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hayjeon · 5 years

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Asphodel (Hades!Yoongi)

→ hades!yoongi and persephone!reader. 2k. → 00 | 01 | 02 | 03 | 3.5 | 04 | 4.5 | 5 | mlist

A/N: This takes place in the beginning of it all in regards to the storyline. If you ever get confused, I always number these ones in chronological order in my masterlist, but you can read them in any order tbh, which is why I never really title any of the hades/persephone! drabbles with particular parts/numbers. Anyways, I hope you enjoy my dears.

“What can I do?” He says.

You turn, tearing your gaze away from the window where you can distantly see the light at the end of the exit from Tartarus, over the River Styx. It has been weeks. Weeks since you accidentally stumbled into the entrance of the Underworld, weeks since you tried to exit to no avail, weeks since you tried to starve yourself to death, and weeks since you spilled tears night after night. Your eyes are swollen, hair mussed and unbrushed, and skin probably ruined after countless nights of salty tears streaming down your cheeks. Your mother would have a fit if she saw you right now. If.

But she couldn’t. Not here, where her dominion over earth and nature cease to exist. No, this was the Underworld, and there was only one ruler, one person who had sovereignty over the sullen wasteland of doomed souls. And that person was hovering hesitantly in your doorway.

“What can you do?” You sneer back, eyes red and watering again at the sight of him. You turn to him, fists clenching. “You can let me out.”

He sighs. “You already know that if you leave now, your soul will be lost forever. Charon will not let you cross without payment.”

You fall, trembling to your knees at the foot of the bed that the demons had set up for you. It was beautiful in here, the place that the King had mutely called your room. Decorated to the brim with flowers and lit with with as many candles as possible so that the darkness didn’t linger in the corners like it did in all the other corners of this godforsaken castle. The demons had done a good job. But what was the point of having all this in a prison of your own doing?

You had no right to be angry at him. You had no right to be angry at all. It was your own fault you wandered farther than your mother permit you to, and this was a result of your own brazen foolishness. You’d declared when you left that you’d wanted independence from your overboding mother, not to be trapped in literal hell. Now she couldn’t even save you. Now even the King of the Underworld couldn’t save you. Not when Zeus has determined your fate to be the Queen of this world somehow.

He watches you fall into sobs again at his feet, and his jaw clenches. With a sigh, he lowers himself on one knee, just one, since he was a King after all. He reaches out, but stops himself midway. Retracting his hand, he clears his throat.

“May I show you something?” He murmurs, and you raise your head to look at him.

He says nothing, eyes just sadly staring at your features. For a moment, you wonder if Hades actually has the capacity to be able to feel empathy for your plight. But when you nod, he stands, and hesitates, hand twitching like he wants to offer it to you. He turns on his heel, and exits your room like he was never there before.

You follow him, wiping your eyes with your sleeves. You trail closely behind, eyes darting around the lingering shadows at each turn, head darting around at every single movement that you catch in your periphery.

His voice soothes you. “They will not touch you. You should not fear them. They fear you.”

You whip your head to the side to stare into a corridor where you swear you heard something scuttling over the cobblestones. “What?”

He comes to a stop, and turns his gaze over his shoulder on you.

“You’re the Queen of the Underworld. It is given that they fear you.”

You still step a few steps closer, as in the moment you two stop walking, the shadows seem to grow longer and bolder as they stretch toward the hem of your dress. “Let’s go,” you whisper, now only inches away from him. “Please.” You lower your gaze, lashes still trembling and darting around at even the smallest movement or noise.

Yoongi turns to hide his smile.

How hilarious. A queen, afraid of some shadows.

“We will have to pass The Fields of Punishment soon. You will want to avert your eyes for this.”

You step a bit closer to him in the chariot, the air around you getting much darker and denser, and you squeeze your eyes shut as the ground the horses stamped over begins to get bumpier and bumpier. Your fingers clasp at the handle on the chariot, but it does nothing to settle your heart that jumps at every bump the chariot rides over.

Your hair whips around your face and you can feel that there is an immense sort of heat around you, hot on your face and your chest, like you’re standing in front of a huge flame.

“It’s hot,” you mutter, brows furrowing as the heat gets unbearably hot and unsettling on your skin.

Suddenly, a hand comes around your wrist and gently pries it from the tight grip you had on the chariot, and pulls you close. Chills immediately float up your arm, and you realize the cold grip around your wrist is his. He pulls you close, and your eyes flutter open on accident, and you gasp, expecting to be met with the horrors of the Underworld, but all you see is...black.

Black fabric, that slopes up to meet a pale neck. A chin, a straight-set of lips, a nose, and two eyes that are solely focused on the road ahead. The gasp turns into a choke that you swallow down deep and you avert your eyes. His body is cool, and it somehow radiates the coolness enough that the heat you feel dissipates.

He smells good.

Not of the good you’re used to. Not of flowers and sunshine and fresh babbling waterfalls. But of...a warm toasty fire, of sunsets, and of stars twinkling in a moonless night sky. Your fingers curl into his shirt.

“We have arrived,” Yoongi manages to say.

He honestly had no idea how in the underworld he’d made it this far. For most of the journey, he was in shock that you had cradled into his chest, fingers gripping his arms whenever the road got too bumpy, and forehead bumping against his chest sometimes when you lost focus for a moment.

You detach from him, and when your warm body steps away from his, for the first time in eons, Yoongi feels cold. His grip on the reigns is so tight that one of his horses sputters in frustration. He ties them down and helps you down.

“W-what is this place?” Your eyes are wide open as you survey the rolling green fields. It has a light breeze, enough to make your hair move around and away from your face. The flowers are tall enough to graze your fingertips.

“The Fields of Asphodel.” He says.

You step forward, palms facing forward and arms out, as you close your eyes and let the breeze caress your skin. He watches you, watches the way you seem to come to life in this place. If he had a beating heart, it would’ve skipped a beat.

You breathe in, a few tears slipping from your closed lids as the burden on your heart loosens infinitesimally.

“Thank you.” he hears over the breeze. His gaze whips up to your face, where your eyes stare back at his. A glimpse of a smile, too small to register as a real one, flints at your lips. “Will you show me around?”

He nods, stepping forward. “It’s one of the places in the Underworld. The Fields are a home for souls who have done no good and no bad in their lives. They cease to exist here, but exist nonetheless, suspended until they forget why they are here.”

Your eyes are sad. “It’s so beautiful, yet so sad.”

Yoongi nods. He doesn’t know how to respond when your eyes aren’t on the fields, but on him instead.

“Why did you design it like this?” You murmur, fingers grazing the tips of the white flowers. “Fields, with flowers.”

It’s been eons since he’s been here. Yoongi has found no particular reason to revisit this place that took care of itself on its own, where souls entered and left on their own. It looks exactly the same as he’d left it when he’d created the Underworld. But right now, with you standing in it, it seems just a bit more beautiful than he remembers.

“I don’t think it’s sad.” he says. “You may see it as souls ceasing to exist. But I see it as souls receiving the freedom to not exist. You see, the souls that are sent here are humans who had no impact on the world, positive or negative. Therefore, even if they were alive, and even if they had sentience here, they would probably have no reason to wish otherwise. They get the freedom, then, to cease to exist. It is a choice that they would have chosen nonetheless.”

You almost forget what he’s saying. You’d never heard him speak for so long, so intricately. His voice is so low and deep, yet each word is punctuated so clearly and audibly it’s like he’s standing right next to you. But even from a few meters away, his voice sounds like heaven. And what he is saying is even the more beautiful.

You close your eyes, breathing in the scent of the fields. It’s a scent that you remember, a scent that everyone probably has far deep in their memories. It’s just rolling grass fields, dotted with patches of a tall, white flowers. No trees, no streams, no animals. Just as far as you can see, fields of nothingness. Even the sun is nowhere to be seen, but the sky is lit up in a soft blue, like it’s nearing afternoon.

But the scenery is also reminiscent of what your mother used to enjoy, the moment when spring fades into summer, the suspension of time right as one season ends and another begins. Just peace. And calm.

Stooping down, you gather a handful of the white flower in your fist and tug. They give away easily, bouncing in the breeze.

“Thank you.” You breathe. “Please, take me back.”

His eyes are solemnly trained on only you. “Are you sure?”

You nod, fists clenching now on flowers instead. “I’ve seen that the underworld is not what I’ve always thought it was. Please, take me back. I want to find a way to conjure up a payment for Charon.”

For a moment, Yoongi’s eyes seem to falter. But he nods, and turns to get on the chariot.

The walk from the stables back to your room is now less frightening. The shadows do not seem to stretch their fingers to you anymore, but now seem as though they are dancing around with the torches that light up the hallways. He walks you back all the way, though.

You walk in, and set the flowers in a vase atop your nightstand. Your eyes soften when you see a fresh new dress set atop your bed, along with a few tools to tame your hair and wash your face. It was a comforting detail, courtesy of the demons.

He lingers in your doorway, dark and gloomy.

“Maybe one day I will take you to Elysium.” He clears his throat, eyes looking anywhere but you.

“Elysium? The paradise for heroes?” You echo, eyebrow quirking.

“One day.” He says, and finally looks up at you, nodding, and then turning on his heel and exiting as quickly as he had come.

You smile when you can’t hear his footsteps anymore. You wash your face, change into the dress, and brush your hair.

You sit on your bed, and look at the new vase of Asphodel flowers. They’re not as beautiful at first sight as roses are, or lilies. They’re white, but look almost as if they have spikes on them, deterring anyone from coming too close. But when you look closer, the thin-petaled flowers are pure white, with hints of pink. They don’t smell like anything, but they are beautiful, in their own individual way. You would have never given them a second glance on earth.

The demons had decorated your room with as many flowers as they could think of. Each corner of the room, if not occupied with a candle, hosted a vase of flowers, purples and reds and yellows adorning every visible spot. But somehow, in the midst of all these beautiful flowers, the Asphodel ones draw you in the most, settling your heart in a way that you’ve never felt before, even on earth.

The room looks exactly the same as you’d left it. But right now, with the new flowers sitting here, it seems just a bit more beautiful than you remember.

#yoongi angst #yoongi fics #yoongi smut #bts fics #yoongi fluff #hades!yoongi #mine #fics #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts fluff #ok honestly....i love this so much

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flightfoot · 5 years

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Second Chances

So I wrote this fic MONTHS ago, back in December, but only now decided to publish it. It’s part of my Goddess Meg, Little Apollo, and Skelekittens series. Hope everyone likes it!

“Are you ready?”

I wasn’t ready. I doubted I’d ever think I would be ready for this. But it needed to be done. So… “Yes.”

Meg looked over at me. I could see that she knew I was lying, but she let it go.

Meg had grown up a lot since we first met a year ago. So had I, though in my case, it was more literal. She had become a god in order to save me, and she was still getting used to what that meant. A few months ago, she’d snuck out of the Waystation while mother and I were sleeping. She plunged into Tartarus and recovered the essences of Percy’s and Annabeth’s friends, Bob, Damasen, and Small Bob. Those weren’t the only beings she had saved, however.

A tiny calico kitten perched on Meg’s shoulders, nuzzling her and purring. Meg had found the skelekittens that had been destroyed and sent to Tartarus. Naturally, she rescued all of them. Her own skelekitten, Chia, was absolutely adorable. She’d defend Meg tooth and claw if she were threatened. I was fairly certain that her battle prowess would be unnecessary today. The difficulties we would face would be more emotional than physical.

I played “Love is an Open Door” to the Door of Orpheus. This door had MUCH better taste in music than the last door I had tried that on. It opened without a fuss.

A dark tunnel lay before us. I glowed brightly, lighting up the corridor. Meg studied me for a moment. “You make a good flashlight.”

“Comes with being the god of light,” I replied, cracking a small smile. I could hear water gushing up ahead. I needed any bit of cheer I could find.

We exited the tunnel. The source of the roaring became more apparent. I looked to the right and saw the source of my dread. The River Styx gushed beside me, forming a barrier between the mortal world and the Underworld. I heard whispers emanating from the river. All your fault you broke your promise you’re the reason Crest and Jason died why should you get to live? Don’t you deserve to d i s a p p e a r?

“-pollo! APOLLO!” I could feel someone shaking me, dragging me along. A small black-haired girl, with a kitten on her shoulder, mewing, clearly alarmed.

Meg. This was Meg. I needed to keep going. Get away from the Styx. Keep Meg away from the goddess’s curse. Couldn’t let her suffer too.

I shuddered, but I got to my feet, putting one leg in front of the other, taking myself - and more importantly Meg - away from the Styx. With every step, its call became quieter, until it disappeared altogether.

By the time I had calmed down, we were at the Gate of Erebus. Spirits surrounded us, but paid us no mind. Fine by me. We weren’t here to see any of these spirits. Our goal was further on.

Cerberus bounded up to us, tongues lolling out of his mouths, tail wagging. Meg’s skelekitten sprang off her shoulder and grew to her adult size. For a moment I thought we’d have to separate the two of them, a task that was NOT on my to-do list for today. Instead Chia bounded up to the massive Rottweiler and rubbed up against his legs, purring so hard she visibly vibrated. Cerberus looked confused for a moment. He then decided that this was the Most Awesome Thing Ever, and started giving Chia a tongue-bath, which she thoroughly enjoyed.

“Awww,” Meg cooed. I just thought about how sopping wet with drool Chia would be by the time we got her back. Though, come to think of it… “We can leave her here for now, if you’d like, and pick her up when we head back from Hades’ Palace. That’ll give her a little more time with her new friend.”

Meg thought about this for a moment, before nodding. “Chia, we’ll come back for you in an hour or so. You can hang out with Cerberus until then!” she yelled. Chia gave a quick yowl of acknowledgement before she went back to climbing all over Cerberus.

We moved on, walking towards the massive palace ahead of us. It looked a lot like Olympus, if Olympus was going through an emo phase. It was dark, mostly consisting of dark browns and blacks, where Olympus is bright, with white and silver colors. I preferred the lighter colors personally, but that was just me. The darker colors suited Hades better anyway. I didn’t see how anyone could like the images on the gates of mortals dying horrific deaths, though. Hades’ taste in decor was beyond me at times.

Hades’ skeleton guards parted to let us into the palace. We walked into the entrance hall, our footsteps echoing loudly, as if saying “You are but a speck here. Behold the might of Hades.”

I looked at Meg, thinking that I’d reassure her that everything would be fine, give her moral support. She didn’t need it. She strode along the hall like she belonged there, unintimidated by our surroundings. She even started humming a song. It was off-key of course, but it broke the tension nicely. I smiled. We were going to see the Lord of the Underworld while within his own domain, and Meg was treating it like a walk in the park.

Meg noticed my gaze, looking back at me. “It’ll be fine,” she said, “I know I can do this. It’s part of my domain.”

Go figure. I was going to reassure her, and instead she was reassuring me. I was glad for her comfort. I’m not sure what I was even afraid of. That Hades would reject her proposal? That she’d say something insolent (which let’s face it, is VERY likely) and he’d retaliate? Ok, I needed to stop this train of thought now before I worried myself further.

The doors to Hades’ throne room swung open. Hades sat on his throne of bones (eww…) looking regal. He’d decided to stay a normal godly size, about twenty feet tall.

“I thought you’d be coming here, sooner or later,” he declared. “When Meg brought you and herself back from the brink of death, I suspected that her domain would cross over with mine. When she banished Zeus to be reborn, I knew that she would one day stand before me.” Hades stood up, his cape billowing out behind him, “Tell me, child, why you have come. What role do you fill in the Underworld?”

Meg straightened beside me. “I’m the Goddess of Redemption and Rebirth. When someone dies who needs a second chance, but who didn’t earn Elysium, I’ll go to them and offer them the chance to be reborn, to better themselves. Sometimes if people are put in different circumstances, they’ll grow, change, become better. I help those people get started. I have to try, even if I can’t be sure it’ll work. I won’t give up on them so easily.”

Hades nodded, thoughtful. “I saw what happened with Lityerses. I never expected a soul that was sentenced to the Fields to make such good use of a second shot at life. Though I suppose that was mostly due to Apollo,” he said, looking at me with bemusement.

He turned back to Meg. “There are some people who I won’t allow to be reborn. Some have committed heinous enough crimes that I will NEVER allow them to see the light of day again. I will not allow you to bring those souls back.”

Meg frowned. “I’m not bringing back just ANY soul. But if I think a soul deserves it, I’m bringing them back, whether you like it or not.”

Hades sat up, angered. The room appeared to darken. I started glowing, counteracting some of the shadows that seemed to be strengthening.

“You DARE go against me?” he hissed. “I am the Lord of the Underworld. These souls are MY jurisdiction.”

“They’re mine too.” Meg cut in, “You might not like it, but I’m gonna do my job, even if you don’t approve.”

Hades glowered at her for a moment. My hands itched for my bow, but I kept them still at my sides. I would not escalate this situation unless I had no other choice.

Hades relaxed slightly and sighed. “Should have remembered, you’re the same girl who screamed at Zeus. Very well. I won’t make you swear on the Styx not to bring back such souls. Know this, though. If you go against my edicts, there WILL be consequences.”

Meg nodded.

Hades continued. “You didn’t come down here ONLY to tell me that, did you?” He looked at Meg expectantly.

“No. There’s a soul who deserves a second chance. I’m here to give him one.”

She gave the name of the soul we were going to retrieve. Hades’ eyebrows raised. “Him? Are you sure? He caused a lot of trouble. His actions could have cost a lot of lives. Do you really want to give him another chance?”

“I’m sure.”

“I suppose that’s why Apollo’s here? To have a talk with him?”

“Well, that and because there’s no way he would let me do this by myself.”

I was affronted. “Last time you went into the Underworld alone, you jumped into Tartarus!”

“Hey, I was fine!”

“That’s no excuse!”

Hades interrupted before we could argue further, “If you are done, please bicker on your way out, I don’t want to hear it.” He snapped his fingers, conjuring up a skeleton. “My servant will guide you. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

I muttered quietly, “So do I,” as we followed the skeleton out of the palace.

——————————————————————————————————

We arrived back at the Gate of Erebus. Cerberus and Chia were bounding around chasing each other, Cerberus barking up a storm and Chia joining in with loud yowls.

“CHIA!” Meg yelled over the cacophony. “I NEED YOU NOW!”

Chia looked disappointed, but bounded over to us, shrinking back to her kitten form. Cerberus whined, giving us pleading puppy-dog eyes, sad to see his new friend go. Meg walked over and gave him a few scritches on his head. “Don’t worry, we’ll be back,” she soothed. He perked up slightly at this and gave a happy bark.

We walked through the gates to the Field of Punishment. I kept my eyes fixed on our skeleton guide. I didn’t want to look at all the horrific punishments going on around me. At one time I would have found it entertaining to watch mortals get their righteous punishment, but now I just felt sorry for them.

We were only here for one person. It was my fault he was here. I should have looked closer. I should have KNOWN. But I let myself be blinded by my own ego and arrogance. I couldn’t look beyond myself, to see that he needed help. It was time to rectify that mistake.

I heard shouts up ahead. At first I tried to ignore them, like I’d been avoiding paying attention to the rest of the Fields of Punishment. Then I caught snatches of what the voices were saying.

“You’re weak.”

“You failed New Rome”

“No one will listen to you. No one cares about you.”

“You were always the weak link. The world is better off without you.”

My stomach clenched. I have had similar thoughts running through my head in the past. If this was his torture, then he was more similar to me than I had thought. Once I had blamed him for my predicament, for my punishment. But he was not to blame. I was. He had believed every word he told me. It was my fault, for not seeing how he would interpret my blessing.

We rounded the corner. In front of us was a blond teenager in stocks. His head and wrists stuck in the board, forcing him to stand hunched over, unable to move. Surrounding him were shades, jeering at him. One walked over and began kicking him, laughing all the while. He didn’t respond.

No. I would not allow this. I blasted the surroundings with light. By the time I had dimmed, the shades were nowhere to be seen. Of course not. They were conjured up by his own imagination. They were never real in the first place.

The teen glanced up at me, his face brightening. “Apollo!” he called, a crazed look overcoming his formerly somber expression, “I knew you would come. They were wrong. Wrong! Those traitors failed New Rome, and failed you. But I won’t. If you give me another chance, I will carry out your will. I will become the savior of New Rome. I will kill the Graecus for you! I will make you the greatest god in the Legion, above all others! You won’t have to be confused by those Graecus scum anymore.”

My heart sank. Intellectually, I knew that the dead didn’t grow or change during punishment, that they would stay in pretty much the same state as when they died, forever. Otherwise they’d all go insane. I’d heard of the state Octavian was in near the end, how mad he had looked, how bloodthirsty he had become. It was another thing entirely to see him for myself. It was like looking at Commodus again, before I had murdered him. I had ignored my failures for so long, pretended they didn’t exist. But that had only allowed me to repeat my mistakes.

At least this was one mistake that I could go some small way towards fixing.

“Octavian. I’m sorry. You misunderstand. We’re here to free you, but not for revenge, or to lead the Romans. The Greeks were telling the truth. They were right. Going to war against Camp Half-Blood, trying to destroy it? I would NEVER wish for that.”

Octavian breathed harder and faster, until he was on the verge of a panic attack. “NO! No no no no no! You PROMISED ME that I’d be the savior of New Rome. That can’t be right! This must be a test. Yes! A test! You’re testing your most loyal follower, seeing whether he truly understands your wishes. I will kill the Graecus and free you from their poison, my Lord!”

He wouldn’t listen. He would never listen. He was another one I couldn’t save, a victim of my ego and cowardice, my refusal to look beyond my own desires, to understand what others were thinking and feeling. Why did I think I could save him? Why-

*SLAP*

I refocused on Meg. It seems that she’d gone for her usual method of telling people they were being stupid: mild violence.

“He’s not tricking you, and he’s not corrupted or poisoned or whatever. He didn’t mean what you thought he meant. We’re here because you tried to do what you thought was best, and I think you could be better. Apollo didn’t want to give up on you. I don’t either. I’m gonna give you another chance.”

Octavian looked confused, not knowing what to make of Meg. I didn’t blame him. Meg had that effect on people.

He opened his mouth, and started to speak, but his words died in his throat as he stared in Meg’s direction. I followed his gaze, ascertaining that he was staring at the kitten on her shoulder. Chia leaped down and started rubbing her face against his ankles, purring and mewing.

“That cat… likes me?” Octavian asked, utterly bewildered. “Where… what… no animals like me. They’re all afraid of me! So why…” He seemed lost. A god testing him, that he could understand. But an animal liking him and showing him affection? Beyond his comprehension. It reminded me of how Lit had responded when Emmie had welcomed him into the Waystation family, how he’d collapsed sobbing at being shown a little kindness.

“Would you like to hold him?” Meg asked.

He moved to nod, but then glared at her. “You mock me. I can’t hold her while restrained. This was just a trick, to torture-”

*click*

The upper part of the stocks disappeared, leaving Octavian free. Meg twirling the keys she had conjured up from who-knows-where.

Of course Meg had the keys for the stocks. Her duties now involved freeing souls from the Fields of Punishment, so she would have to have the means to remove them from their punishments.

Octavian stood, stunned once again. Meg gently lifted the purring skelekitten up from the ground, and placed her in Octavian’s arms. Chia nuzzled Octavian, licking his face endearingly. Those were rough kisses, but Octavian didn’t seem to mind. Tears ran down his face, which Chia happily licked up.

“You’ll get another chance,” I promised him. “I don’t know what your next life will be like, but I know I will meet you along the way. I’ll make sure you aren’t left alone. You will have the help you need this time, and people who care about you. And you will meet up with Chia again.”

Octavian nodded absently, still stroking Chia, lost in her cuteness and affection. Meg reached out and gently touched Octavian. He glowed brighter and brighter, pulsing once, twice, and on the third pulse, he disappeared.

Chia mewed, unhappy that she had been separated from another one of her new friends.

“You’ll see him again,” Meg assured her skelekitten. “It’ll be awhile, but you’ll get to cuddle with him again. I promise.” Chia purred and hopped back onto Meg’s shoulders.

Meg looked at me. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I squared my shoulders. “This time, I’ll look after him properly. I’ll pay attention to what the people around me are really thinking and feeling, and I’ll make sure they get help. I won’t fail him a second time.”

Meg smiled. “Then let’s go home. It’ll be awhile before he’s reborn, and we need to make sure the world is ready for him when he is.”

Together we walked out of the Underworld, to a brighter future.

#trials of apollo #apollo #meg mccaffrey #octavian #hades #the trials of apollo #second chances #fanfiction #toa

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kabhi-haath-pakad-k-tu-mera · 5 years

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And Death Sees No Justice

Theseus is sent on a quest to retrieve Thanatos, but it proves to be harder than he had thought. IWSC Round 5. Harry Potter and Greek mythology crossover.

————

Most of Theseus’s existence in the underworld has been spent in the Fields of Asphodel, weaving through crowds of lonely, sad souls that bemoan their existence. It is disconcerting at first, it had been to him when he had died a few centuries (a millennium?) ago, but you learn to ignore them with the passing of time. You have to if you value your sanity, especially if you can understand them. He wonders sometimes if this ability that has been given to him by The Unseen One really is for his benefit. It certainly feels like a curse. So many souls, millions of them, all filled with regret that has rendered them insane. Sometimes he feels like he is one of them. He probably is, he muses. Like them, all he does now is regret the decisions he had made, and wonders if things could have been different.

Except the Lord likes to shake him out of his reverie from time to time. Once every few centuries, he is taken to The Court of The Dead by the Erinyes themselves and dropped before Hades by whom he is given a Quest. It could be anything that The Unseen One fancies—bringing a mortal’s soul, a golden apple from The Garden of Hesperides or some artefact from the mortal world that holds power. Theseus cannot fail the quest that he is given, not because he fears for his life—he already is dead, after all. He knows, however, that he would be sent to the fields of punishment for eternity if he were to fail. He shudders involuntarily upon the thought of what the Lord Hades would do to him upon failure, and he also knows that he is waiting for him to slip, simply waiting for him to give up, and thus is his punishment for trying to abduct his Queen Persephone, and thus is his punishment for being naive enough to go along with everything that Prithous had told him, everything that has brought him to this point.

It still startles him to find himself suddenly airborne in the claws of one of the Furies no matter how many times he experiences experience it. He notices not for the first time that it is Tisiphone who carries him every time, only Tisiphone, and wonders if it has it a more sinister meaning. The Lord Hades is perched on his throne while the throne beside his is empty, meaning that the mortal world is now facing the warmer months. The court is empty, apart from The Lord. Even the Furies have now left. Theseus stands silently as The Lord considers him. It is a while before he speaks.

“Theseus, son of Poseidon, you have been summoned here for a great purpose.” his voice is quiet, but it carries over in the empty court “The underworld is in need of help. I would like to ask for your help, for you to take on a quest.”

The demigod seethes internally at the polite, honeyed words spilling from The Lord’s mouth. As if he has a choice. Hades’s face splits into a smile and Theseus knows he that he has read his mind. A moment later his smile drops and he sits up straight, looking at him with fire in his eyes.

He speaks again, “The underworld has lost one of its most loyal subjects—Death. I need you to find him and bring him back here by hook or by crook, demigod.” The Lord leans forward at this point. “Find him, leave no stone unturned. If word gets around that Thanatos has gone missing … The consequences could be destructive.”

It takes Theseus perhaps a second to realize the implications. The Doors of Death are now unguarded. Any soul could escape into the mortal world, not only from Erebus, but also from Tartarus. He feels a chill pass up his spine thinking of Tartarus and the spirits that reside there. From the brief moments of proximity to the place he had had, he knows that the beings there are not to be taken lightly, and if they got released into the mortal world they would wreak havoc. No wonder The Unseen One is so worried.

“Does anyone know where he is?” The demigod speaks for the first time. There are, after all, some who know plenty about the going ons in the mortal and immortal world, like the Grey sisters, the Furies or…

“The Oracle.” the answer is short and to the point. There is no way around it. “You will be led to Delphi by the Labyrinth. I have pulled in a … favour from an old acquaintance of yours. You will be guided by the thread.”

An image of Princess Ariadne of Crete, Mistress of the Labyrinth passes through his thoughts. Is she dead? Theseus hasn't thought of her in a long time. He feels a sudden pang of guilt. Had she died on Naxos? He does not voice this thought however, he doesn’t get a chance—Tisiphone and her sisters have appeared again and he finds himself airborne, flying over the fields of punishment and towards the fields of Asphodel. Tisiphone drops him onto a flat plain that overlooks the river Styx, and then the Erinyes disappear. He gets up with some effort, trying to get his bearings and looks around. The spool of thread is instantly noticeable—golden fibre a stark contrast against the dark backdrop of the underworld. He picks it up and feels the wall behind it for a Delta, which glows a faint blue upon contact and opens a hole inches from his feet. He has no way of knowing how deep it is, it's too dark to see. He jumps in anyway.

————

II.

The opening closes as soon as he jumps in, and torches that light up along the wall reveal that he is in some sort of a dungeon. He looks around and his eyes land upon the sword immediately. It is stuck inside a fissure in the wall. It does not surprise him when he pulls it out that it bears the Athenian crest. His sword—his father’s sword—comes to him whenever he is sent on a quest. Another pang of guilt wrecks through his body, followed by a surge of anger. What kind of a ruler had he been? What kind of a son? What kind of a father and husband? How is it that he had got to this? He shakes his head and sets off towards the oracle.

Navigating the Labyrinth is not an easy task. He knows that he needs to keep his eyes peeled and be ready for anything that it sends his way—the labyrinth is evil, meant to misguide you—but he doesn’t, because he knows that it remains unresponsive to him. He also knows that Hades has something to do with it—another clever way to remind him of the life that he had lived, the glory he had had. He lets out a breath. The gods are all sadists. He takes the first right he gets to and starts dropping the thread.

It isn't too long before he finds himself in a cave near the sea, right in the middle of it. He can hear the sound of waves crashing—the call of the sea. He feels more powerful than he has in a long, long time. This is his domain. He contemplates for a moment staying here forever. What were the odds? Thanatos is missing, he could perhaps live as a fugitive the way Dedalus did. He discards the thought almost immediately. The Furies would haunt him wherever he hid. He emerges from the cave into warm sunlight falling upon the Island of Delphi. His eyes rake across the sea for a few moments and he basks in the strength he feels—the power of the sea. Finally he starts scanning the horizon for the volcano in which the priestess resides.

He sets off towards a mountain covered in green from which fumes are rising. He has always wondered how the priestess’ manage to live inside the volcano—an active volcano—where the corpse of Pythos rots. If he is being honest, Theseus doesn't think that Pythos is down there anymore. It had to have been millennia since he had been slaughtered. Monsters always reform, even if heroes don't.

When he is at the mouth of the cave that would lead him inside he hesitates. He has always been wary of oracles and their prophecies. Going to one is sheer stupidity, always has been, but now neither he nor countless other demigods have a choice, since the others keep moving so. He still stands there for a few moments. There are mortals around, some with strange contraptions in their hands, but they do not seem to notice him—Hecate’s mist envelops him. He wonders if they can see him at all.

He steels himself, finally, and enters the cave quietly. The heat is sweltering, and the toxic fumes have dried his throat before he finds the High Priestess of Apollo—the Oracle—in the right cavern. Unlike the others, this cavern is somehow cool and free of the vapours released by Python’s allegedly rotting body. The Priestess is sitting on a Tripod seat with a laurel branch in her hand, looking in his direction without any trace of surprise, as if Heroes from the Bronze Age come to her every other day. For all he knows, they probably do. The mounds of offerings scattered around make him realize that has forgotten to bring offerings himself. The Oracle doesn't seem to be bothered by this however, and motions him to sit before her, which he does. Even though the Priestess is seemingly human, looking at her sends chills up Theseus’s spine. Her aura is … eerie.

“Ask, hero, what you must,” The oracle speaks, and her voice sounds far away, even though it is coming from the woman sat before him.

He draws in a breath and asks shakily, “Where is Thanatos? What am I to do?”

The Oracle gives a ghosty smile and somehow a mist, or perhaps it is the fumes, settles over them so that Theseus cannot see the Oracle clearly. All he knows in that moment is that the mist is forming images—a woman and a man … sitting on a throne, another woman standing a little off, and another man on the other side. The images get more clear and he realizes that he is looking at his parents, his mortal parents—Aethra and Aegeus—and the woman is the Lady of the Labyrinth Ariadne and the man standing away from the throne is Pirithous.

The voice comes from Aegeus first, “You shall move up North to the Albion’s land,”

Ariadne moves towards him and speaks, “You shall find the ones taken by an undead hand,”

Pirithous turns to look at him, “You shall befriend the one who has mastered death,”

It is his mother who speaks in the end, “And you shall fall down again when it all ends.”

Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the mist disappears and Theseus is left looking again at the Priestess, his heart racing and his ears ringing. He draws in a shaky breath and gets up, nodding at the Oracle. He turns around to leave, half expecting the Oracle to call after him. She doesn't, and he hurries out towards the Labyrinth.

————

III.

The rush of adrenaline that had flowed through his body when he had heard the prophecy has still not died when he is safely inside the labyrinth. Safely inside the labyrinth. Theseus snorts. The underworld has finally been successful if driving him insane. He sits down right there and then, exhausted.

‘You shall move up North to the Albion’s land,

You shall find the ones taken by an undead hand,

You shall befriend the one who has mastered death,

And you shall fall down again when it all ends.’

Albion’s land was where the white people lived, in the North-West, beyond even the Gaul. ‘The one who has mastered death…’ Death probably meant Thanatos. And ‘you shall fall down again with the taken's final breath.’ That was reassuring. So he had to go to Albion and find people taken by an undead hand. What was an undead hand? Someone who had already escaped from The Underworld? And one of these people had mastered Death, which was probably why Thanatos was not responding to Hades’s calls. If he had to travel so fast, it was probably best that he was travelling by the Labyrinth. But which way was he to go? He sighs, staring at the rocky walls of the labyrinth, and feels his eyes get heavy with every passing second until he finally lets them shut.

He has a dream. This in itself isn’t unusual, but this particular dream is one of those dreams. The ones that bring messages. He hasn't had one of those in ages but he knows. He can feel it. He is on an island that he has been to before, but he cannot quite place it’s name or it’s whereabouts. There is a woman lying a little away, and this woman he does recognize. He is on Naxos. Ariadne turns towards him as if she were expecting him, but how? He had thought only Gods had the ability to call upon a hero’s soul unless … unless Ariadne had ascended to Olympus?

She considers him for a moment then says, “Theseus, we meet again.” She grimaces. “I was told of your quest. You're on the way to find Thanatos, yes?”

Theseus nods, only barely.

“You don’t have enough time to travel all the way to Britain—to Albion,” she continues, “It’ll be too late by then. The souls have already begun stirring in the search of the doors, they might have all escaped by the time you are able to locate his whereabouts,” She says and stops for a moment, scrutinizing him, then says, “The Labyrinth will guide you. Begin the way you always have, forward and right, and keep on towards the north. You will be led right to your destination.” She looks him over one last time. “Do what needs to be done, Theseus. Goodbye.”

And just like that he is waking up, and when he is fully awake he sends a quick prayer to Ariadne. He starts forward like he had been instructed, and goes right when he gets to the intersection. He wanders into tunnels occasionally, to check his direction and his location, and keeps moving for three days until he finally reaches a tunnel on the right that leads him into what appears to be a cupboard.

There are people outside who are speaking in a different tongue, although he does catch a few words now and then, and he is sure that Thanatos is there somewhere around here because he can feel the energy that is radiating off him—energy that reads death. He accidentally knocks over a vial of a dark, muddy liquid and he can hear people coming towards the cabinet. The door of the cabinet is thrown open and the light, although rather dim, blinds him temporarily. When his eyes have adapted to the sudden brightness, they are looking into a young, bright green pair looking at him in bewilderment.

————

IV.

He realizes in a few more moments that he is inside a shop in Albion, in the company of two young people of about Sixteen years of age and a few older men. The mist does not seem to be working on them for they can very clearly see him and feel his presence. All of them spring into action at the same time, hauling him out the cupboard and drawing what look like wooden sticks while speaking in a foreign tongue, some of which is directed at him. He realizes along the way that these are all wizards, like circe. It is the young girl with long, bushy hair that finally speaks in a tongue familiar to his, if a little rusty.

“Who are you?! What were you doing in there?”

“Theseus.” is his only reply.

He doesn't answer her other question, because what is the point? He cannot tell her that he is here looking for the God of Death—they would have him strapped into a bed in a mental asylum before he could say ‘Hades’. At his name the girl’s stick lowers and she regards him. She turns towards the others and says something to them that makes them drop their sticks too, and somehow it makes him feel a little braver. He trains his eyes over all of the people present, until his eyes stop over the man with green eyes that had let him out of the cupboard. He has a scar on his forehead, and his eyes too, tragic and haunted, are trained on him.

He notices this look in all eyes that he has gotten the chance of looking into, although in the brunette boy it is a lot more intense. He wonders what has happened to these people. The girl then says something to the boy upon which the others seem to protest but they are all ignored. The girl motions to Theseus to follow them, which he does. They get out of the shop whose sign is written in a foreign language. She takes hold of his hand and turns, and he feels like he is being forced in and then out of a very thin pipe. He falls onto his knees when the squashing sensation stops, heaving.

They are in a sort of a lounge, a royal lounge. The two sit down and ask him to sit down also, their gazes trained at him.

“I am called Hermione,” the girl says, “and this is Harry Potter.” She stops for a moment and stares at him long enough that Theseus starts to get uncomfortable. "Are you really Theseus?”

He nods. “I am, Hermione, and I am here on a quest.”

“How are you still alive?” This question is asked by Harry.

“I am not. I have been sent from the Underworld by the Lord Hades to find Death. You wouldn’t happen to know about it?”

Harry and Hermione exchange quick looks and look back at him. Neither of them are surprised. Hermione is about to speak but Theseus cuts her off.

“I know that he is here somewhere, Wizards. I need to know where.”

Harry gets up and walks towards a set of windows and looks towards him from there. “What if he was? What would you do then? And what of the souls he was supposed to have taken? Where would they go?”

Theseus is more than a little surprised at the question. The answer is obvious. They would be taken. He says as much. Harry’s eyes flash dangerously, or maybe it is just the sunlight falling on the glasses that make him feel so. He heads towards where Hermione is sitting and sits back down, and his eyes do not leave Theuses’s. Quite suddenly, Theseus can see why such young children look mature beyond their age.

They have battle scars of their own, embedded in the skin from being made to participate in a war neither of them had wanted to fight. A demonic soul for whom even the worst punishments in the field of punishment would be insufficient, who had ruined much of these children’s childhood by trying to kill them. There had been a battle, so many lives had been lost, even if they had won the war... how many families torn apart? How many lovers estranged? How many children orphaned? And then Thanatos had come to him, to serve him, for he was now his master, the holder of the deathly hallows, and they had all come back to life. A lover, a dear friend, his closest parental figure all came back. He wouldn't let them all go away now, won’t give back Thanatos.

It is at that moment that a Redheaded boy the same age as his companions enters the room and Theseus can tell that this boy has had life restored into him. As has Hermione. The redheaded boy stops in the doorway, looking at him. Harry and Hermione look at him too, their resolves steeled, their mouths set into firm lines. He can still feel Thanatos’s presence from the green eyed wizard but now he doesn't feel so sure about completing this quest. Hades could easily employ any creature to guard the Doors of Death. How was the death of so many who were sucked into the vortex of war justifiable? How was the death of these two, who had helped this world’s saviour win the war justifiable? How was the Undead one’s killing so many justifiable? There was no revenge for them. No revenge that could ever be possibly extracted from anyone would ever balance out this. Does he really want to take Thanatos back?

————

He has stopped again for some shuteye when he feels the power of the Lord Hades summoning him. He cannot resist against it if he tries, and he is not foolish enough to do so. He finds himself back in the company of Harry and Hermione and a number of others which he assumes are wizards, a number of them resurrected. He sees Thanatos too, as beautiful as ever, dark and dangerous as he had been when he had delivered him on the banks of the Styx. The Unseen One is there also, with his eyes—literally filled with fire—looking, staring, glaring at him. He is sure that he has crossed the line this time. He would go to The Fields of Punishment now. It’d be worth it if these wizards are allowed to live, after all that they have been through.

The Unseen One speaks finally after some time, “Theseus, son of Poseidon, you have willingly forsaken your quest and ignored direct orders from me to bring Thanatos to The Underworld. You shall be dealt with accordingly, but now…”

He is beconking Thanatos forward, who is trying to resist even though he too is a servant to the Underworld—to Hades. He finally does step forward and with him, the resurrected begin fading. The Unseen One is gone in a flash of blinding light and Theseus too feels himself being called back. There is no Justice done here he knows, and now until eternity, there will never be.

————

A/N: There are a few things that I feel the need to Point out, please bear with me.

*Hades in this story is referred to as ‘The Lord’ (as he rules the Underworld) and as ‘The Unseen One’ (which is the literal translation of his name).

*The Erinyes are the Furies. Tisiphone’s name means ‘vengeful destruction’.

*The sword shown here is the same sword that Aegeus had left behind in Troezen for Theseus.

*Albion’s land is what the Greeks called the British Isles during the Bronze Age.

*Gaul is what France was called by the Greeks during and before the Bronze Age.

#Harry Potter #Greek mythology #hp crossover #Harry is the master of death #Thanatos is missing #the deathly hallows #Theseus #Harry #Hades #post war #au

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dumbledearme · 6 years

Text

chapter seven—fools rush in

read Child of Land and Sea here

Act I — Storm At Sea

Part VII — Wise men say only fools rush in. Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?

Not everything was lost. They used the infinite LotusCash card to pay for a ride from Vegas to Los Angeles. The driver left them at the beach in Santa Monica with no clue of what to do next.

Then Andy had another one of her ideas.

It blew her mind to think that her own father, the one she had never met, the one that had abandoned her, the one that was a freakin' god, controlled the seas. Two thirds of the Earth's surface was covered in water. How could someone be that powerful?

Well, time to have a taste of it.

She walked into the sea.

"Andy?" Anthony called, a note of amusement in his voice. "What are you doing?" She didn't answer and kept on walking. "You know how polluted that water is? There's all kinds of toxic—"

That's when her head went under. At first, Andy held her breath, afraid of what would happen. It wasn't easy to willingly inhale water. When she couldn't take it anymore, she gasped. Sure enough, she could breathe normally.

Now came the complicated part.

Andy focused in the lack of memories she had of her dad. It was hard; there wasn't a smile, a caress or even a familiar smell. But there was the sea around her. The waves. The salt. All the things that made him the sea god. This is who he is, she realized.

"Please," she pleaded. "Please, help me." She closed her eyes and waited. When she opened them, the ghost woman was there.

"Andy Jackson," she said.

"Who are you?" Andy had to ask.

"I'm a Nereid, a spirit of the sea. It has been many years since a child of the sea has been born. We have watched you with great interest."

"Why doesn't he speak to me? You know, personally?"

"Do not judge the Lord of the Sea too harshly," the Nereid said. "He stands at the brink of an unwanted war. He has much to occupy his time. Besides, he is forbidden to help you directly. The gods may not show such favoritism."

"Even to their own children?"

"Especially to them. The gods can work by indirect influence only. That is why I give you a warning, and a gift." She held out her hand. Three white pearls flashed in her palm. "I know you journey to Hades' realm. Few mortals have ever done this and survived: Orpheus, who had great music skill; Hercules, who had great strength; Houdini, who could escape even the depths of Tartarus. Do you have these talents?"

"With a little effort, I can burp the entire alphabet."

The Nereid narrowed her eyes. "You possess gifts you have only begun to know. The oracle has foretold a great and terrible future for you, should you survive to adulthood. Poseidon would not have you die before your time. Therefore, take these, and when you are in need, smash a pearl at your feet."

"What will happen?"

"Depends on the need. But remember: what belongs to the sea will always return to the sea."

"Alright. What about the warning?"

Her eyes flickered. "Go with what your heart tells you, or you will lose all. Hades feeds on doubt and hopelessness. He will trick you if he can. He never willingly lets people leave his realm. Keep faith. And good luck, Andromeda."

Getting there wasn't that hard. They convinced the security guard to let them pass. His name was Charon. He put them on the boat and complained all the way that he was underpaid. The boat went on, crossing a dark, oily river, swirling with bones, dead fish, and other strange things.

Anthony said it was the River Styx. He said it was polluted with dreams, hopes, wishes that never came true. Thinking of that and of all the dead people around her, Andy started to panic. She wasn't supposed to be here. She took Anthony's hand, needing reassurance that somebody else was alive.

Then, of course, there was the dog. The giant three headed dog really wanted to eat them. Andy didn't think they would pass that. But Anthony somehow managed to control Cerberus. Bossing him around, really. He was so bossy even the gigantic hellhound did as he wanted! The dog couldn't wait to do what he said, to be pet, to be given attention.

It was unbelievable.

"No," Anthony told her. "That was obedience school."

After a while, Andy came to the realization that the dead weren't scary—they were just sad. Most of them were doomed to a waiting line. A lot of them were condemned to the Fields of Punishment. Only very few went to Elysium.

Suddenly, Grover yelped. His sneakers sprouted wings and his legs shot forward dragging him away. "Maia!" he yelled, but that didn't work.

Andy and Anthony ran after him.

"Untie the shoes," Anthony shouted. But he couldn't. He was being taken to a dark tunnel that got darker and colder the further they went. Fortunately, Grover hit the wall and one of the sneakers fell; he lost speed. Anthony caught up to him and helped him take off the other shoe.

They all collapsed, exhausted.

Anthony glanced at the end of the tunnel. "This is the entrance to Tartarus," he said softly.

"We have to get out of here," cried Grover. They ran the other way a little too slowly because Andy's backpack was weighing her down. Something seemed to be trying to inhale them.

Finally, they got out of the tunnel. "What was that?"

Andy glanced at Anthony; he was obviously nursing an idea, but he chose not to share. "Let's keep going," he said. "Grover, can you walk?"

"Yeah, sure," he swallowed. "I never liked those shoes anyway."

They kept going until the found the garden. It was strange and dangerous. All around them there was poisonous mushrooms and shrubs, and weird luminous plants grew without sunlight. Right at the center, there was an orchard of pomegranate trees.

"The garden of Persephone," said Anthony, who seemed to know everything about everything. "Don't touch anything." Sure enough, the smell of the pomegranates was overwhelming. Andy really wanted to have one.

They walked up the steps of the palace. Andy's backpack weighed a ton now.

Hades was the third god she got to meet, but the first one who struck her as godlike. His skin was albino white, his hair shoulder-length and jet black. He was wearing black silk robes and a crown of braided gold. Immediately, Andy felt like he should be the one giving the orders. He knew more than she did. He was smarter, more powerful, more graceful, more—

Snap out of it!, she told herself.

"You are brave to come here, little one," he said; his voice sounded bored. "After what you have done to me, very brave indeed. Or very foolish."

Andy stepped forward. "Lord Hades, I come with two requests."

He raised an eyebrow. There were shadows moving around him. "What am I? A genie? You arrogant child. You have taken enough."

"I've taken nothing," she said, defensively. The throne room shook and Andy almost lost her balance.

Hades bellowed, "You think I want war, godling?"

"Well, you did take the master bolt."

"LIES!" More rumbling. Hades rose from his throne. "Your father may fool Zeus, but I am not stupid. I see his plan."

"Excuse me?"

"You were the thief on the winter solstice," he accused. "Your father thought to keep you his dirty little secret. You took the master bolt and my helm. Had I not sent my Fury to discover you at that school, Poseidon might have succeeded in hiding his scheme to start a war. But now you have been forced into the open."

"Lord Hades," called Anthony and Andy could almost see the gears turning inside his head. "Your helm of darkness is missing, too?"

"Do not play innocent with me, son of Athena. You and the satyr have been helping the girl—coming here to threaten me in Poseidon's name, no doubt—to bring me an ultimatum. Does Poseidon think I can be blackmailed into supporting him?"

"Sir—"

"I have said nothing of the helm's disappearance," Hades snarled, "because I had no illusions that anyone on Olympus would offer me the slightest justice, the slightest help. I searched for you myself, and when it was clear you were coming to me, I did not stop you. Return my helm now, godling, or I will stop death. I will open the earth and have the dead pour back into the world. I will make your lands a nightmare. And you—Andromeda Jackson—your skeleton will lead my army out of—"

"You're crazy," Andy snapped. "You're absolutely insane."

Hades seemed too shocked about the accusation to speak.

"You've been sending monsters after me because you think I stole something from you? Never occurred to you, I suppose, to prove that I had such item. Of course, Zeus did the same thing, didn't he? You are all out of your minds!"

"RETURN MY PROPERTY!" He demanded.

"I DON'T HAVE IT!" she yelled back at him. "I don't have your stupid helm. I don't have the master bolt. I didn't do anything wrong, so stop trying to kill me!"

Hades glanced at her, curiosity in his eyes. "I have not tried to kill you. I wanted you alive. I only ever sent the Furies to capture you. As for not having the helm and the bolt..." Hades grinned wickedly. "Open your pack."

A horrible feeling struck Andy. She let the pack fall from her shoulders and it hit the ground with a bang. Andy unzipped it and there it was it: the lightning bolt.

"Andy!" exclaimed Anthony.

"You heroes are always the same," Hades said. "Your pride makes you foolish, thinking you could bring such a weapon before me. I did not ask for Zeus' master bolt, but since it is here, you will yield it to me. Also, my helm."

Andy was feeling a kind of anger she had never experienced before. She wanted to go around punching gods in the face. They—all of them!—had played her. They were using her.

"This is wrong," she shook her head. "This is a mistake."

An army of skeletons appeared circling Andy, Anthony and Grover.

"There's no mistake," said Hades. "I know why you hesitate. I know what you want. You came for her." And then she was there, frozen in a shower of gold, just as she was when the Minotaur took her. "Yes. I knew, Andromeda Jackson, that you would come to me. Now make your choice. I know you have pearls with you. But do you realize they each only protects a single person? Take your mother and pick one of your friends to leave behind. Go on. Choose. Or give me the bolt and the helm and I'll let you all go."

"Andy," Grover said from behind her. "Leave me here. You can't give him the bolt. Take your mom and go. I'm a satyr. We don't have souls like humans. He can't torment me forever."

"No," said Anthony. "I'll stay. You'll get your searcher's license. Get out of here. I'll cover you. I'll go down fighting."

"I'm staying," argued Grover.

"No. I am."

Andy turned to face them and handed each a pearl. Her heart felt like it was being split in two. "Andy—"

"I will find your helm," she told Hades before smashing the pearl. She could only hope the others had done the same. While she was being transported, Andy made a vow to save her mother. She would come back for her. She wouldn't fail like the prophecy said. She would save what mattered most in the end.

They were back at the beach. Andy looked out at the sea, but she wasn't really seeing it. She couldn't breath. She felt her body shaking, the tears streaming down her face. She couldn't fight it. She couldn't deal with it. Was she having a panic attack?

Suddenly, he was there. Anthony wrapped his arms around her and Andy sobbed against his shoulder. She sobbed out the fear, the sadness and the anger. She let it all out. She sobbed until there was nothing left. Then she straightened up and looked over Anthony's shoulder.

Ares was standing a few feet away, seeming genuinely pleased to see her or to see her crying. "You were supposed to be dead."

Andy marched toward him. "You stole the helm and the master bolt."

He grinned. "Not personally. You're not the only hero who can run errands."

"Who?"

"Don't matter. The point is: you need to die in the Underworld. Old Seaweed will be mad at Hades for killing you. Corpse Breath will have Zeus' master bolt, so Zeus'll be mad at him. And Hades is still looking for this..." from his pocket he took out a ski cap that before their eyes transformed into a war helmet. "Pretty soon, there'll be war."

"But they're your family," said Anthony.

Ares shrugged. "Best kind of war. Always the bloodiest. Nothing like watching your relatives fight."

"Why didn't you keep the master bolt to yourself?" Andy asked. Ares got a twitch in his jaw. He seemed to be listening to a voice inside his head.

"I didn't... I... Because... A power like that..." His face cleared. "I didn't want the trouble."

"You're lying," she said. "It wasn't your idea."

"Of course it was."

"You didn't order the theft. Someone else sent a hero to steal the two items. Then, when Zeus sent you to hunt him down, you caught the thief. But you didn't turn him over to Zeus. Something convinced you to let him go. The thing... That thing in the pit is ordering you around!"

"I am the god of war! I take orders from no one! I don't have dreams!"

Andy raised an eyebrow. "I never said you did."

Ares looked agitated, but he tried to cover with a smirk. "I will kill you now, kid. Nothing personal." He snapped his fingers and a wild boar appeared.

"Fight me yourself, you coward."

He laughed, but there was an edge to it. "Your only talent is running. So don't push me."

"Andy, looked out!" Anthony shouted as the boar charged. But Andy had had enough of that. She was done. It was time to put an end to it.

She uncapped the pen and knelt on the sand. The boar was there within seconds and she impaled him with the sword. The beast disappeared in smoke.

Andy stood. "Are you going to fight me now?"

Ares' face was purple with rage. "Watch, kid. I could turn you into—"

"Do it, then. Do your absolute worst."

"You are asking for it." A sword appeared in his hand.

"Andy," Anthony called. "He's a god."

"No. He's a coward."

"I've been fighting for eternity, kid. My strength is unlimited and I cannot die. What have you got?"

"A smaller ego," she said. "If I win, the helm and the bolt are mine." Andy attacked. Ares was quick. He twisted and slashed and forced Andy into the ocean. He knocked the blade out of her hands and slapped her across the face. Andy lost balanced and fell.

She was seeing double, but she got up as the water healed her. Her senses were working overtime. She could see where he was tensing. She could tell which way he would strike. Andy picked Riptide and deflected when he attacked.

She felt the rhythm of the sea. She felt its power. She felt her dad.

She sent the tide over him and attacked at the same time. He turned in time to raise his sword but the water disoriented him. Andy changed direction, lunged to the side, and stabbed Riptide straight down into the water, sending the point through the god's heel.

The roar that followed made Hades' earthquake look like a minor event.

The expression on his face was beyond hatred. It was pain, shock, complete disbelief that he'd been wounded. He limped toward Andy, cursing, but something stopped him. He lowered his sword.

"You have made an enemy, godling," he told her. "You have sealed your fate. Every time you raise your blade in battle, every time you hope for success, you will feel my curse. Beware, Andromeda Jackson." His body began to glow.

"Andy, don't look!" Anthony shouted. Andy turned the moment the god revealed his true immortal form.

The light died. He was gone, but the Furies were there.

"We've watched the whole thing," hissed Mrs. Dodds.

"Return this to Hades," Andy said throwing the helmet at her. Mrs. Dodds hesitated, then disappeared.

Then Grover and Anthony were there beside her, watching her in amazement.

"Andy..." Grover said. "That was so incredibly..."

"Awesome."

"So awesome," Grover agreed.

But Andy didn't feel awesome. She just felt empty. Exhausted. There was nothing left.

"We have to go back to New York. Tonight."

"That's impossible," Anthony said. "Unless we—"

"Fly, yes."

Anthony stared at her. "Chiron warned you not to. Zeus will strike you out of the sky and—"

"No, he won't. Because he wants this back, doesn't he?" Andy pointed at the backpack and smiled.

#andromeda #fem percy jackson #dfcrosas #fanfic #genderbend #andromeda jackson #storm at sea #child of land and sea #andony

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words-writ-in-starlight · 6 years

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reading part 1 and like, it feels silly to go ‘dang nice first line’ when you clearly worked hard on the first line, you know full well it’s nice, but still. nice first line. drops you right in the world, has that ring of myth but also of urgency, explains right away what the problem is, and also now I’m overanalyzing but it does start things right off by making sure you don’t trust Crispin, don’t trust what he appears to be no matter what. it puts you on edge, on guard, making sure you assume

he’ll lie to you (well, to Brenneth). And like. I know what the original story is, it’s not like I needed the reminder, but the sharp sense of unbalance and distrust that you get right at the start of the story is quite good. ++ Funny - I realize suddenly that I don’t actually know what Crispin looks like. I know you’ve described him somewhere, but it didn’t stick, or maybe you just didn’t mention the hair. I don’t remember it being red-gold.

(the hades and persephone au)

Fun fact, I scrapped THREE, count them, THREE intro scenes before I settled on this one, so no, you are no over-analyzing. Some fragments of the other intro scenes wound up elsewhere in the story, but mostly? I just chucked them wholesale and started from scratch. So, like, yeah, I’m really glad that one works out because I was rapidly running out of good places in the story to pick up the action. Also, this is both a nod to the actual intro to the novel and wildly at odds, because on the one hand, it does open with a mysterious individual who has, presumably, broken into Brenneth’s home, but it’s also all trust all the time with Crispin from the very first line of the novel, so.

Yoo the season thing is tight, that is the good stuff, and by saying it’s jarring you make it into a bad, unnatural thing, not a thing of wonder as it would be in most stories. Nice. ++ “mundane lightning, if such a thing even existed” Interesting. Not even sure why exactly, just.. interesting. ++ I like that he stabs her xD ++ “her best emotionless expression” NICE I like how this shows, without explaining why, not only that she’s upset somehow, but that it’s a big deal (her BEST such

expression, this is a big effort she’s making). It suggests a personal connection, which, ok, I know she has one bc I know Alleirat, but this is fanfic, that’s allowed. Anyway it’s a very economical way of showing it, so nice job. ++ “the snarl evaporated into a smile” Huh. He trusts her, in a way, even if only in that he thinks he knows her well enough to know what to expect. ++ "If you wanted to talk” I wonder if he really does think, even for a moment, that this is just personal.

Crispin…like, to be completely honest, he’s not completely stable at this moment–I was going to say “not completely himself” but that wouldn’t be accurate–and he wants to force Brenneth into saying out loud what’s upsetting her. Largely because it will upset her to say it out loud. It’s a cruel jab, to do it in a way that reminds her that they’re friends, but he’s also trying to drive her into lashing out and, quite frankly, attempting his execution then and there, so he goes for cruelty over efficiency.

"gentle note of menace” Interesting. What menace does he threaten? What can he threaten, here? Or is it just generalized menace? Maybe he’s just a menacing guy. ++ "glittered like a jewel in a setting” An unusual metaphor for a person. I like how it makes him hard and sharp, and fey in how he glitters, and trapped, like jewels are by their settings. ++ Brenneth is very polite. I think I like that about her. I think she does it because she’s solid, steady. She knows who she wants to be, and she’s

not about to be any less than that, even in the little things.

Brenneth is one of those people where a short temper that tends to flare hot and spectacular but largely harmless, which I think is a satisfying contrast with Crispin, who’s slow to lose his temper and coldly precise but absolutely lethal when he does. And above anything else…she’s sad, I think. Brenneth doesn’t like admitting it, in any universe, but she’s sad about a lot of things, a lot of the time, and that makes her a little more likely to offer civility to someone trying to hurt her. Not invulnerable to snapping and getting violent, but it buys

++ @the shards in his eyes: holy shit that’s good imagery. it’s a common enough concept but you’ve phrased it so poetically that it gains new strength ++ god that conversation’s intense. I like that she was mortal before – grounded in the world, in a life, in mundane mortality. And he emerged from a storm, no connections to anything, not even kin, not even parentage. His first memories a furious and beautiful destruction, chaos given

form. And he’s the one who’s Spring, and she who’s Death. ++ "His hands were burned badly across the palms” Good way to keep her fire in the story, even with her being Death and not anything typically considered fiery. Interesting that his hands are burnt where he touched her, but no part of him is burnt from her touching him, not even his chiton. ++ Shiko is bound to a task Brenneth set her, one that benefits Brenneth’s kingdom, and can only leave at her express will, yet Brenneth doesn’t think

of her as a servant, is even uneasy at the thought. I wonder how she does think of Shiko. It doesn’t seem to bother her that Shiko calls her ‘my lord’. (Incidentally I like the Lord thing. It’s a little weird at first but it works. Not sure how to really interpret it yet, if at all - guess I’ll know later in the story - but I like it.)

First of all, I use and abuse a lot of misapplied titles in this, and I would say “lord” is probably the most common one, for a number of reasons. The primary one is probably that Brenneth was introduced into the pantheon as a mortal, which already put her at a disadvantage, so her use of “lord” is making a very clear and specific point about her rank. There’s that quote re: the Tortall about Alanna making a point with “sir” and Kel making a different point with “lady,” and Brenneth is making the former, whereas Krei eventually makes the latter.

Second of all, Brenneth’s whole stance on Shiko is very conflicted. On the one hand, she saved Shiko from an eternity of torment, absolutely and without question, but she did it by basically chaining Shiko to the ferry unless she’s specifically sent on an errand. Shiko has known her longer thank anyone and more completely than anyone with the possible exception of Crispin, so Brenneth thinks of them as equals, but Shiko is acutely aware that her existence as someone not being tortured is entirely dependent on Brenneth’s good will, and Brenneth is aware of that as well. And, of course, Brenneth killed Shiko, and it was Shiko’s actions that resulted in Brenneth’s appointment as the god of death. There’s a lot of baggage there.

++ ‘“Well,” Shiko said, and abandoned the sentence.’ And my, what that says about how Brenneth is treated, and what Shiko thinks of it, and what Brenneth thinks

of it. I may be reading too much into it, but after what Crispin said, I don’t think I am. ++ She doesn’t mind thinking of Rada as a servant. Is it the choice? It sounds like though she could compel any shade to serve her (like one from Tartarus), she doesn’t, and they know they have a choice. But Shiko is bound to obey her, so Brenneth is uneasy about it?

Yeah, basically. Shiko has to serve Brenneth or her shade will be banished to the Fields of Punishment, whereas allowing shades to serve in her palace gives them the chance to wait for their family. It’s a kindness she’s offering them, at its core level, whereas Brenneth sees Shiko’s task as the lesser of two fairly serious evils, even though it doesn’t bother Shiko overmuch, and she has a hard time living with having done that to someone who she feels was used and misled, rather than causing problems out of malicious intent.

++ “seeking something to consume” How odd that this is how it manifests. "her godhood was screaming for it” Ok now that’s intriguing. Does

she often get the urge to kill people? Is it only people who ‘should’ be dead? By what measure of ‘should’? ++ I wonder if she only breathes out of habit, from when she was mortal. I wonder if all gods breathe, or if they only bother occasionally. I wonder if Crispin’s heart has ever beat.

Gods’ hearts don’t beat, as far as I’m concerned. If they even have hearts, I guess, I’d be hard pressed to make that call on the spot. Brenneth, basically, kept her mortal body and froze it at the moment of her apotheosis, so she doesn’t need a heartbeat or breathing, but she does them out of habit and as a sort of self-soothing pattern. Oh, and I’d say that speaking with a throat does require breathing regardless of whether the oxygen is needed, on a purely mechanical level, so for those purposes all gods breathe when they’re speaking aloud.

Also, I’d say that it’s rare for Brenneth and her “god-self”, as it were, to be in direct conflict, but gods kill people for disrespect. Brenneth does not. This is her primary conflict with the part of her that operates as a deity first and a “self” second.

++ I think it means Rada’s brave, that he didn’t even back away when his form started to fall apart from her leaking rage. Or that he trusts her, or both. I like him. Witnesses, she asks for. What for?

What did they witness? Does she want to hold a trial? Or does she mean his victims? She can have her pick of those, I think. So many of them work in her palace, and many more are doubtless crowding her kingdom. She could probably just walk out and shout, “who wants to talk shit about the god of spring,” and she’d get like fifty volunteers in 2 seconds flat.

ok I think I’m gonna sleep. also, amusingly, I have now sent you enough asks that I have to prove I’m not a robot to send any more.

Rada is my BEST BOY and I LOVE HIM. He worries SO MUCH about his boss. In canon, he was Brenneth’s third in command when she was hunting Crispin, Torei’s most trusted subordinate, and he was EXACTLY like this, eternally fretting over people’s wellbeing and how seriously Torei was injured and whether or not Brenneth had remembered to eat. He’s a GOOD BOY. DOING HIS BEST. His family is from the south of Alleirat in canon, which means their coloring is a lot like Brenneth’s and she reminds him of one of his younger sisters, so he’s particularly protective of her.

And yeah, everyone’s very eager to talk shit about Crispin. Rada has exactly NO trouble finding volunteers. He just wanders into Asphodel and goes “hey who wants to complain to the Lord of the Underworld about that fucker” and has a line OUT THE DOOR.

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rudegayslang · 7 years

Text

I see your persephone-ate-the-seeds-to-escape-her-overbearing-mother and I raise you persephone-as-a-touch-starved-gay

She is not there when they brought the girl in. The beautiful one. Kore, they said her name was. It meant girl. She thought that was stupid.

They told her she would have the honor of waiting on the girl. Kore. The beautiful one. She wondered how that was an honor. Of course, leaving the Asphodel Meadows was wonderful. Having something to do. A purpose, no matter how useless.

She was the most patient one, they said. People screamed, begged, cried. She had seen them. People paced, people searched for an exit, people tore at the ground. She had seen them. She had never done that. She simply stood.

You don’t get tired in the Asphodel Meadows. Some thought that was a curse. To wait forever, never sleeping, never dreaming.

When they sent her to bring food to Kore, she wanted it. Wanted it more than she’d wanted anything for a long time. There hadn’t been anything to want in the Asphodel Meadows. She didn’t take any, though. Just tried to memorize the smell, so that she could think about it when she went back to the Asphodel Meadows.

Kore didn’t answer when she knocked on the door, so she had to hold the tray carefully under her arm, between her elbow and her waist, while she turned the knob, and nudged the door open with her foot. Kore sat on the bed, facing away from her, so she couldn’t see her face. Couldn’t see if she was truly as beautiful as they said. She put the tray of food on the table.

“This is for you,” she told Kore.

Kore turned to look at her, and she was beautiful, it was true, but not heart stoppingly so. She looked too sad.

“I won’t eat it,” she said, “You can tell your master that I won’t eat anything he gives me.”

She shrugged.

“Okay,” she said, and left.

That day in the Asphodel Meadows she thought about the smell of the food. The way steam had risen from the soup, the sound the grapes had made as they bumped against each other.

Kore didn’t eat the next day, or the day after that. Slowly she began to get pale, thin. Shadows sat under her eyes like bruises. One day when she went in, she didn’t just put the tray down and leave.

“You need to eat,” she told Kore.

“I won’t,” Kore said, but she didn’t sound defiant, only sad, and weak, and scared.

“That’s stupid,” she said flatly, “You’ll die.”

Kore didn’t say anything, so she turned to go. Kore’s voice stopped her at the door.

“Wait.” She turned around. Kore had rolled onto her side, resting her weight on one shaking arm.

“Stay,” she said.

“Why?”

“I’m bored.”

She thought that dying is a bit different from being bored, and that at least Kore could sleep if she wanted, that she could eat, if she wanted to. She wanted to be angry at her for not appreciating what she had, but she couldn’t. It had been too long since she felt something like anger, and she’d forgotten how. Still, she walked back in, letting the door fall closed.

“What am I supposed to do about that?”

“Just talk to me.”

“About what?”

“Anything. What’s your name?”

“I don’t remember.”

Kore rolled onto her side again, to look at her in horror.

“What?”

“After a while, everyone forgets,” she said, with a shrug. “You don’t need a name in the Asphodel Meadows. No one can hear you speak it.”

“What do you mean?”

“In the Asphodel Meadows, no one can understand one another. You don’t need a name.”

Kore looked frightened.

“What’s it like?”

“It’s like… nothing. It’s just a field. There’s no wind, no sky. It’s dark, but you can still see. You can’t hear anything. If someone touches you, you can’t feel it. You can’t sleep. You don’t get hungry. You don’t get thirsty. After a long time, you forget what it feels like. You forget everything.”

Tears gathered in Kore’s eyes, and she shivered.

“If you don’t eat,” she said, “You’ll die, and where do you think you’ll go? You haven’t done anything bad enough to end up in the fields of punishment, but you haven’t done anything special either. You’re not a hero, you’re just Kore.”

“Get out!” Kore snapped, trying to sound angry. But she was crying.

It was a few days later when Kore spoke again.

“Will I really go to the Asphodel Meadows?”

“Probably. Can you think of anything special you’ve done?”

She couldn’t, and when she turned to go, Kore’s voice stopped her at the door again. She didn’t turn around immediately, but she let the door fall closed.

“Stay,” Kore said again.

“Why?”

“I’m scared.”

She turned around, raising an eyebrow. She wanted to roll her eyes and leave, but somehow, the way Kore looked at her, terrified, and sad, made her stay. She walked closer, sitting down on the bed next to her.

“All you have to do is eat,” she said, “And then you’ll be safe.”

“No, I won’t. Even if I eat, I’ll still be trapped here. Forever.”

“But you won’t be stuck in the Asphodel Meadows,” she said, rolling her eyes. “That’s a little better, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Kore said, “Hades wants me to be his queen.”

“A queen has power,” she said, “if he loves you, maybe you can persuade him to let you visit the land above.” Her voice filled with a longing she didn’t know she still felt.

“Do you miss it?” Kore asked, as if it had never occurred to her.

“Yes,” she said, looking away.

“How do you stay so strong? I’ve never seen you upset.”

“I dream.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t sleep in the Asphodel Meadows.”

“You can’t.”

“Don’t cry. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not crying.”

Kore’s hand touched her face, and it felt like a lightning bolt. She gasped, and suddenly she realized she was crying. Her body flooded with heat. She felt almost alive. Kore withdrew her hand.

“Sorry,” she said, “Sorry.”

She grabbed Kore’s hand again without thinking. More than anything, she wanted that feeling again. More than anything, she wanted that warmth again. Kore was blushing, her breath coming quickly.

“I should go,” she said, still holding Kore’s hand.

“Will you stay with me tomorrow?”

“Yes,” she said, because she was already counting the seconds until then.

Kore smiled, and, for the first time, she understood why everyone called her beautiful.

The Asphodel Meadows were, for the first time, agonizing. Every moment felt like eternity. Her skin burned, she touched her mouth, and realized she was smiling.

The next day, when she took the tray, she heard talking. Demeter was laying waste to the earth, they said, looking for Kore. Mortals were dying by the score. Crops withered, cattle died. The whole world joined in Demeter’s mourning. She knew what that meant. They would take Kore soon.

She all but dropped the tray on the table, rushing to Kore, to take her in her arms. She would be gone soon. She needed to keep this feeling as long as she could.

“What’s wrong?” Kore asked, voice muffled.

“Nothing,” she said. But it was not nothing. Even her grief couldn’t take away of the joy of touch, of feeling someone alive, someone breathing, someone warm. Kore let it go, burying her face in her shoulder.

Kore was growing weaker every day. But she wasn’t afraid for her anymore, because she knew that they would take Kore soon, now. She spent as much time as she could with Kore wrapped in her arms, begging for stories about the land above.

“Tell me about the sun, Kore,” she would say, and listen to Kore’s voice, just as much as her words.

“Tell me about the rain, Kore.”

One day it happened. They didn’t give her a tray of food. Just one pomegranate. A single fruit.

“A gift,” they said. “Demeter had come for her.”

When she brought Kore the pomegranate, and the message, she tried to smile. She tried to be happy. Kore lit up like the sun.

“Really?” Kore kept saying, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she kept saying, “I’m sure.”

Kore took the pomegranate in shaking hands. Tore it in half, the juice dripping over her hands, staining her skin. And then she stopped.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Will I ever see you again?”

“Not unless you end up in the Asphodel Meadows.”

Kore stared at the pomegranate. And then Kore looked up at her, and put a thin hand on her face.

“If you eat the pomegranate,” she said, “You’ll probably have to stay anyway. The pomegranate is probably a trick.”

“I know,” Kore said, digging out seven seeds. One of them, she placed in her hand. The other six she put in her mouth.

“Why?” she asked, staring.

“Eat yours,” Kore said, so she did.

“Oh,” she gasped, as her mind flooded, suddenly, with memories. “Alyona. My name is Alyona.” She turned to smile at Kore, watching as Kore lit up in return. And then Alyona’s face darkened.

“I remember,” she said, in a voice made of anguish, “How I died.”

Kore dropped the pomegranate, pulling Alyona close to her, wrapping her arms tightly around her shoulders.

“How?” she said.

“Men,” Alyona said, “Men. They left me to die, after-” And then she broke off. Kore felt an anger like she never had before.

“After,” Alyona said again. And then, “Men I thought I knew. From my village. They knew my father. I thought-”

Kore’s grip grew tighter. Hades walked in, looking at the pomegranate, and Kore’s juice-stained lips.

“Did you eat it?” he asked.

“Six seeds,” she said.

“There are seven missing,” he said.

Kore, Alyona still held tightly in her arms, leveled him with a stare.

“You gave one to her.”

“I’m taking her with me.”

“You can’t leave,” he said, “You’ve eaten the food of the underworld.”

“My mother laid waste to the earth looking for me,” Kore said, “And now she knows where I am. How long, do you think, before she comes?”

Hades paled. Kore smirked.

“But I have eaten six seeds,” she said. “I’ll stay here for six months of the year, if you’ll give me this girl.”

“People cannot go back, once they’ve died,” he said.

“What happens,” Kore said, “To a god, when they die? Do they end up here? That would be very dangerous, for you. There are some, here, who are not happy about it.”

“No one can kill a god,” Hades scoffed.

“I’m not going to be the one to tell my mother that she can’t,” Kore shrugged.

“Fine,” Hades said, “Take the girl.”

Kore smiled, and took Alyona’s hand, and together they walked out of the underworld, and into the sun.

In the winter, Kore would go down to the underworld, and pass judgment at Hade’s side, Alyona never far from her. And in the summer they would leave. They swam in rivers, the walked in forests, they ran out into storms, screaming and laughing.

And then hunted. They hunted down men who took from women, from children. They hunted down men who abused their wives, and children. They hunted down men who burned villages, and men ravaged town. And when they went back to underworld, they made sure those men were punished.

And one day, Kore, the beautiful, was given a new name. Persephone. Destroyer of men. And Alyona, always by her side, called her by another. Lover.

#my writing #persephone #kore #lesbians

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dotshiiki · 7 years

Text

CoL, chpt 2

Okay, so I meant to post this yesterday but it took longer than I expected to get the content page and first chapter up and of course this HAS to be the week where I also have to pack for an upcoming trip and rehearse a presentation for said trip AND three meetings ... But I’ve got my CoL files on my USB stick now so I’ll duck in at lunch time and post another chapter then so I can get up to three today! Thanks to all of you who have checked this out! And feel free to send me an ask any time, I love hearing from readers! :)

II: NICO

Nico was used to the Underworld.

The first time he had entered it had been from the Labyrinth, while running from Camp Half-Blood after his sister Bianca had died. The dark caverns and twisting tunnels had seemed scary to him at the time, but he'd since grown accustomed to navigating his way around them. He knew what paths to take—and more importantly, which to avoid. Even as the son of Hades, there were places in the Underworld where he wasn't meant to go. He'd learned that the hard way.

Over time, he'd also learned of the various entrances from the mortal world: Charon's passage in Los Angeles, Orpheus's door in New York's Central Park, the roving Doors of Death that Thanatos used as his personal gateway. Nico didn't need any of them now, though. Shadow travel was convenient that way. He simply melted into darkness and was transported like a speeding bullet through cold, empty space until he popped out at his destination.

Just one of the perks of being a child of the Underworld.

The only problem was, hitting a precise location in the Underworld was always a tricky business. Although Nico could manage a shadow-jump into the Underworld from anywhere in the upper world, he couldn't always pinpoint where he'd end up when he arrived.

This time, he found himself on the banks of the River Styx. He could hear the deep baritone of Charon the ferryman drifting along upriver, humming that god-awful easy listening music he favoured. The barge was approaching, probably with a full load of newly-dead souls. Nico could feel their presence closing in, clamouring for attention. The recently-deceased tended to be like that: terrified and hungry for reassurance, still clinging to the identities they had held in life. If he listened hard, Nico could sense each one of them—the octogenarian who had passed away in his sleep, the car crash victim whose life support had been turned off, the teenager who had ingested a full bottle of Valium, and many others.

Percy wasn't among them—yet, Nico reminded himself. He turned away from the river and made his way up the shore of black sand, climbing the familiar winding path to the gates of Erebus. The checkpoints were running smoothly today, with the regular lanes moving along almost as quickly as the EZ Death line that went straight to Asphodel. Cerberus gave Nico a hopeful look when he passed through, but Nico shook his head at the enormous, three-headed Rottweiler.

'Not today, old friend,' he said. 'I'm in a hurry.'

He sped up through the Fields of Asphodel, which was easy since the vacuous, chittering spirits there parted before him as always. He usually took the path straight to his father's palace on the south-eastern edge, but this time he turned off towards the left, cutting a trail between the Fields of Punishment and the gated community of Elysium.

The first time he'd ever visited the River Lethe, he'd trudged all the way through the Fields of Punishment to where it was a rushing river gorge cutting through the upper rim of his father's kingdom. Fortunately, he knew enough of the Underworld geography now that he could take a more direct route to where the Lethe snaked down past the Cave of Hypnos to flow more sluggishly across the outskirts of Elysium. It would probably have been a nicer stroll through Elysium to get here, but Nico didn't have time to submit to the stringent security checks at the gates. Even the son of Hades was subject to a thorough frisking at the gates of the most secure community in the Underworld.

Near the river's source in the volcanic mountains, the Lethe was a cascade of violent black water bubbling up from Tartarus, but here on the lower marshes, its colour lightened considerably to a dull grey. Outside the eastern gate of Elysium, a group of souls formed a line along the river to get their drink before reincarnation. One by one they knelt on the river bank and plunged their heads into the lazy river. When they emerged, their ghostly faces looked perfectly serene. The cleansed spirits flickered in the dim light of the Underworld caverns and then disappeared, presumably sent to be reborn into their new mortal lives.

Nico picked a spot a short way upriver from the queueing souls. He approached the banks and then he realised the snag in his plan. He had no jug or goblet or canister with him. In his haste to get here, he had completely forgotten about how he was going to transport the stuff back to the mortal world.

He let out a groan. It seemed he would have to visit his father's palace after all. Did his father even have containers in his palace? Nico wasn't sure. For obvious reasons, he never actually ate or drank anything when he visited.

Nico was about to turn and follow the path back to the palace when a voice hailed him.

'Di Angelo!'

He spun around. A girl with short, spiky black hair and a glowing silver bow slung over her back was walking up to him. There was a delicate silver circlet on her head that clashed badly with the rest of her outfit: a leather jacket adorned with rock band buttons, frayed black jeans, heavy boots, and a black t-shirt with the outline of a deer in the centre. She looked around his age—fifteen or sixteen—but Nico knew she was in fact much older than that. Thalia, the daughter of Zeus, had been that age when he'd first met her five years ago.

In her hands, she carried a bronze stamnos—a squat, circular Greek jar with two stubby handles high up on its sides. It was about half a foot in diameter and just as tall.

'Needing one of these?' said Thalia.

'What are you doing here?'

Thalia raised an eyebrow. 'Annabeth sent an Iris-message. I came to help.'

Nico scowled. 'I don't need help,' he muttered, even though her appearance with the stamnos was fortuitous. He had nothing specifically against Thalia—he didn't even know her all that well—but she led the Hunters of Artemis. He still found it hard not to hold a grudge against the band of immortal girls who had stolen his sister from him and then gotten her killed.

Yeah, okay, so it had been five years ago. But he was a son of Hades. Bearing grudges was his birthright.

'Aren't you forbidden to help boys, anyway?'

Thalia set the stamnos on the bank. 'Percy's a special case,' she admitted. 'Even Artemis has a soft spot for him. And I can see just how much help you don’t need,' she added dryly. 'I'm sure your bare hands would have been the perfect vessel to bring back some liquid Lethe. Super plan, down to the part where you'd definitely remember where you wanted to bring it.'

Nico ignored her sarcasm. 'How did you get here anyway?'

'You think you're the only one who knows about the door in Central Park? And I've been to the Underworld before, you know. It's not even my first time at the Lethe.'

Nico had almost forgotten that Thalia had been with him and Percy on that quest. They'd fought a Titan several miles upriver from this spot and ended up wiping his memories in the Lethe.

Maybe Thalia was thinking about that, too, because she asked, quietly, 'Are you sure about this, Nico?'

'No,' he admitted. 'But it's the only answer I have.'

'Well, let's get ourselves some Lethe water, then.'

Thalia took one handle of the stamnos and motioned for Nico to take the other. Nico was a bit disgruntled at how bossy she was, but it also reminded him slightly of Bianca. Together, they picked up the stamnos and tilted it to scoop up some river water.

'Just what do the two of you think you're doing?'

Nico and Thalia almost dropped the stamnos. They staggered back from the river bank as the ghostly form of a svelte young woman rose out of the water and hovered inches above its surface.

Nico thought at first she was an Underworld soul, one of the group from Elysium heading for rebirth, but she grew more solid as she surveyed them with her arms crossed. Her skin was milky white, which made her look like a marble statue not unlike the sculptures that sprung up every ten feet along the main avenue of New Rome. Except that the contours of her body remained undefined, as if she hadn't finished forming from smoke. Her black dress rippled like waves were moving across its folds. Dark, misty images flashed across the fabric and were absorbed into the creases. Somehow, Nico knew they were all memories, millions of them submerging into the water.

'You're—'

'The goddess Lethe, of course,' she said, looking put out. 'You're taking my waters and you don't even think to ask?'

'We didn't think—' Thalia stammered. 'I mean, we didn't know you—'

'Everyone forgets about me!' Lethe pouted. 'Just because I'm not as fiery as Phlegethon, or as whiny as Cocytus. Is that why? I'm just as powerful as them! More, even—none of them have the power to cleanse the mind of everything.'

'Um, maybe it's because you're the river of forgetfulness,' Thalia ventured. 'That might be why people—er—forget.'

Lethe nodded. 'I am, aren't I?' She trailed the hazy edge of her dress along the water's surface. When she looked up again, her brow was furrowed. 'What was I saying again?'

'You were giving us some water,' Nico said quickly.

Lethe stared at the stamnos. 'Was I?'

'Sure you were!' Thalia said. 'We're just going to get it and be on our way…'

'I don't know,' said Lethe. 'That's high irregular. In fact, I think drinks have to be consumed in-house. I don't do to-go. At least,' she pondered this for a while, 'I don't think I do?'

'Oh, but it'd be great for business,' Thalia said. 'I mean, all the best restaurants have take-away. How else would you make sure people remember you if they don't get to try your products?'

Lethe tapped her chin. 'It's true, I hardly get up to the mortal world. Acheron totally has a monopoly on those streams…and really, I am more powerful, you know. What's Acheron got? Only pain. That's so overdone. Tell me, what other rivers have the power to erase everything? To cleanse the mind and soul completely? Pain, suffering, despair—bah! I can erase all of that!'

Nico leaned forward eagerly. 'Can you heal the mind, then? I mean, if your waters can take away pain and suffering…'

'Of course! What bit of cleansing the mind don't you understand?'

Nico looked at Thalia. This seemed like confirmation that they had hit on the right solution. All they needed now was to actually get the water.

'Wait.' Lethe looked at Nico suspiciously. 'You've been here before, haven't you? You've tried the Lethe treatment?'

'Um, sort of,' Thalia said. 'We've been here. But you didn't appear to us. And we definitely didn't touch the water.'

'Well, maybe not you,' Lethe said. 'But you.' She looked directly at Nico and frowned. 'Ugh, why can't I remember?' She stamped her foot. Nico and Thalia had to jump back to avoid being splashed. 'Hmph. Well, maybe I can't remember, but I can feel it.' She sniffed at Nico. 'You have my mark. The Curse of Lethe.'

'Nico, what's she talking about?'

'It was…before,' Nico muttered. 'Before the Lotus Casino. My father had Bianca and me dunked in the Lethe after our mom died.'

Thalia looked confused. 'But Bianca…she remembered stuff—'

Lethe interrupted. 'I knew it! Though I suppose if you only got dunked…it's not as effective if you don't actually drink, you know. Oh, the memory loss is powerful, of course, but the mind isn't cleaned out. The memories aren't actually dissolved. They can come back, given the right…well, prodding, I suppose.' Lethe scratched her head. 'Hmm. Why am I telling you this again?'

The conversation was making Nico's head spin a little. 'Never mind why. You were saying—it's different if you drink?'

'Well, yes. Souls have to drink. That's the rule—no drink, no rebirth. Can't have people bringing any part of their old lives with them, after all. Drinking cleanses everything: mind and soul. Memories aren't just in the mind, after all. The most important ones, they live in the soul. And I have the power to absorb that—dissolve the core of someone's identity.'

'Is it all in the water, then?' Thalia asked, looking into the murky depths of the river with interest. 'Is that how you get it back?'

Lethe threw her an irritated glance. 'Haven't you been listening, girl? If you drink, there's no getting them back. My waters flow all the way to Tartarus, and beyond that, into the depths of Chaos. That's where everything that is lost goes, in the end. And good luck retrieving anything from that pit.'

'But if you don't drink—say, you just…took a dip,' Nico pressed.

'Ah, like you did, I suppose? You'll still lose your memories. But like I said…hm, or did I? Anyway, you'd forget everything, but your soul would be intact. You could restore your memories, but it's extremely hard.'

'But not impossible,' Thalia said, looking relieved. 'That's great.'

'Not if he has to drink the water to be cured,' Nico reminded her.

'So…what was it you wanted again? Are you after getting your memory back? There's someone else who does that…starts with an "M"…' Lethe rolled her eyes Olympus-ward and stamped her foot again. 'Ugh, why can't I remember?'

'Mnemosyne?' Thalia supplied.

'Maybe. Why do you ask, anyway?'

This conversation was going round in circles. Nico cut in. 'Look, we just need to fill this jar so we can save a life. That okay with you?'

Lethe shrugged. 'Why didn't you say so in the first place?'

She held out her hands for the stamnos. Thalia looked like she was trying not to roll her eyes as they hefted the jar into Lethe's arms.

The murky grey water turned milky white when Lethe scooped it up. She set the filled stamnos down on the river bank. Thalia produced a lid from her pocket and capped it. Nico plucked a leaf from a random plant and carefully wiped off the stray droplets rolling down the side of the jar.

'Easy peasy,' Lethe said. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to…hm, I've forgotten.'

Nico and Thalia didn't wait for her to continue. Lifting the stamnos between them, they hurried off before Lethe could start questioning them again.

'Thanks for the jar,' Nico said when they reached the main path, which was lined with towering oaks that cast long shadows across the ground. One thing about the Underworld��there was never a shortage of shadows. 'I'm going to shadow travel back, so—'

'Can you take me along?' Thalia asked.

Nico had kind of imagined Thalia would leave the same way she'd come, probably going back to New York or wherever the Hunters were right now. He didn't really know what the rules were with them. He always avoided anything to do with the whole group as much as possible.

But Thalia was Percy's friend, too.

'Hold the jar,' he told her. 'Make sure that lid's really tight.'

He took her arm and they slipped into darkness.

OoOoO

Nico stumbled when he landed himself and Thalia back in the infirmary of Camp Jupiter. The stamnos landed on the ground with a loud thud, but fortunately Thalia's grip on the lid was firm. The liquid Lethe stayed safely inside.

'Huh—what—I'm awake, sir!' Clovis, who must have been snoozing again, leapt out of his chair and smacked his head against the elbow of a tall, broad-shouldered Chinese dude.

In the time Nico had been gone, two more demigods had joined the worried circle around Percy, making the infirmary seem a lot more crowded. Or maybe it was just that one of them was Frank Zhang, the bulky Praetor of the Twelfth Legion, who was big enough for two people.

The other was Nico's sister Hazel, who must have sorted out the shape-shifting demon horse that Annabeth had handed off to them. She and Frank were holding hands—hers was so tiny, it disappeared completely in his grasp.

Thalia went straight to Annabeth and hugged her tightly. Annabeth returned the hug in a distracted sort of way. She had been sitting by Percy's bedside with a book open in her lap, gently stroking his hair. There were tear streaks on her cheeks that she hadn't bothered to wipe off. Nico wasn't sure she was even aware of them.

Will caught Nico's eye and mouthed, Gatorade.

I'm fine, Nico mouthed back, although his legs felt a little shaky after his second shadow travel.

Will gave him a stern look and jerked his head towards a side table where he'd already laid out the sports drink.

Nico rolled his eyes, but a secret part of him sort of enjoyed Will's fussing. Not that he'd ever admit it.

At least his boyfriend wasn't being obtrusive about it. Nico drank the Gatorade and felt the energy trickle back into his limbs.

'How does this go, then?' Hazel asked. She eyed the stamnos warily, as if it were another demon horse that might change shape and start spewing its contents at them. 'He has to drink it?'

Thalia looked at Annabeth sadly. 'The healing power comes from drinking. But the memory loss is irreversible.'

'Actually,' Will gestured at the book on Annabeth's lap, 'we were doing some research while you guys were gone.'

Annabeth held up the book and nodded. 'I asked Reyna and she found me this from the Senate library. Turns out the Lethe has been used in potions before: the nepenthe.'

'The drug of forgetfulness,' Will translated. 'Helen of Troy gave it to Odysseus's son to ease his suffering. We just need to add a drop of Lethe to a cup of nectar.'

Hazel looked at them dubiously. 'How is that different? It's still the Lethe. Does diluting it even help?'

'And will it be strong enough?' Frank added. 'I mean, that's a pretty big nectar to Lethe ratio. How much Lethe does he actually have to ingest? There's probably a limit to how much nectar he can take, right?'

'I don't know,' said Annabeth. 'But the records mention that the drinkers had temporary memory loss after drinking. We thought…well, we hoped it would at least give him a chance.'

'A chance is better than nothing,' Thalia said firmly.

Will nodded. 'I think our best shot is to start with the base recipe and monitor him. I can slowly up the concentration of Lethe if it doesn't seem to be working.'

'Can he even drink? Or do you have to, like, IV-it into him?' Frank asked.

They all looked at Percy's comatose form. Will frowned and scratched his head.

'IV is probably the way to go,' he admitted. 'Do you guys have anything for that set up?'

Frank got to his feet. 'The university will have something. I'll go.'

'Hurry back,' Will warned. 'I feel…well, I don't think he has much time.' He gave Nico a significant look.

Nico knew what he meant. He'd always been able to sense when death was imminent, and he could feel that aura thickening around Percy, a cloying layer of smog that was almost tangible. Soon it would start to vibrate with the buzz that alerted the god of death that there was a soul to be collected. Nico didn't think Will had the same ability, but he was probably getting a corresponding message through his healer senses.

Hazel put her hand on Frank's arm. 'Let me go, then,' she said. 'I'll be faster.'

Nico raised an eyebrow when he realised what she was intending to do. 'Are you sure? I could—'

Will shot him a look that said don't even think about it.

'I've practised a couple of times,' Hazel said. 'Besides, it's just across the Field of Mars.'

She took a deep breath and slipped into the shadow of the infirmary door. Watching his sister disappear was disconcerting. Did Nico look like that too when he shadow-travelled—just melting into nothingness? No wonder Will always worried about him.

Annabeth made a strangled noise like a half-stifled sob and took Percy's hand in hers. Thalia patted her on the back.

'It'll be okay,' she said. 'We'll get him back and then you can kill him.'

Annabeth's sob turned into a slightly hysterical laugh. She squared her shoulders and looked at the stamnos. 'We should—we should brew the nepenthe.'

Will was already on it, pulling nectar from the cupboards and carefully measuring out a cup. He brought out a plastic dropper and hesitated. 'We'll need to add a drop of Lethe for now, but someone's going to have to add more at intervals.'

Annabeth uncovered the stamnos. Although her face was resolute, her expression carefully controlled, her hands were shaking so badly Nico thought for sure she would just end up spilling liquid Lethe all over herself.

Clovis, who had surprisingly not dozed off again, grabbed her wrist.

'I'll do it. I'm more familiar with the stuff than all of you. Plus…well, I spend most of my time in dreamland, anyway.' He shrugged. 'There's not much for me to forget.'

Clovis dipped the dropper into the stamnos and came up with it full of milky Lethe. With a steady hand, he added precisely one drop to the cup of nectar. The golden liquid barely changed shade. Nico thought it looked a little paler, but only just.

Hazel sprung out of the shadow of the stamnos right between Will and Clovis. The latter jumped and nearly knocked the whole jug over.

'Geez, just startle us into spilling mind-wiping water everywhere, why don't you?' Thalia sniped.

'Sorry!' Hazel gasped. She held out a rectangular kit to Will, who took it and began assembling the IV bag and needles inside. Hazel lurched away unsteadily. Frank caught her around the waist.

'You okay?'

'Sure. Piece of cake,' Hazel said breathlessly.

Nico held out the Gatorade. She gave him a rueful smile.

'You did fine,' Nico reassured her.

'Clovis,' Will said, 'I'm going to hook Percy up now. I'll need you to add a drop when I say so.'

'Gotcha.' Clovis squared his shoulders and held the dropper like it was a gun he was preparing to shoot.

They all held their breaths as Will inserted the needle into Percy's arm. The pale gold nepenthe ran through the tubes, travelling up his veins.

Nothing seemed to happen.

'Add a drop,' Will said.

Bit by bit, Clovis added Lethe to the potion, which turned gradually milkier. The room was so silent, Nico could practically hear the flow of nepenthe into Percy's veins. He wasn't sure what the Lethe-to-nectar ratio was at this point. Half the cup was already gone.

And then he sensed it.

There was no visible change. Percy's face remained peaceful and blank. His body was still. But Nico felt the sense of imminent death back off a bit.

'It's working,' he said.

The room seemed to let out a collective breath.

'Should we keep this dose, then?' Will asked.

Nico shook his head, though he couldn't say how he knew this. 'Keep going,' he told Clovis.

Clovis refilled the dropper and continued to add Lethe to the nepenthe.

Will put his hands out in front of him, palms towards Percy. 'That's amazing,' he murmured. 'I've never seen anything like it.'

With only a quarter cup left to go, the physical changes began to be visible. Percy's pallor faded. His face twitched. The corners of his mouth quirked upwards and then his lips parted and he drew in a deep, shaky breath like he was cleansing his lungs.

Nico grinned. This was really working.

Then it started to go wrong. The colour in Percy's cheeks, which had come back with the nepenthe treatment, began to fade again. And it wasn't just his face. His entire form seemed to be fading, as though something was leeching his essence away.

'Stop!' Will told Clovis, who withdrew the dropper so quickly, it slipped from his fingers and fell into the stamnos.

It was too late, though. Percy's body became translucent and insubstantial, just like a ghost.

Nico shuddered. A memory flitted into his mind, of another demigod whose physical body had turned to smoke. Whose body Nico had converted into smoke.

But this wasn't quite like Bryce Lawrence, the treacherous Roman demigod whom Nico had ghostified during the Giant War. Bryce had gone black and smoky and sunk straight into the earth. Percy was dissolving into air itself. It was clearly a different thing. Yet Nico felt certain he'd seen it happen before.

The controlled stoicism on Annabeth's face melted into horror. She lunged forward to grab Percy, but her fingers swiped straight through him as his body evaporated completely.

Annabeth spun round to face Nico. 'Where did he go?' she shrieked. 'What happened to him?'

Nico rubbed his forehead guiltily. He'd told Clovis to keep going. But he still felt certain it was the right call. The veil of death wouldn't have lifted otherwise. This was something else, something they hadn't foreseen…

'I don't know…' He knit his eyebrows, trying to send his senses underground, but it was just as he'd ascertained before. Death no longer hovered over Percy. He wasn't in the Underworld.

Then he thought of the souls he had seen on the banks of the Lethe, disappearing after they drank. Ghosts, dissolving into their newborn lives. He thought of Bianca, how he'd lost any ability to track her once she'd chosen that path.

Oh, Hades.

'What?' Annabeth said, seeing the realisation dawning on his face. 'You do know.'

'I think…' Nico gulped. He had to force himself to meet her desperate, stormy eyes. 'I think Percy's been reborn.'

The nepenthe is referenced in the Odyssey as a potion that is supposed to quell all sorrows with forgetfulness. But the actual recipe is my own interpretation, of course!

Also posted on Ao3.

Continue to Chapter 3 | Back to content page

#pjohoobigbang2017 #pjohoobigbang #curse of lethe #percy jackson #annabeth chase #nico di angelo #thalia grace #will solace #clovis #frank zhang #hazel levesque #greek pantheon #lethe #percabeth #solangelo #percy jackson fanfic #pjo fanfiction #hoo fanfiction

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mnm-inc-miles · 5 years

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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.”

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