tail, a ten-foot-long diamondback growing right out of its shaggy behind. The rhinestone dog collar still hung around its neck, and the plate-sized dog tag was now easy to read: CHIMERA-RABID, FIRE-BREATHING, POISONOUS-IF FOUND, PLEASE CALL TARTARUS-EXT. 954. I immediately pulled out my knife. And waited for the moment to jump in front of Percy who was ten feet away from the Chimera's bloody maw, and I knew that as soon as I moved, the creature would lunge. The snake lady made a hissing noise that might've been laughter. "Be honored, Percy Jackson and Y/N L/N. Lord Zeus rarely allows me to test a hero with one of my brood. For I am the Mother of Monsters, the terrible Echidna!" Percy and I stared at each other for a second stared at her. All he could think to say was: "Isn't that a kind of anteater?" She howled, her reptilian face turning brown and green with rage. "I hate it when people say that! I hate Australia! Naming that ridiculous animal after me. For that, Percy Jackson, my son shall destroy you!" The Chimera charged, its lion teeth gnashing. I managed to take Percy's arm to pull him aside and dodge the bite. We ended up next to the family and the park ranger, who were all screaming now, trying to pry open the emergency exit doors. I couldn't let them get hurt. I positioned myself able to parry any oncoming attack. Percy uncapped his sword, ran to the other side of the deck, and yelled, "Hey, Chihuahua!" The Chimera turned faster than I would've thought possible. Before he could swing my sword, it opened its mouth, emitting a stench like the world's largest barbecue pit, and shot a column of flame straight at him. Percy dove through the explosion. The carpet burst into flames; the heat was so intense, I could feel it where I stand and it was like I was in a sauna. Where Percy had been standing a moment before was a ragged hole in the side of the Arch, with melted metal steaming around the edges. Great, I thought. We just blowtorched a national monument. As the Chimera turned, Percy slashed at its neck. That was a fatal mistake. The blade sparked harmlessly off the dog collar. I saw the serpent tail lifted it whipped around and with all I could I ran and raised my knife to block it. Percy tried to jab Riptide into the Chimera's mouth, but the serpent tail wrapped around his ankles and pulled him off balance, and my blade flew out of my hand, spinning out of the hole in the Arch and down toward the Mississippi River. I pulled a weaponless Percy behind me and raised my small one. We backed into the hole in the wall. The Chimera advanced, growling, smoke curling from its lips. The snake lady, Echidna, cackled. "They don't make heroes like they used to, eh, son?" The monster growled. It seemed in no hurry to finish us off now that we were beaten. I glanced at the park ranger and the family. The little boy was hiding behind his father's legs. I had to protect these people. I couldn't just ... die. I was facing a massive, fire-breathing monster and its mother. And I was scared. There was no place else to go, so I stepped to the edge of the hole. Trust our hero. Jump with him. He had sworn to save us. Far, far below, the river glittered. Percy and I shared a reluctant and fearful look. If we died, would the monsters go away? Would they leave the humans alone? "If you are the son of Poseidon," Echidna hissed, "you would not fear water. Jump, Percy Jackson. Show me that water will not harm you. Jump and retrieve your sword. Prove your bloodline. Maybe your small friend could survive with you." We both knew the water hated me. But I trusted Percy. I'd jump if he told me. The Chimera's mouth glowed red, heating up for another blast. "Either you have no faith," Echidna told me. "You do not trust the gods. I cannot blame you, little cowards. Better you die now. The gods are faithless." Percy took my hand and backed up, he looked down at the water. Percy looked at me and smiled. I knew what he wanted. Holding his hand tighter, I got closer to him. "Die, faithless one," Echidna rasped, and the Chimera sent a column of flame toward our faces. "Father, please," I heard Percy say. "Don't hurt her. Help us." We turned and jumped. Our clothes on fire, we plummeted toward the river.

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@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000

[btsslowburnfic]

Chthonic Love Chapter 12

Summary:  A Greek Mythology AU featuring Yoongi/Suga as Hades and reader as Persephone. Olympian ruler Namjoon has delivered you, Persephone, as a gift for his brother, lord of Death, Yoongi

Chapter Summary: Your library date is interrupted, leaving you to question some things

AN: a tad angsty. Pain is a part of growing, yes?

Previous Chapter here

----------------------

The two of you had combed through the stacks quite thoroughly by the time lunchtime rolled around. You had acquired a few legal texts in addition to finding some interesting horticultural books. The books were sprawled out along a large wooden table on the first floor of the library. Most of the morning had been spent in comfortable silence with you and Yoongi each bringing books back to the table, looking for more, and continuing the process over and over again.

The door opened with Lethe and another woman carrying trays. “On the table please,” Yoongi mumbled from his seat, gesturing to an empty space next to him.

“Very well my Lord. Just so you know. Penthos was asking about you sir. He did not wish to disturb you, but he would like to speak with you.” Lethe sat the trays down, taking them from the other silent woman.

“Thank you Lethe,” He responded, not looking up from the book he was reading. The two women took their leave while Yoongi continued reading. Finished with the section, he tore off a piece of parchment and put it between the pages to mark where he had stopped. He ran a hand along his chin in thought. Most of the books had been vague and unhelpful. Not surprising since this wasn’t a law library. He looked at the trays of food. He often forgot to eat. As an Olympian he didn’t really need much in the way of sustenance, but he was fairly certain Earth deities required it.

“Persephone,” he lightly called out. He wasn’t sure where you had ended up. Not getting a response, he pushed back his chair and wandered over to the middle. THe library was big, but not so much that it would be difficult to find you. “Persephone.” He called once again, up the stairs.

 You looked up from your seat by the window. You had gotten lost in what you were reading. You looked at the page number, committed it to memory, and sat it down. You walked over to the railing and saw Yoongi near the main table. “Yes?”

“Lunch is here,” he gestured to the trays on the table.

“Oh. I didn’t even hear anyone come in.” You remarked as you descended the staircase. “Good. I’m starving.”

Yoongi smiled, pleased with himself that he guessed something right about you. He pulled out a chair for you, causing you to blush slightly. 

“Such good manners today. Are you trying to impress me?” You teased him.

“Something like that. Is it working?” He asked shyly, shaking his hair out of his face. He sat down across from you.

You laughed but didn’t give a response, instead you went for the food immediately. 

Yoongi took some food to be polite. “Did you find anything?” 

“No.” You paused while chewing. “I put like three legal  books in the stack and then I found a book about plants of the underworld and started to read it. Did you know the Underworld can actually support plant life? I mean, without me keeping it alive actively.”

“I didn’t. It was dead when I got here. There was the Sea, the Desert, the Caves, and the Mountains.”

“You sir are going to have to take a vacation and do some traveling. The book I read says that some of the mountains used to be volcanic and the resulting ash is actually a somewhat fertile soil base.” Your passion for plant life was clear as you shared these facts with enthusiasm.

“How old is this book you found?” Yoongi raised his brows in surprise.

“I don’t know, but I’m guessing it’s one of the few Underworld books you didn’t write. I’ll go grab it.” You started to get up.

“No, it can wait until after lunch. I’m curious but I’m not in a hurry.” He responded easily. “I guess I don’t know everything about the Underworld.”

The two of you heard a knock at the door. Yoongi straightened up. You hadn’t noticed how casual and relaxed he was while talking to you until you saw the stark contrast. “Enter.” He said, his voice monotonous and firm.

The doors opened, revealing Penthos on the other side. He walked into the library. You suddenly felt your heart rate speed up.

“My Lord. I finished my task from the other day and have news to report.” Penthos’ eyes swept over you for a brief second and then found their way back to Yoongi.

“Which task?” Yoongi asked boredly.

Penthos shifted uneasily on his feet. He looked over at you again. You raised an eyebrow this time, causing him to quickly avert his gaze. 

“Perhaps I should submit my report later.” Penthos said, starting to back out of the room.

Yoongi’s eyes opened wider, “No.” He paused and gestured across the table. “You interrupted me and Lady Persephone. You will give the report now.”

“I apologize my Lord, I had no idea Lady Persephone was in here or I would not have come to give you a report.” He responded quickly.

Ah. There it was. He didn’t want to say whatever he had to say in front of you. You smirked. You weren’t sure yet if Yoongi had put the pieces into place yet. You continued to watch the interaction play out. 

“And yet here you are. The. Report.” Yoongi repeated.

“Yes sir,” Penthos took a breath before beginning. “The catacombs remain intact. Arachne and her children guard the Eastern and Southern Caverns. The golems are mostly in working order. A few seem as though they have rusted over time. I recommend sending for Hephaestus to come and repair them. The timeline on this of course depends on if and when you think they would need to be used.” He paused and looked over at you for some reason. You continued to stare back. He looked away as he began to speak again. “Additionally, The Northern passage is in need of repair. Several natural cracks have begun to form over time. Something will need to be done to keep anyone from tunneling in from the North, under the mountains.” 

Yoongi had picked up a quill and taken a few notes while this was occurring. Meanwhile you were mulling over in your head why Penthos was reluctant to present a report on the Palace’s defenses. Oh. Right. He thought you were a traitor. The word played through your mind again and you found yourself growing more and more angry. Traitor Traitor Traitor.

Yoongi looked up from his paper and over to you for a moment. You felt his gaze on you and you looked away from Penthos for a moment. “Persephone, can you please go grab that book you were talking about?” He asked you quietly. It took you a few seconds to register he was speaking to you, his voice was much quieter and more delicate than it had been a moment ago.

You got up and headed up the stairs to get it.

Yoongi turned back to Penthos. “Very well. I will send for Hephaestus and the two of us will walk the catacombs tomorrow to see what there is to do about the Northern passage.” Yoongi paused and lowered his voice, “Do not interrupt me in the library again. Do you understand?”

Penthos pressed his lips together tightly, his fists balled up behind his back. “Yes sir.”

“You may leave.” Yoongi commanded. He quickly got up from his seat and headed up the stairs. He saw you standing over by the window and closed the distance between the two of you.

You turned around, slight panic in your voice. "I’m sorry, I couldn’t bring the book, I’m...” you opened up your hands which were covered in blood.

Yoongi sighed and reached out,“I know. You started to grow thorns out of your hands. Didn’t you notice?” He asked as he took your hands in his and started to wipe the blood off on the edge of his shirt.

You looked at him in shock. How had he noticed, but you hadn’t?  “Stop you’ll ruin your shirt.”

Yoongi looked at you concerned, “I have a million black shirts. It’s fine.” He continued to apply pressure. “Why isn’t it healing? Can’t you heal yourself?” He asked, examining the cuts.

“No.” You laughed dryly. “Isn’t that weird? I can bring animals and people back from almost being dead, but when I get hurt, there’s not a lot to be done. Why is this happening? " You don't really expect an answer. 

“You were angry at Penthos.” You can’t tell if it’s a question or a statement. You remain silent as Yoongi moves your hands slightly against a different part of his shirt. Your face reddens as you accidentally brush up against the skin of his stomach. “That’s why you grew the thorns. You were angry and staring at him.” Yoongi looked up from your hands, his almost black eyes softened as he said,” I don’t think your plant powers are meant to be weaponized, especially if you can’t control your powers.” 

You felt so stupid. What kind of goddess didn’t even notice that they had plants growing out of their body?  You felt like you were being scolded and you wanted to cry. “I know. I didn’t do it on purpose. Like I didn’t grow the vines on purpose. You added quietly, “My powers behave differently down here. This never happened back on Earth.”

 "We can figure it out." Yoongi said, his deep voice laced with worry. 

You frowned as you kept your eyes on your hands. You felt bad that you kept messing things up. Yoongi shouldn't have to deal with this. “Let’s just find a book that will send me home so I can stop messing everything up.” You removed your hands from Yoongi’s. “I’m Sorry.” You walked quietly down the stairs and out the door.

Yoongi stood there for a minute unsure of what had just happened. That’s not what he had meant at all. Shit. But if the Underworld was causing your powers to behave in a way that was hurting you and other people, maybe you should go back to Earth. Yoongi pouted. But he didn’t want you to leave. Don’t be selfish. She said she wants to go home. She only said that because she doesn’t want to hurt anybody. Yoongi felt the thoughts in his head going all over the place. Ugh. It was time for the afternoon reaping. He ran his hands through his hair and down the staircase.

He made his way out of the library. He didn’t see Lethe in the great hall. He walked over to one of the servants who was dusting a chair. A chair? Really? He thought. Oh well. “Excuse me?” The servant froze and then turned around. And then proceeded to do a 90 degree bow. Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Please find Lethe and tell her to check on Lady Persephone.”

The servant looked back up at him in silence. “Can you speak?” Yoongi asked. They nodded yes. “Ok. That’s all. Find Lethe and tell her that? Yes?”

The servant let out the tiniest “Yes sir.” ever. Good enough. He headed out the door and to the reaping.

----------

As soon as you got to your room you started to cry. You had done a really good job so far of taking all of this kidnapping in stride. You had even tricked yourself into thinking that maybe you could stay here for a while without anything growing wrong. Hell, an hour ago  you found a book saying that plants could grow here. And if plants could grow here, maybe you could survive here too. Maybe Yoongi would have let you stay. But you can’t stay if your powers couldn’t be controlled. You had already hurt Yoongi once and you hadn’t even noticed earlier when you had hurt yourself. If Yoongi hadn’t stopped you, you might have hurt Penthos as well. You started to breath faster, feeling panicked. What if you hurt Lethe? Or Yoongi again? You couldn’t forgive yourself.  Up until a few days ago you had never hurt anyone.

You paced in your room. Hoseok wasn’t going to do anything. Maybe you could just leave. You could transform yourself into a tree or a rock on the mortal realm where no Olympian could find you and live happily ever after. You scolded yourself, knowing that these plans were unrealistic and borderline crazy. You sighed and threw yourself down on the bed. You heard the door to your room open.

Lethe walked in, “Hello Persephone. Yoongi asked me to check on you.” She said quietly from the doorway. This caused you to cry even harder. 

“Oh dear.” She shut the door behind her and walked over. “May I?” She asked, gesturing to the bed. You let out a sad, strangled sounding affirmative sound and she sat on the bed next to you.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened. I mean...I’m nosey so I want to know. But you don’t have to.” She said as she ran her fingers through your hair. You let out a snot filled laugh.

“My powers keep hurting people.” You cried and held up your hands. They had stopped bleeding, but there were cuts and scabs all over your hands.

“Oh my. I’ll be right back,” She said. You assumed she went to get water and bandages. While she was gone you settled into more of a gentle cry than a sob. She returned and sat down the basin and rags on the nightstand. 

“What upset you today? When I was in the library everything seemed fine.”

“Penthos.” You responded, too upset to care about your manners. “He hates me. He thinks I’m a traitor. He didn’t want to say anything in front of me because he thinks I would give a shit about the defenses of the castle. I didn’t choose to come here. Why would I care? And I really like everyone here except him, so why would I do anything?” It all spilled out of you. “I keep messing up and hurting people.”

Lethe took a moment, washing your hands. “You’re a sweet girl [y/n] . You’re kind, and warm, and soft-hearted. The Underworld wasn’t created for sweet girls. It’s hard. And it’s dark.”

“See? I have to go home. I can’t stay here…” you sobbed.

“Wait wait. I wasn’t done.” Lethe continued over your crying. “But it just means you have to be strong. It’s hard to be the light in the darkness. It’s harder to react with kindness than with harshness. And that’s how I know you’re strong. You can blossom wherever you’re planted. You can control your powers if you just remember that you have a choice. There’s room for you in the Underworld if you choose to stay, I’m sure of it.”

Your crying had slowed down so you could listen to Lethe.

“And besides, Yoongi needs you here.” She added. 

You snorted. “Yoongi does not need me here. I tried to kill him the other day and now I’ve ruined one of his shirts with my blood and I almost ruined a priceless antique book as well.”

Lethe finished bandaging your hands and took a deep breath. “He likes you. You know that, right?” 

You don’t say anything at first. Did he like you? You hadn’t thought too much about it. You knew he was nice to you. “I don’t know.” You said quietly.

Lethe looked at you like you had two heads. “You two hold hands. On a regular basis almost.” She squeaked out.

You felt your cheeks grow red. Now that you thought about it, it had happened on a few occasions. “He’s just being nice.”

“Uhh….no. He’s nice to me. He like, likes you.” She rolled her eyes and moved the basin over to the dresser by the door. “I’m sure you two can figure out what’s going on with your powers. If you want to leave that’s understandable, but don’t let it be because of a miscommunication or something like that. I have to go and do laundry. Change out of that dress, it’s got blood on it. Come on...no more feeling sorry for yourself.” 

You appreciated that Lethe was acting more like a big sister or mother to you than a servant this afternoon. That’s exactly what you needed. You sniffled some more and headed behind your changing screen. You threw the dress over and onto the floor.

“There we go. Now get cleaned up and remember, everyone else loves having you here. Got it?”

“Yes,” you agreed begrudgingly. 

Lethe reached around the screen with a new dress in her hands. You took it. “And Yoongi likes you.” She added.

You remained silent.

“You don’t have to agree to make it true. I’ll be by later to check on your hands again.”

“Thank you,” you responded, grateful for the screen to hide your blushing. Did Yoongi like you? Like, like you? You wondered and found yourself replaying several of your interactions over the past few days. Maybe he did.  NEXT CHAPTER 

[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.”

[7-wonders]

As Above, So Below Ch. 22

Summary: Your average, mundane life as a college student is flipped upside down when the man you thought you knew as your next-door neighbor turns out to be the God of the dead. When Michael lures you down to Hell, everything that you thought you knew about the world is proven wrong.

Word Count: 3165

A/N: Thank you all so much for being patient with me. I’ve been working on this chapter for a couple of weeks now, and I really hope it lives up to your expectations (yes, there’s smut). Feedback is always appreciated, and I would love if you liked, commented, and reblogged if you enjoyed this.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6| Chapter 7| Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22: The Fruit of the Hidden

Although the news that the golden apple that will grant you immortality is on its way to the Underworld should cause you to hurry back home, you and Michael take your time in gathering your belongings. Cassius had left just as quickly as he arrived, the demon having nothing more to do than to serve his master. After fulfilling his duty of telling Michael the news, he had no reason to remain Above. Michael’s right hand preternatural being had given you both an odd look upon your lack of haste, but wisely chose to remain silent on his opinion of the matter.

“Are you nervous?” Michael asks, watching as you fold the picnic blanket up before deciding that it’s not even and starting again.

“No, not nervous.” You’re certain that you’re not nervous. The ball of nerves that settles in the pit of your stomach and refuses to go away is nowhere to be found.

Michael tilts his head, examining you as you pack away the rest of the supplies and carefully shut the basket. “You’re scared.”

Biting your lip, you turn to look at him. “Please don’t make fun of me.”

“Why would I ever make fun of you?”

“I don’t know, because it’s dumb to be scared in the first place?”

“My love, nothing you could ever say, do, or feel is dumb.”

“Not even when I ran away and nearly got eaten by that monster?”

Michael rolls his eyes at the reference of your first night dining with him. “Okay, I amend my previous statement. Nothing that you could ever say or feel is dumb. Some of the situations you get yourself into, however…”

“Okay, I get it! I do dumb stuff.”

Michael chuckles, gently removing your hands from the basket that you’re about to pick up and wrapping his arms around you. “Why are you scared? You know that there’s nothing to be scared of, right?”

“I worry that I’m going to end up rambling if I start to list the reasons why.”

“Ramble away.”

That’s all the encouragement you need, your fears spilling out of you like your mouth’s a broken dam. “Just...what if it doesn’t work? Or what if I die in the process? What if I eat the apple and you decide that you don’t love me anymore? That I’m not the girl in your prophecy? What if it does work, but immortality makes me a completely different person?”

Michael frowns as you brokenly finish listing your worries, eyes shining with tears when you look up at him. He had known that this was weighing on your mind, but not this heavily. “Hey, please don’t cry. It makes my heart ache to see you cry.”

“I’m sorry--”

“There’s no need to apologize.” Pulling you into his lap, he strokes a hand through your hair as he holds you to him. “I wish that there was some sort of precedence for me to draw on that would help to rid you of your fears. All that I know is that Violet would not have agreed to this unless she was absolutely certain that no harm would come to you. As for your fear of me not loving you anymore, I can assure you that that is impossible.”

He looks at you with a tenderness that would shock anybody who knew Michael as the God of the Dead. All that he wants is to make sure that you’re okay, even if that means shedding his stoic persona in order to reassure you. When you finally nod, wiping the tears from under your eyes, Michael slowly smiles.

“I hope that made you feel at least a little better?” Michael asks. 

“It did. I’m still scared, but I’ll be okay as long as you’re next to me.”

He smirks. “I wouldn’t leave your side unless I was forcibly dragged away from you.”

“I love you,” you mutter into his shoulder. Regardless of the barrier, Michael hears your words loud and clear.

“Not as much as I love you.” Pulling you up with him, Michael runs a hand across your cheek and assesses you. “Are you ready?”

“No, but we’re doing this regardless.”

“That’s the spirit.” Before you can protest, Michael throws you a wink and transmutes with you back to the Murder House.

Your jump with Michael into the Hellmouth is much more willing than the last time you made this journey with him, neither of you wasting any time before stepping off the ledge and falling through dimensions. He lands gracefully, although everything that your fiancé (it’s going to take a bit to get used to being engaged to this literal god of a man) does is graceful. You, however, have to grab Michael’s arm to keep from stumbling to your knees upon landing. He bites his lip to keep from laughing, dutifully making sure you don’t fall over.

“I hope clumsiness is something that I lose in immortality,” you mutter as you straighten yourself up again.

“I don’t.” You look at Michael questioningly, and he elaborates. “I love how you trip and stumble. It’s...cute, and very uniquely you.”

You stare at the ground to avoid Michael seeing the bashful expression on your face, waiting for Michael to give the guards the signals to open the doors to the Great Hall. He chuckles beside you, amused at your silence, but nods at his servants and leads you into the room.

The dark shades of red and black that decorate the room makes it difficult to fully light up the room, which is probably why the Inferno that Dante had so famously written about is conveniently located on the other side of the room. The flames provide more light than 30 bright overhead lights, but still cast ghoulish shadows on the walls. Somehow you’ve managed to get used to seeing the entrance to the nine circles of hell whenever you need to visit Michael officially, but you don’t think you’ll get used to the screams the echo from the pit and the ever-present smell of brimstone that permeates the air.

A woman with coiffed blonde hair stands at the foot of Michael’s throne, her pastel Easter dress a stark contrast to the doom-and-gloom of the Underworld. She holds a cigarette in her grip, the paper stained with the pink color that’s painted on her lips. As you and Michael ascend the steps to his throne, she appraises you both with a cool gaze.

“Lord Hades,” she greets, curtseying to the man now sitting on his obsidian throne.

“Hermes.” You’re only mildly surprised to learn that Hermes is not a man, as has been depicted for centuries. If this was the information you were learning prior to meeting Michael, you would be freaking out right now. “As always, you are welcome in my realm.”

She smiles at him, the conventions that the gods and goddesses must engage in upon meeting melting away. “I bring a gift, although I’m sure that you are already aware of that.”

“Thank you for being so prompt with this matter.” Michael looks up at you and takes your hand, meaning for you to step forward. “I don’t believe you’ve had the chance to meet my beloved. (Y/N), this is Billie Dean, god of border crossings and guide to the Underworld, among many other patronages.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say softly, shaking her hand.

“The pleasure is all mine. After all,” she casts a wry glance towards Michael, “we’ve only heard stories of what the Fates had told Michael about you for centuries.”

“I hope I live up to those stories, then.”

Billie Dean smiles at you, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go. “You’ve already surpassed them, my dear.”

Your cheeks heat up as the two mythical beings get back to business, Billie Dean producing a small package from the bag on her hip.

“That’s it, then?” Michael asks, staring at the box. 

“Violet requested that I transport the apple as inconspicuous as possible. This was the best I could come up with.”

“You’ve done well.”

“And with that, my work here is done.” Billie Dean nods to both of you, backing away so she can transmute without any collateral damage. “I assume I’ll be seeing a lot more of you, (Y/N). I look forward to it.”

With that, she’s gone, and you look at Michael as you process the whirlwind interaction with a woman who manages to embody the American South. “Wow, she’s…”

“She’s definitely a character,” Michael agrees. 

“Why has she always been portrayed as a man?”

Michael gives you a look that says you already know the answer. “Surely a woman would not be able to lead others, even if it’s just to the Underworld.”

The sarcasm is evident, and you roll your eyes. “Thousands of thousands of years of sexism, all wrapped up into one goddess.”

“Discouraging, isn’t it?”

“So she’s the only being who can come and go from the Underworld as she pleases?”

“Besides me, yes. Otherwise, it becomes impossible to find. Many have tried and failed to find a way into the Underworld, but the magic that surrounds this realm means that the mortal plane’s entrance seems to always be moving and changing.”

You nod, already appraising the box with a calculating eye. “Should we...open the package?”

“In my chambers. That will give us more privacy.” 

It doesn’t even register that Michael’s standing and leading you to his rooms, your attention so focused on the literal life-changing fruit that’s contained without its small cardboard home. As he closes the bedroom door behind you, you realize that you’re no longer scared. Indeed, you only feel fascination, a determination to get your hands on the legendary apple and see just what’s made so many of Ancient Greece’s heroes lose their lives in the process of earning.

“You know, I’ve never actually seen one before,” Michael says as he sets the package down on the bed.

“Seriously?”

“After what happened with Heracles, she nearly burnt the orchard down. She thought nobody was worthy of earning the gift of immortality.”

“What convinced her not to go through with it?”

“The thought of forsaking such a powerful and rare gift directly contradicts everything she stands for.”

“No offense, but if I were her and my husband, who had cheated on me, told me to grant his son immortality, I’d burn the tree to the ground.”

Michael grins, pulling you onto him as he sits on the bed. “And that’s why you’re my perfect match. I’m not interested in people who would savor the fruit of that tree. I look for people who would cut down the fucking tree and use it for firewood.”

The dark look in his eyes makes arousal pool in the bottom of your stomach, and you hungrily kiss Michael as a result. He’s more than happy to reciprocate, but pulls away far too soon for your liking. You want to complain, but his pointed look reminds you of what needs to be done. 

A flick of Michael’s wrist has the sides of the box falling open, revealing the prize hidden inside. For all intents and purposes, the apple looks like a normal apple. Besides, of course, the fact that it appears to be solid gold. The light of the chandelier reflecting off of the surface confirms that it is what Violet described it to be, and you can feel the intoxicating call of immortality wafting off of the fruit. Michael holds the apple up to you, and you take it from him wordlessly. What is there to say when your entire life is about to change with a single bite?

“I’m right here next to you the entire time,” Michael says, grasping your free hand tightly. 

Taking a deep breath, you lock eyes with Michael as you bring the fruit up to your mouth and pierce your teeth through the skin. It’s sweeter than any normal apple that you’ve had before, and you savor the taste as you take another cautious bite. Violet didn’t say how much or how little to eat, so you figure that means to just eat until something happens. 

You let out a gasp when your heart starts to speed up, body going limp as you fall back against the mattress. Although your eyes are open and appear to be staring at the ceiling, your vision whites out and stars flash in front of your eyes. Liquid gold runs through your veins, the warmth coursing through your body sending you into a euphoric state.

Michael watches you intently, studying you to make sure that nothing bad will happen to you. He doesn’t see any physical changes, which doesn’t surprise him. However, he can feel the changes that are happening. The air seems to spark around you, like you’re a live wire ready to electrocute whoever may touch you. It’s almost like he can see the change occurring inside your very cells, fortifying themselves in the eternal youth that eluded history’s greatest conquerors.

The ecstasy clouding all of your senses reaches a fever pitch, the sensory overload making it difficult for you to even feel Michael’s grip on your hand. Your heart beats at a pace to rival that of a jet engine, chest heaving as you try to remember to breathe. When the fog starts to clear, it happens sense by sense. First your thoughts, followed by your nerves and your hearing.

Michael can tell that you’ve fully completed the transition when the glaze over your eyes disappears. You blink rapidly, pupils dilated as you try to adjust. Everything’s the same, and yet nothing’s the same. Everything seems so much clearer, as if you’ve just had Lasik surgery. You’re marvelling at how the fabric of the bed feels against your skin when Michael’s chiseled face appears in your line of sight. You had been so enthralled with experiencing everything as if for the first time, that you had nearly forgotten who was sitting right next to you the entire time.

“(Y/N),” Michael whispers, and you could nearly cry at how heavenly your name sounds on his lips. “How are you feeling?”

Your lips part as you try to come up with the words to answer Michael’s question. Finally, after a long minute, you manage to breathe out a simple, “radiant.”

Michael smiles at you softly, which proves to be a surprising trigger for you. All of your emotions are running haywire, and each emotion that you feel is experienced on a level that you’ve never felt before. When Michael’s piercing blue eyes deftly analyze your face, an intense feeling of lust overcomes you. 

You catch him off guard when you surge up to kiss him, a soft gasp escaping him as your lips meet his. Using the upper hand to your advantage, you hook your legs around Michael’s waist and flip your bodies over so you’re on top of him. He stares up at you, a delightfully bewildered look on his face.

“This is...new,” he comments, threading his hands through your hair.

“Are you complaining?”

“Never.”

Rolling your hips against his, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth upon feeling his bulge against your clothed core. Although you’re both used to Michael being in charge, the new position is a welcome change for Michael as well as you, if the sparks of arousal forming deep in your abdomen are anything to go by.

“You’re a tease,” Michael mutters as you kiss down his neck, sucking purple bruises onto his beautiful porcelain skin.

“Mm, I learned from the best.”

His hands loosen around your hips so that he can remove your shirt before returning to their designated spot, helping to guide your pace. You have no time for the tedious removal of the rest of your clothes, and a wave of your hand leaves you and Michael bare.

“Never the patient one, even in your newfound immortality,” Michael remarks.

You roll your eyes, kissing him harshly to shut him up. Michael lifts your hips, making sure you get the message as he lines himself up with your entrance. You slowly sink down on his cock, both of you groaning as he stretches out your walls. Wriggling your hips to get comfortable, Michael stares up at you with blown-out pupils, biting his lip while he waits for you to start moving.

You begin to slowly ride him, rolling your hips against his and delighting in how wrecked he already looks. Tossing your head back to rid yourself of the hair that’s fallen in your face, you lift yourself up until just the tip of Michael’s cock remains sheathed inside of you before sitting yourself back down. Michael’s hand moves up from your hip to caress your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers before wrapping his lithe fingers around your throat.

Shuddering in pleasure, you ignore the burn in your thighs as you begin to ride him faster. Michael’s eyes darken even more with lust as your own hands trail up to fondle your breasts, soft gasps escaping you as you tweak your nipples harshly. Beads of sweat begin to pool along your collarbone while you bounce on Michael’s cock, your walls fluttering around him as you begin to lose your rhythm.

“Are you close?” Michael coos, giving your neck a harsh squeeze. “Are you going to cum from riding me, my queen?”

“Yes, my king,” you gasp, grinning when Michael lets out a surprised moan.

“Fuck,” his hands grab your hips tightly again, beginning to harshly thrust up into you. “Say that again.”

“Say what again?” you tease, crying out when he hits your g-spot. “My king?”

Michael’s jaw goes slack, and you lean down to kiss along his jaw. “Yes.”

“You fill me so well, my king, better than anybody ever could.” The praise starts a fire within Michael, and he starts to rub his thumb against your clit as he works to bring you to orgasm. “Fuck, I love you. You’re an amazing king and you’ll be an even better husband, I-oh!”

You cum suddenly, hips stuttering to a stop as the pleasure that had been building in your abdomen explodes throughout your body. Michael’s eyes are alight as he watches you lose yourself to the pleasure that he brings you to. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm until he finally reaches his own, cock pulsing as he releases inside of you. 

Michael pulls you to his chest, both of you breathing heavily as you come down from your highs. His bedroom is silent, the sheets a mess around you and the half-eaten apple lying discarded on the floor. You lock eyes with Michael before dissolving into giggles, the sound of your laugh leaving him no choice but to laugh too.

“Welcome to immortality,” Michael says against your bare skin as you nuzzle into his neck, more than satisfied with this welcome party.

//

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[percabeth4life]

My Mother Teaches Me Bullfighting

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter (Coming soon) || AO3

We tore through the night along dark country roads. Wind buffering the car, rain lashing against the windshield. I have no idea how my mom can see anything, but she never took her foot off the gas.

I itched my arms, trying to lessen the uncomfortable electric feel, the burning of the salt rubbing wounds. Being able to sense magic and curses is nice in theory, but I’m about ready to start clawing at my arms to make the feelings go away.

Lightning flashed constantly, each followed by a loud boom of thunder and the feeling of scorching energy crackling over my skin.

I want answers despite that.

“So, you and my mom know each other?” I questioned mildly.

Grover’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, even though I’m certain there aren’t any cars behind us. “Not exactly,” he said. “I mean, we’ve never met in person. But she knew I was watching you.”

… that sounds stalkerish.

“Watching… me…?”

“Keeping tabs on you. Making sure you were okay. But I wasn’t faking being your friend,” he added hastily. “I am your friend.”

I couldn’t help but doubt it, but I kept my feelings to myself right then. They had no bearing on the current situation.

If he was my friend, then why… why was he basically spying on me? And feeding the information to Mr. Brunner? Who is Mr. Brunner? Why is mom okay with this!?

“Right. So, you’re… a satyr?”

He let out a sharp, throaty, “Blaa-ha-ha! Yes, I’m a satyr.”

I nodded, “Right…”

The weird bellowing noise rose up again from somewhere behind us, closer than before. Whatever was chasing us was still on our trail.

“Percy,” my mom said. “There’s too much to explain and not enough time. We have to get you to safety.”

I could scream.

“Safety from what? Who’s after me?”

You know, beyond the normal monsters that target Half-Bloods.

“Oh, nobody much,” Grover said, sounding miffed. “Just the Lord of the Dead and a few of his blood-thirstiest minions.”

Right the fury attacked me, Ms. Dodds…

A theft, was something of Hades stolen?

…

Uh oh.

“Grover!”

“Sorry, Mrs. Jackson. Could you drive faster, please?”

I tried to wrap my head around everything new happening, I wish Triton was here. He’d say everything in a way that makes more sense. Like why I’m apparently being blamed for the theft of something I don’t know about probably from Hades.

My mom made a hard left, swerving us onto a narrower road. We raced past darkened farmhouses and wooded hills and a PICK YOUR OWN STRAWBERRIES sign on white picket fences.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“The summer camp I told you about.” My mom’s voice was tight; she was trying for my sake not to be scared. “The place your father wanted to send you.”

… the place Triton said not to go unless there was no other choice.

“The place you didn’t want me to go?”

“Please, dear,” my mom begged. “This is hard enough. Try to understand. You’re in danger.”

“Because of Ms. Dodds?”

“Because the Fates cut a string! Those old ladies from the fruit stand! Do you know what it means—the fact that they appeared in front of you? They only do that when you’re about to… when someone’s about to die.”

I froze, oh no. The Fates!? That would explain why my sense burned near them, the feelings I got from their presence, the feeling from that thread…

“You said you…” I whispered.

“No! I said ‘someone.’”

I didn’t fight him on it. My chest was tight, I was scratching my arms as the crackling grew worse.

My mom pulled the wheel hard to the right, and I got a glimpse of a figure she’d swerved to avoid—a dark fluttering shape now lost behind us in the storm.

“What was that?” I asked, I didn’t get a good look.

“We’re almost there,” my mom said, ignoring my question. This seems to be a pattern. “Another mile. Please. Please. Please.”

I leaned forward, if we got there maybe mom would be safe from whatever is following us. It would target me, not her. I’m the Half-Blood.

I swallowed.

I fingered the pen in my pocket, scratching my arm with my other hand.

The pen I wanted to give to Triton to see if he could find the owner. I really need to talk to Triton. Hopefully we get to-

My skin scorched, then the world lit up with a jaw-rattling boom!, and our car exploded.

I remembered feeling weightless, like I was being crushed, fried, and hosed down all at the same time. My skin was crackling from the residue power.

I peeled my forehead off the back of the driver’s seat and said, “Ow.”

It did not encompass the whole feeling.

“Percy!” my mom shouted.

“I’m okay…”

I tried to shake off the daze, grabbing my bag (untouched thanks to the protections on it, thank you Triton) and pulling out my waterskin. I slung my bag on my back, wincing at the way it rubbed against my scorching skin. I glanced out of the car and noting the ditch we’re in. I slid the strap for the water skin over my shoulder.

I’m shaking.

The car had been struck by lightning, that’s not a Hades power. That’s a Zeus power.

Dear Pontus, this is bad.

Next to me in the seat was the slumped form of… “Grover!” I called.

Blood trickled from the side of his mouth, my heart sank. I might not be sure how to feel about him, but I won’t let him be hurt.

He groaned suddenly, “Food,” I felt my chest loosen.

“Percy,” my mom said, “We have too…” her voice faltered.

I twisted, looking back. In a flash of lightning, through the mud-splattered windshield, I saw a figure lumbering toward us on the shoulder of the road. The sight made my skin crawl, itching with the feel of a curse, mixed with the feeling of salt in my wounds. I can’t tell if that’s the storm of not.

The figure was huge, like a football player. He seemed to be holding a blanket over his head? Or that’s part of the creature. It looks like it has horns actually… Whatever it is, it’s bad.

“Who is—"

“Percy,” My mom said, deadly serious. “Get out of the car.”

My mom threw herself against the driver’s-side door. It was jammed shut in the mud. I glanced up to see the hole was sizzling, and my electrified feeling skin let me know that was a bad idea. My door is probably also jammed, same side of the car.

“Climb out the passenger’s side!” My mom told me. “Percy—you have to run. Do you see that big tree?”

“What?”

Another flash of lightning, and through the smoking hole in the roof I saw the tree she meant: a huge, White House Christmas tree-sized pin at the crest of the nearest hill.

My skin was crackling with the power in the storm, it only seemed to get stronger.

“That’s the property line,” my mom said. “Get over that hill and you’ll see a big farmhouse down in the valley. Run and don’t look back. Yell for help. Don’t stop until you reach the door.”

“Mom, you’re coming too.”

I was not leaving her to die, and this thing would probably go after her. I’m trying to think of what it can be, and the Minotaur is the only bull creature I can think of right now. Any kind would be dangerous, and I certainly don’t know all the creatures.

Mom looked sad, her face pale.

“No!”  I shouted, they at least need to be away from the car! “You are coming with me. Help me carry Grover!”

“Food!” Grover moaned helpfully.

The being out there kept coming towards us, making his grunting, snorting noises.

“He doesn’t want us,” Mom told me. “He wants you. Besides, I can’t cross the property line.”

“But...”

“We don’t have time, Percy. Go. Please.”

I couldn’t help the anger filling me. I’ve been lost since the solstice, alone and confused. No one is telling me anything, Triton can’t risk contacting me, and my mom was asking me to leave her in a burning car with so much left-over power sizzling through it that I want to tear off my skin to make the scorching stop.

I’m mad at all of them, mad at my mom, mad at Grover for lying all year, mad at the creature lumbering towards us to kill me. I just want to see Triton! I just want to be safe at home with my mom!

I climbed across Grover and pushed the door open into the rain. “We’re going together. Come on, Mom.”

“I told you—”

“Mom! I am not leaving you. Help me with Grover.”

I didn’t wait for her answer. I scrambled outside, waterskin hitting my side, dragging Grover from the car. He was surprisingly light, but I couldn’t have carried him far if my mom hadn’t come to my aid.

Together we draped Grover’s arms over our shoulders and started stumbling uphill through wet waist-high grass.

I reached out with my free hand and willed the rain to arc over us, like I did at the school.

It was harder, rubbing salt and crackling electricity fighting my will. But I pushed, mom didn’t need this too.

Glancing back, I got my first clear look at the being. It’s easily seven feet tall, arms and legs like something from the cover of Muscle Man magazine—bulging muscles and triceps and a bunch of other ‘cepts. It wore no clothes except underwear, bright white Fruit of the Looms—it’s a travesty. Triton would be horrified by its style. It’s top half was covered in course brown hair, starting at about its belly button and getting thicker as it reached its shoulders.

Its head was the worst, its neck a mass of muscle and fur leading to the enormous head. It had a snout as long as my arm, snotty nostrils with a gleaming brass ring, cruel black eyes, and horns—enormous black-and-white horns with points that you just plain can’t get from an electric sharpener.

I know this monster, both from my studies and from Mr. Brunner’s class.

I’m certain now. The minotaur.

“That’s—”

“Pasiphae’s son,” mom said. “I wish I’d known how badly they want to kill you.”

I blinked, which one was Pasiphae again? I guess the Minotaur’s parent, mom? but why call him that?

“That’s the Min—”

“Don’t say his name,” she warned, “Names have power.”

I blinked, I don’t remember learning that. I guess mom would know best though.

I glanced behind me again.

The Minotaur was hunched over Gabe’s car, looking in the windows… or I suppose he was more snuffling, nuzzling. He’s a bull, don’t they have a bad sense of sight? I’m not sure about their hearing.

“Food?” Grover moaned.

“Shh,” I hissed. “Mom, what’s he doing? Why doesn’t he come after us over here?”

“His sight and hearing are terrible,” she said. “He goes by smell. But he’ll figure out where we are soon enough.”

Okay, mom knows a lot about bulls, or Minotaur’s…

As if on cue, the bull-man bellowed in rage. He picked up Gabe’s Camaro by the torn roof, the chassis creaking and groaning. He raised the car over his head and threw it down the road.

I couldn’t help the vindictive feeling of I-told-you-so, knew they wouldn’t be fine if I left them behind.

The gas tank exploded down the road.

Not a scratch, I remembered Gabe saying.

I grinned, Oops.

“Percy,” my mom said. “When he sees us, he’ll charge. Wait until the last second, then jump out of the way—directly sideways He can’t change directions well once he’s charging. Do you understand?”

“How do you know all this?” Seriously, most of my lessons were on the sea, how did mom learn so much about land threats? Did she have lessons?

“I’ve been worried about an attack for a long time. I should have expected this. I was selfish, keeping you near me.”

Triton agreed with her though, “Keeping me near you wasn’t selfish!” He wanted me away too.

Another bellow of rage. I looked to see the bull-man starting uphill.

He’d smelled us.

The pine was only a few more yards away, the crackling on my skin getting stronger with each step. But the hill was getting steeper and slicker, and Grover wasn’t getting any lighter.

I’m glad it’s raining, the water was healing me from the damage from the lightning, just not fast enough. The crackling electricity and rubbing salt are rebelling against my power. I made vague note of the way it’s making it harder to control and heal from but focused back on the bull-man.

The bull-man got closer, another few seconds and he’d run us over. The itch was getting stronger.

My mother must’ve been exhausted, she didn’t even have the rain partially on her side, but she shouldered Grover. “Go, Percy! Separate! Remember what I said.”

I don’t want to split up, but she’s right. It’s probably our only chance. I made a mental note to research land threats more later as I sprinted to the left, turned and saw the Minotaur almost on top of me. The itch of a curse pressed in like the rubbing salt. He reeked like rotten meat.

He lowered his head and charged, those razor-sharp horns aimed straight at my chest.

I was terrified, I’ve fought two monsters before, an empousai and one of the furies. But both were quick, and the fights based on instinct. This… I swallowed the fear making me want to flee. I can’t outrun this thing. I did as mom said and held my ground, then leapt to the side at the last possible moment.

The bull-man went straight past like a freight train, then bellowed with anger and frustration and turned. It wasn’t facing me this time though, it turned towards my mother. My breath caught.

My mom had just finished setting Grover down in the grass. I could see a valley beyond the crest of the hill, the lights of a farmhouse glowing yellow in the rain, about a half a mile away.

I tried to move forward, but the itch of the curse, the crackling of the stormy power, the rubbing salt. I could barely breathe through all the feelings converging on me.

The bull-man grunted, pawed the ground, and charged towards my mom.

“Run, Percy!” she called. “I can’t go any farther. Run!”

I stood frozen, everything too much for me, the fear overwhelming on top of everything else, as the monster reached her.

She tried to do what she told me to, sidestep at the last second, but the Minotaur had learned his lesson. His hand shot out and grabbed her neck, lifting her off the ground as she struggled, kicking and pummeling the air.

I couldn’t breathe, “MOM!”

She caught my eyes, managing to choke out one last word: “Go!”

Then the monster closed his fists around her neck with an angry roar. A feeling of coiling shadows and blazing fire rippling over my skin as she dissolved into a shimmering golden form, like a holographic projection. A blinding flash, and she… she was… she was gone.

“NO!” My voice broke.

Anger filled me, rage burning at the feelings overwhelming me. I pushed past the itch, the crackling electricity, the rubbing salt, I felt a surge of energy fill me.

The rain no longer felt so foreign.

The bull-man leaned over Grover, who lay helpless in the grass. He snuffled at my semi-friend, as if he were going to turn Grover dissolve to gold as well.

No. No one else is being taken today.

I stripped off my red rain jacket.

“Hey!” I screamed, waving the jacket, running to one side of the monster. “Hey, you- you- you obtuse oaf! Are you always this stupid, or are you putting in extra effort today? Blinder than a bat if you can’t tell the difference between a Satyr and a Half-Blood. Your sense of smell must be worse than an owl’s to make that mistake!”

The bull-man turned towards me, shaking his meaty fists with a roar.

Charging towards me in blind rage.

I put my back to the big pine tree, ignoring the way that electricity blazed over my skin and waved my red jacket in front of the bull-man. My fingers flicked open the lid of my waterskin, my hand closed over the trident charm as I dropped the jacket.

The Minotaur bore down on me, hands out to either side to stop me from fleeing.

Too bad that’s not my plan.

A twist of my hand had the water whipping out and freezing in an instant, the shard of ice slamming into the Minotaur’s head, it lowered it at the last second and the ice sliced through his horns. Shattering in the process.

It roared.

I raised my hands, and brought them down, a lash of water coiling out and yanking at its muzzle, and with another movement, yanking it to the side.

It gave a muffed snarl, staggering to the side.

I pulled the charm, summoning my trident at last.

The trident gleamed, the tips glowing a faint bronze in the rain. I fell into the stance that Triton taught me, and yanked the water whip I’d wrapped around the Minotaur. I lunged forward, driving the trident through it’s ribs, and into it’s chest.

I stumbled back as the monster roared, pulling my trident out, it clawed at it’s side, before it began to disintegrate—not like my mom, in a flash of golden light, but like crumbling sand. A burn slid over my skin, familiar once more, as the sand blew away in chunks on the wind. The same way Ms. Dodds had burst apart.

The Minotaur was gone.

The rain had stopped too, the rubbing salt and scorching lightning leaving my senses, only a faint feel at the edge of me.

The crackling lightning still curled over my skin, echoing from the tree.

I smelled like livestock, my knees were shaking, my head ached, my skin felt raw. All the energy left me, leaving me feeling weak, scared, and trembling in grief.

My mom was gone. I’d killed the minotaur.

I wanted to lie down and cry, the only thing keeping me standing was my grip on my trident. I shook, standing there for a long moment staring blankly at the electric tree.

I want Triton.

“Food!” moaned Grover.

I let out a shuddering breath and turned to face him. He still needs to be brought to safety.

I turned my trident back into its charm form and moved forward, my backpack still on my back, and my waterskin at my side.

I frowned, oops, need to put the lid back in. Thankfully it has a cord connecting it to the skin or I would’ve lost it.

I closed the waterskin, my head spinning. Okay maybe dump some water on myself first.

Doing that restored some energy, but I still have to get Grover down to the house.

I bent down and hooked an arm under him, managing to haul him up.

I started staggering down the hill, towards the light of the farm house.

My head hurts, I’m definitely crying, I want mom, I want Triton, I want mom. I held tight to Grover and cried, stumbling down the hill, everything aching despite the soothing water. I’m not letting anyone else go.

I collapsed on the wooden porch of the house, I could barely see, my vision fading. A ceiling fan spun above me, the electric feeling hadn’t faded despite my distance from the tree, and now there was a new sense nudging me. I’m too exhausted to recognize it.

Two faces appeared above me, one a familiar-looking bearded man, and the other a pretty girl, her blond hair curled like a princess’s. They both looked down at me.

The girl said, “He’s the one. He must be.”

“Silence, Annabeth,” the man said. “He’s still conscious. Bring him inside.”

The last thing I felt as I passed out was the feeling of the ocean, pulsing from the conch shell charm on my bracelet.

 Bonus Triton POV

What is going on!?

First Father gets accused of theft, then there’s a war brewing? Can Zeus have common sense for five minutes?

The semester without talking to Percy was stressful. I like this little brother, and he needs support! He’s just a kid, and father certainly isn’t paying him any attention. He attracts danger like nothing else too, none of my previous (annoying) half-siblings had this much trouble until they were much older.

Honestly, I’m so sick of this, if Zeus could stop jumping to conclusions faster than an octopus changes colors that would be great. I want to be able to talk to Percy, make sure nothing else has gone horribly wrong, or at least be able to look in on him without worrying that someone would sense me doing so.

But now, of course, something else has happened!

My conch brooch, connected directly to Percy’s charm, is blazing.

I can sense Percy’s health, and it’s not good.

Burns, Percy is covered in electric burns.

I nearly bolted for the door, that’s not something he can get on accident. And certainly isn’t minor like the scrapes and bruises he’s gotten before.

I snarled quietly as I realized that I couldn't leave the meeting. This is an emergency and I’m trapped in this Chaos forsaken room to do paperwork. The other deities in the room were already staring at me in confusion, and I can't let them know about Percy, not yet. So I smiled and nodded for Mazu, who came all the way from the pacific areas for this meeting, to continue.

How did Percy get covered in burns?!

Okay, okay. Let’s stay calm. Percy will be okay surely, if he’s in trouble he has the pearl. He can come to me with it. He’ll be safe. He’ll be-

He’ll be passing out apparently.

Oh no, the burns are really bad. He needs medical attention. Where is he!?

Damn it, Percy is dying, but if I leave this meeting there might be war. The sea cannot deal with the twelve way war that would break out from me majorly insulting these deities. I forced the polite smile to stay on my face while I panicked inside.

I'll go to him as soon as this is over. He'll be okay.

My stomach twisted, he'll be okay. He has to be.

Whoever hurt him is going to regret it, I will not stand anyone bringing harm to my little brother.

[jflashandclash]

Tales From Mount Othrys

Ajax: Fidget Spinners VI

           The Lord of the Underworld was almost exactly what Pax expected he would be: moody, dark, and evil-looking with a strong affinity for the color black. Or maybe it was the color “trapped soul.” Whatever it was, Hades liked it outlined in gold, probably to look more intimidating. He wore black robes and had a helm under one arm.

         There was one major problem. He didn’t have blue fire for hair. Disney taught Pax that Hades was supposed to have blue fire hair and a great sense of humor. Disney had lied to him. This just looked like a rich, pasty white guy. 

         His black and gold chariot was spooky, but Pax had seen cooler ones. The one they were designing for Kronos was way better.

         Axel was crazy enough to have his sword still drawn. In the presence of the Lord of the Underworld, with Hades’ squadron of geriatric dominatrixes, and some Halloween standees behind them, Pax’s brother set his jaw and kept hislips in a firm line. When asked later, Pax would say Axel didn’t shake once (and they would get a chance to be asked later; they were both surviving this, damn it.) Truth was, Pax’s presence seemed to weaken Axel’s resolve. Pax guessed it was real easy to get yourself killed when it was just you that would be doing the dying part.

         Pax’s mind raced. One thing was certain: they weren’t fighting their way out of this.

         Axel grunted when Pax pushed his sword hand down.  

         “Get out of here,” Axel hissed in Mayan.

         Pax didn’t know how to explain to Axel that the invisibility spell over Pax was sparking and would attract a lot of attention if he tried to pick up Axel and flee. Pax didn’t get a chance.

         Hades’ voice boomed and reverberated around the cavern more than Jack’s had. “You will not escape me this time, Perc—”

         As his chariot ground to a halt, his dark eyes narrowed at Axel’s tiny form, then flicked back up to the furies. “This isn’t Percy Jackson.”

         The furies had been fluttering in an intimidating circle above, like the most obnoxious of gnats. One landed beside Hades’ chariot, looking nervous. “We thought it was Luke Castellan, My Lord. Your rage and obsession over Jackson must have—”

         Hades roared. He lashed out towards the Fury.

         She took to the sky again, shrieking.

         “Does this look like the host of Kronos?!” Hades bellowed, Pax thought, rather offensively. Axel could totally host Kronos if he wanted. “I’m not sure if I would rather strike Jackson or Castellan dead first.” His dark gaze returned back to Axel. “You’ll have to suffice.”

         Pax wished the invisibility spell came with a sink-into-the-ground function. He trembled at the power radiating off this god, and knew, in that horrifying moment, that Axel was about to challenge Hades to a duel.

         Pax’s mouth opened. He wasn’t sure what words would come out, but they would definitely be better than Axel’s, You wanna throw down?

         “We’re lost,” Pax said.

         Hades looked confused, clearly noting that Axel hadn’t opened his mouth.

         Axel tensed.

         No option for running now. Pax continued, feeling a few sparks above his head flutter down to singe he shoulder. He hoped that wasn’t burning holes in the invisibility spell. He might need it in a moment. “Yes, we’re lost,” Pax repeated. “We’re looking…” He grasped for anything that might baffle the Lord of the Dead. At those words, it popped into his head. “We’re looking… for Xibalba?” The comment came out a question.

         Axel cleared his throat. “Yes,” he confirmed, glancing in Pax’s general direction without landing exactly on Pax. “We’re looking for Xibalba.” Robotically, Axel sheathed his sword.

         Hades looked incredibly annoyed. “You are Mayan,” he said, examining Axel’s tufted ears with begrudging realization. “You’re not Greek at all.”

         “Nope,” Axel confirmed. “My faith is in the Mayan gods and the Catholic Trinity.”

         None of that was false. They had always practiced within the Mayan and Catholic faith. They knew Greek and Roman gods and hung out with them. Pax hardly called that faith or worship, no matter how often Morpheus liked to tease them as his little devotees when they slept-in with a rare, sweet dream. Axel scorned when anyone suggested he refer to the Titans as all powerful.

         Hades pinched the ridge of his nose. “Who let you down here?”

         “Um…” Axel said. He, Luke, and Jack must have slipped into the Underworld through a back entrance and didn’t know who to pin the blame on.

         Pax had an immediate answer. “Charon,” he said.

         “CHARON!” Hades bellowed.

         Even Axel flinched as the cavern trembled with a minor earth quake. A stalactite fell and crashed into lines of the dead in the distance. They passed through, unharmed.

         “First he has the audacity to ask for a pay raise, and now he’s letting heathens into my domain!” Hades yelled, “His impertinence knows no end! First his suits! And now his life coach that’s telling him how hard it is to find someone with his skill set!”

         Although Axel probably couldn’t see Pax, the brothers knew to looks towards each other as though to exchange a glance.

         “Is his skill set hard to find?” Axel asked.

         “Yes!” Hades bellowed, “It’s nearly impossible to find a well-suited grim reaper.” Pax wanted to raise a hand to ask if Hades’ “well-suited” meant Charon’s outfit or skill set, but Hades cut him off. “But, you can’t let him know that. It goes straight to his head and now he thinks he’s irreplaceable. He forgets that one-in-a-billion is different than irreplaceable. How many people do you think die in a day!?”

         Pax coughed into the back of his hand to keep himself from laughing. Was this guy for real? Most of his prior fear was evaporating. “Us heathens?” he reminded Hades.

         “Yes, it has been an awfully long time since Charon flubbed and let savage barbarians into my domain—”

         “Let’s stick with heathens,” Axel growled.

         Pax had to agree. He remembered Alabaster once telling him something about how barbarian meant someone who wasn’t Hellenistic to the Greeks, but avoiding the adjective “savage,” was that too much to ask for?

         “And now we have a leak in our ICEE unit. They should have caught you at the entrance,” Hades continued like Axel hadn’t spoken.

         Had Pax heard that right? “ICEE? For real? As in—”

         “Inhumation Correction to Exact Exequies,” Hades growled. “This is what you get when you let liberal arts majors name things. Regardless, they’re for the dead who were improperly processed after death. They’ll be able to sort a ghost and a…. are you some kind of spirit guide?”

         The question didn’t sound sarcastic, just irritated. Pax’s mind raced, trying to think—

         Pax decided to go with lying, a rarity with his normal half-truths. He forgot no one could see him while he shrugged. “He’s the weird one. All Mayan dead look like me.”

         “Uh-hu…” a Fury somewhere above said doubtfully.

         Pax stuck a tongue out at her and had the delightful realization that he could moon the Lord of the Dead right here, right now, in his own domain, and no one would know to stop him and there would assuredly be no repercussions.

         That would also mean mooning the creepy dominatrixes in the sky. He decided he would pass up the opportunity to avoid that.

         “We’re sorry to cause you such strife, Lord Death,” Axel said, holding up his hands in a mock-honoring gesture. “We can show ourselves out, really.”

         “Likely,” Hades said. “Last time we had an ICEE mix up, there was SUCH ruckus and chaos. That einherji was terrible for our image!”

         Axel frowned, his hands clenching into fists. “You know, not all misplaced souls are like that.”

         “Yes, you try telling that the to Elysian Field occupants that had their houses torched and raided. All it takes is one and it devalues all the properties for miles!” Hades said.

         Pax got the bad feeling that Axel was about to attack Hades regardless of their ruse. While warranted, Axel might really be a misplaced Mayan soul stuck in the Underworld’s immigration unit if he did.

         Before Pax could say something to ease the mood, Hades leaned forward in his chariot. His hand curled around his black helm. His dark eyes bore down onto Axel.

         Had Axel been a lesser man, he’d have probably crumbled to his knees with all that godliness trying to make him feel mortal. Pax definitely felt himself trembling. Instead, Axel stared back.

         Hades pointed to Axel’s arm. “You tried to swim in the River Styx.” This time, when the Lord of the Underworld spoke, his oily voice was also filled with ice.

         Axel lowered his arms completely. His burn marks had been on full display from where he’d withdrawn Luke from the dark waters and held his acidic friend.

          Considering that probably wasn’t a popular tourist destination for a leisure dip, Pax could see where marks from it would be suspicious.

         “Is that what your river is called?” Pax asked, trying to edge his voice with some mockery. “Our black river is the scorpion river. Dipping in it is part of our death ritual. You should check the pH balance of your scorpions. I think they’re off.” That most certainly was not part of their death ritual. Pax planned to stay as far away from the Black River as he could when we went to….

         An existential panic threatened to break Pax’s concentration on the present. Would he end up in the Mayan afterlife or the Greek one? Or even the Catholic one? Others in Camp Othrys said it was based off belief, but what if you believed in all three? And what if Axel didn’t end up in the same one? Would paradise even be worth it if you couldn’t hang out with your bro?

         The expression on Hades’ face brought Pax’s attention back. Those harsh lines hadn’t softened at Pax’s flubbed explanation. Hades was in the process of deciding he didn’t believe them and, probably, wondering which part of his robes he’d put the Pax brother’s souls into. Guy had some weird fetishes if he kept people’s souls in his robes and ladies with whips as his escorts. No wonder Persephone only stayed down here a few months out of the year.

         They needed a distraction and they need one fast, something that would shock or offend Hades so much that he’d forget to toss them into his evil sock drawer and something that would startle Axel away from where his hand was creeping towards his sword hilt.

         “Your helmet looks stupid,” Pax blurted.

         That… that was not what they needed. But, Pax would make it work.

         Before Hades eyes could bulge out of his head, his “WHAT” could shake apart the Underworld, or Axel could choke on his laughter, Pax continued, “I’m looking out for your best interests. It looks like your helm would look stupid on, and I wouldn’t want you looking stupid to other invisible spirits like myself. You see, us invisibles look visible to other invisibles. Haven’t you noticed that when you have your helm on?”

         It was a huge gamble. Alabaster would have been able to tell Pax if that was stupid or not, according to mythology. At the moment, all Pax could remember was that it was a helm of invisibility. He couldn’t remember what other figures possessed this power.

         Hades’ brow had furrowed in rage, his mouth agape like a rabid animal. In the briefest moment, Pax saw a glimmer of insecurity in those pits of eternal pain that Hades had for eyes.

         Either Pax had already sentenced him and his brother to death or Hades needed the tiniest bit more coaxing before he cracked.

         “I mean, I’m a Mayan. I’ll talk to you straight. How many Greeks would dare give you an honest opinion on this?” Pax said, so fast that he hoped others could keep the syllables separated. “Try asking one of your humble servants.”

         The ghoul army behind him shuffled in nervous motion. The Furies seemed to fly higher.

“I trust my servants to be honest with me,” Hades snarled. He scowled up towards the Fury that had spotted their party; she hadn’t flown up fast enough. “Alekto.”

She seemed alarmed. “Yes, Master?” she said uncertainly.

         “Does my helm look stupid when I’m wearing it?” Hades asked.

         Her wing flapping grew so tentative, Pax thought that she might lose altitude. “Um…. Master, I cannot see it on you when you wear it. You’re invisible.”

         Hades nostrils flared. “Of course you can’t,” he said, his voice bitter with suspicion.

         Pax shrugged in a, what are you going to do?, gesture. Remembering that Hades couldn’t see him, he shoved Axel and hoped his older brother got the message.

         “Underlings, am I right?” Axel asked. The words sounded unnatural from him. On the laundry list of things that made Axel passionately angry, the misuse of underpaid workers was one of them.

         That didn’t matter to Hades. He examined his helmet so thoroughly, he probably hadn’t even heard Axel. Pax had cracked Hades’ confident demeanor with the tiniest hint of insecurity. Alekto’s hesitation was all Pax needed to convince the Lord of the Dead that there was a problem.

“Charon did give the design to the Elder Cyclopes during the First Titan War. It has always been a little too tight.” Hades lifted his helm and stared into the dark eye sockets. Pax was a little disappointed that the helmet didn’t turn Hades’ arm invisible when he stuck his hand inside to lift it up. Hades snorted. “Of course I would be the only god that needed measurements for my great weapon. Zeus and Poseidon get a bolt and a trident. Doesn’t matter if their henchmen are unreliable. You’d think with all those tailored suits, that Charon could take a proper measurement—”

Pax wanted to point out that Hades should be able to just change the size of his head. He was a GOD. That was the opposite of what Pax wanted Hades to think. Pax feigned a gasp, kicking his brother’s boot.

Instead of sharing Pax’s gasp, as he had hoped, Axel glared at him. His message was clear: get on with what you’re doing before you get us killed.

         “Oh, you’ve never SEEN your helmet on yourself?” Pax said, sounding as aghast and offended as he could manage. “I mean, if you’re comfortable with not knowing whether or not you look like an idiot—”

         Hades made a threatening growl.

         Pax knew he couldn’t back down. “—and maybe telling Persephone that her husband lost his fashion sense after the SS uniform went out of style—”

         “Those uniforms influenced dark fashion for years,” Hades said with pride.

         “All villains admire that look. Clearly you know what you’re doing,” Pax agreed. “Maybe we just need someone to model your helmet for you, that way you can make adjustments to fit what you think is best, not Charon’s sloppy notes.”

         “It would be nice to fix the sizing. And I could add some more skulls to it, if I were to have it fixed,” Hades mumbled, tilting the helm on its side.

         “You’ll need someone who—I mean, no one could do your grand, imperial stance justice, but someone who would come close. You need a chiseled, manly-jawed model. Someone with an authoritarian stance...” Pax hummed like he was thinking. “Oh, the Furies won’t do. They’re ladies. And you don’t want someone who’s decomposed. They won’t be able to tell you if it would be comfortable with adjustments. What’s your head circumference?”

         “37 in this form; 25 when I look more like the lesser race,” Hades said absently. He gestured towards Axel and Pax, clearly meaning, when I look mortal.

         “Twenty-five!” Pax cried. He shoved Axel’s shoulder, so Axel stumbled a step forward. “A chiseled-jaw, authoritarian stance and a 25 inch head circumference—”

         “No—” Axel hissed at Pax, but Pax knew it was already too late for him to properly protest.

         “—that just so happens to fit my brother! What luck!” Pax had no idea if that would fit his brother’s head. He didn’t know many people who knew their own head circumference, let alone the head circumference of a relative. After they lived through this, he’d have to ask it of Axel. Then he could make him a, I Went to Hades and Only Got This Defective Helm of Darkness cap.

         Hades’ eyes narrowed. They slid past the helm to the two of them. Pax had managed to usher them closer to Hades’ chariot. “Are you suggesting I put my most prized weapon atop your brother’s head?”

         “I mean, if you have someone else to model it for you quickly, we don’t need to bother you.” Axel shot Pax a look.

         Pax nodded sagely. “I’m sure you have lots of dashing heroes that aren’t decomposed and gross or incorporeal to help. I mean. We’re just right here. Passing through. And I happen to be someone who can see invisible things. I guess we could call up Hecate—augh. I forgot she betrayed you for the Titans.” Pax snapped his fingers like he was disappointed. “And Queen Persephone might not mind too much if you get some zombie brain junk on those beautiful, raven locks.”

         Hades eyes widened enough that Pax thought the King of the Underworld might shoot lasers at him. Maybe Pax was pushing the line a bit too much.

         “How would a Mayan know about Hecate and her betrayal?” Hades demanded.

         “The Lords of the Dead gossip a lot,” Axel blurted. “You know how Lord Hun-Came gets when he’s been drinking and playing ball with Lord Vucub-Came.”

         “This is why you only have one Lord of the Dead. Bureaucracy just means red tape and more time for courtly banter.[1] You can run a government so much easier when you’re a tyrant,” Hades said and sighed, like he’d been petitioned many times for a democratic underworld.

         Axel rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, “Apparently, only when you have competent henchmen.”

         Pax pinched his brother’s arm. They were close; he could feel it, especially since he almost felt bad for Hades. If Hades really thought it was easier to rule down here by himself, Pax wondered how lonely this guy got.

         Pax wasn’t here to check on the underworld’s mental health though. “Why not surround us with a circle of guards. It’s not like we’re trained acrobats that can jump over people’s heads.” Axel snorted. Pax pinched his shoulder again. “And, we might as well help you. It’s the least we can do before you escort us to your ICEE unit.”

         Hades considered this for a moment. His entourage shuffled in discomfort. The Furies might hit a stalactite if they flew any higher to avoid his wraith.

         “Very well,” he said. “Guards!”

         The shuffling grew louder as the warriors made a loose circle around him and his brother. Some of the spear tips got a little too close for comfort. They’d have to be careful avoiding those while escaping.

         Hades motioned Axel forward.

         The taller boy clenched his jaw. Pax was pretty sure the tension therein could shatter an entire frozen lake. While this was the perfect opportunity for Axel to get the sword equivalent of a sucker punch on Hades, Pax wanted to remind Axel that they probably couldn’t stab the Lord of the Dead, bid a “good day” to his army, and skip out of here down a black brick road. Pax swallowed, reminding himself that sucker punches were things that he did. His brother had some weird concept about something called honor? Pax normally ignored Axel when he talked about it.

         Here came the hard part: getting Axel to kneel to accept the helm.

         Axel leveled with Hades’ black chariot. Pax could feel the overwhelming power radiating off it and its master. Authority bled off this guy like creepiness from a spider, and Hades wanted Axel to bend to his will without having to be asked.

         Axel, an idiot who bowed to no man nor god, cleared his throat. “Lord Hades, I believe you won’t be able to reach me from your chariot if I kneel.”

         The comment was presumptuous and Pax thought Axel had blown all their improvisation quicker than a Star Trek Vulcan would ruin the atmosphere of the Renaissance festival. He waited for Hades’ fist to turn into a cartoon hammer and smash Axel into the black sand.

         Instead, Hades growled, “Mayans are the first people to even think about that. Would my soldiers have said anything? No. They would have forced me to reach further down to get them.” Especially with how tall the god was, an extra four feet would be a lot to stoop.

         The Lord of the Underworld lifted his hideous black helm above Axel’s tufted ears.

         As the helm came down, it compressed Axel’s long, twisted hair. Or, Pax thought it did. When it made contact, the helm melted Axel.

         Within a microsecond, the essence that was Axel had liquefied into shadow and flooded into the sands. There wasn’t even an indent where he’d been standing.

         There was one major flaw in Pax’s plan. He actually couldn’t see his brother. And, in that moment, with Axel-fertilizer in the underworld’s black sand, Pax realized Axel and Pax might have been the ones who were just tricked.

***

 Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! :D Stay tuned next week to see what—well…. you can’t really see what Pax and Axel are doing. >>’‘

Anyway, stay safe and indoors!

  ***

Footnote:

[1] Ha ha. Courtly. Like a ball court…. I’ll show myself out.

[panicked-nights]

Mother, Make Me (a big grey cloud) ~*~ [Panic + Helle]

In which Panic goes to the Ambassador for help after discovering Attina is gone...[takes place: March 10]

[tw: discussion of death, discussion of child death, fire/burning]

PANIC: Tina was gone.

Stepping into their house there was a certain chill. A chill that resembled his own.

An energy that didn’t belong in this world. Just like how she didn’t belong in his.

It didn't matter that the house was perfect.

Tina was gone.

And it was his fault.

No one escaped the Underworld. Not alive at least and admittedly Panic was sure already if he could be counted as alive. After all he had been able to get out once.

What do we do? What do you mean what do we do? I mean we're not leaving her alone down there are you? For all you complained about that place- Do you really think I'm going to leave her there Perc? But there is no we at all during any of this. You can't do shit. I can do more than you give me credit for. It's the underworld buddy. No one can do shit.

Feeling the familiar tug and pull Panic all but ripped himself from Percy's body. But Panic's form didn't ripple. It didn’t waiver because for the past two decades he had worked on strengthening himself.

Even now he could feel some of Percy's strength while they stood side by side.

He couldn't just wait for that to weaken time was an iffy problem. He wasn't leaving Attina there girl any longer than necessary. Mind you the minutes here were already too long. He needed a quick way to get down there more than waiting for him to get pulled back in. He needed to give up something so Tina could leave.

He needed to tie himself there.

You're not coming back are you? Not at all. Time to meet the ambassador. 

It didn’t take long to get to Belle's place. Of course if it had then Panic was really barking up the wrong option.

So when Belle opened the door he didnt have time to spare.

"Hey. Great to see you and everything. Any chance Hades is at home? I need his help. Or yours if you know how to send a demon back to the underworld."

BELLE: There was a knock on the door. 

In the Acheron house, that was rarely a good sign. Especially when they were not expecting anyone. It was only Belle at home, at the moment. Opal was upstairs napping, Hades at Chapter Three, giving Belle some peace and quiet to focus on her school work. 

But, there was a knock on the door. 

Belle looked up from her books at the kitchen table, towards the door. Shuck lifted his head as well from where he’d been sleeping at her feet. He did not growl, just watched the door steadily. With a little, annoyed sigh, Belle got up from the table and made her way to the door. 

When it was Percy...Panic...Percy and Panic?--she smiled and opened her mouth to say hello, but they cut across her at once. Her brow furrowed and she closed her mouth, looking them over once. Who was even speaking to her? Surely Percy, yes? Why would a demon want to go back to the Underworld? She took in the look on his face--the way his brows were furrowed and he seemed pale and anxious. Whatever was going on, it was not good. 

Belle steeled herself, as she always did when facing someone knocking on the door.

“You should come in,” Belle said without really answering. She opened the door a little more and then closed it behind her friend. “Hades isn’t home, but he should be soon.” He would be, because Belle was reaching into her pocket to text him now.

“Now, what’s happened?” she asked, feeling rather official, like Panic was a client of hers, that she was agreeing to defend in court. Perhaps, that was how queens often felt. The thought simultaneously amused and exhausted her.

PANIC: Panic ran his hands through his hair ever thankful he had spoken to Belle about being a demon even though it was just about having a kid because now it meant he didn’t have to explain too much again.

He didn’t have the time.

If he did he would have done this all on his own. Waited until his power drained him enough that he couldn't stay here anyway.

He didn’t think about telling Belle who he was. Who she was talking to. He barely gave Percy a chance to remind him to be nice.

He had fucked up and Tina was paying for it.

Fuck.

Calm-- Don’t tell me to calm down. But you need to. Belle can’t help if you're all frazzled. Fuck off Perc. Not happening idiot. Either calm down or I'm taking over. I can do this. My fiancée. Basically our kid yeah? Fuck you

"Apparently I left some really bad connections down below and they came back to haunt me. Not literally." Panic muttered sarcastically waving his hand in the air as if some random ghost would be offended at him.

"Tina was dragged into the underworld and I need to go back as quickly as possible before I cant find her."

BELLE: Belle blinked once. 

In that blink, a thousand emotions crashed through her. Fear spiked first--harsh and cold inside of her, as if she’d just been stabbed through with an icicle. A deep, throbbing sadness was left behind in its wake. This was followed by a kind of exhausted recognition. It reminded her of Hercules, showing up at her door with a dead body in his arms. Married to the Lord of the Underworld, this was her life. Hearing these tragedies was just going to be part of the package, a sacrifice she didn’t mind making, no matter how hard. Death would always shroud this house. Death slept in her bed every night. 

That did not make bearing this burden any easier.

Because--a mortal could not go into the Underworld without dying. 

Surely Panic knew what Belle knew: Attina was, most likely, already dead. If she had been dragged through the veil, she was already lost. Not that Belle would give up just like that, if Belle was that kind of person, she’d not be standing there now, but the path would not be an easy one to try and get Attina back.

“We should sit down,” Belle told Panic gently after that initial moment passed. She drew up her armor then. It was a heavy thing to hold, but Belle had held much heavier before. Her hand reached out and grabbed the frantic Panic by the elbow, tugging him gently but firmly over to the couch and making him sit before she sat down next to him.

“What kind of demons took her? Do you know? If--” she’s still alive “--we need to know where she is if we are going to do anything about it.”  

PANIC: Panic took a deep breath but allowed Belle to tug him over. He didn't want to sit. If he sat then he had to think about everything that had happened and was happening. The tidal wave of everything would crash over him and he was sure he might just drown.

He didn't have his mermaid to save him now.

Breath. Breath and I've got you. I can't do this Perc. I can't. You have to because there's no other choice.

Now that was a strange thing where percy was the one calming him. Protecting him. But he would let that because the other option wasn't pleasant.

"It has to be more demons of emotions. I've had my trouble with a few. Greed. Envy. Pride. Anger." The last he was feeling so much he might as well be a demon of it.

"I don't know anything and I don't care. I can't leave her there. I have to get her back."

BELLE: If this was another situation, Belle might find it kind of amusing, the whole concept of “demons of emotions.” Not in a true haha-funny way, but in an ironic way, because it felt almost too accurate. Belle lived most of her life ruled by those kinds of demons--Envy, Panic, even Anger, occasionally Pride. She knew just how dangerous they could be, without their physical manifestations. Yes, that also made her very aware of how dangerous the demon sitting on her couch was, but she also trusted him, in that ill-advised way of hers.

“I know,” Belle told him softly. “We will do what we can, alright? Just--give me a moment. I promise, just one moment.”

With that, she stood up and moved to the mud room, disappearing around the corner. Crouching down on her hands and knees, she crawled along the floor until she found the group of books she was looking for. Grabbing them, she sat up and then stood, making her way back to the living room. 

“Until Hades gets here, this should help us get a good start. I’ll need you to tell me everything about these demons. Anything you remember, from your own time in the Underworld. Then, we can make a plan to get her out. We will do everything we can.”

At least, Belle knew that was true. Belle didn’t know what Hades was going to do about Panic, she knew he wasn’t going to be happy, but--either way, Attina was innocent in all of this, and it was their job to make sure innocents didn’t get mixed up in all this Underworld mess to start. At least, that was how Belle saw her Wife of the Ambassador duties.  

PANIC: Panic curled in on himself focused only on his and Percy’s heart beat.

Percy’s heartbeat. It wouldn’t be his for much longer. 

One moment was enough for Panic to descend into his own mind of chaos. For Percy to peek out and mentally shake Panic until he was willing to look up with tears in his eyes as Belle returned brushing them away.

“Just before we get into all of this - you’re a good person Belle. Mind looking out for Percy for me? Tina too. When she gets back.” Panic didn’t care if it was a long shot. He didn’t care if Belle didn’t think they could get Tina out. Panic had to get her back. He wanted her back here with her sisters and her family.

And after all of this. Panic didn’t think he’d be the one to offer any help.

BELLE: Belle didn’t notice that Panic was crying. Even if she had, she would’ve pretended she didn’t. Knowing what that was like, being so consumed by fear that you could do nothing else but cry. She knew how uncomfortable it was to cry in those situations, how vulnerable you felt. So, she would’ve ignored it, if she’d seen it. 

She hadn’t, however, because she was busy flipping through her books, jumping into research. They were in a race against the clock. Belle was familiar with this feeling and she knew that they couldn’t waste a single second. 

Though, when Panic started talking, Belle stopped. That anxiety of time running out suspended for a moment and she saw the pain beneath all the rest. See, Belle didn’t like dealing with the pain--thinking about Panic’s pain, or Attina’s fear, or their baby--

She just wanted to get to work.

But, she also felt her heart twist at Panic’s plea and she reached out her hand to grasp his. Her smile was small, but genuine.

“I promise,” Belle told him. “We’ll look after them.” She hesitated, because she wanted to tell him that it would be fine and he would be the one looking after them, but she wasn’t sure if she would be able to promise that. A demon of his status escaping once from the Underworld was a feat. Twice was almost unheard of. “If it comes to that, we will make sure they’re taken care of. It’s basically our job.” Well, it wasn’t, not really, but Belle felt like it was. 

PANIC: There was a moment of calm thinking about the future, one where Tina and Percy were safe. One where Amelia was with her mom and whatever they decided on Percy being. He didn’t need to be there for them to be happy as long as they were home and safe.

He apologized now. Percy having all the words Panic would say when Attina was back and Panic couldn’t say them himself. 

“Thank you.” Panic stated softly though there wouldn’t ever be enough thanks Panic could offer Belle for any help she was able to give. Even just a moment up here more. Even just helping Percy after the fact. Even just being a great friend.

Oh poor Sally. Maybe she saw this coming, Maybe she already knew what he was about to do and Percy wouldn’t have to explain it.

Squeezing her hand back the calm rushed away back into the tidal wave creeping higher and higher. Even as pages flipped to information Panic knew and didn’t know. The tidal wave creep closer and closer. Higher and higher.

At least until the door opened and the water escaped and the Ambassador walked in. The one thing Panic had been avoiding all these years.

HADES:  Hades sensed the demon when he saw the lights of his house. And that was when Hades ran.

Before, he’d been sporting a serious, directed walk-- spurred on by the texts Belle sent, couched in rather vague language. He knew that official Ambassador business waited for him at home; he knew that Opal and his wife was safe; he knew that on the scale of potential underworld disasters, this ranked on the lower end, or else Belle wouldn’t have simply texted (she would have, at least, called.) So he’d quickly shut down the store roughly forty minutes earlier than he would have already, and then made his way home.

But when he felt the demon--its energy frenetic, pushing the friendly, sleepy ghosts out of the realm of his home in fright-- Hades had no bloody idea what Belle was thinking.

So he ran, threw open the door of his house before he was several metres there. He rounded in and did not bother to ask questions. It mattered very little to him that Belle was holding a book and the demon was sitting across from her, as if they were having tea. His powers erupted as if an official announcement of his power. 

The lights flickered and Panic was dragged across the room toward Hades, and then forced to his knees. 

“Try anything and I won’t hesitate to make this especially painful,” Hades threatened and then looked up to see Belle staring at him, exasperated. “What?” he demanded. “You didn’t say you had a bloody demon over!” 

PANIC: There was a lot of reasons Panic avoided the ambassador of the underworld. 

Hades of course overpowered him.

Panic of course was technically not supposed to be here.

Percy of course was being possessed by a demon.

Neither boy had expected to be ripped from where they were sitting eyes rimmed red in front of said ambassador down on their knees like they needed to beg for their life.

To beg for forgiveness.

To beg for mercy.

No neither boy had expected it would go well. But they hadnt expected to feel the overwhelming and constricting power of Hades.

The thing was this was nothing compared to what Tina was going to have to face so his eyes while red and streaks of tears down his face.

Even with panic swirling in his chest adding to Hades power Panic steeled himself glaring at the Ambassador. 

"Fucking hell. Could have just asked would have bowed to you either way-" Panic muttered.

Shut the fuck up He's an asshole Hes doing his job He's an asshole Damn you're annoying. You wanna take over? You're more than welcomed to.

BELLE: The door burst open and Hades’ power swept in with the cold, like a shiver up the spine. Belle barely had time to react before Panic was being yanked across the floor, one of her precious books tumbling underneath him, its spine snapping backwards.

Right. Belle probably should’ve mentioned the demon part. She hadn’t thought about it. A grievous oversight, but, well--Panic was her friend. (A bit diabolical, honestly, on his part. Considering Belle was quite loyal to her friends and despite lying about being a demon (which, fair), Panic had always been a good friend. She couldn’t just turn on him because of what he was...it was kind of her whole thing.) He hadn’t registered in her mind as a demon she needed protection from.

She had gotten up from her seat as Hades whole show had played itself out, her hands in fists on her hips.

“Yes, if I thought that was pertinent information, I would’ve said so.” Which wasn’t exactly the truth, since she had more or less simply forgotten to mention it, but--she needed to be in control of this situation. “Now, let him go. He’s not going to hurt anyone. His name is Panic and he’s a demon of emotion and a father. His fiancee and unborn child have been kidnapped.” Belle raised both her eyebrows slightly in a ‘sound familiar’ gesture. “We’re going to help get them back,” she told her husband matter-of-factly.

Make no mistake, Belle knew she was in trouble, but she also knew that right now was not the time for a domestic. It was time to buckle down and get to work, to help Panic, Attina, and, most importantly, their unborn daughter.

HADES:  Hades’ eyebrows twitched up. And then his eyes narrowed. 

Belle had always been his partner first in the truest sense of the word-- partner before lover, partner before wife, partner before the mother of his child. He respected what she had to say and sought her input. 

However, being summoned here by his partner, not given all the information, and then commanded wasn’t exactly equal treatment, was it? And when it came to the demon kneeling in front of him, Belle’s input was not asked for. It wasn’t needed. For all of the complicated parts of his destiny, Hades had always understood the possession=bad part quite plain. Only mediums could ever handle a possession successfully and to some sort of a just ends. This bloke was not a medium. This demon was not a restless ghost in need of a little closure.

This demon was a demon, possessing a mortal. When Belle spoke of a fiancée and an unborn child, she spoke of the mortal’s fiancée and unborn child. Not the demon’s. Unless--? 

He did not let Panic go.

“We are?” Hades said, coldly. “Can we do that after we banish the demon part of him? Unless the fiancée and the unborn child are also demons, in which case, well, I don’t make it a point to save a demon I’ll just have to banish anyway.” He snorted. Clearly that sounded insane; Belle was many things, but not insane. “You’re not telling me the full story. Tell me that, and then I’ll consider thinking about maybe letting him go.” 

PANIC: Panic maybe unwisely (most definitely unwisely) wasn't afraid of Hades. But this was his story and Belle had been nice enough to be a friend and to already promise help in spite of her husband's annoyance.

He did however feel a little bad this was all popping up from him.

"They aren't demons. Just me. But my fiancee knows and Percy is more than capable of speaking for himself if you want to talk to him." Panic stated moving his eyes only to glance at Belle before focusing on Hades again. "My past came back to bite me in the ass and now my family is at risk." Panic started before taking a deep breath. Banishment was always an option. He wouldn't have sought both Belle and Hades out if that wasn't on the front of his mind.

"I want you to banish me. I want to go back but I need to figure out a way to get my daughter and Attina back here. They deserve that much even if my daughter has some demon in her which I don't even know how that would work because of Percy. But please. I beg you. Help me save Attina and my daughter." Banish him. Send him away. But bring them back.

BELLE: Right, well, that was fair enough, she supposed. 

And, honestly, did Hades really think Attina Triton was a demon? (Unless he didn’t know Panic was dating Attina...had Belle ever mentioned? Probably not, she wasn’t the type to gossip about friends, neither was Hades.) He probably only knew of Panic/Percy in the vaguest of senses anyway. To be fair, Belle and Percy/Panic weren’t exactly the best of friends. 

But, right, explaining. She could do that. She was going to do that.

Panic opened his mouth instead.

Belle closed hers with a little wince, though she quickly smoothed out her features. Nothing to do about it now. She would’ve put it differently, but at the end of the day, this was Panic’s life, his family, and he knew best. Except--

“What? Panic, no--” Belle took a step forward before she cut herself off, pressing her lips together and looking at Hades. 

“She’s human,” Belle said instead, confirming Panic’s story. “One of the Triton girls. Panic hasn’t done anything wrong,” she added. “He is good.” And Belle would never say this if she didn’t believe it wholly. To her, Hades’ job was not quite so black and white. He was supposed to keep the balance, not be judge, juror, and executioner. Some demons could exist in their world without any problems. Calcifer was an example of this. (Okay, well, there had been the whole Howl-almost-dying thing, but he hadn’t! And Belle had been able to talk to Percy, herself. What he had said made sense to her. Sure, it was strange, but it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.)  

HADES:  Hades listened. 

Hades didn’t care for what Belle had to say-- Panic’s goodness, here, was irrelevant. 

What he did care was for the imbalance struck not here on Earth (though that would be fixed) but down in the Underworld. Panic wouldn’t be permitted to stay, but Attina and her child should be returned if what the demon and Belle said was true. If it was because of the demon’s mistakes, not that of Attina’s-- then the Underworld would give Attina and the child up.

Probably. 

“You’ll get your wish,” Hades said smoothly, after a few beats of silence. “You’ll be returned to the Underworld so you can save Attina and her child. But there’s little I can do for you once you’re down there. I may be able to walk all the paths, but the world will recognize you for your true self. And the Underworld will test you-- that’s what it does.” He snorted a little. He always found it a bit dramatic, the Underworld. All its tests, illusions, demands, and sacrifices. But it was to keep the balance, and so that made sense.

“So that means you’ll be leaving your human host behind. He wouldn’t survive otherwise.” Flames lit Hades’ fingers, flickering in a dance. “So. I can be ready when you are, if you’re eager to go now. Not sure what you’ll find in the books beyond the myths.” 

PANIC Panic. No Percy. This is what’s gotta be done. Go home, you’ve missed your parents long enough for my whims. Take the money. Go on a trip. See the world. Whatever you want. Go be you. That’s not the point. It never has been. But that’s what it is now. Thanks for the ride bud. I love you.

Pushing Percy back of his mind Panic nodded at Hades. “Never planned on taking him down there in the first place.” Glancing at Belle he hoped she would keep the promise she made. To Percy and to Attina, to Amelia. He didn’t need help on his side of things. 

If there was nothing else in the books that could help him then he would just have to figure it out there. He had done this once when he was younger yeah. He could do it again. Tina wasn’t meant for that world. They had to return her. Right? 

Steeling his eyes up to Hades, Panic nodded.

“I’m ready.”

HADES:  Hades glanced at Belle, but his glance didn’t linger. In the end, this was exactly what he had been born to do. In the end, no matter the other factors at play-- a fiance, a mortal child-- this sort of demon, a demon of emotion, did not belong in this world. His time had run out.

So Hades nodded back at Panic. Their eyes met. And in the mortal’s eyes, Hades could see the dark of the demon, though it wasn’t like any other demon he’d ever faced. Belle was telling the truth and so was Panic-- he did not mean to harm anyone. Despite this, there was no hesitation on Hades’ part, because he also saw acceptance in Panic’s eyes. Acceptance and sadness.

He might never meet his child. 

Hades’ heart thudded once for the demon, and then it was stone in his chest.

He pointed at the demon’s feet. Fire jumped to life, licking its way around Panic in a circle, trapping him there so he could not escape from it in case he had any second thoughts. Then Hades moved forward and stepped into the circle with him. He gently put his hand on Panic’s shoulder. 

“I wish you luck, I really do,” Hades offered. It was the only gift he could give. And then his hand slid to the demon’s throat, and his fire hissed to life. At its touch, the demon fled from the mortal’s body in a bright flare of blue flame. 

Just like that, it was over--

The fire turned into ash on the ground--

The man clutched in Hades’ arms, mortal once more. 

[aveaveria]

Mekkah on Ao3 asked about some SlaDick fic recommendations (then @gravesecret make sure to check out their art did as well). And I’m here to deliver.

Klarion’s Curse by ilyena_sylph, Merfilly

Slade hunted the wrong witch, and gets an interesting curse.

I love this one, it got me into the ship and it has so much DC lore in it! ilyena_sylph and Merfilly originally wrote it back in 2006/2007, it’s a blast full with pre-N52 canon. When I read it for the first time the DCU was like a strange new world I had only just stumbled into and it did not matter that I only understood half of it after my first read. This fic (and the creators’ other works) is one of the reasons I learned to love the DCU lore, especially the small things, the things canon likes to ignore. Additionally, the fic has a unique SlaDick dynamic and Dinah is a fun and refreshing support character.

Waiting To Be Claimed by firewolfsg

Deathstroke is unexpectedly offered custody of a depressed and lost Dick Grayson, and the two make some interesting discoveries as they plan for the future.

Fic Setting: Takes place a couple of months after Nightwing #100 and is an AU where Dick does *not* join the mob.

Written October 2005

Together with Clarion’s Curse, this is the fanfiction that pretty much defines how I view Slade’ and Dick’s relationship. It basically is what it says on the tin plus some surprising boners, ya know. There’s just a certain type of magic in old works like this, that make the relationships ring true, which is partially due to the different canon and partially due to a certain type of nostalgia. After all, what can beat “the good old days”? What can beat the magic moment of falling in love with something new?

In The Shadow Of The Bat by meyari [Trigger Warning: Slavery]

The secret sale of Bruce Wayne's slave Jason Todd to Slade Wilson set off a series of events that changed everything for everyone who lived in the shadow of the Bat. Fortunately for them, Slade wasn't the man that they'd been trained to think he was.

No story is for everyone and in this case, we dive a bit deeper into the morally dubious decent that is SlaDick. Despite the slavery theme, the story is tame. In the end, it is much more a story about choosing roles than it is about being forced into one.

That LiveJournal Fic No Search Engine Wants To Admit Hides In the Depths Of The Internet  

There was that one story in which Slade and Dick hit it off and Adeline warned Dick not to fall for him, which ended with Slade and Dick having you-know-what in front of the mirror. But for the life of me, I can’t find it anymore. 

Dark Origins by coldfiredragon [no romantic relationship]

A/U, what if Slade Wilson, rather than Bruce Wayne found and raised Dick Grayson?

This is a cheater but I love it too much to leave it out. Especially A Mother’s Decision. I’d die for that part. Additionally, it has some good Roy/Dick in it and beautifully retells Dick’s former canon through AU fanon lenses. As a rule of thumb: Definitely check out LiveJournal if you crave more &s and /s to your SlaDick stuff.

The Sensation of Falling by rocket_dreaming3D [Trigger Warning: Rape/Non-Con]

Dick decides to start down his own path as the vigilante Nightwing after a powerful falling out with his adoptive father Bruce Wayne (aka Batman). Dealing with heavy emotional issues he hunts down the mercenary known as Deathstroke (Slade Wilson), searching for either proof of his worth or a way to end it all. What happens when he finds that there are more layers to the merc than he'd ever seen in his time as the Boy Wonder, Robin?

The first ongoing of this ship I ever read. Let’s just say this: It is an Injustice AU, Deadpool is Slade’s brother, Killer Frost is the best friend Dick ever had. It’s hilarious in that “feels-like-sunshine” way, despite the warnings.

Yonder Heart and Somber Lover by overratedantihero

Dick's taken from his father's garden to join Slade in Hades, the realm of the dead. A retelling of the Abduction of Persephone.

Persephone is the perfect myth for SlaDick and orah has such extensive knowledge of Greek mythology, that the story flows nicely in a way that is all greek tragedy mixed with DC, which brings me back to the nostalgia I have mentioned before, only that this fic is so very modern despite it.

What No Man Wants to Lose by Firefright, Skalidra

Getting a call from Slade's new team, Defiance, saying that they need his help in rescuing Slade is not the call that Dick expected to get on a random Tuesday morning. But rescuing is what he does, especially when it's a team of young heroes asking. The fact that it's Slade in need of rescuing? Well, that's different, but it doesn't change anything.

Firefright and Skalidra are going all out with both recent comic canon and fanon in this one. An established relationship is always fun to explore with this pairing and if there is a real comic-y plot, even more so. It is basically a shippy love letter to Priest’s Deathstroke run.

There’s Magic in You by TimmyJaybird [Trigger Warning: Cannibalism]

Dick has a pension for nightmares, for the creatures that stalk the nights in tales that should have lulled him to sleep as a boy. Now, face to face with a beast straight from fairy tales, he's shockingly at ease with the knowledge that this could be his end... if the beast wills it. 

A dark re-telling of Red Riding Hood with a witchy twist because even as a human eating werewolf Slade cannot quite instill fear into Dick. It gets hot pretty fast, and gross, pretty gross. Check out her other works if you are in need of transgender/ftm!Dick.

Stars and Cinders-Series by victoriousscarf 

Bruce Wayne makes a really awful Jedi. His padawans are not much better. That Batman Star Wars AU no one asked for.

The package makes the deal here and you should definitely not only look into this for the pairing but for the world that victoriousscarf built. There is rape in one part of the series, so be mindful of the tags.

Blood and Iron by Zillabird

The War has been going on since Dick wasn't much bigger than his adoptive father's knee.

Dick had done a lot of things he's not proud of in search of an end to the bloodshed. Things that give the turncoat orc, Slade, every reason to dislike him. Not that Slade's hands are clean, not even close. That's why he's here at Lord Wayne's camp under the watchful eye of the man's eldest. Waiting patiently for the chance to get his revenge. Secrets are so embroiled in this world they are forged into the very steel that the armies fight with, and they may be the reason that Slade loses the chance to start a new life. One with the half-elf healer that he's fallen for in Lord Wayne's camp.

584 Days is the fic that everyone knows but this one should be loved just as much.

I’ve kept my recommended to one story per author because otherwise, the list would explode but generally speaking: If you liked one of the author’s stories, it is worth checking out more of their stuff.

That being said, I hope you enjoy reading the recs!

(Header: http://ao3commentoftheday.tumblr.com/post/173752189329/want-to-make-a-fic-rec-post-grab-yourself-a)

[rainagainstmywindow]

Fallen Heroes

So...I had to. Obvious SPOILER ALERT for THAT spoiler in TBM. This is the Greeks finding out about Jason. I know the timeline is murky but bear with me.

Percy was having the first normal day at camp in months when the nereids brought everything to a screeching halt. Most campers knew better than to pay much attention to the beautiful women that lived in Camp Half-Blood’s canoe lake. They loved to take advantage of those unfortunate souls who didn’t know about their tendency to flirt until they got you close enough to dump you inside of the lake. The naiads had always paid special attention to Percy, him being the son of the sea god and all, but these weren’t regular water spirits. Nereids lived strictly in salt water, the fact that they were in the lake caught Percy’s attention right away. That and the utter look of devastation in their beautiful faces. They were definitely not there to flirt with him.

Percy didn’t pay much attention to the questions from the Stolls brothers and Clarisse as he deviated from their way to the dining pavilion. He walked up to the nereids, already fearing for the worst. He tried to calm his nerves by reminding himself that Annabeth was probably already waiting for him in the Athena table; he’d seen her not two hours ago. She was fine. “My Lord,” started the nereid. Percy didn’t know her. Something was definitely wrong. “We’ve been looking for you. Something’s happened. My sisters in the Pacific tell me a hero has fallen.” Annabeth is fine. It’s not her. You just saw her. Through his nerves he made sense of what the nereid was saying. Pacific? She probably meant California.

“Is it Camp Jupiter?”

The woman submerged herself for a moment. Through the water Percy could see her consulting another nereid he’d never seen before. She looked younger, shaken. She finally came back up, nodding. “The boy bore the mark of the Romans, but it doesn’t appear to be the other Camp. He wasn’t alone, though.”

Piper. Jason. A hero has fallen. The boy. “What happened? Who else was there?”

“The others are alive but the boy perished. I’m sorry, my Lord. We can’t sustain ourselves in these waters much longer.”

“Wait!” Percy reached out and caught her wrist before she could fully submerge herself again. “Are you certain? Are you sure?”

Her dark blue eyes softened, looking up at him sadly. “Yes, my Lord. My sisters made sure to at least retrieve the body. There was nothing left to do.” Percy’s hand went slack and she swam away quickly.

Maybe it’s not him. It can’t be him. Not Jason.

“Jackson!” Clarisse’s voice zapped him out of his panic. “You done getting your fill of gossip? We’re gonna be late for dinner!” She walked to where he was kneeling and pulled on his arm. Whatever she was going to say died away when she caught his expression. “What happened?”

“Where’s Nico?” The son of Hades had confirmed his fears when Beckendork died. He’d know. Especially if it was Jason. He’d know.

“What? I dunno probably sucking face with Solace. Why-”

“I need to find him.” He got up and started heading towards the cabins but Clarisse caught his arm. He turned towards her. She was looking at his hands, which Percy just now noticed were shaking. He balled them into fist and shrugged her hand away. “I’m fine,” his friends had seen him and Annabeth struggle to more than a couple panic attacks since coming back from Greece. “Something’s happened. Something...I just need to make sure first.”

Clarisse looked like she wanted to say more and now she was definitely getting worried, but Percy’s sense of urgency was obvious and she let him go. She nodded and called for Travis and Connor, who had observed the whole interaction from a few feet away, to follow her back to the dining pavilion.

Percy’s brain felt sluggish. He tried to recall Nico’s schedule but his panic had turned to dread and his heart was beating so loudly it was impossible to listen to his thoughts. His feet instinctively took him back to Nico’s cabin. His eyes fell on his hunched from right away. His back was to Percy and he was sitting on the ledge of the bed. He walked towards him and almost tripped over his sword and shield. Clearly, he’d rushed into the cabin. “Nico.” He didn’t jump at the sound of his name. He’d heard Percy come in.

“He’s gone, Percy. “ He turned the slightest bit towards Percy so only half his face was visible. But Percy could see the shine of tears in his eyes. “Jason’s dead.”

Percy didn’t feel anything. His mind wa still reeling with dread and panic. What Nico was saying just made no sense. Jason couldn’t be dead. He’d killed a Titan with his hands. They’d just won a war. This didn’t happen now.

He didn’t say any of this to Nico, though. Because, through the noise of his thoughts and furious heartbeat, he’d caught the utter devastation in his voice. He rushed to him, seating beside him so he could see his pale, tear-stained face. With a jolt, Percy remembered how he looked when they’d rescued him from Ephialtes. He wore that same empty look in his eyes. Percy couldn’t bear it. “Nico.”

“I felt him go...I wanted to call his- his spirit but,” his voice finally broke. Percy hugged him, something awful hurting his chest at the sound of sobs racking through the younger boy. Percy knew that Jason had managed to connect with Nico in a way that everyone else had failed in the past. He was his friend, a good friend. Percy clung to that feeling of numbness. He couldn’t allow himself to lose it. Nico got to lose it. Nico deserved it.

Percy held him for what felt like an hour. It could’ve been ten minutes. His brain was still sluggish. Eventually, Nico calmed down enough to wipe his face. Percy knew him well enough now to know he’d want to do something erratic. He couldn’t blame him, but Percy also knew he’d just end up hurting himself more. “You can’t go looking for him, Nico. Not now at least.” Percy expected him to be angry, almost welcomed it. He needed to know he’d be okay before he did anything else. “Just let me figure everything out.”

“It doesn’t make sense for me not to look for him, Percy. How else are we supposed to know what happened? If someone else is hurt?”

He wasn’t alone. A new wave of worry for Piper, Reyna, Dakota, all the romans, stirred in Percy. Tyson! Nico made a lot of sense, but Percy didn’t want to let him.

“You’d think the gods would break their radio silence for something like this…”

“Did you try to contact your Dad?” Nico nodded, clearly he hadn’t gotten through to him. “Can you even go to the Underworld right now?”

“Probably not. But I could summon...him.”

Percy shook his head. That would just tangle Nico more and more into whatever was happening. Percy suspected it was probably linked to Apollo and whatever he’d been doing these past months. “You didn’t feel anyone else?” Last time Percy had seen Apollo he’d been with Leo. He was certain Piper wouldn’t have let Jason go on any quests alone, even after whatever had happened between them.

“No.”

Percy pushed his brain to go into overdrive, grasping at any possible course of action. Their silence was interrupted by someone opening the door. Will looked from Percy to Nico, panic turning into worry. “What happened?” He too rushed towards Nico, who took his hand but said nothing.

Percy looked past Will to the other person that had followed him in. Annabeth was asking him a million questions with her eyes. Are you okay? What happened? It was getting harder and harder for Percy to cling to his initial shock. “Jason’s dead.” Annabeth froze in her tracks, he felt Will do the same besides Nico. “We don’t really know what happened yet. But he’s definitely gone. Nico...felt him go.”

Annabeth’s gray eyes grew wide, still asking him, confused. She turned towards Nico, looked back at Percy. Is it true?

Percy needed to do something. He needed a plan, needed to know what to do, how to fix it. You can’t fix this. He got up, avoiding Annabeth’s pleading stare. Will looked at him. “Stay with Nico,” he told him. Don’t let him do anything rash. Will nodded and Percy moved towards the door, taking Annabeth’s hand and guiding her outside.

Percy tried to think of anything he could do. I’ll just go to California myself. “Percy,” Annabeth said somewhere behind him. He hadn’t let go of her hand, he couldn’t let go. I have to find Apollo and Meg. “Percy.” Annabeth’s voice was firmer this time. She stopped and he was forced to stop as well. He only then realized he was standing right in front of the Zeus cabin. Maybe he’d been heading to his own. Either way, he stepped back when he saw the familiar marble door. Annabeth seemed to share his trepidation and guided them to her own cabin instead. It was thankfully empty since everyone was at dinner. She pushed him down onto her bed. “Tell me what happened.”

Percy recounted everything that had happened in the last hour robotically. Annabeth never interrupted him until he was finished. She looked as shocked as he felt but finally managed to say. “Do we know if the rest are okay? Piper?”

“Nico didn’t feel anyone else go. The nereids didn’t say much either, but I’m sure it has something to do with Apollo and Meg’s quest. Leo might’ve been with them.”

Percy heard Annabeth curse beside him. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. It didn’t feel real. Everytime Percy had a nightmare about losing his friends, he was always there. He’d always been there, one way or another. It was the only way it felt real. Besides, Jason was one of the most powerful demigods he’d ever met. It just didn’t make sense.

Percy. Through his sluggish thoughts he made out the sound of his name. He was sure Annabeth hadn’t said a word in a while. This was something different. Percy.

Grover? He hadn’t heard from his best friend in months, hadn’t used their empathy link since before Hera kidnapped him. Grover is that you? A rush of excitement, immediately accompanied by despair overcame him. Percy saw a brief glimpse of Grover’s dirty high tops as he walked through what looked like a forest.

Percy something awful happened. Jason…

I heard something from a nereid here at camp. Where are you?

I’m in California. He’s really gone, Percy. I’m sorry. Hedge and Mellie went with Piper.

What happened? His vision suddenly flashed with images of a weird assembly of people. They had to be the strangest collection of nymphs he’d ever seen. As he looked closer he noticed Meg McCaffrey’s bruised face, Hedge, Mellie, and of course, the one and only Lester Papadopoulos. He couldn’t catch everything he said and his voice got frailer and frailer as he recounted what happened. But Percy got the gist of it. Another Roman Emperor, Caligula, had surfaced. Medea had helped him. They almost didn’t make it out. Jason sacrificed himself.

Afterwards, I went with Meg and Apollo to the burning maze. Medea was there. We wouldn’t have made it out in time but Piper killed her just in time. They got a new prophecy, Perce. Something about Reyna. Caligula’s on his way to Camp Jupiter.

The words ‘Piper killed her’ rang in Percy’s brain. Are you with them? Are you going to Camp Jupiter?

No. I’m heading home, Percy. Piper left for Oklahoma with Leo and the Hedges.

Good, Percy thought. At least Piper wasn’t alone, he would get to see Grover. How are you getting here? The gods have us on radio silence and none of our communications work.

I’ll try out the labyrinth and find local nymphs or satyrs. I have to go now, whatever’s affecting our communications isn’t doing wonders for our empathy link. I’m sorry about Jason.

Just be safe. Keep in touch.

We need to tell Thalia, Percy. Last I heard, the hunters were in Indianapolis. With that, the connection finally gave out.

This morning his biggest worry had been school, college, his SAT results. He was back to being normal for the briefest of moments. Now, one of his friends was dead and the other Camp was about to be attacked. War never seemed to stop. It followed him everywhere he went. “That was Grover in the empathy link,” he told Annabeth. She immediately perked up. He recounted what he’d told him.

“No.” She shook her head in disbelief, letting go of his hand and pacing around the cabin. “I should’ve been there. Piper-”

“She’s got Leo and Hedge and Mellie. She’s walking away from it, Annabeth.” Angry tears had started running down her face. She didn’t even bother wiping them away, imagining what her friend was going through while she was all the way on the other side of the country, with no way of reaching her. “Annabeth, Thalia doesn’t know.”

That got her to stop pacing. The look she gave him mirrored exactly what he felt. No, not her. She doesn’t deserve this. “Grover said she might be in Indianapolis.”

They had both immediately seemed to have come to the agreement to put everything else on hold. Whatever attempts at not getting involved before were out of the question now. There was always going to be something to be done. They’d both always prefer to do it themselves than to have it fall onto someone else’s shoulders.

Annabeth hadn’t stopped crying, but she steeled her expression, nodding. “We need to call a head counselor meeting. Tell Chiron. Burn his shroud.” Like Percy, she was already grasping for a plan.

***********

They didn’t waste any time delivering the news. Everyone in the rec room of the Big House had lost someone before. Half of the counselors had gotten there because their sibling had died. Percy didn’t fail to notice that half of the faces there were different than the ones a year prior. Beckendorf, Silena, Michael, now Jason. It still stunned everyone into silence. The death of a child of the Big Three, a child of Jupiter, changed everything.

“Nico and I,” said Will after a few moments, “we’ll design the shroud.” No one objected.

“What about my sister?” Whispered Drew. It was all too familiar to her. “She can’t be alone right now.”

“She isn’t,” Percy assured her. She nodded, wiping away at her face, oblivious to her makeup. “Grover also told me Caligula was on his way to Camp Jupiter.”

“We can’t even warn them,” said Clarisse bitterly. “Or send back up. It won’t make it in time.”

“Meg and Apollo are on their way. Besides, Caligula is travelling through water, right?” Chiron was about to protest from his place at the other end of the ping-pong table, but Percy held up a pleading hand, the other was once again secured around Annabeth’s. “Tyson is there, Chiron. We can’t leave the Romans alone” Annabeth had insisted on going with him. They’d have to leave right away, tomorrow at the latest. Percy hoped Grover got to Camp before then. They’d have better intel and he just hadn’t seen him in so long. No one liked it, but the only one that looked like she wanted to object was Clarisse. It was just the only way less people got involved. Percy and Annabeth were the most powerful demigods, their leaders. They were the best backup they could send. “Someone’ll have to tell Thalia too.”

“I’ll go,” said Nico. It was the first time he’d spoken during the whole meeting. “I can move around fast and can get the hunters to Camp Jupiter if I find them in time.”

It was Percy’s turn to protest but Annabeth pulled on his hand. She gave Will a look and he said: “I’ll go with him.”

Percy looked at Nico. Before, he would’ve defied him. I’m not a child! You’re not the boss of me! But he’d grown up so much since then, been through so much. The war chased him as much as it did Percy. He didn’t object, a small agreement passing between him and Nico. Percy trusted him. He knew why he needed to do this. He couldn’t protect him because he knew how to defend himself, could hold his own. “That’s settled then,” he said.

After everyone started shuffling away, Clarisse came up to Percy and Annabeth. “I’ll go with you guys,” her voice sounded strange. “You shouldn’t even be going. I can’t believe Chiron would let you.”

“We didn’t ask him, Clarisse,” Annabeth told her. “We’re not asking you to go either.”

“Just walk away. You’ve earned it, both of you. No one has done more. I get that you want to do something about Jason, but he’s gone. It’s just the way it is. Let someone else...” She was pleading, her brown eyes uncharacteristically tearful. They both knew how much Clarisse didn’t want to go. She finally had a good, stable life. She was only at camp now because her and Chris got some unexpected time off from college in Arizona. They’d just gone through a war, no one deserved to go.

Percy thought back to his first weeks of camp, when Clarisse was ready to zap him with his electrical spear, her anger towards him after defeating her father. Then, that time with her godly brothers, showing her her deepest fears: her friends perishing around her, among them Percy. They’d come a long way, fought wars together. He’d gladly fight another if it meant she got the life she was starting now. “You’re not going with us Clarisse. That’s final.” She immediately bristled at the sound of being given an order from Percy, because she was Clarisse. “You’re going to go back to Arizona with Chris, and you’re going to live your life.” She looked to Annabeth, as if begging her to make him see sense. But her mind was as made up as his. “Go Clarisse. I need you to go.”

She looked like she was going to punch Percy. He braced himself, but instead she hugged him, pulling Annabeth in with her other huge arm. “Damn you! Damn you both!” She squeezed them so hard Percy felt his ribs protest, but he hugged her back just as hard. She’d made it, is all he could think. While some heros fell, sacrificed themselves, others got to see the other side. That’s why he fought, not for the gods, Roman or Greek, but for his family. For those who were good, who deserved the happiness that others sought to tarnish. If he had to, he would fight for the rest of his life for them.

[aerkan]

Prompt #018 - The pact of the Wicked

Can you imagine Hades, Hel and Satan making a deal with each other? An agreement that if one of them needs help, the others will come to their aid? That can be very useful in war times, but can you imagine one of them calling for help while there’s peace? Let me paint you a picture. --- ,,Ah, it seems that Hades has summoned you as well, lady Hel?”

Mentioned goddess spun around to face the ruler of Hell. His dark wings were neatly folded behind him and he was dressed in the royal version of his people’s casual clothing. Even though, his sword was strapped to his hip and his eyes held a guarded expression, when he bowed his head slightly in respect. He was prepared for a battle if there was a need. That was good, she herself was ready to fight.

,,Yes, indeed he has. But I am just as surprised to see you here as well, lord Lucifer.” she said while reciprocating his gesture. They stood side by side while they waited for Charon to appear and take them to the Underworld. The river Styx was softly humming a calming melody that was oh so different from the constant clashing of swords in her realm. Lucifer beside her was silently stretching his wings in the anticipation of a battle. She did something similar with her magic. It’s always better to be prepared for the worst outcome and a distress signal from one of her limited amount of allies wasn’t a situation she could underestimate.

,,So what do think is happening in the realms that demands the presence of all three of us? What can our dear friend want from us?”

She honestly didn’t know. Which scared her a little, because she prided herself in always knowing what was going on. But Hades decided to be mysterious once again. What does Hades have with being secretive anyways? For someone who detests being called ‘The invisible one’, he sure hides a lot of things. Ugh, she wasn’t looking forward to this. But even though she didn’t particularly wish to be here today, her need to honor this agreement between them was stronger than her discomfort. Not for the first time she was surprised to realise that yes, the two men became very dear to her. In a way she had no idea how to deal with. She never had many people in her life that she could say she was close to, except for her family of course. So the fact that these two weird immortals called themselves her friends was foreign to her. However it didn’t make her want to stab them in their sleep, so that may have meant she wasn’t totally opposed to it.

,,Meaning of this meeting of ours is escaping me. I am just as uninformed about this gathering as you are. Although if I had to guess I would say that Hades spoke with one of his brothers about the matter regarding the Edgewood academy. And didn’t leave very pleased.” Her lips curled into a grimace without her will. She disliked those two younger brothers of his. They were arrogant to a fault and held themselves like parrots trying to impress the other sex. If it wasn’t so irritating it would be impressive, how they together managed to turn every event into a mad hunt after this or the other unfortunate girl. It disgusted her. Maybe that was the reason she often found herself in the company of Hades, Lucifer or both during all of the important meetings down on Earth. She couldn’t stand the constant bickering of the Greek gods and goddesses just as much as she avoided the absolutely awful holy presence of angels with sticks up their asses, or the unending talks about hunting and war that seemed to buzz around her distant relatives. Lucifer with his goodhearted humor and quick smart tongue and Hades with his silent comfort and inteligent if a little bit awkward remarks made something of a peaceful paradise for her fried nerves.

Her companion let out a quiet laugh, ,,I wouldn’t be surprised if that was precisely what happened. Poseidon and Zeus are making the founding of the new school very difficult from what I’ve heard from our friend. Michael and other archangels aren’t much better mind you,” His face held a crooked smile that seemed more pained than anything else. ,,I’m slowly losing my patience with them as well. Their demands are almost impossible to meet, but every time I tell them so, they ignore me. And I’m used to that at this point, it doesn’t bother me anymore even when it should, but the council will not be happy about the terms my brothers set.” His wings drooped a little in defeat and puffed in irritation. She put a hand on his shoulder in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. Lucifer gave her a grateful smile in return. Her own family wasn’t very demanding regarding the Edgewood project. Of course they had their own ridiculous ideas, but most of them were actually good. It looked like Odin understood the importance of having the young demigods and half-breads under control, before they got to go out and started wreaking havoc. But she could sympathize. Oh Ancestors, she could sympathize.

,,You know, I’m starting to think we should just found the academy ourselves and deal with the consequences latter. Better beg for forgiveness than ask for permission, right? At least that’s what humans say.”

Her lips twitched in a smile at the desperation and hope in his voice. His eyes met hers shinning with amusement. His face split in half with a grin as he hooked his left hand around her shoulders. Weirdly enough she didn’t mind it. ,,I missed this.” He admitted with a relief written all over his face. Sometimes she forgot how alone he must feel. She nor Hades could really understand that. Hades had a kingdom full of gods and a wife with four kids. She had her dad and three brothers. Lucifer was completely alone in his realm. Maybe that was what made her whisper this sentiment back to him. But his bright smile was worth it, she concluded.

Not long after they finally heard the telltale sound of Charon’s boat quietly drifting on the waves of Styx. When he stopped in front of them, he deeply bowed with the rattling of bones. His undead form was hidden among dark folds of his long cloak, but the bits that remained visible resembled more of a charred skeleton than a deity. The only god-like thing on his person were big gray wings that looked like bat’s but created out of fog and smoke. She and Lucifer made their way on board of the ancient looking ferry. Both of them muttering a whispered greeting to the silent ferryman, mindful of his dislike of loud noises. There was no need to make a lot of noise in the place of dead.

Their journey to the depths of the Underworld was a short one. Charon knew very well where they were headed and didn’t need any prompting. All three of them were silent, the two visitors always felt unease while travelling on the river Styx. Maybe it was the fact that it separated them from the rest of the world, or just the absence of rivers in their own realms. Either way, they didn’t like the River of Oaths. At last they finally reached Hades’s palace. It was a beautiful structure that surprisingly enough didn’t resemble Greek architecture, but instead looked more like a medieval castle from black stone. Some parts of it were floating in the air without anything to hold them there and the whole building was constantly rearranging itself. She was certain that this little detail was a work of Persephone the first time she laid her eyes on it. The stoic Underworld and it’s ruler clearly benefited from the touch of their Queen.

At the gates of the palace her and Lucifer bowed to their ride and started walking inside the enormous castle.

,,Persephone should be here with kids, right?” The question surprised her. She didn’t think that she would see her god-sons today, but it was winter in the mortal realm now, wasn’t it? It was so confusing sometimes to remember what season it was where. Every world has their own time-flow and she needed to keep check on all of them. Tiresome.

,,Yes, I believe so. That is if she didn’t go to visit one of her siblings. You know she doesn’t get to see them very often with her work on Earth and in here.”

Lucifer used his wings to hop easier three steps up like a bored child and nodded absent-mindly. They quickly ascended the rest of the stairs and found their way through the palace into the Hades’s office. She softly knocked on the wooden door and waited until they heard muffled: ,,Come in,”

,,Ah, friends! Welcome, I’m glad you both made it here today. We have a lot to discuss.”

Hades was sitting almost buried under piles of papers and folders with tired expression on his face. He gestured at two seats in front of his desk. She sat on one of the while Lucifer tried and failed to fold his wings into comfortable position for sitting on not modified chair. So he magicked them away with a sigh and lowered himself into his own seat.

,,Greetings old friend, you summoned us quite unexpectedly I must say. What prompted this sudden visit of ours?” the archangel beside her was clearly in no mood for small talk and she found herself agreeing of this approach.

,,You know I always love to visit this place, but Lucifer is right. This was very abrupt, even for your habit of popping out anywhere you want whenever you want.”

Deep sigh resonated through the silent room. Hades’s shoulders slumped as he leaned back in his chair. One of his hands pinched the bridge of his nose before falling back to his lap. ,,It seems,” he started tiredly with so much irritation in his voice she thought the world must be ending soon. ,,that my brothers insist on having a volcano and an actual ocean inside of the academy for training purposes.”

There was a moment of absolute quiet before both Hel and Lucifer exploded in a burst of laughter.

,,Hey! I need your help, you morons!”

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

hades!harry concept

So let’s say Harry and the missus are going to visit Olympus for a summer equinox party.

And all of the nymphs and minor goddesses are flirting with Harry but he doesn’t really realize it.

And so Persephone gets jealous and ends up walking away from him to go lounge around the gardens and runs into Apollo (Niall) who invited her to play discus with him, Hermes (Louis) and some other people.

And they do a thing where they’re in pairs and one person has to get on the shoulders of the other.

Harry notices she’s been gone for a while and goes asking for her and find her ontop of Niall’s shoulders laughing and giggling together as they play.

And Niall ends up falling over, toppling ontop of Persephone and Harry feels flames tickling his fingers as his anger threatens to get out of control, so he clenches his fists and stalks over to them.

“Oh, hey, Harry! We were just playing some disks! Wanna join? We can be in groups of–” Niall starts, all happy and smiling because that’s who he is– god of the sun and everything .

And Harry just cuts him off. “It’s time to go, Persephone.”

Y/N immediately knows he’s upset bc harry only uses official godly names when he’s mad.

“But we’re having so much fun! C'mon, Har, come join–” Starts Louis, the wings on his shoes flapping encouragingly.

“There’s been some trouble in the Asphodel Meadows. Some souls wandered out and into the Fields of Punishment. I have to go sort it out.” He then turns to Y/N, the shadows all around them seeming to bend towards him, over his figure and casting a certain dark gloom over his face. “We must be going.”

Niall tries one more time, frowning that his partner is leaving so suddenly. “Don’t be such a kólos! Just stay for a little longer, the Furies should be able to handle–”

“I said no, Apollo.” Harry’s voice booms across the discus court, rattling the marble columns and causing some nymphs to change into trees.

The glowing aura of buttery light around Niall’s form fades slightly and he draws back, head bowing in submission. “As you wish.”

Harry looks around, daring anyone else to object. When no one arises, he takes Y/N’s hand swiftly, starting for the golden gates where he has parked his chariot.

But Y/N feels anger rising up inside her and she wrenches her hand from his, running back and throwing her arms around Niall in a parting embrace. “Sorry for having to leave. We’ll hold a rematch some other day, I swear. See you later, Niall.”

Harry watches with nostrils flaring and eyes the same dark emerald color of the River Styx. Y/N makes her way back and mounts the chariot, taking a seat and waiting for him patiently.

And all throughout the ride, no one says a word. And when they get to the palace, Y/N goes up to their room while Harry tends to his issues.

She sits down to read a new story that her mother had given her about a man fighting a hydra, feeling very content with herself for giving him a taste of his own medicine.

Later that night, Harry slips into their bedroom quietly, heading towards the bathing chamber without a word. After a long shower, he comes back in to Y/N sitting at her gilded mirror, brushing out her hair. He stands behind her, his face stone hard, his new toga a navy blue and his hair still damp from the bath.

“What is it?” She speaks up quietly, not making eye contact with him.

“You left my side at the party. I was worried. Had to go around asking everyone if they’d seen you.” He answers, voice strained.

“How’s that for a change…” She mumbles, rolling her eyes.

Harry’s jaw ticks as he tries to swallow his pent up jealousy and anger. “And then when I find you, Apollo’s on top of you.”

“We fell.” She says dismissively, putting down her brush and turning to look at him as he towers above her.

“So you left me, your husband, to go play around with a lesser god?” Harry’s shoulders square themselves as his spine stiffens, as if ready for an attack. He usually doesn’t lord his status above everyone else, but his anger is besting him at the moment.

“Because Niall doesn’t forget I exist and flirt with other women, whether it be consciously or not.” Persephone stares daggers up at him, her chin tilting up slightly, daring him to protest.

“Y/N, you know I’m forced to entertain the guests. It’s what I have to in order to keep my reputation clean. Being the god of the dead doesn’t exactly make you sound like the most appealing person, does it?” His shoulders slump down, defeated now that he sees it was all a petty play.

“And so you pretend your wife isn’t there simply to attend some nymphs and get a good word in for yourself?” She stands up now, defiant. “Well, go ahead then. Go attend to your godly duties and leave me here, alone. I’m sure you’d much rather polish up your status then spend time with your wife.”

“Y/N–”

“Go on, Hades,” he flinches at the name because he knows she uses godly names in the same way he does, “go handle whatever it is that’s more important. Go forget about the fact that we haven’t had a walk in the gardens here in over a month. Ignore the fact that we haven’t had a feast together in the last 2 weeks, and do I even need to mention how long it’s been since we’ve had a simple heart-to-heart talk?”

Harry’s eyes soften. “Darling, you know I’ve been really busy–”

“And ignore the fact that you haven’t bed me in forever, but you have time to entertain a couple of swamp spirits.” Y/N hisses, shoving past him.

“Y/N, you know I would love–” He starts, going after her, but then she mumbles something under her breath that makes his already cold blood freeze over.

“I bet Niall could fuck me better than you ever could.” She doesn’t mean it– she never could– but she knows it’ll make him mad and that’s precisely what she wants right now.

Harry stands there, eyes dark with rage and his teeth gritted so hard they hurt. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me.” Persephone whispers, turning to face him head-on.

“You know that’s not true.” He’s masking his hurt with anger, irises flashing with a dangerous green glow.

“Really? Because Hestia tells me he’s huge. And that he can make a woman come multiple times just using his tongue.” She gets closer to him, a triumphant gleam twinkling in her eyes as she sees Harry’s fists clench.

“And that he can last for hours. And that his scruff feels amazing in between the thighs. And–”

Harry shoves her back towards the bed, eyes a kaleidoscope of colors as lust mixes into them. “You don’t actually think Niall could fuck you better than me, do you?”

“I dunno, but I can’t say I don’t want to find out.” She shrugs. “Gonna have to ask when he’s free.”

And that’s the last straw. Harry picks her up over his shoulder, slamming her into the mattress and climbing on top of her, pinning her wrists down and whispering straight in her ear.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll be feeling me inside you for the next week; won’t be able to walk right for the next two.”

“Prove it.” She smiles innocently, licking her lips in anticipation.

Harry chuckles darkly, pulling his crown off his head and setting it gently onto the near-by nightstand. “By the time I’m done, you’re gonna wish you were the goddess of healing, instead.”

[mnm-inc-miles]

MAY 3 - JULY 26, 2019 

Elliot blinked, his eyes trying desperately to adjust to the darkness. His body aches and as he went to stand he could feel himself fold over unnaturally. Upon looking at himself he saw his insides slowly pouring from his abdomen. His eyes widened in horror as he tried to scoop himself back together. Feeling his knees weaken, he buckled under the sheer magnitude of his situation and fell to the ground. Looking around desperately he saw a small blueish glow moving toward him.

As the figure approached, his face stern and unmoving, he reached down and offered a hand. Elliot was hesitant but took the extension and pulled himself up. “You’ve seen better days,” the voice spoke in a cold emotionless tone.

“I...” Elliot breathed as he took in the image of the other man. He was very tall and muscular, he had a dark beard and glowing eyes, his lips held in a stern scowl. Upon his head sat a golden crown. It began to sink in just who in fact he was. Hades. “Am I dead?” Elliot tried thinking about the last thing he remembered. Moving to Greece, trying desperately to pray, to appeal to the Gods and find one willing to help him get rid of his father’s grasp on his body and mind. Then he vaguely remembered another visit from Ares...

“You are one determined soul,” the voice spoke with almost a hint of admiration.

“Hades?” Elliot was fairly certain due to the crown but he knew there were other deities that also inhabited the underworld.

The man before him gave a nod then lifted Elliot up by the hand he had grasped, and with his free hand, ran his fingers along Elliot’s open wounds. “Son of Ares, grandson to my power hungry entitled brother Zeus.” A twinge of jealousy riddled in the words he spoke, at the same time Elliot felt his wounds heal. “Welcome to the underworld.”

Hades had explained to Elliot that he resisted his father but it came at the cost of his own life. And though Hades admired his fight and took pity on his plight, he was not in charge of where souls ended up once entering the underworld. Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus were the ones to determine which souls were worthy of the Elysian Fields, Asphodel Meadows, or Tartarus. Minos, the one in charge of the final decision, didn’t seem to care that toward the end of his life Elliot tried to resist his darkness and desires to kill, and even fought to undo the wrongs of his father. Hades explained that Minos still felt Tartarus was a deserving afterlife for the young demi-god. But Hades, as ruler of the underworld has some considerable pull and he took an interest in the younger male, offering him a deal.

With every deal there was a catch, Elliot knew that but he listened anyway. Hades was bored and he loved interacting with humans, he felt they had the most interesting stories and perspectives. Most gods shared this perspective it seemed. He was also impulsive and when he had a thought he was often quick to act upon it. So he promised Elliot either rebirth which was granted on rare occasions that Hades deemed worthy; or reintroduction to the world just as he was, which wasn’t as easy a trick to perform. Rebirth, Hades assured him, would rid Elliot of his father’s hold and he would get to start over. Reintroduction would come at great cost for Hades and so the same for Elliot, but would still allow for Ares to taunt and use him. The price was to convince a few (or more depending on the choice) humans to eat the food while in the underworld and be bound there for eternity. Elliot told him he couldn’t make such a deal, it wasn’t fair, and Hades laughed. Snapping his fingers he sent Elliot straight to Tartarus. “Call me when you’ve changed your mind.”

~~~~~~~~ 3 MONTHS LATER ~~~~~~~~

Elliot spent just shy of three torturous months in Tartarus. Every morning he was beaten awake by the furies with whips and snakes. Then later each day he was forced to battle the giant serpent monster by the name of Typhon, always ending in the serpent sinking his massive fangs into his flesh and sucking him dry of blood. It was an incredibly painful ordeal. When he wasn’t fighting Typhon he watched his suffering neighbors carry out their own tasks. On his right walked a large number of women carrying jugs to fill a bath that was supposed to wash away the sins of murdering their husband, but the task was never able to be completed as the bath was cracked and the water would always leak out. Not far off beyond them he saw a giant who’s body was torn apart day after day by two vultures. On his left he saw a man push a massive boulder to the top of a large hill with the promise of being released from the underworld once the boulder made it to the other side. But every time he got to the top it would only roll back down and he’d have to repeat the task. Elliot constantly heard cries of anguish and screams of pain, which left him with little to no sleep each night. Not that day and night were distinguishable from one another; after a short while being there it all blended together.

Eventually he felt himself breaking, his mentality to stay and suffer this injustice was no longer something he could stand. “Hades!” Elliot shouted once more for the lord of the underworld. “Great and powerful Hades, I have a proposal.”

Appearing before him in a cloud of blue smoke was the god of the underworld himself, stoic and unemotional as ever. “Tired of playing in Tartarus?” He spoke, no sarcasm just a cold matter of fact statement. “Perhaps Typhon doesn’t make a good playmate.”

“All the above, and I don’t exactly love the neighbors,” He exhaled bitterly. “I was wondering if we could talk...come to an agreement. Something I can live with but also appeases you.”

“You want to change the terms of the deal I offered?” Hades boomed, his image growing, challenging Elliot’s brawn.

Elliot barely shivered as the god’s size increased, but stood his ground. “Yes. I think I have something you want. If you could do it yourself you wouldn’t have asked me to make a deal.”

Hades narrowed his eyes than snapped his fingers and suddenly Elliot was sitting at a table with a huge feast. “Enjoy yourself while we talk.” Beside Hades was a large three headed dog, the one that often guards the entrance to the underworld to prevent people from entering or escaping. He growled viciously before lapping up raw meat from three bowls.

“It looks wonderful, but I am well aware that eating the food of the underworld traps you for eternity.”

“Elliot, son of Ares, you are already dead. Therefore you are already trapped for eternity. Might as well enjoy yourself while we negotiate terms.” Raising a brow and wondering a moment if this was the case, Elliot decided he really did have nothing to lose, and he was in fact starving. They didn’t feed you in Tartarus, not unless it had something to do with your punishment perhaps, though he hadn’t quite noticed his hunger then.

After having eaten some Elliot somehow found himself hungrier than ever, then sighed figuring it was the effects of eating Hades food. So he redirected his attention back to the god himself. “Send me back to Earth and I will personally bring you 4 people, one for each week in a month that will dine with you for a night and you can talk until your hearts content, but then send them back to earth when you’re done.”

“Release...them? Why...why ever would I do that?”

“Let me let you in on a little secret, people are only interesting when they are living their lives. Trap them down here for eternity and their light will grow as dark as the underworld itself.”

“Like...Persephone...” Hades spoke with affection toward his wife, who only joins him in the underworld for 7 weeks out of the year.

“Basically, yes. This way, you have endless stories to be shared and no broken toys.”

“I do like this plan,” Hades nodded. “Alright, you’ve convinced me.” Elliot’s head cocked, wondering if it would really be that easy. “Though I have an amendment. I want 8 people, for one week out of each month. And in return I shall have you reborn.”

“Actually, I quite like my life as it is now...I’d really like to resume it.”

“Even with Ares looming over your head?”

“I’ll admit I want to get rid of that burden, but I’ll figure out a way. Maybe you could get me in touch with Aphrodite, I think she often takes pity on me.”

Hades laughed, “My dear boy, I doubt it is pity she feels for you. Goddess of love, with looks like yours? She may want more from you than offerings. But of all the choices Aphrodite might be one of your best against Ares.”

“I guess we’ll see.” At least Elliot knew now he was on the right track and that the world of the Greek Gods wasn’t entirely lost after all.

“I can’t put you in touch with her, sadly. Most of the other gods don’t associate much with me. Which is why I get so lonely sometimes...especially when my wife...”

“Well I can help with that, can you return me to earth as I am now?” He would simply have to take this step by step. Anything to get him out of Tartarus.

Hades thought for a moment, “There is a mountain of gold I’d like you to steal for me. I shall loan you my Helm of Darkness to aid you in the task. Wearing it will make you invisible.”

“And how do I carry this said mountain back to you?” Sarcasm dripping from his lips.

Hades offered a smile, “You have a lot of attitude for a man in my debt.”

“They way I see it, you haven’t really done anything for me to put me in your debt. The deal benefits you before it benefits me.”

“Fair point, but I’m always true to my word. Ask Persephone. She’ll tell you.” Hades beamed with pride for a moment then snapped his fingers. A blue cloud of smoke and suddenly a small sack was in his hand. “For you, it’s bottomless. Though it’s a bit broken so the weightlessness might not be working fully.”

“Of course it is,” Elliot sighed.

“While you’re on this mission you will bring me ten people and I will pick the eight I find most interesting.” Hades nodded to put the stamp of finality on the statement.

Elliot closed his eyes, and decided to see how badly Hades needed this gold and these people, then opened with a rebuttal. “That is far too many. I had said I could bring you four.”

“I am Hades!”

“I know. And I have the means of supplying you with gold and a few people for entertainment. But you are asking too much of me.”

“Too much of the son of Ares!?”

“Too much of anyone with humanity.” Hades eyed him for a moment and Elliot sighed. “Send me back to Tartarus if you must, because I cannot fulfill such a grand request.”

“Bring me eight people.”

“Four.”

“Bring me eight and I’ll choose four people who stay and release the rest.” Elliot thought for a moment and realized he had no bargaining chips left and agreed to the deal.

~~~~~~~~ A week later ~~~~~~~~

Elliot managed to steal the gold Hades asked of him without much trouble thanks to the helmet. Gathering 8 people for him to choose from would be a whole other battle. But these were people who barely mattered so he wasn’t going to fight the issue. He needed to get back to Christian and his life.

A young woman stood staring at a street sign, confused; she was clearly a tourist. A pang of guilt hit him but Elliot pressed on. “Excuse me miss, but you look lost.” He turned up the charm and offered her a reassuring smile.

“I’m trying to find the river styx?” Her eyes were a soft hazel but there was something wild and familiar about them.

“Why would you want to do that?” Elliot spoke. He was honest in the statement, the river of hate being a terrible place to find yourself. But he recovered quickly, “Why just the river when you can tour all of the underworld.”

Her eyes widened, “Oh you don’t say! How much is that going to cost?”

“Possibly nothing, possibly part of your life.” He said it very seriously, as if daring her to be scared and turn to flee. She did not.

“That sounds wonderful I have 8 people in mind for the adventure.”

“What?” Elliot asked, confused. Suddenly the woman before him transformed into Miles and laughed maniacally.

“You didn’t think I’d let you choose people of no worth did you? No, that would be no fun for me.” Before Elliot could argue Miles opened his hand, eight tiny people were dazed and clinging to him. Miles gave a mighty blow and the 8 people along with Elliot were suddenly transported back to the underworld.

In the frenzy everyone fell from above into scattered locations. Oliver and Rob had landed upon the shore near a boat with Elliot. Donald landed just before Cerberus who proceeded to lunge and tear into his skin with his many jaws. He scrambled to get away as Ted reached a hand in Donald’s direction to pull him free. Not far from them Lena screamed as she was being pulled down by foreign hands in a river. Donald leapt to his feet and dove head first into the river of screaming souls. Ted sighed, finding the move impulsive but followed him to the edge to help pull them free. It took Donald a while to pull his head back above the water and when he did he howled in pain. Flesh eating worms squirming in and out of his wounds. Jack landed on solid ground near a body of water that was covered in flames. He soothed himself by quietly singing “lake of fire” hoping someone would find him and together they could find a way out. Wil landed in a body of water hard, knocking the wind out of him, and he was left floating on his back. Chet splashed into a river and swam through its mirky black depths screaming in pain. His soul was filled with the darkness of the hate the river spewed and as Chet pulled himself upon the land he could hear the mournful cries of the souls around him. He tore off his clothes as they burned his skin and he retreated into himself, covering his body.

Elliot looked around and called out to Oliver and Rob, “Hey, are you two alright?”

Rob stood and looked over at Elliot, “What the heck is happening? Where are we?”

“Elliot...you’re okay!?” Oliver stared in surprise.

He gave them a nod, “That’s a loaded question...look, climb aboard, we have to find the others. There has to be a way to escape...”

“Escape where, what’s going on Elliot?” Oliver asked, looking around nervously.

“The underworld, I made a deal with Hades, but somehow Miles got involved and complicated it. So I’m hoping to come up with a plan B. But we need to find the others first, and already I can see just across the lake toward Archeron, there’s a few people. But we need to hurry.”

“Archeron?” Oliver asked as he climbed into the boat. Rob followed, watching Elliot suspiciously and wondering just what this deal entailed.

“River of woe,” Elliot added. He began rowing and avoided eye contact with Rob who was intensely staring him down. Just as Oliver was about to ask another question Elliot interrupted. “I’d rather not answer a million questions right now...we’re on a bit of a time crunch.”

“Yes well it seems your what got us pulled into this mess,” Rob added. “Miles or not, it has to do with you, so I wouldn’t be short with us.”

“Help! Over ‘ere, we’re over ‘ere,” a voice yelled in a thick British accent. Elliot saw Ted waving his long arms above his head on the shore. Beside him was Donald sitting up but doubled over, gritting his teeth in pain and splashed with blood. On the ground next to him was an unconscious Lena. “Elliot, hi...” Ted actually sounded relieved to see him. “Mate, what the heck is happening? I fink...are we in hell right now?”

“Sort of,” Oliver offered. “Hades underworld apparently, so I guess Elliot’s hell.”

“What happened?” Elliot moved passed Oliver’s statements, choosing to ignore correcting him. “Is Lena alright?”

“She has a pulse,” Ted gave a nod.

“Did you dive in with open wounds?” Elliot asked Donald as he pulled the boat fully to shore. Ted answered for him and Elliot sighed. “That’s going to sting a while.”

“Ya think?” Donald growled, then added bitterly, “I couldn’t let her drown...”

“Probably should have asked Ted to do it,” Elliot stated.

“Yeah well, felt like we didn’t have a lot of time for discussion and also how the fuck was I supposed to know...”

“You couldn’t tell by the souls pulling her down it wasn’t an ordinary river?” Elliot interrupted his rant. “Let’s go, get in. We still have three other people to find before we can get out of here.”

“Do you have any idea where to look?” Oliver asked, concern lacing his deep voice.

“Do you ever stop?” Elliot growled.

“Listen man,” Rob snapped, reaching a strong hand across the boat and grabbing Elliot’s shirt collar. “I’m about sick of your attitude. These are valid concerns and unlike you, most of us aren’t familiar with this god damn place. So you either narrate your plans to avoid people’s questions or just suck it up and answer a few. Got it?”

“I really...I don’t think fighting will help,” Ted stuttered.

“Guys...I think I hear someone...singing...” Oliver suddenly stated and pointed in the opposite direction they were rowing.

Elliot looked across the lake at another river called Phlegethon. “Well,” he sighed. “The only way there is to continue down this river, threw the marsh and toward the River Styx. Which...is where we need to go anyway if we want to navigate out of here. Hopefully we get everyone else along the way. I’m guessing we all fell pretty close to one another.” He paused a moment and looked at Lena. “How’s she doing?”

Ted tucked her hair behind her ear and offered a slight shrug. “She was stirring a bit earlier...what...was that? The river of woe you said?”

Elliot nodded. “There are lost souls there filled with nothing but pain and anyone living who steps foot in the waters feels their pain as well as their own.”

“What a miserable river...” Ted crooned.

“It is the underworld...” Donald sighed. “Not sure what you expected.”

“The underworld consists of nicer places too. It’s not just hell.” Elliot stated as they pushed their way through the marsh. “Hey!” He shouted when the voice subsided. “Can you hear me? Where are you?”

Jack heard the other shouting and quickly stood up. He saw the boat in the distance and began towards it. He was nervous but the closer he got the more he recognized the people of board.

“Hey kid,” Rob smiled warmly as they neared the rivers edge. “Reach out, I’ll take your hands  and help you over.” Jack listened because he wanted to get as far away from the fire and screams as he could. “You alright? You hurt at all?”

“No, not at all. Just freaked out. This place is fuel for nightmares. Where are we?”

“Hades, otherwise known as the underworld,” Rob stated as Elliot rowed on. “Seen anyone else around?”

“No...” said Jack, feeling useless. “God; I heard screaming but I kinda think that comes with the territory...”

“I think you’re probably right,” Ted nodded, acknowledging the current soundtrack that surrounded them.

“I see something,” Donald pointed across the way just along the shore of the river. “I think that’s...”

“River...” Ted nodded. “Poor mate, look at ‘im, doesn’t look like he’s wearing anyfing...I hope he’s awright...”

“Chet!” Elliot called out. “Hey, Chet; we’re coming for you, are you hurt?”

Rob stood and went to step out to help him when Elliot pulled him back in. “I wouldn’t,” he warned. “Styx is also known as the river of hate; not a good place to get your feet wet. We’ll pull up close, you can help him in.”

“He has no clothes,” Rob stated, annoyed.

“He fucks people in the open Rob, I think he can hop into the boat without loosing too much modesty.” Rob looked as if he was ready to punch Elliot when Jack took a hand and interlocked it with Rob’s. Turning to look at the younger male, they locked eyes a moment and Jack gave his hand a squeeze. “Are you okay?” Elliot asked again.

“I think so...” Chet nodded as he stood covering his manhood. “I ugh...I think it’s made of acid...or something...” Rob reached over and helped the other into the boat. It rocked unsteadily under their weight. “Oh...oh man; is this thing going to hold us?”

“It’s fine,” Elliot stated as some water splashed in from the side. Chet gave a yelp as he moved away from it. Sighing, Elliot lifted the bag of gold and gave it a hefty toss onto the river bank. The boat suddenly lifted, the water level on the sides falling away.

“What was that?” Donald asked, eyeing the small bag as they continued their journey.

“Where are we?” Chet added to the question.

“Hades,” Elliot and a handful of people said at once. A slight pause as some tension eased, everyone thinking the same thing about their ridiculous situation. Then Elliot continued. “That was gold in a broken magic bag.” He did a head count and asked, “We’re still missing someone, does anyone know who it was? We’re running out of time...”

“Wilson,” Oliver stated, matter-of-factly.

“I have your friend,” a voice boomed. “You weren’t thinking of trying to escape were you, son of Ares?”

“I hate that he calls me that,” Elliot seethed under his breathe. “Hades!” He spoke aloud. “Hey; so good hearing from you. So turns out getting here was really hard, I had to put your gold down on the shores of Styx because I didn’t want this rickety boat to sink with all these people in it...”

“What’s going on?” Oliver asked. “Elliot...is this the guy you made a deal with that involves us?”

“I didn’t know it would involve you,” Elliot barked. He redirected his attention, knowing there was no more chance at escape. “Hey do you mind doing that finger snap trick of yours and getting us all back to your palace in one piece? Maybe get some clothes for my one friend here?”

A cloud of blue smoke surrounded them and suddenly they were inside, beside a table of food that looked Devine. Chet now wore a toga that was made from what felt like an itchy potato sack.

“We can’t eat any of this food right?” Oliver asked as he eyed some macaroons.

“Um...no, I wouldn’t,” Elliot spoke. “Hades!” He called out but no answer. “Don’t...touch anything, I need to find Hades.”

“Um...Elliot,” Oliver began.

“What,” Elliot spoke, annoyed but trying not to show it. Oliver pointed in the direction of a chair at the end of the table. In it sat a familiar face about to eat an apple from the table. It was Wil. Suddenly an arrow shot through the air and knocked the apple from Wil’s hand.

“Phoenix,” Elliot spoke in surprise. “How did you get here?”

“I have ways,” Phoenix stated. He looked a little worse for wear, probably had battled Cerberus to even make it into the underworld. “Nobody eat the food. You eat it and you’re stuck here for eternity. Wil, are you alright?”

“I uh...I think so yeah.” He paused, now realizing how close he’d been to spending forever in the Greek version of hell. “The man that pulled me from the river said I should...make myself comfortable...”

“Well don’t, we’re not staying.”

“You’re not leaving either,” Hades spoke as he appeared in a cloud of blue smoke. “Not until I get my four humans.”

“You’re not keeping anyone here against their will,” Phoenix spoke.

“That’s not up to you.” Hades smirked slightly. “The son of Ares has made a deal...”

“With lives that aren’t his to forfeit the rights of, and if he doesn’t pull through then the deals off.”

“Phoenix...” growled Elliot. “Hades, would you please give us just a moment.” He grabbed the younger male by the arm and pulled him aside. “First of all, you can’t just leave me here.”

“You got yourself into this mess...”

“You’ll bring Ed back from a mental institution where he probably belongs but you’ll leave me here in the underworld!?” He kept his voice to a harsh whisper.

“I have a feeling you belong here too Elliot. Also; I only brought Ed back because he was the only person who could help Cam. What’s the benefit of bringing you back?”

Elliot eyed him for a moment, wondering if the dislike stemmed from his relationship with Abigail at one point in time. He took a deep breathe and instead of fighting the younger male Elliot decided to appeal to the hero in him. “Phoenix,” he began to plead. “You can’t leave me here man, you know you can’t. It’s not fair...it’s not the right thing to do...”

“Elliot this might be out if my control. Okay? I...I don’t know how you got into this situation...”

“I tried to resist my father using me as a vessel to kill people and ended up dying for it. If that isn’t an action deserving of redemption...”

“Maybe you’re right but this realm is outside my jurisdiction.”

“Most things are,” Elliot spat bitterly. “Look, you’ve no idea who you’re messing with here. Hades is one of the three most powerful Gods in existence. He’s not going to let these people go without a fight. And a fight means bloodshed Phoenix, you really want more of that on your hands? Or do you want me to sweet talk him into a deal of some kind?”

“A deal that involves leaving some people behind? I don’t think so.”

“This isn’t an all or nothing situation Phoenix. It’s either save some, or likely none at all. You can’t fight him, he’s a fucking god. A literal god. Not self proclaimed, not demi, a full blown out of his mind supreme ruler of the god damn underworld. He has you beat, now you have to make the best out of a bad situation. I tried to get everyone together and leave before he noticed, but it didn’t work. So here we are.”

“Enough!” Boomed Hades before clicking his staff on the ground. “I have made my decision.” He began by pointing his staff at Donald. “You must stay, she can go...she’s weak and as beautiful as she is my wife would kill her if she found out she was here. And you...you sound funny...” he cocked his head as he pointed at Ted.

“Thank God for that,” Ted muttered under his breathe. Donald was sitting beside Lena who was just beginning to wake. He sat quietly and waited to hear how things went before freaking out.

“Too old,” Hades stared pointing at Rob. Then slowly be moved close to Oliver. His body emitting a blue glow as he admired the other. “You are a beautiful human, my brother Zeus would have a field day with you, he may even offer you a place among the gods.”

“Uh...thanks?” Oliver shrugged. “That’s very kind but I look forward to growing old and eventually dying...”

“Yes,” Hades huffed tediously, clearly bored. “Which leaves the last three. All of whom seem very interesting. Especially this young lad,” Hades mewed, pointing to Wil. “I don’t know any but one who has drank from the river Lethe and not lost his memory. It’s fascinating.”

“You can’t have him,” Phoenix stepped forward, tired of playing into this game.

“So Hades,” Elliot spoke up, getting between both hot heads. “Here’s what’s going on, things got a little more complicated than I anticipated and these people aren’t exactly willing participants.”

“No one wants to willingly stay here!” Hades roared, his frame growing larger as he banged the staff and shook the ground. Many howls became audible in the distance and Elliot could feel the temperature in the room literally rise.

“Can I ask what the catch is,” Chet spoke suddenly and softly. “This whole thing...it’s to benefit Elliot, I assume he’s dead and wants to leave, so...what’s the catch, what do you want from the four of us you’ve chosen?”

Hades stopped growing as he looked at Chet. “You have a double-soul, did you know that?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, blushing slightly and turning on the charm. “It’s a new thing, I don’t understand it myself yet.” He looked affectionately at Hades and offered a warm smile, “So what do you want from us?”

“Just your company,” Hades spoke. “But no one wants to willingly stay here so I have to make it so there is no choice.”

“Maybe this time it can be different. Maybe if we talk amongst ourselves we can decide who wouldn’t mind staying, it’s not forever right?”

“This is bullshit,” Donald spoke. He was still writhing in pain and wanted to just leave so he could be looked at by a doctor. “I’m not spending any amount of time here, doesn’t matter how short it is.”

“You don’t have a CHOICE!” Hades roared once more. “I don’t trust humans to be true to their word. So therefore you each must eat one pomegranate seed which will bind you to the underworld for 1 week out of the year.”

“There’s no way that’s happening,” Phoenix firmly stated. We’re leaving, try to stop us.”

“He’s joking,” Elliot rushed in. “Phoenix, you said it yourself this is not your domain; you don’t get to call the shots. Stop trying to play the hero and actually be one instead.”

Phoenix froze for a moment and looked at Elliot. It dawned on him that the other may be right and that he could not simply walk out of Hades dwellings with everyone and not expect a backlash or casualties. Inhaling deeply he took a step toward Hades. “I will stay with you for four weeks out of a year. If you can’t trust my word I will eat 4 of your seeds.”

“I don’t WANT you,” Hades whined. “Plus just one person is far too boring.”

“I assure you I am far from boring, in fact I have a second persona so if you need change I can offer you that.”

Hades looked at him a moment, intrigued. “Alright then, you can take the place of two people.”

“Wil and Chet,” Phoenix stated, and pointed to each of them.

“No I want these ones most,” Hades declared.

“I will drink from your river and show you the same results as Wil, so you can let him go. As for Chet, why is he so special? The double soul?”

Hades gave an affirmative nod, “and he’s respectful too, and pretty to look at. He’ll be a wonderful subject.”

Phoenix pulled his shirt over his head and took another step closer to Hades. “I have more stories than he’ll ever be able to share even with two souls. These are proof.”

Hades reached a hand out and touched Phoenix gently, tracing the scars and tattoos with great interest. “Very well, you and the other two. The rest are free to leave.”

Rob watched as tears formed in Jack’s eyes, fear overwhelming him. He raised a brow and turned on his own charm. “You’re looking for entertainment?”

Hades narrowed his eyes, “Yes, have you something to offer?”

“Ask anyone here, I might be one of the most entertaining people in this room. I’ll stay a week in place of him,” Rob offered, pointing to Jack. “I know you said I’m old, but that kid scares easily, you’ll only grow frustrated trying to acclimate him here. I assure you I’m a much more fulfilling choice.”

Pondering a moment Hades shrugged, “Why not.” He let out a big yawn, “alright then let’s get on with it. Each of you have your allotted seeds.”

“Oh fuck no,” Donald growled. “I am not a willing participant. Like I said I’m not staying for any amount of time. Period.”

“You will stay if I have to force this seed down your throat.”

“Try it, I dare you,” Donald growled.

Elliot got between them, “Hades, you know you can’t force them. Look I’ll...I’ll stay a week in his place. In fact, I’ll stay two, in place of Rob as well.”

Hades grew quiet and stared at Elliot. “The son of Ares...”

“Elliot,” he offered.

“The grandson of Zeus himself, is willing to join me in the underworld for two weeks out of the year?”

“Sure, if I can pick the two weeks. Maybe end of March and end of September sometime? That doesn’t interfere with your Persephone time either.”

“I like the sound of that.” Hades stated, his hand held out a bunch of pomegranate seeds. “Have your pick.” Elliot picked up two seeds and ate them. Then he offered them to Phoenix who watched Elliot, eyes narrow and angry. Then rolling his eyes and swallowing hard, he took two seeds and ate them. “What weeks will you join me?”

“It doesn’t entirely matter, first week of August and first week of September.”

“Not September, he’s already coming then,” Hades nodded to Elliot. “And not November through February because I’ll be preparing for and joined by Persephone.” Phoenix listed the months in his head and thought of important days and decided upon the first week in October. “Deal.”

[transparentmanposts]

A Demon Says," Trick or Treat, I'm Dress Up As A Ghost."

This article is written to discus what Ghosts are,according to what is written in the Bible about them. The reason i am writing about this subject,is not because other have neglected to write about it. I am motivated to write on this subject out of my dismay of the numerous people who claim to be students of the bible,yet hold unbiblical view on this subject.

As I stated in all my topical studies articles I have written, I am not attempting to mention every scriptural reference in the Bible on this subject. But to present portion of scripture that clearly with out a doubt shed the light of truth on the subject.

My Theories On Why People Want to Believe in Ghosts;

People are hart broken by the death of a loved one. They want to still believe they can carry on a relationship with diseased.

People want to believe their decreased loved one is going to guide them or protect them from harm.

People want to believe they can right wrong from the other side of the grave. The first problem with trying to commune with the dead to receive guidance and protect and have wrongs righted, are an act of Idolatry against God. When we look out side of God’s Hand of provision , for physical and spiritual needs. We our placing something or some one else on the throne of God in our lives.

Exodus 20:3-5American Standard Version (ASV)

3 Thou shalt have no other gods [a]before me.

4 Thou shalt not make unto thee a graven image, nor any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth: 5 thou shalt not bow down thyself unto them, nor serve them; for I Jehovah thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children, upon the third and upon the fourth generation of them that hate me,

The Exodus 20:3-5American Standard Version (ASV)

3 Thou shalt have no other gods [a]before me.

4 Thou shalt not make unto thee a graven image, nor any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth: 5 thou shalt not bow down thyself unto them, nor serve them; for I Jehovah thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children, upon the third and upon the fourth generation of them that hate me,

Bible forbid The contact with the dead :

Isaiah 8:19-20 When they say to you, “Consult the mediums and the spiritists who whisper and mutter,” should not a people consult their God? Should they consult the dead on behalf of the living? To the law and to the testimony! If they do not speak according to this word, it is because they have no dawn.

There is only one occasion that is recorded in the Bible where God allowed a living person to talk to a deceased person. The incident involved a disobedient King,King Saul, who had his anointing of being king of Israel,and given to David who God had anointed to take Saul’s place. Saul was removed from being King by God , for his act of disobedience of offing the sacrifice to God before going into war. The sacrifice was only excepted by god when it was offered by his o pointed prophet Samuel.

So Saul facing a coming battle with the Philistines who brought their soldiers together to attack Israel. Saul saw their numbers and was scared to the point of shaking. He seeks God guidance, and god is silent. So Saul seek out a medium , to try to get her to make contact with Samuel ( who has died) to get guidance on how to fight the Philistines.

Here is the passage of scripture( advise you read the whole chapter)

1 Samuel 28:8 – 20

8 That night, Saul put on different clothing so nobody would recognize him. Then he and two of his men went to the woman, and asked, “Will you bring up the ghost of someone for us?”

9 The woman said, “Why are you trying to trick me and get me killed? You know King Saul has gotten rid of everyone who talks to the spirits of the dead!”

10 Saul replied, “I swear by the living Lord that nothing will happen to you because of this.”

11 “Who do you want me to bring up?” she asked.

“Bring up the ghost of Samuel,” he answered.

12 When the woman saw Samuel, she screamed. Then she turned to Saul and said, “You’ve tricked me! You’re the king!”

13 “Don’t be afraid,” Saul replied. “Just tell me what you see.”

She answered, “I see a spirit rising up out of the ground.”

14 “What does it look like?”

“It looks like an old man wearing a robe.”

Saul knew it was Samuel, so he bowed down low.

15 “Why are you bothering me by bringing me up like this?” Samuel asked.

“I’m terribly worried,” Saul answered. “The Philistines are about to attack me. God has turned his back on me and won’t answer any more by prophets or by dreams. What should I do?”

16 Samuel said:

If the Lord has turned away from you and is now your enemy, don’t ask me what to do. 17 I’ve already told you: The Lord has sworn to take the kingdom from you and give it to David. And that’s just what he’s doing! 18 When the Lord was angry with the Amalekites, he told you to destroy them, but you didn’t do it. That’s why the Lord is doing this to you. 19 Tomorrow the Lord will let the Philistines defeat Israel’s army, then you and your sons will join me down here in the world of the dead.

20 At once, Saul collapsed and lay stretched out on the floor, terrified at what Samuel had said. He was weak because he had not eaten anything since the day before.

Thou for His purposes God allow Samuel to speak with King Saul ,from beyond the grave,We know from Jesus re accounting of the after life,of the two different places that that Lazarus and the Rich man end up in.

We learn of the following truths:

8 That night, Saul put on different clothing so nobody would recognize him. Then he and two of his men went to the woman, and asked, “Will you bring up the ghost of someone for us?”

9 The woman said, “Why are you trying to trick me and get me killed? You know King Saul has gotten rid of everyone who talks to the spirits of the dead!”

10 Saul replied, “I swear by the living Lord that nothing will happen to you because of this.”

11 “Who do you want me to bring up?” she asked.

“Bring up the ghost of Samuel,” he answered.

12 When the woman saw Samuel, she screamed. Then she turned to Saul and said, “You’ve tricked me! You’re the king!”

13 “Don’t be afraid,” Saul replied. “Just tell me what you see.”

She answered, “I see a spirit rising up out of the ground.”

14 “What does it look like?”

“It looks like an old man wearing a robe.”

Saul knew it was Samuel, so he bowed down low.

15 “Why are you bothering me by bringing me up like this?” Samuel asked.

“I’m terribly worried,” Saul answered. “The Philistines are about to attack me. God has turned his back on me and won’t answer any more by prophets or by dreams. What should I do?”

16 Samuel said:

If the Lord has turned away from you and is now your enemy, don’t ask me what to do. 17 I’ve already told you: The Lord has sworn to take the kingdom from you and give it to David. And that’s just what he’s doing! 18 When the Lord was angry with the Amalekites, he told you to destroy them, but you didn’t do it. That’s why the Lord is doing this to you. 19 Tomorrow the Lord will let the Philistines defeat Israel’s army, then you and your sons will join me down here in the world of the dead.

20 At once, Saul collapsed and lay stretched out on the floor, terrified at what Samuel had said. He was weak because he had not eaten anything since the day before.

21 The woman came over to Saul, and when she saw that he was completely terrified, she said, “Your Majesty, I listened to you andalled

Thou God allow Saul to speak with the prophet Sameul from beyond the grave. Jesus taght by share a true story about Lazarous and The Rich man,the two differnt places each went to to spend enternity in, and about the enteral boudries that separated the dead from the living,and Heaven from Hell.

Here are trueth about the after life:

Abraham’s Bosom. This was the place that all who walked by faith and obedience to the Lord,in His promised of His coming savior into the world. This place was lifted lived up to Heaven after the death of Christ on the cross. It no longer has a place in the earth.

Hades This is a place for all who live rebellous and disobedient lives befor God,Who reject God’s savior who was prophsized to come,Who has come, and is Coming back again. This place is still located in the eath.

Great gulf fixed, Their was anexspance between Abraham’s Bosom. and Hades. People could not travel between the two places.

The dead could not leave Abraham’s Bosom. and Hades. Thye dead could not enter,nor comunicate with the living world.

Here Jesus’ s teaching on the account of Lazarus and the rich Man

Luke 16:19-31King James Version (KJV)

19 There was a certain rich man, which was clothed in purple and fine linen, and fared sumptuously every day:

20 And there was a certain beggar named Lazarus, which was laid at his gate, full of sores,

21 And desiring to be fed with the crumbs which fell from the rich man’s table: moreover the dogs came and licked his sores.

22 And it came to pass, that the beggar died, and was carried by the angels into Abraham’s bosom: the rich man also died, and was buried;

23 And in hell he lift up his eyes, being in torments, and seeth Abraham afar off, and Lazarus in his bosom.

24 And he cried and said, Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of his finger in water, and cool my tongue; for I am tormented in this flame.

25 But Abraham said, Son, remember that thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things: but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented.

26 And beside all this, between us and you there is a great gulf fixed: so that they which would pass from hence to you cannot; neither can they pass to us, that would come from thence.

27 Then he said, I pray thee therefore, father, that thou wouldest send him to my father’s house:

28 For I have five brethren; that he may testify unto them, lest they also come into this place of torment.

29 Abraham saith unto him, They have Moses and the prophets; let them hear them.

30 And he said, Nay, father Abraham: but if one went unto them from the dead, they will repent.

31 And he said unto him, If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead.

A fauls belief many have and might even be niev enough to back their eternal destination on, is the belief that they will have time in the after life is to atone for their own sins,or have a secound chance to change their hart toward God and recieve salvation by puting their faith in christ. The trueth is, that once we leave this mortal world,our decision are final, and our destinations are lock into for eternity.

Scripture that support this truth:

Hebrews 9: 27-28 27 And inasmuch as it is [u]appointed unto men once to die, and after this cometh judgment; 28 so Christ also, having been once offered to bear the sins of many, shall appear a second time, apart from sin, to them that wait for him, unto salvation.

A lot of people swear they have encountered ghosts! If their are no such thing as ghost, ,What are they interacting with?

The answer is, they are interacting with fallen angels. Fallen angels will appear as an angel of light. They may take the form of a decease person,to deceive per-sway their victim to letting down their guard ,and lead them into participating in activity that is forbidden by God, and that will position the victim for demon possession.

One of the clear signs that your ghost is really a fallen angel,is what might start out as a friendly encounter, will progress to a disruptive and violent consuming relationship. So at all cost if you do come across a fallen angel,tell it to leave your presence in the Name of Jesus ,God All Mighty! Don’t enter a battle of wits with these creature because they were created with superior intelligence and strength. But they are bound to obey the authority of Jesus the Christ!

Written By Stephen J. Vattimo August 26, 2017

[7-wonders]

As Above, So Below Ch. 15

Summary: Your average, mundane life as a college student is flipped upside down when the man you thought you knew as your next-door neighbor turns out to be the God of the dead. When Michael lures you down to Hell, everything that you thought you knew about the world is proven wrong.

Word Count: 3493

A/N: Two words for this chapter–REUNION. SMUT. Let’s do this, y’all. Feedback is always appreciated, and I’d love if you reblogged if you enjoyed this.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6| Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15: Drunk in Love

In movies, there’s a certain trope that’s so often utilized in the wrong way that it’s become a cliche. The scene usually starts with a big event occurring; it doesn’t matter if it’s good or bad, just so long as it changes the plot in some way. Everything suddenly happens in slow motion, and the dialogue is silenced while some dramatic music plays in the background. Then, when the music reaches its crescendo, the scene snaps back to a normal speed and the characters voices are heard again while they figure out how they’re going to finish whatever the plot is now that this event has affected everything. It’s truly one of the modern cop-outs of the film industry, yet it’s one that easily gets the plot from Point A to Point B.

Thankfully, this isn’t some low budget film with B-list actors; it’s your life. Madison barely gives you a moment to wonder what the hell just happened before she’s grabbing you by the shoulders and nearly shaking you.

“I told you so!” She declares, grinning widely.

“So…what do I do now?” You should be more excited about this, now that you’ve mastered the seven most difficult abilities that any witch, warlock, god, goddess, or prophesied  (Y/N) can possess, but your reaction to life-changing events is apparently apathy.

“Uhhh do I need to spell it out for you? Go and reunite with Michael!!” Over the course of the tests, it must have slipped your mind that the end result of all of this (besides a boss battle with Satan) is getting to see Michael again. Your eyes widen, and Madison and John Henry both stifle their laughs.

“Should I just, like, go?” You’ve never been in a situation like this before and, admittedly, you’re not handling things as expected.

“Yes!” They both exclaim at the same time.

“You know where the Hellmouth is, go and use it!” Madison reminds you.

“Are you not coming back with me?” You ask as a smirk plays on her lips.

“The way I see it, your reunion with Michael will go one of two possible ways: you’re either going to fight or fuc-”

“Don’t need to hear the end of that!” John Henry interrupts, placing his hand on your cheek. “My darling niece, there is nothing that I wouldn’t do for you. Go now, okay? You can tell me all about the Underworld after you save the world.”

“Thank you, Uncle. For everything.”

“Yeah, yeah, we all love the tearful family hugs. Go, I promise you that John and I will hear all about it when you come back.” Madison speaks up from behind you. “And, (Y/N)?” She grabs your arm as you step away from John Henry.

“Yeah?”

“Have fun. Zoe’s been given strict instructions to clear the castle.”

“Madison!” You admonish the woman, who only chuckles at your embarrassment.

“Bye, bitch!” She dismisses you with a wave of her hand, letting you know that you better get moving before she tosses you down the Hellmouth herself. Focusing, you envision the basement of the Murder House before feeling yourself getting transported through the very fabric of time.

The door to the Hellmouth is already open, the smell of brimstone and heat from the fire welcoming you home again. This encounter with the portal to the Underworld is much more pleasant than the last one as you willingly step closer to the edge of the gaping hole. Smiling, you turn with your back facing the hole before holding your arms out at your sides, closing your eyes, and letting yourself fall backwards.

Magic (or experience) has made you more graceful, you note when you land on your feet in the grand entryway of the Underworld’s palace. Your eyes immediately scan the room for Michael, but you’re not that surprised that he’s not out here; you hadn’t expected the God of the Dead to be eagerly waiting for you when he has other duties to attend to. The demons and other creatures tasked with keeping order in the palace hardly even jump when you appear, looking passively at you before going back to what they were previously doing. The tables, however, are turned when a high-pitched shriek pierces the air and makes you jump.

“Lady (Y/N), you have returned!” Turning around, you grin when you’re face-to-face with Desa.

“You’ve forgotten how to address me already?” You joke, letting the small woman pull you into a hug.

“You will have to forgive me.” She apologizes, but the smirk on her face lets you know that she was just teasing you. “I thought that you would die if you came back again?”

“Let’s just say I found a loophole.” Desa thinks for a moment before her eyes widen.

“The tests that Lady Hecate was talking to Lord Hades about?”

“I passed all of them. It isn’t a permanent fix, and something will have to be done in order to ensure I can be here for extended amounts of time, but it’s enough for me to see Michael again and help defeat his father.” Desa beams, hands sliding down to yours and gripping them tightly.

“While I would love to talk more with you, I believe that Lord Hades will be particularly elated to find that you are back.”

“Where is he?” Your eyes light up at the mere mention of his name.

“His private study.” Your legs start to move before your mind can even think about doing so, taking you in the direction that you need to be. “If you need anything, you know how to summon me!” Desa calls before disappearing.

The halls are busy, as always, but the buzz of daily life in the Underworld fades into the background with every step towards Michael’s office that you take. You’re not quite sure why you’re nervous: this ‘relationship,’ or whatever it’s called, is unlike any other you’ve ever had. Fortunately, this means that Michael makes it clear what his intentions are for every area of his life, not leaving you guessing like the mortal boys you’ve dated before. Still, you can’t help the knot that continues to coil itself tighter in your stomach, especially once the large oak door to his private quarters is right in front of you. It’s cracked open, so you sneak in and find yourself facing the study door.

“It’s now or never.” You mutter before taking a deep breath and knocking twice.

“I thought I had made it clear that I was not to be disturbed.” Your heart flutters upon hearing Michael’s annoyed voice through the door, barely letting him finish his sentence before knocking again.

It’s silent for a long moment, and you can practically see Michael, sitting hunched over the desk and clenching his jaw as he tries to figure out who has the insolence to continue to interrupt him. You should give up the charade and tell him that it’s you, but you’re having far too much fun annoying him. Smirking, you knock on the door one last time.

“What?” The door swings open with all the force Michael can muster without ripping the door off of its hinges, and you grin widely at him.

“I really thought that you would be happier to see me than this.” You tease, relishing in how you render him speechless and the way that his jaw drops.

There really is no word to properly describe the beauty that Michael possesses. His chilling blue eyes, which can delve right into a person’s soul with a mere glance, are highlighted artfully by his signature red eyeshadow. You’re not sure what could cut a person easier: his cheekbones or his jawline. Both are sharp and defining, and your fingers twitch as you feel the need to brush your skin against the bone. You’re delighted to see that he’s kept his hair long and shoulder-length, the strawberry-blond waves framing his face. Even when his face is contorted into an expression of shock, he still looks downright angelic.

“Are you really here?” He asks quietly, voice shaking as though he fears you may evaporate if he speaks too loudly.

“I am.” You speak in a whisper too, reaching down and slowly intertwining your fingers with his. Michael shudders at the contact, his other hand reaching up to tentatively touch your cheek. Your eyes flutter closed as you lean into his touch, shoulders immediately relaxing as the tension leaves your body.

“You’re here.” Michael reasserts, moving his thumb in circles against the smooth skin of your face while he makes sure that this is all real. “You passed the Seven Wonders?”

“With only minor difficulties.”

“I–” Michael stops himself, shaking his head and chuckling. “That doesn’t surprise me at all. Yet, somehow I didn’t think that this would actually happen. After the way that you had to leave the Underworld, it just seemed impossible that you would be able to return.”

“Well, I’ve returned.” You shrug, hesitating slightly. “I hope that’s okay?”

“You ‘hope that’s okay.’” Michael laughs, the noise sending your heart soaring. “(Y/N), it’s so beyond okay that I don’t have words for how amazing this is. The last time I actually saw you, you were on the brink of death. And now you’re here, and healthy…you came back?”

“I told you I would. We’ve got a job to do.”

“But…you came back willingly.” Michael’s eyes get misty, and you realize why it is that he’s so choked up. At first, it was your singular mission to ‘escape’ the Underworld and return back to your life up Above. Even if you hadn’t almost died, Michael most likely thought that you would still leave him and never return, as if the moments you shared with him meant nothing to you.

“Michael, I’m always going to come back to you. We’re in this together now, whatever ‘this’ is.”

In the past, it’s been Michael that takes the lead in every remotely romantic situation that you’ve been in with him, but you decide to take control today. Leaning forward, you wrap your arms around his neck before pulling his lips against yours. He’s stunned for a mere moment before reciprocating the kiss, weaving a hand through your hair and working his lips on yours like an actor reciting a well-practiced monologue. It’s slow and sweet, and you aren’t at all upset when he takes control by slipping his tongue in your mouth. This spell that you’re both in is suddenly broken when Michael accidentally slams your body against a bookcase instead of the wall. Your eyes snap open and you let out a yell of surprise as books go toppling off of the shelf around you.

Michael’s eyes meet yours when you break away from each other, both of you staring at each other with wide eyes. He looks frightened about what your reaction to this will be, despite the fact that you initiated the kiss. When you start to giggle, a slow smile spreads across his face. You lean your forehead against his, savoring the sound of Michael’s own laughs.

“I meant what I said, you know.” Michael speaks in almost a whisper, his blue eyes captivating you as you lean in closer to hear him.

“About what?”

“Do you remember what I said to you before Madison had to take you back up Above?” After a moment, you shake your head.

“Not really. I don’t remember much from that time.”

“You taught me how to love, (Y/N). I did not think love existed before you, that it was just a farce that others participated in so that they could feel some semblance of happiness. It’s not, though. I know that now, because now I have you. Thousands of years I’ve lived, and I’ve never found anyone like you. I’m not asking for you to say the same things, or even for you to reciprocate my feelings. I just want you to know that I love you. You are it for me; there’s no one else that would ever have my heart the way that you will always have mine.”

Although shocking to hear Michael say this, it’s not surprising; on some deep level, you’ve always known that he feels this way, but to hear the words out loud is a whole different thing. Words hold a certain power once they’ve been said, when they’re out in the air and there’s no taking back what you’ve said. There’s no going back anymore, no claiming it as a mistake and brushing it under the rug. It’s permanent, and Michael knows that just as much as you do.

Michael can see the back-and-forth in your mind, and silences it all by kissing you again. His hand snakes down to your hip and wraps around your thigh, hooking your leg around his waist. When his other hand repeats the same actions, you get what he’s trying to do and jump into his arms. His hands cup your ass, fingers digging into the skin through your jeans.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.” Michael breaks apart from you, catching a breath as he walks with you towards his bedroom.

“I want you so badly, Michael.” You breathe out, running a hand through his tousled blond hair.

He lays you down on those red silk sheets that you noticed the first time he let you into his private quarters, and you stare up at him with wide eyes while he hurriedly removes his black button-down shirt from his body. Michael smirks at your expression, and you scoot back against the pillows as he crawls towards you.

“If you keep biting your lip like that, there is no way that I’ll be able to control myself.” Your lip, which you didn’t even realize you had been biting, is quickly released from in between your teeth. “You’re wearing far too many clothes, darling mine.”

“Guess you’ll have to help me take them off, then.” Michael groans when you cock an eyebrow towards him, surging forward to kiss you.

Your hands hook into the waistband of his pants, desperate to pull him closer to you. You whimper when he pulls away from you, but it’s only a moment so that he can pull your own shirt over your head. Michael slowly pushes you down on your back before sitting back on his heels and staring at you.

“What?” You ask, suddenly self-conscious at being so vulnerable in front of an actual god.

“You’re so stunning, (Y/N). Aphrodite herself surely had a hand in your creation; there’s no way she herself didn’t bless you with the gift of such beauty.” You blush deeply, the color extending all the way down your chest.

“Michael.” You roll your eyes, but can’t stop the smile on your face.

“I’m just telling you the truth.” He strokes your hair that’s fanned out like a halo against the pillows, reaching behind you to unclip your bra easily.

You shudder at the sudden cold against your breasts, your nipples pebbling at the temperature change. Michael kisses down your neck, nipping at the skin and making you jump slightly. You nearly yell when his mouth suddenly attaches to one of your nipples, lightly biting and lavishing one while his hand tweaks the other. You can already feel how soaked your panties are, your cunt nearly throbbing with want. Impatiently, you thread your hands through his hair and tug him up off of your breasts, grabbing one of his hands and moving it right on top of your clothed center.

“You dirty, needy little girl.” Michael’s eyes are dark with lust as you nod, fumbling with the buckle on his belt as you attempt to work his pants down his legs.

He easily kicks them off past his ankles, the fabric falling to the floor in a heap. Michael nearly drags you down the bed while he yanks your own jeans and underwear off, huffing when he finally removes the tight fabric from your legs. Your eyes widen in both anticipation and fear when Michael’s cock is finally freed from the confines of his underwear. You knew he would be big, considering he’s an actual god, but the sheer girth of his cock, thicker than you’ve ever seen before, makes you nervous that he may actually split you in two. The tip is already flushed bright red and beading precum, and your hand twitches at the desire to stroke it. He can sense your nervousness, chuckling before leaning in to give you a reassuring kiss.

“I promise that I’ll take this as slow as you need me to do so.” You can feel Michael’s bicep flex under your hand as he strokes himself a couple of times, preparing himself to enter your already-wet core.

“Fuck!” You say, stopping him before he can even start to thrust into you.

“What?”

“Do you have, like, a condom?” Michael laughs loudly, shaking his head.

“(Y/N), I’m a god. You’re not going to get pregnant unless I want you to get pregnant.”

“You better not be lying.” You tease, letting him kiss you again.

“I would never do such a thing to you. Ready?” You nod, trying to relax as much as possible so that this hurts less.

He thrusts in slowly, trying to go inch by inch to minimize any pain that you may be feeling. You clench your eyes shut, humming loudly to distract from the burn as Michael sheaths himself inside you. You gasp when he bottoms out inside you, the head already brushing against the sponginess of your innermost walls. Michael rubs calming circles on your shoulder, kissing you to keep you distracted. When he leans back and accidentally rocks against you, you whine at the jolt of pleasure that courses through you.

“Move, Michael, please.” You gasp out, head falling back and exposing your neck to him.

Michael rocks back, nearly pulling all the way out of you before thrusting back in deeply. Your moans and groans mix together as he starts to find a rhythm that works for both of you, one that’s slow enough to feel intimate, but rough enough to have your nails scratching down his back. You hold him close to you, listening to the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin. Choking back a sob, your attempts at silence prove futile when Michael’s hips snap against yours just right, pelvis brushing against your clit and making you scream loudly.

“You are so tight, (Y/N). Tightest I’ve ever had.” Michael grunts through clenched teeth, sweat beading on his brow as he tries to not come already.

You let out a loud whine, tears starting to cloud your vision when he bites down on the juncture of your neck and your collarbone, licking a hot stripe up to below your ear.

“Michael!” Your stomach flips when he continually hits your g-spot. “Oh God, yes!”

“Mmm, who’s your God, darling?” He nearly growls, thrusts becoming rougher at your keens.

“You are! Michael, you’re my God!” You almost cry at how good it feels when his hand makes contact with your clit, rubbing harsh circles against it.

Michael wraps your legs around his waist, the new angle sending stars streaking across your vision while a high-pitched scream rips through your chest. He can tell that you’re dangerously close to cumming, the near constant clenching of your pussy around his cock driving him wild. Pressing his lips to yours, he swallows the scream-like moan that you release when he pinches your clit, sending you straight into your orgasm.

You convulse violently under him, eyes rolling back into your head as the pleasure courses through your body. Through the pleasure clouding every sense of yours, you hear Michael groan deeply while he buries himself against you and releases, coating your walls with his hot cum. Michael collapses on top of you once you’re both finished, both of you breathing heavily as you try to regain any control over your bodies. He finally rolls off of you, and you hiss at the loss of contact. Michael falls next to you, chest heaving while he pulls you against him.

“I love you.” You whisper quietly, breaking the comfortable silence that had enveloped the room.

“Huh?”

“I love you.” You look up at Michael from where your head is resting on your chest. “I don’t know if it took me almost dying, or the sheer ridiculousness of passing the Seven Wonders, or just reuniting with you, but I do love you. So, so much, Michael.”

A smile bursts across Michael’s face, the radiance of it making your heart swell. He kisses your forehead sweetly, intertwining his fingers with yours and sighing happily.

“Sleep now, my love. Everything will remain the same when you wake.” He reassures, watching the drooping of your eyes as you slowly drift off to sleep, finally at peace.

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