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flamboyantly-incompetent · 5 years ago

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Since the World Began (2/?)

Hades!Bucky x Persephone!Reader

Word Count: 7793

Warnings: maybe a little trauma, nothing major

A/N: So, it’s been a little over a year since the first part of this series was posted - I know a couple people have asked to be tagged in this, so I’m sorry this has taken so long! The gifs are, surprise surprise, not mine. This is gonna get hella cute real fast. And then hella angsty. I’m sorry (kinda).

Part 1

When you fell for him, really fell, there was no way you could have known the consequences.

As the time passed, so did many mortals, and Bucky found himself busier by the day with the rising population of the underworld. Sometimes, when you passed by the door in the cliff face, you could see him sitting in the doorway, eyes closed and legs hanging down, bathing in the sunlight so rarely seen.

Joining Bucky in the underworld became a frequent occurrence, and you didn’t mind. For all the weariness slung on his shoulders, his home put him at ease, and his presence did the same for you.

One such occasion, you’d joined him in the tower as he tried to complete some kingly or otherwise morbid sort of task. Enthralled in his work, he began to pay you no mind; you draped yourself dramatically over his bed. When he didn’t look up from his desk, you sighed loudly. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. You were gaining ground.

Rolling onto your stomach, you opened your mouth to speak and -

Hermes flew through the open window, rustling every rustlable thing in the room.

“Sam!” Bucky exclaimed, trying to keep the papers littering his desk orderly, “You know I hate it when you do that.”

His wings snapped shut with a whoosh and he grinned, “That’s why I do it, Skully.”

“Cheron hates it when you do that - you’re supposed to take the ferry. Cerberus hates it when you do that; he is especially fascinated by small flying things, he’s gonna be all in a tizzy. Are you taunting him on purpose?”

“Oh, nuh huh I am never going near that thing, he tries to bite me every time I’m down here.”

“Did you hear a word I just said?”

“I am the messenger, proclaimer of things.” Bucky huffed as Hermes turned to you. “Persephone! Fancy seeing you here.”

“Wilson,” Bucky warned. Sam winked at you with a cheeky grin; you laughed out loud through the heat on your cheeks.

Sam ignored Bucky completely and continued, “Anyway, I’d love to shoot the breeze some more but I’ve got five more gods to get to by sunup. Zeus has called a meeting for the Olympians, and I know you aren’t technically on the council, but he wants you both there. Thanks for saving me the trip.” He winked at you again, to Bucky’s chagrin.

“No problem. What’s the meeting about?” you replied, rising to your feet.

Sam only shrugged and unfurled his wings, reaching for a piece of fruit from the bowl by the door. Before his fingers could grace it, though, his hand was struck by a flying object - an ink well, you thought. He stared at Bucky, now standing rigid, in shock.

“You really don’t want to do that,” Bucky said, voice low.

Sam gulped, “Right. Sorry, I always forget that. Uh, thanks.” Bucky gave him a nod before he took off, rustling the room once more.

With Sam gone, Bucky finally shot you a glance. You were smirking at him, altogether too satisfied by whatever thought you had running about inside your head.

“What’s that look for?”

You smiled wider and nudged him in the middle. “The god of the dead is a big ol’ softie.”

“Am not!”

“Are too,” you reached up to poke his reddened ears. “Your ears give you away every time.”

“I just don’t want that pigeon stuck down here pestering me for all eternity because of an orange.”

“Sure, sure,” you said, giving in but knowing you were, in fact, absolutely correct. “I wonder what this summons is all about.”

Bucky groaned, massaging his temples. “It can’t be good,” he mumbled.

“What makes you say that?”

He turned to you. “My family is, well, we tend to get into a lot of drama.”

You took his hand in yours. “In any case, we should go.”

“But (Y/N),” he whined pitifully, wrapping his arms around your middle. You giggled into his chest. “We could just not go. What’s Zeus gonna do? Run the underworld himself?”

Still giggling, you pulled out of his grasp. “Probably not, but we still should go.” He was unconvinced. “What if it’s serious?”

“All the more reason to stay down here.”

“Bucky.”

“Oof. Alright, alright. D’think Sam would mind if we brought Rus along?”

On your path back to the mortal realm, Bucky tried his best to placate a disgruntled Charon, who began complaining the second you were in earshot about how “gods these days have no respect for the likes of ol’ Charon.”

“I don’t even ask for a tool from Olympians!” he continued on, rowing Bucky and yourself across the Acheron slowly, “Is it really so much for me to ask, as the ferryman of the underworld, that when in the underworld one takes the ferry?”

Bucky nodded sympathetically, as if dealing with a child. “Trust me, I know. I tell Hermes every time he’s here.”

“All I’m asking, is for a little respect. The whole reason we have the bloody river is to control who gets in -”

“And out. I know; I asked Poseidon to put them there.”

“Right, sorry.”

As the two of them bickered, you watched the wandering figures on the shore; they were as mournful and despondent as ever. You had meant to speak to a few this visit, but the thought of seeing Bucky always seemed to take precedence. It made you sad and ashamed, how often you allowed these pitiful beings to be pushed from your thoughts.

Bucky took your hand when you reached the shore, and you made for the mortal realm when a shade among the moaning fell to his knees at your feet, a river of pleas falling from his open and eerily still mouth. You recoiled from the dead man’s spirit; his presence felt dank and slimy.

“Persephone, my lady,” his partially disembodied voice entreated, “My family, my wife, I’ve left them with no one, please.”

The look of shock evaporated from your face and with one hand you lifted the man to his feet, your heart sympathetic to his plight. “What would you have me do”

Slowly and with much effort, he looked this way and that, as if confused and under water. “Tell them I am sorry, and that I would rather wander the shore than they waste the drachma.” He paused, surprised you listened still. “Please, tell them, lady. I have no other way.”

Bucky, still at your side, simply watched you, waiting for your response. He needn’t protect you, not from these shades; he’d granted you authority enough already in his heart.

You listened to the spirits words, and imagined the twice-mortal blow of death and abandonment, and reached for his hand. When his fingertips brushed yours, you saw it - a house, standing somewhat miraculously on a hill by the sea, but one wrong breath from collapse. In addition, you saw that he had been a pious man, and knew it to be your duty to honor his request in death.

You smiled at him. “I have passed this place many times; I know it well. Your family shall hear your message, you have my word.”

The shade thanked you profusely with his motionless mouth, fading back into the others wailing on the shore.

“I don’t think you should have done that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Given him your word,” Bucky explained as the two of you continued on your way. “You’ll be bound by it now, if you don’t deliver that message there will be consequences. There are always consequences.”

You huffed lightly. “I don’t see why that should matter, as I fully intend to visit that man’s family when we’re done on Olympus.”

He paused, glancing at you with a small smile.

“What?”

He laughed, “Nothing, just, sometimes I’m reminded of one of the reasons I love you and I’m, I don’t know, startled?”

A grin spread slow across your face, conquering you. “Startled? That’s what you want to go with? You’re lucky I love you.”

“You don’t have to remind me of that.”

“Really? I wouldn’t want you to be startled by your good fortune and say something you’d regret.”

“What would I say?”

“Oh I would rather not find out.”

He shook his head, still laughing, and pulled you closer to him.

Rus met you near the door. He was, in fact, in a bit of a tizzy, bouncing around in circles, whacking the floor and shaking the ground with his tail. You handled this one.

“Hey Russy,” you cooed at the dog, who only stuck out his tongue, to pant at you. “Rus, did that big silly bird tease you?” The beast whined in response, flopping over in anticipation for the inevitable belly rub to come.

Mount Olympus lay only a god’s walk away from the entrance to the underworld. You and Bucky were nearly there when you were intercepted by a friendly face.

That face appeared in the form of a wall of water that came leaping out of the river you walked next to.

“Steve?” Bucky asked the open air, agitated and soaking wet. You giggled quietly at the sight and flicked the water off your own hands. “Steve, I swear, would it kill you to just say, ‘Hi Buck, nice to see you?’“

“Where’s the fun in that?” a voice came from the river.

“Get your scrawny butt up here.”

The man called Steve rose from the river, spraying Bucky once more with water. “Hi Buck, nice to see you,” he said, grinning shamelessly.

Bucky smiled in spite of himself, and pulled the man called Steve into a bone crushing hug. “You’re a real punk, you know that?”

“Jerk.”

Bucky pulled back, and gestured towards you, “Steve, this is Persephone.”

Steve reached out to shake your hand; he was quite small, though his eyes held a depth, a sort of ability. “I’m Poseidon,” he said, “But you’re welcome to call me Steve.”

You smiled warmly, “Call me (Y/N).”

“I take it you’re headed to Olympus?” Bucky cut in. When Steve nodded he looked to you for a moment then offered, “Walk with us?”

For the rest of the journey, Steve and Bucky swapped stories of silly things they’d seen mortals doing, and, to Bucky’s chagrin, you and Steve swapped stories of silly things you’d seen Bucky doing. It was a pleasant change from your typical lonely wanderings.

“I’ll admit, Steve,” you started, “I haven’t met many gods yet. You’re the fifth. Tony - my mother goddes, Demeter - Bucky, Wanda, Sam of course, and you. I’m rather nervous.” You paused, realization flooding through you. “Oh no, Demeter! It hadn’t even occurred to me that I’d see him today. Much has passed since we last spoke.” Though you couldn’t explain why, the idea filled you with apprehension.

Mount Olympus stood the tallest among the peaks in the range. On most days, the zenith could be seen with such clarity any mortal could spot the temple that sat there should they know what to look for. Today, though, the clouds sat low on the mountain, obscuring the gathering from sight. The mountain top was bustling with activity by the time you arrived at its summit; gods you had never seen before rushed around all about, and Steve was doing his best to point them all out to you.

“That’s Ares, god of war, everybody calls him Rhodey - I think he’s actually pretty good friends with Demeter. Oh, that over there is Aphrodite, be careful, he’s got quite the temper, I hear - goddess of passion or, something like that. And that is Athena - wisdom and -”

You cut him off there, “But why is he blue? And why is he the only one wearing a cape?”

“Vision was born out of Zeus’ forehead.” Steve shrugged, “He can do what he wants.” You nodded, a bit overwhelmed.

“Zeus always gets the credit for that,” you spun around to see Tony striding up towards you, “But I did most of the work, you know.”

“Mother goddess!” you let him pull you into a hug. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, pumpkin.” He released you to address your companions, nodding his head politely, if a bit cold, “Poseidon, Hades.” They nodded similarly, and he turned his attention back to you, “Come, we don’t want to miss Zeus’ opening remarks.”

“We were just on our way, join us, Demeter?”

Tony gave a thin smile and obliged you, taking up his gait on your left. Bucky remained on your right, though he had allowed some distance to come between you.

The temple where the council held its meetings was designed for twelve, not some odd hundred. As such, Zeus addressed the throng of deities on the stage of an amphitheater.

“Friends! Thank you for joining me, I have a very special announcement!” he said, loud, boisterous, and happy, grinning ear to ear.

Bucky leaned towards you to explain, “Zeus’ name is Thor. He is very...”

“Loud?”

“Yes.”

Zeus continued, “Today, the council says goodbye to its eldest member, and welcomes a new. Hestia, would you like to say a few words?” The god called Hestia held himself with a regal demeanor; a soft warmth wafted off of him.

“Hestia is goddess of the hearth. There’s a people on the African continent that know him as their king.”

“His name?”

“T’Challa.”

Hestia began to speak about the changing of times; Tony took the opportunity to whisper to you, “You and Hades seem rather familiar, dear.”

You blushed and whispered back, “We’ve become friends, yes.”

“I don’t like the idea of you spending so much time together. He’s dangerous.”

How could you respond to that? You were Olympians! All of you were dangerous. Zeus’ voice cut through your argument, “And so, it is with both sadness and joy that I welcome Dionysus to the council, and bid Hestia a happy retirement.” Among the gods there was a hodge-podge of arguing, grumbling, halfhearted congratulations and some well-meaning applause. He continued, unbothered by this response, “Would the twelve Olympians please remain seated, the rest of you are free to go.”

There was a general surge of noise as the whole amphitheater stood. Bucky gave you a look as he moved off with Steve, which you returned with some apprehension before turning back to your mother goddess.

“Why don’t you like him, mother goddess?”

Tony scoffed, “Ask him why he is god of the dead.”

“Because Zeus made it so.”

“That is why he is king of the underworld, dear. Ask why he is god of the dead.” His cold tone struck an uncomfortable chord, and you found yourself unable to look at anything but your hands folded in front of you.

As the gods trickled out of the amphitheater, you bid your mother goddess a strained farewell, making for the home of the shade’s wife. It was not far in god-stride, and you arrived in the face of a beggar with a gift.

When you arrived, a woman still dressed in the dark robes of mourning stood with her back turned to the road, salty win whipping locks of undone hair about her hung head. You called out to her, and asked for a moment to rest for a while. She turned to you, dazed, and invited you inside, where you gave your gift. It was a jar of honey, which the bees had given up freely to you who was their first caretaker.

You both sat down for a meal. There were four chairs at the table, and four hooks by the door, but as far as you could feel there was no one else in the house.

When the meal was done, she asked you, “Where do you travel to?”

“I am on my way to fulfill a promise. It shouldn’t be much longer now.” That answer seemed to satisfy her, so you asked her, “Who do you mourn for, lady?”

She stood, her every movement languid and melancholy. “My husband. I have some wine around here somewhere...?”

“No, I have another gift to give you.”

She looked puzzled and sat back down at the table.

“Where are your children?”

“They have gone. My husband could leave me no dowry, and my time of childbearing has passed. My sons are old enough to find work, so I bid them to.”

“Have you no kyrios?”

“When my sons return, I will know.” She paused, looking worried, “I am afraid I have no gifts to give you traveler. I haven’t even the coin to pay for my husband’s crossing of the Acheron. I will be gone before his hundred years are up,” she continued quietly, “so we may at least speak again as lonely spirits.”

“Ah,” you said. Her head lifted and her gaze met yours. “That leads me to my second gift.” You let the illusion drop about you , the blood red sheen of life on your skin obvious in the dull darkness of the house. “I am the bringer of spring, and I also bring your husband’s words.”

The woman fell to her knees. “Forgive an old woman who mourns, I have forgotten to wash your feet.”

“I will bring no curse upon your house; this is the favor I spoke of.” You knelt in front of the woman, grasping her hands. “Your husband came to me on the shores of the Acheron, and he asked me to tell you that he is sorry. And to feel no shame in his waiting; that he would rather do so.”

She sniffed a little into her hands. “I know that you speak the truth.” The burden of your word was lifted, and you understood what the shade had wanted to ask of you, but hadn’t. It was something you were happy to give.

You stood, pulling the woman to her feet with you. “You have been kind to me, and let me ask my many questions. Your sons will have every beneft I can give to them.” She thanked you as you bid her farewell, donning your beggar shell once more. “Gift to me a good life, and that of your children, so we may be friends in Hades after all.”

You walked down the hill until you were out of sight, and you became invisible to mortal eyes again.

Ask why he is god of the dead. Your mother goddess’ words rang in you ears, persistent, with every step you took back to Hades. It crossed your mind more than once to find some excuse not to join him again, but your feet refused to consider the idea.

You met him in the asphodel meadows and lingered there, watching the shades speak to each other in apathetic and faint tones, wondering how you could ever breach the subject of Bucky’s authority. He walked beside you in silence.

Eventually, you said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

Abruptly you stopped and turned him to face you. “My mother goddess, Tony,” you paused, uncomfortable under Bucky’s gaze, “he told me to ask why you are god of the dead.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, but not in anger. “And is that your question?”

You nodded, guilt already welling in your chest. The pale glow of the drop of sun Apollo had fixed on the smooth stone ceiling of the underworld did nothing to warm your nervous shivers.

“C’mon, this is a conversation better had with wine.”

“Oh, I thought I wasn’t supposed to-”

“No, honeybee,” he said, chuckling halfheartedly, “it’s for me.”

The two of you climbed the stairs to Hades’ tower in silence. He gestured to a long, asymmetrical settee which he joined you on. You took his metal hand in yours.

Before he spoke, Bucky ran his free hand through his hair. “How much do you know?” His face was laced with worry; those lines still made your heart ache.

“Only what you’ve told me,” you answered softly.

He began slowly, tasting each word before it left his mouth, with how he and his sibling gods had wound up in the belly of Cronus. “Cronus lived in constant fear that he’d be overthrown by his children like his father before him, so he prevented a betrayal by swallowing us whole.”

The blue in his eyes held a reserved chill, an icy resentment. You waited for him to continue, holding your breath.

“Zeus couldn’t set us free until he reached manhood, but even then - we didn’t know. There was no hope. Only darkness, and the knowledge that there would be an eternity of it. Hestia was the oldest, he was trapped there the longest and he was alone for years before I joined him there. I don’t know how he stayed so sane. It was... different for me. By the time Demeter was eaten, I had already gone off the rails.”

He withdrew his hand from yours and continued, “I, (Y/N) I could hear him speak to me. Cronus. He spoke terrible, vile things about my mother, my siblings. He swallowed a whole pack of centaurs once to see if he could goad me into murdering them. I suppose you could say I was his favorite.” A rueful smile twisted his face before it softened and his shoulders slumped. “Steve was trying to knock some sense into me when Zeus cut that bastard open. That’s how,” he trailed off, gesturing to his metal appendage. Your hand covered your mouth in distress. “Then suddenly, we were free. There was still work to be done, though. I told Zeus he should just kill me and be done with it, but he said he needed all of our help in fighting the rest of the Titans; it was easy for me, even with only one arm. Zeus just wanted to imprison them in Tartarus, where they could do no more harm. When it came time for Rhea, though, I slit her throat.”

Bucky leveled his gaze on you, still holding your breath. “That is how I came to be god of the dead and death. It has followed me ever since.”

With great effort, you allowed yourself to breathe. Your heart pounded in your ears in rage and sorrow. “Thank you for trusting me with this,” you said.

Bucky shook his head, eyes fixed on his hands. “It is not a secret; any god would’ve told you the story if you’d asked.” He paused, chewing his cheek. “Demeter was right to warn you; I am a dangerous god.”

You bit your lip, thinking. Of course he was dangerous; that had never been a question. How could you hope to explain that, while dangerous, he wasn’t a danger to you. Deciding to climb out on that limb, you asked, “Would you let me show you my home?”

He looked up from his hands with something of relief and curiosity, “I thought your home was wandering the earth conjuring flowers and baby bunny rabbits.”

“That’s not entirely wrong. It is about time for birthing season.”

“(Y/N),” he began, tense.

With a look you silenced him, and took his hand back into your own. “Bucky. Trust me.”

“I trust you. Are you sure you trust me?”

You raised his hand to your lips. “I love you. Will that do?”

He blinked at you. Then he blinked again. He leaned into you, resting his forehead on yours, sea green eyes open wide. “That it will.”

You grinned, hands shaking. “Come on. It’s high time I show you something of life.”

He gulped, but allowed you to pull him to his feet. Bucky held a firm grip on your hand until you reached the other side of the Acheron. Cerberus was waiting for you both on the shore; the shade that had approached you before presumably satisfied as they all gave you a wide berth.

“Hey, Rus,” you cooed at the hulking creature, reaching out to scratch behind the nearest ear. He followed you to the door with silent footsteps that shook the ground, whining softly when you stopped in front of it.

Bucky caught your eye. He was putting on such a brave face, but he let you push open the door. “Do not be afraid.”

Out into the world you ventured. The sun was out in full force; Bucky squinted at the powerful rays reflecting off the waves.

You giggled softly, “When was the last time you went outside?” The wind ruffled his hair and, by Olympus it was lovely. He shrugged. “Come on,” you said with a smile. He followed you obediently across waters and through forests and fields, occasionally glancing back to check the damage of his footsteps, an action that did not go unnoticed by you. You hoped you were doing the right thing. You hoped he would understand.

Eventually, you arrived where you’d planned. To call the patch of grass the doe had chosen a clearing would be an overstatement, but you stopped there nonetheless. You gestured for Bucky to remain where he was, tucked neatly in the folds of the forest, and stepped into the light. The deer was not startled by you, welcoming your presence as you approached and knelt in front of her. Bucky shifted behind you and her head shot up, ear twisting, listening.

You hushed her, “Shh,” and reached your hand out to Bucky. He looked at you with an expression quite similar to that of the deer. They looked at each other, communicating silently for a spell.

With exceptional caution, he approached.

“Is she…?”

“Pregnant? Very. It’s just about time.” He took a sharp breath in; you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Abruptly, the doe got to her feet and began pacing. In all reality, there wasn’t much you could do for her besides keep her company. So you did.

The doe curved her back, releasing the first fawn with little difficulty, and began to lick him clean. Bucky watched, transfixed, as the fawn tried to stand through the resistance of his mother’s care.

The second fawn was born with more of a struggle. When he tried and failed to stand, the reason became apparent - his feet were curved at awkward angles, and when the doe began to clean him, white patches in his fur started to show.

Beside you, Bucky was unnerved. “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come-”

“This is not your doing.”

“But,” he started, backing away from the fawns, “he… Something’s wrong.”

You rose to your feet, the sadness of the reality of life weighing your heart. “It is an unfortunate truth, one that even I cannot change.” He raised an eyebrow at you, breath still irregular and nervous. “Trust me a little longer.”

After a spell, the doe and her fawns moved on, the doe keeping a safe distance to distract predators from her new fawns. The piebald fawn had a particularly hard time keeping up with his family, and it was him that you followed closely.

“My presence cannot bode well for this fawn,” Bucky hissed, following close behind you. You shushed him gently, knowing he would soon understand if he could endure a bit longer. “(Y/N),” he started. Again, you shushed him, with more force this time; you wanted him to pay attention. Stopping him with a squeeze of his hand, you nodded your head towards the mountain lion that stalked the fawn.

She was poised to strike at every moment, devastating strength thinly contained in muscular shoulders as she moved without sound. She paid you no mind.

Bucky moved to protect the fawn.

“Just watch.”

His eyes were glossy as he stared at you with confusion, “He will die because of me.”

You paused, looked pointedly at his hand clasping yours and then his steps through the forest. Or, more, the lack of evidence of his steps through the forest.

The corner of your mouth tugged up a bit at the realization that came over him. “Trust me,” you implored, the tone of your voice practically begging it of him. He released a shaky breath and turned his attention back to the predator and her prey.

When she finally did attack, the fawn didn’t even see it coming and it was over as quickly as it had begun. Bucky held onto you when the fawn’s life fled from it and remained silent while you followed the big cat back to her den.

Inside were three young cubs that tore the carcass apart.

“Why are you showing me this?” Bucky asked in a whisper.

“Because life demands some amount of death. It isn’t always as balanced or as poetic as this, sometimes it is harsh and bitterly futile, but it is a fact unwavering. And it does not exist because you made it so.”

“I-I,” he started, pulling away from you, and you wondered if you had made a mistake. You drew the backs of your fingers down his cheek with a sigh, and told him that he would know where to find you before turning to leave him with his thoughts.

His hand circled around your wrist and pulled you back to him until you were once again staring into the eyes that held the horror of truth. You shivered.

“Marry me,” he said.

“What?”

“Persephone, (Y/N), please. Marry me?” Yes, you thought, your heart pumping blood into your cheeks with fervor. “I love you, you love me. Be my wife. Let me be your husband.”

You laughed when you remembered you’d only thought it. “Yes,” you said. The tremor in your voice hinted at tears threatening to spill.

Here you were, Hades and Persephone, harbingers of the living and the dead, in over both their heads in love. There was no force you could imagine that could ever sever what was forged when you said yes. You were right, of course, but not for lack of trying.

You married Hades in early dawn on Olympus, the mountain deserted but for you, Bucky, and Zeus. Cool air rushed through your hair, your hands holding your love’s. Zeus asked you both if the other was your intended. The two of you agreed, and there was nothing more to be said. Each of you had already owned the others heart.

The moment, intimate as it seemed, was not without spectators, and by the time you and your husband reached the foot of the mountain, every god worth gossiping with had heard of your union.

Demeter heard of it while enriching the soil on the land owned by a grain farmer who had been particularly generous with offerings of barley and poppies. He heard from Dionysus, who had heard from Hermes, who had heard it from Poseidon, who had heard it from the giants whose eyes could see and ears could hear for miles.

Tony sank to the ground in defeat, a storm of half lucid memories gusting through his chest. The darkness, and fear, and blood. Malice. And the darkness. It always came back to the darkness. And it had taken his daughter goddess. He knew there was only one thing he could do - one thing that must be done.

Demeter departed immediately, and marched straight for Mount Olympus.

He threw open the doors to Zeus’ home and shouted, “Zeus! You’ve married my daughter to that abomination!” Thor stood, startled, from his table. “Well?”

“I have,” Zeus replied, crossing his arms. “They both consented to it, seemed pretty happy if you ask me.”

“I didn’t,” Tony snarled. “You have given my daughter to a treacherous beast without asking me or even telling me. I would like to know how you intend to retrieve her, because by Olympus you will.

Poseidon, who had just explained to Zeus how his friends the giants had learned of the ceremony to begin with, stood also. He said cooly, “Your daughter goddess has made her own choice, and she is perfectly safe.”

“Safe?” Tony rounded on Steve, fear and anger heating his face and his words. “How could she be safe? Have you forgotten what he did to our mother?”

Steve shook his head, bewildered, “She let him eat us!”

Long had it been since they spoke of their years of torment. Silence fell thick in the house, though outside passersby could hear most of the yelling, and the noise attracted the attention of a friendly looking dog.

Inside, Tony shook his head in despair. “You always have to defend him.”

“He’s my brother.”

“So was I.” Tony clenched his jaw, and before Steve could reply, said, “I invoke the rights of the twelve.”

Zeus’ face melted into shock and frustration. “You cannot declare their union invalid; what has been done cannot be undone.”

“Hades is not on the council; it is within my rights to take back my own kin. She will be free of his presence tonight.”

The dog outside, having heard Demeter’s plans to banish Persephone from Hades, ran back to her master. Hecate was on the way back to the underworld, guiding the spirit of a woman carrying the required two coins of silver, when her familiar came bounding up to her, frantic. Hearing the news for herself, Wanda left the spirit to be guided by the dog as she sped ahead to warn Hades.

She found you together on the Isle of the Blessed dancing with the spirits there around the only thing that could grow so deep in the underworld. They ate the pomegranates from the tree with gusto, and you laughed in their merriment.

The joy melted off your faces when you saw her sprinting toward you.

“Hecate!” Bucky said, confused. He jogged to meet her, and you followed closely behind.

She explained in gasps of air that Demeter and Zeus intended to remove you from Hades and the underworld. Bucky took a sharp breath in and drew you into him.

“But,” you said, holding onto Bucky’s hand on your waist, “How can they do that? It must be my mother goddess, but he has no right!”

Wanda shook her head, “He has invoked the rights of the twelve. He has every right. Hades, they will be here soon.”

Bucky nodded grimly, “I did not notice Demeter at first. His authority feels similar to (Y/N)’s, but I can feel Zeus now. Poseidon is with them also.”

“Go,” Wanda said, “Beg for them to reconsider. Persephone, you should hide.”

Bucky kissed your hand sweetly and whispered, “I will do anything I can, my morning glory, I promise.” Then he turned from you and raced off to his tower in the distance. His absence from you pulled your gut like a riptide.

The spirits on the Isle gathered around you, sensing your distress. “What can we do, mistress? What is the matter?” they asked.

“Where can I hide?” you asked.

They whispered among each other. “The only place outside the sight of Zeus is Tartarus, but you should not go there. It is dangerous, even for divine ones.”

You looked from Hecate to the spirits, to the looming darkness you could not see, your heart racing. Your hands shook. Light flashed from the tower. Lightning. “I - I must. Zeus is here, and I must hide. Hecate, will you come with me?”

She stood very still, her eyes fixed on the tower. “(Y/N), we cannot go there; there are dangers there we know nothing of.”

You nodded, understanding her fear. “I cannot leave him.” She called after you as you ran, your mind made up, but all you could hear was the thudding of your own heart and your own feet against the ground. The darkness began as a low presence in the distance, and grew like smoke clouds as you drew nearer. The darkness wasn’t nearly as horrible as the smell, a sickly sweet smell of rot, and the sounds, low rumbling of a mountain turning over and screams the likes of which you had never heard.

The threat of separation from the one you held most dear spurred you on beyond all fear and all reason. You would hide there, dangers be damned. Literally.

Under the cloudy darkness, there was a deep depression in the ground with steep slopes all around, surrounding an enormous grate of enchanted iron. You stood at the edge of this depression and peered into the darkness. Through the holes in the grate, you could just barely make out the shadows of spirits fleeing, and the shadows of things much larger that devoured them.

One giant eye opened up altogether too close to the grate for your liking. A voice spoke, crooked and gravelly, and eternally deep, “Zeus can still see you there, life-walker.”

You looked over your shoulder, afraid you’d see that tell-tale lightning. “How do you know who I am?”

The eye blinked. “I see everything, even from this prison your husband the murderer and his brothers have locked us in. Though, he could not see you if you stood on the grate.”

“Why should I trust you? Who are you?” You asked though you feared you knew the answer.

“By all rights, I am your grandfather, Persephone.” Cronus laughed. “You know that you are the first of my offspring to visit me in this pit?” At your silence, a giant hand swiped at the grate, only to be deflected long before coming into contact with it by whatever enchantment had been placed upon it. “See? You have nothing to fear from me. I could do nothing to you were you not the Queen of this plane.”

“You can see everything?”

“That is what I said, yes.”

You climbed down the slope carefully. “Can you tell me what’s happening in Hades’ tower?”

“I can show you.”

In Hades’ tower, he paced, frantic and running his hands through his hair. “Thor, please,” he said, hands clasped in front of him, “you know she is in no danger - I love her!”

Zeus stood next to your mother goddess, expression pained. Demeter, however, was livid. “No danger? How can she be in no danger when she is here? This is the home of death and monsters, you yourself have seen to that.”

“Tony,” Zeus said, his tone warning.

“I want her home, with me.”

Poseidon gestured out the window with exasperation. “She won’t want to leave. Her husband is here.”

“This is none of your concern, Steve. Where is she?”

Bucky turned to your mother goddess. The expression on his face broke your heart, shattered. “Demeter, Tony, if you do this I will-”

“What, Hades? Huh? Kill me?”

Bucky was taken aback. “I will never recover.”

You could see Tony’s resolve falter, but a second later his expression hardened again and he growled, “Where is she?”

If there was no way you could convince your mother goddess to let go of this fear, to let you love who you did, and if there was every possibility that if you left with him you would never see Bucky again… then hope was lost.

Cronus spoke again, “Demeter is right, this place is filled with monsters, your husband non excluded.” A tendril of smoke had crept through the grate and began wrapping itself around your leg. You recoiled in disgust, climbing out of the pit.

“The only monster here has been locked away, and I hope he rots there,” you spat.

“Be careful, child,” he said, his eye closing, “There are powers here still greater than you, and they do not forget in waking or slumber.”

At his words, you remembered something Charon had said, an age ago. We didn’t make the rules, kid. Once again, you ran. There was hope; it was a desperate sort of hope, but you knew what you had to do. You ran back to the Isle of the Blessed, back to the tree that grew there, and plucked a pomegranate from the branch, four figures on the horizon.

“Persephone!” Hecate said, “No!”

“Wanda, there is no other way.”

“There is always another way.”

The figures were getting closer. “Can you think of one in the next three seconds?” She could not. “Then help me! Please, I know what I’m doing. I will not leave him.”

They were close enough to see you now. “(Y/N)!” Bucky called out to you. Your eyes locked.

“Please,” you begged. Wanda shook her head, distraught. She pulled a dagger from an inner layer of her priestess robes and handed it to you. You only managed to cut twelve seeds from the fruit by the time they made it to you, and you only ate half of those before your mother goddess wrestled the rest from your hands.

“Stop! Persephone, please!” he shouted. “What have you done?”

“I will not leave him. And now you cannot force me.”

Zeus picked up the fallen pomegranate, pale. Bucky had two thin tear lines streaked on his cheeks. Steve put his head in his hands. Wanda backed away into the shadow of the realm.

Your mother goddess, Tony, held both your hands. “You, you are trapped here forever now.”

You squeezed his hands, desperate to make him understand. “I know.”

The weight of what you had knowingly done set in, and your heart began to ache again. It seemed there was no way to win.

“Thor,” Bucky said, “there must be something you can do.”

Tony rounded on him. “What do you care? You got what you wanted.”

“You think this is what I wanted?!”

Zeus held up a hand. “(Y/N), how many seeds did you eat?”

“Six,” you said.

He pursed his lips for a moment, brows creased and stroking his beard. “Yes, I think that could work. It wasn’t the whole fruit, after all,” he muttered to himself. You took Bucky’s hand, fingers interlaced, and held each other tight. “And it is still, technically eternal.”

“Thor?” Steve spoke up, “You gonna clue us in?”

“It’s not ideal, but I’ve thought of a possible loophole. In accordance with both invoking the rights of the twelve and the laws of the Titans before us, Persephone will be banished to this plane for six months of the year, and from it the rest. Does that work for you?”

“No!” Tony and Bucky shouted at the same time. Zeus shook his head and pointed at you.

“Me?” you asked, “That sounds like the best we’re going to get.” You squeezed Bucky’s hand in reassurance.

He looked at you, exhausted and burdened with troubles, his thumb ran circles over the back of your hand. “I think you might be right, dove. I just-” his voice caught in his throat.

“I know,” you murmered. The back of your hand stroked against his cheek. “What about now?” you asked Zeus, “Am I trapped here now? The world is not ready for me to be gone that long.”

“Then we must move quickly,” Zeus replied, gesturing toward the tower, and, further, the Acheron and the door. “We don’t want to press our luck, especially here.”

Nodding, you hid the rogue tears that escaped your eyes from your mother goddess and your husband. Bucky accompanied you to the edge of the Acheron. Zeus followed your mother goddess onto Cheron’s ferry. “I will be back,” you told Bucky, tapping his chest, “and I will be counting the days.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but Posieden cut in, “(Y/N), we need to go.”

With leaden feet, you tore yourself from your husband’s arms, and followed Steve onto the ferry. You watched Bucky, standing alone on the shore, until he was lost from your sight. Cheron was uncharacteristically silent.

On the other shore, Rus was waiting.

His eyes were dark, and something in his demeanor changed when he sniffed the air above you.

“Rus?” All six of his eyes snapped onto you and you understood. “I know, I’m going, I’m sorry.” He growled at you, a vicious and low dragging sound, and watched you like prey until you fled out the door.

In your hurry, you missed the step and slid down the steep, rocky slope until your toes reached the tide of the island. Shocked, you blinked at the ocean, expecting it to somehow reflect some, any change.

Your mother goddess slid down beside you.

“(Y/N),” Tony began, “(Y/N), I just wanted to protect you.”

Seething, you rose to your feet. “How dare you decide what that looks like? You have ruined me and doomed this world through your deliberate blindness!” He recoiled from your rage, and you drew back the tendrils you’d loosed. Zeus and Posieden watched awkwardly from the door. You sighed. “Everything I am comes from you, but the next time you presume to make my decisions, don’t.”

You held up a hand to prevent any more of Tony’s words, and set out alone across the sea to begin your half year of banishment.

During this time, you found a small pocket of comfort in nurturing new lives, helping the saplings to find the sunlight and the calves to follow their herds. But you missed him dearly. It was an ache you fancied you could feel in the blossoms you encouraged to open. The only cure for it was to wander as far as you had before you’d met him.

So, you wandered. Melancholy and in love, you wandered. The forest and grassland that sprang from your steps grew in the shape of your heartache. It would have seemed beautiful to you had it not been so irritating in its accuracy.

You watched the mortals build their temples and weave their legends; you watched them live and love with some amount of envy.

When the time came close for you to rejoin your husband again, you reversed your wandering. Sleep, you whispered, I will wake you when I return. As you left the forests, the animals found places to rest, and even the trees fell into their mighty slumber. When you were satisfied, your feet carried you from across the world back to that forsaken and blessed door.

Cheron greeted you as you boarded his raft, and with every push of his long pole you felt yourself drawing closer to your husband. Again, he saw you long before you saw him. You could not see him on the shore when you stepped off the raft, but he could see you. You were just as beautiful as you’d been all that time ago, but you had acquired an age. The steps you took were no longer out of innocent joy but necessity. He squared his shoulders and stepped out of the shadows to speak to you.

You felt his presence before he could speak a word.

He said, softly, in the voice of a broken man, “Lady.”

@thelureabove @slender--spirit @egos-r-life @punkgirl-pinkbows @i-never-said-i-care @elsasshole

#bucky barnes x reader #hades and persephone #Hades!Bucky #Persephone!Reader #marvel?#sort of I guess #this probably makes no sense #I hope someone other than me derives enjoyment from this #AU #greek mythology au #fluff #yeets aggressively into a shrug #freaking finally

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