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solarisrasa · 1 year

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An Undying Bond

A Hades AU (You don't need to play the game) with Magnus in Zag's shoes and Alec's in Than's.

Written for the Malec Secret Santa 2022 for @sivan325 who let me do whatever I wanted with the words”AU”

Malec Rated T. Usual mentions of blood and death included.

Word Count: 5066

Find it Here on Ao3

Alec, clad in his usual black chiton and himation, stared into the red waters of the river Styx, his rare moment of rest consumed by his recent discovery. The river was his silent companion, a ribbon that wound through all of the Underworld and carried the souls he did not personally escort. His favorite co-worker, he used to joke, because it never tried to make small talk.

Now he watched the waters hoping the ferryman would bring him some news or a familiar corpse might bob along its wicked current.

Magnus was gone.

Alec was a god of Death, his duty kept him away from the sprawling “house” that Asmodeus built as a resting place for all those like him.

Only Magnus had actually grown up here, one of the few Gods born like a mortal would be. Only Magnus ever seemed to bring light and warmth into the crumbling building, teaching some of the others how to laugh and smile.

Alec had returned just a short while ago, intending to find Magnus and tell him the latest gossip from Jace. It was their ritual, Alec would bring him stories of Olympus and the mortal world from his ventures and Jace’s own amused re-tellings and Magnus would listen and let Alec pretend he was disgusted with it all.

Only Magnus hadn’t been in his room. The lounge was in shambles, Cerberus whining in the middle of the mess with Magnus’ little cat curled up on one of his noses looking miserable; Simon hadn’t even made a joke about it.

When Alec had finally exhausted his search of the house, he’d turned to Maryse in hopes she knew where he could find his favored companion. She was his mother, the Night Goddess, and she was warmer this millenia than he could ever remember, but she was still painfully honest.

“Magnus is trying to reach the surface. He has left the house of his father.” She looked at him with a gentleness that made his skin prickle in alarm. “He did not leave any goodbyes for you, my son.”

So Alec was left staring into the Styx.

Though no words had been said, Alec thought that Magnus would at least tell him before doing something like this. He knew that Asmodeus was cruel, that Magnus had tried to please his father but never succeeded, he knew Magnus wanted free of the man. In many ways, all of the denizens of the Underworld wished to be free of him.

Alec let himself lean on the wide marble banister overlooking the water, trying to breathe through his thoughts.

Magnus had been his best friend, one of the few beings he felt completely comfortable around, who never asked him to be anything other than what he was. Magnus understood his jokes and his black moods, he never pushed Alec for anything except to take breaks more often. Alec cared for Magnus in a way that was different from how he cared about anyone else and he’d believed that Magnus returned that feeling.

They had never discussed it, never done anything more intimate than a rare hug, but Alec had been certain they’d been on the same page, just moving at the glacial pace that eternity allowed them.

That certainty had shattered this day.

It was a given that Magnus would not be able to escape the Underworld. He could spend the rest of eternity trying, though, forever away from Alec, forever missing each other if the Styx did carry him back to the house. Alec wasn’t even certain what would happen to him, the only god who could die, even if it was temporary.

The insistent tug on his conscience from the souls that needed him called him back to his duty, pulling him away from his silent watch of the river.

Alec could only cast his wish out to the fates that he would see Magnus again.

Magnus slumped over the fountain just past the gate of Tartarus, exhausted and confused. His red chiton was filthy and his girdle had been slashed almost beyond repair. He’d been here before, bloody from the sting of Isabelle’s whip, but this time he felt worse than ever. Every time they’d fought after the first, when she’d been angry with him for trying to leave until he’d finally shouted at her that he was trying to find out more about his mother, it had a playful sort of feeling.

She was absolutely trying to kill him, but in a. . .fun. . .way.

Magnus snorted at the thought, dragging his bloody fingers through the pure, glowing, waters. Only a fury would think fighting her friend to the death on an annoyingly regular basis was fun. Well, a fury and him,a little bit.

This time, however, she’d been all focus and little of her usual banter. Her attitude toward him was cold and she’d clearly been trying to inflict maximum pain instead of efficiently ending the fight.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think he’d broken a promise. After all, Isabelle’s specialty was oathbreakers.

His only promises, to his recollection, remained unbroken. He’d never promised his father much, a few boyish promises that no fury would come to collect on about loving him always, among other things. Asmodeus had proven himself unworthy of Magnus’ oaths long before he was of an age deserving of Isabelle’s wrath.

He finished washing his skin in the fountain, watching as the blood dissipated in the enchanted water, not tainting it in the slightest. It was still strange to drink from the same basin he washed in, but there was little other choice and he’d learned to clean his hands when he could. Too much of his own blood made them tacky and his hold on his weapons less reliable, and that was to say nothing of the ectoplasm and ichor from the others.

Asphodel opened before him, the overflowing river of flame that drowned its shores making him sweat immediately. His eyeliner never survived the heat, but then again, neither did he. He rarely made it further than this, his vitality flagging and the burning river aiding his enemies in sapping what strength he still had.

This time he was optimistic.

He confidently strode onto one of the small crafts, taking the long bone oar that had to be enchanted in his hands. His sword bumped his hip with every push of the oar but it was reassuring, even when it caught and slid partially under his chiton. He lived and died by his weapon out here and the simplistic nature of his fight onward freed his thoughts.

Somewhere on the other side of all the dead, he might find his mother.

Asmodeus wouldn’t speak of her, nor would anyone in the house, afraid of his wrath maybe. Magnus hadn’t even realized that he had a mother for so long and now, finally, he was seeking her. Maryse had been the only one who supported his desire, showing him the way to connect with his distant relatives on Olympus.

His raft bumped the ruined shoreline of the first island and he shook himself from his thoughts.

“Hell-o!” he called out, stepping onto the stone shore and unsheathing his blade with a flourish. His damaged girdle disagreed with the dramatic motion though, and he felt his chiton loosen around his waist. He scowled but didn’t bother trying to fix it, not when there were already sigils appearing. His father’s power called forth souls of the dead that had been twisted into monsters for him, and any other who tried to escape, to face.

He took a breath, raised his blade in one hand and flung a wave of power from his free hand, watching lightning from his uncle crackle through his own magic.

It felt strange to taste the tang of electricity weaving through his power. He was grateful to all his relatives, of course, but he favored his cousins the most. Dionysus’ power combined with his to create a pleasant wine aroma and to intoxicate his foes and Artemis’ touch helped guide his strikes, splintering from his own attacks to pierce the enemies his father stacked against him. Neither of them felt hungry or like some display meant to intimidate him the way the others did, even Aphrodite.

The fighting was made harder by the heat and the danger of stepping into the molten puddles the river of magma and flame coughed onto the stone island. Magnus made a skipping sort of dance out of his movements, trying to limit the contact he had with them. He was born of fire and shadow, a son of Asmodeus, but even he wasn’t truly immune to the pain.

When the last of the Bloodless fell, leaving him just enough time to avoid a small cloud of ash, a familiar voice called out.

“Magnus!” He twisted in time to see Jace alight. The blonde was a bright spot in the red and gray landscape. His tunic was white and gold and perfectly clean and his bag of messages was secured to his hip opposite a golden sword Magnus had never even heard of him using.

“Jace! Come to slum it with me?”

Jace rolled his eyes and thrust a missive toward him, “I really don’t want to be here, but I heard my third favorite Chthonian was making a break for it, so I had to be here to help out. Pick something so I can get out of here, get some ice cream, would you?”

Magnus looked at the scribbled list of boons that Jace could grant him and laughed, pointing to one at random, just glad to see a friend for the moment.

“Carry a message for me?” Magnus asked, feeling the zip of Jace’s power in his bones.

“No can do, you know the rules.” Jace shifted, ready to race away, when he seemed to reconsider. His expression became more serious than Magnus was used to, his mouth hard.

“When did you leave the house this time?”

Magnus grinned, “Before father even realized I’d died, why?”

Jace shook his head, but the friendliness and warmth was gone from his demeanor, “You’re not gonna make it much further.”

“Well thank you for your encouragement, Blondie.” Magnus snapped, tired of his friends treating him like shit out of the blue today.

“All I’m saying? Hang around the house a little longer this time.” Jace nodded once, frowning still, and then he was gone in a breeze.

Magnus tipped his head back, “What the hell?”

—

He only made it a little further into Asphodel before a misstep led to his death.

He came out of the crimson pool of the Styx, purposely dragging as much of the water with him onto the floor of his fathers hall. It was barely noticeable against the dusty orange color that permeated so much of his father’s realm. If he had his way, Magnus would scour the whole house out and paint it completely. Maybe put a roof on the place. Pick up the books and scrolls his father let fall everywhere. Make the whole place a little more like his own bedroom and less like some artful ruin.

Simon, napping upright against a column, jerked to wakefulness as he passed, “Welcome back. Sorry you burned to a crisp! Also the dog destroyed the lounge, like completely. Went totally nuts when you left.”

Magnus flicked water from his hair, and used a little burst of his magic to fix his makeup so the dry look he gave Simon would have maximum effect.

“If my father thinks I’m going to feel bad about that, someone should remind him that Cerberus is literally compelled to listen to him when he gives an order. He could stop him.” Magnus tried to sound unaffected, though he did feel guilty for worrying the hound. Cerberus and Chairman Meow were two of his truest companions and he’d ached over leaving them behind, when he did eventually make it out of the Underworld.

Simon just shrugged at him, “Hey I’m just telling you the news. It’s my only job. Mostly.”

Magnus gestured to the line of shades waiting for his fathers attention, the ones that Simon was supposed to be overseeing. Simon just shrugged again, “Asmodeus never really gave me a task, just told me to ‘make myself useful’ and gave me the tools to do a job. So, no rules broken if I just. . don’t. Besides, the shades line up and take care of themselves and it’s super boring. Did you see Izzy out there?”

Simon’s crush had panned out a decade or two before, but with their jobs he didn’t get to see as much of his girlfriend as he’d like and Magnus didn’t mind sparing a moment to tell him about their encounters.

“I think she’s angry with me.” He admitted, after regaling Simon with the story of his hard-won victory.

Simon sighed, “She’s probably back by now and just stewing. I’ll see if I can find her and get her to talk to me. . .although I can probably guess why she’s upset.”

Magnus waved a hand, gesturing for him to continue. Simon didn’t say anything else, just continued to stare into the middle distance and Magnus groaned.

God of Daydreams. Right.

“Simon!”

“Wha-sorry! Yes. Finding Izzy!” Simon sputtered out.

“Wait!” Magnus tried, but he’d already vanished with a small popping sound.

Magnus huffed and went to see if Alec was around.

He was disappointed, but not surprised, to find the little nook where Alec liked to rest empty. If he wasn’t there he was out collecting souls since Izzy, Jace, and Magnus were all otherwise occupied and no one else could draw Alec away from his corner. Max might’ve, but he’d been charged with his own duty that kept him distant from them and Magnus doubted he would’ve missed Max’s light spirited energy in the realm.

He leaned heavily on the railing that overlooked the Styx, ignoring the way it seemed to crumble slightly under his touch. His father thought the appearance of decay was imposing, or something, and the house had been ‘crumbling’ for eons.

Alec was one of the other Gods who scoffed at the aesthetic and occasionally tried to point out how silly it was. He was no more successful than Magnus.

His dry humor and gentle heart were often at odds with Asmodeus, but his dedication to his duties and those he considered family stayed his tongue. His quiet rebellion was in keeping a close, fraternal bond with Jace and in the little things he helped Magnus get away with.

Magnus couldn’t imagine an existence that didn’t include Alec and if it weren’t for the knowledge that the Death God could travel to the surface, that alone would’ve stopped him from trying to leave.

He would miss his friends, but finding his mother was worth it, worth almost anything. It wasn’t worth losing Alec.

Magnus straightened up, rolling his shoulders and plucking at his chiton. He should have enough time to change before Asmodeus tried to talk to him. Then he could get back out there.

Hopefully the next time he saw Alec it would be on the surface.

They meet in Elysium.

Magnus was beautiful, even covered in ectoplasm and his own blood. There was a light sheen of sweat on his arms that caught the odd blue-ish half light of this part of the Underworld and the wicked curve of his blade glinted as he came to a sudden stop.

The flash of light that announced Alec’s presence had gained his attention and Alec drew himself up, face cold. His feet left the ground, ensuring he was floating so Magnus wouldn’t be able to reach him easily.

“Alec!”

“Your Highness.” Alec had not used Magnus’ titles for centuries and he watched the words land, Magnus’ expression pulling tight at the ice in Alec’s voice.

“What—”

He couldn’t do this. Alec had thought he would be able to speak to Magnus, to ask him if it was really so easy to leave, if Alec meant so little to him that Magnus had not even tried to say goodbye. He jerked his head at the shades prowling toward them, their focus on Magnus.

“If you kill more of them, I’ll stay a moment and we can talk.”

Alec was death. He let his weapon shift into the bow that was most comfortable for him. Magnus wouldn’t best him and he would have his excuse to try this again, some other time. If there was one. He pushed the thought away.

Magnus gave him a confused look, but whatever he saw on Alec’s face was enough to make him take a fighting stance, determined.

“Oh, we’ll have a lovely chat, Alexander.”

Together they cut down all of Magnus’ enemies, each defeat easy for Alec to tally. It pained him more than he’d expected when Magnus took a hit, his red blood splashing the grass in an arc of gore. He would blame that distraction for his loss.

Magnus wiped his sword off with a wide grin and a wink. “That’s my win, Alexander.”

“Yes.” Alec could see the bright orb of power sent by the Olympians and he hoped that Magnus would head for it and allow him to leave, despite their wager. He did not.

“You are a sight for sore eyes, darling, but what brought you here?” Magnus smiled up at him and Alec hardened his heart.

“Your foolhardy actions have consequences for us all.”

Magnus sighed, “You sound like my father. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t know when I’d see you again.” He turned away, looking over the empty chamber.

Alec swallowed against the pain of that, “So you left without a word of goodbye.”

Magnus’ head whipped toward him, surprise written across his features and Alec folded his arms over his chest, hoping he could hold himself together.

“Goodbye? Alec—” Magnus took an aborted step toward him, swaying forward with raised brows, “What are you talking about?”

Alec clenched his jaw, his throat burning around the feeling he’d refused to name since he learned Magnus was trying to leave them all behind.

“I’m talking about you, abandoning your post and not having the courtesy to even tell me. You showed me, long ago, how to be more than duty; more than who I was outside of a Child of Night and a Dealer of Death. Now you expect me not to care that you were leaving?”

Magnus dropped his blade, reaching for Alec instead, but he couldn’t bear the thought of the other Gods touch, jerking back in the air to avoid him.

“Please, Alexander. I know you’re upset I want to go, but you know that my father. . . ” Magnus shook his head, distaste for Asmodeus writ in the line of his mouth.

“I understand perfectly. You’re trying to remove yourself from that ruined relationship and the rest of us are an acceptable loss.” Alec hated the misery that was growing in Magnus’ eyes but he didn’t know how else to do this. A clean break might be better, then he could. . . he could forget what it was like to feel, to be so vulnerable, so like the mortals whose souls he claimed.

“What?” Magnus looked angry now, “What the hell are you talking about? I don’t want to leave anyone! This is what I have to do and—”

Alec couldn’t listen to this.

“You’re going where no one else can follow. Olympus is beyond even my reach. Sure, a message with Jace now and again, and you thought that would be enough? But,” Alec looked up, “sure. It’s what you have to do. Goodbye, Magnus.”

There was a flash of light and Alec left Magnus, and Elysium.

—

Magnus stood unmoving in the mist rolling off the river Lethe, staring at the spot Alec had vanished from.

“What?” He asked the empty air, again.

Seeing Alec had been nice, at first. He missed his companion and it was always a treat to actually watch Alec in action, his bow in sure hands.

Magnus collected his own weapon from the trampled grass, wiping the blade and frowning at his face reflected in the metal. He never wanted Alec to think he was being left behind.

Olympus is beyond even my reach.

Magnus rubbed at his eyes, impatiently fixing his makeup when his fingertips came away black. He’d been thinking about his escape from the Underworld as a permanent thing. He would get out, find his mother, join the rest of his family on the surface or Olympus. He knew the furies, death, daydreams, they all had domains that reached the living and he’d thought that meant the mountain of the Gods.

He’d been wrong assuming he would still be able to see them.

Magnus walked through the doorway to the next chamber of Elysium slowly, hardly aware what boon he’d taken with him. All of his friends, the people he cared for, they all had to believe he was leaving them behind.

Some, like Maryse and Ragnor had been supportive, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hurting them.

“I need to go back,” he sighed to himself.

He watched the shade advancing on him, their weapon raised and their empty eyes fixed. Too many sips from the river Lethe created a hollow shell that had only one purpose. Magnus lowered his blade.

The house was quiet when he emerged from the Styx. Simon gave him a nervous nod, but his eyes darted toward the lounge and he pressed his lips together instead of greeting Magnus.

Through the side door, Magnus could see two familiar dark heads bent together.

He steeled himself and headed for them.

The serpent head of Isabelle’s whip glared at him over her shoulder and turned to hiss in her ear, the muscles in her single huge wing tensing though she didn’t turn to him.

Alec’s face went smooth, carefully expressionless, as he caught sight of Magnus.

“Hey.” Magnus said, voice soft as he hovered next to their table, uncertain of his welcome.

Isabelle gave him a disappointed look he was more familiar with than he cared to admit but it quickly turned calculating as she took in how miserable he had to appear.

Alec only nodded at him.

Isabelle stood, “I’ll leave the two of you to talk. If I find out you haven’t. . .well, I am very good at my job.”

She gave Alec a pointed nudge with her wing and stalked out of the lounge, the click of her heels echoing in the quiet between them.

“You’ve returned sooner than I expected.” Alec finally said and Magnus grimaced. He sounded upset and yet, still, worried.

“Turns out I have a very easy ticket home, when I need it.” Magnus took a seat with a wane smile that Alec didn’t return. Magnus knew he would have to start them off on the right foot, or else Alec would shut him out and frame any conversation they might have around duty.

“I’m sorry, Alexander.” Magnus held up his hand when Alec leaned forward to speak. “Please, I’ve made assumptions and caused harm where it wasn’t deserved, let me explain.”

Alec closed his mouth and raised his eyebrows, waiting.

Magnus didn’t pause to think about his words, he needed to clear this mess between them, now.

“I needed to get away from my father, my failure to please him and the. . . differences in our opinions on the treatment of the dead, yes. I thought that meant leaving the house behind, the shades, and him. Death is for mortals. Daydreams, vengeance, oathbreaking, lying, betrayal, the turning of day to night, all of it touches them, is enacted or witness or experienced by them.”

Alec’s eyes sparked with understanding, his cold expression fractured into one of cautious hope.

“I did not know.” Magnus cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize I would be leaving so many behind. You behind.”

Alec’s mouth quirked just slightly, the same little smile he had when he called Magnus an idiot. “You’re an idiot.”

Magnus laughed, relief flooding him at the sign of forgiveness, but he had more he needed to say.

“Alexander, knowing that you can not reach Olympus. . . that changes things for me, but I still have to try. There’s something I have to find, out there, but I swear I will come back.” Magnus caught his hand, squeezing it and hoping it would keep Alec from vanishing.

His lips thinned as he stared at Magnus, “You’re still going.”

It was a clear statement,so Magnus waited for him to continue even though he wanted to speak, to reassure.

“You can’t know you’ll come back. When you’re gone, you can’t know that you will feel the same. I know that Olympus offers Apollo’s golden light, Dionysus’ wine, Aphrodite’s games. You are a creature of light and warmth, what if— “

Magnus cut him off with a tug on his hand that brought Alec back to the ground as he’d drifted up.

“My soulmate isn’t there.”

Alec blinked, surprised, “That’s what you’re seeking?”

Magnus had to let go of Alec’s hand to brace himself against the table in the lounge. All this time, he’d assumed that Alec knew; that he was happy with their warm regard but it wasn’t the same for him. They were Gods and their relationships were complex, faceted by immortality, by power struggles and by their duties. Magnus had long accepted that, as a God of Death, romance held no sway over Alexander. He cherished their friendship, and loved Alec as best he knew how, without any expectation for his love to be returned in quite the same way, even as it was returned in depth.

Magnus forced himself to calm, just because Alec had never realized they were soulmates, didn’t make their love less real and it truly didn’t matter to Magnus if knowing changed nothing between them. Well, almost nothing. Magnus hoped that if Alec understood their connection, he would have faith that Magnus was going to come back. If they could reach that understanding, Magnus could pull Alec somewhere it might be safe to explain he was looking for his mother.

Not that the lounge was the ideal place for this conversation, but Magnus would make do.

Alec was watching him, hands pressed tightly together in concern.

“I’m not looking for my soulmate. Alexander, I am a God of Blood, of Life. Who would ever be my perfect other half, if not Death?” Magnus gave him the gentlest smile, reaching for his hands, only to have them crushed in Alec’s tight grip as Alec opened and closed his mouth in shock, words failing him.

Magnus grinned at the wide blue eyes filled with hope and gave a hard squeeze back to encourage his words.

“Really?” Alec asked, his voice soft and his cheeks starting to flush.

“I thought you knew. Though,” it was Magnus’ turn to blush in chagrin, “I’m learning I make poor assumptions.”

“But you never, we never. . . Don’t you want to kiss me?” Alec asked and Magnus officially decided to move the conversation.

“Darling, do you really want to do this, here?” He nodded pointedly to the shades who were all staring and to Simon, who was floating uncomfortably close and gave them a little wave.

“No.” Alec said, and the world moved.

They were in Magnus room with a flash of the light he’d long associated with his— with Alec’s arrival. He gaped, “You can bring people along? ”

Alec laughed, something a little incredulous in the sound, and ran a hand through his dark hair, “Not far, not unless they’re shades.” Alec held up a hand before Magnus could ask, “I can’t transport you out of the Underworld, even if I thought Asmodeus wouldn’t try to unmake me for doing it.”

“He couldn’t do that.” Magnus said, dismissing the idea immediately, “Now, where were we?”

Alec’s eyes were bright as he stepped close to Magnus, his large hand settling on Magnus’ hip.

“I was asking why you didn’t ever kiss me.”

Magnus was happy to find the odd formality that Alec often fell back on wasn’t coming between them now, and he leaned into a more playful answer in the hopes of making Alec laugh.

“Rude to assume I was the one who should do the kissing. It’s a lot of responsibility, Alexander.”

Alec did laugh, the smile breaking the last of the ice between them.

“I wasn’t the one who realized we were soulmates and then didn’t say anything for who knows how long?”

Magnus cleared his throat, “It was only a few centuries. And, I thought you weren’t interested in that sort of relationship. I never minded, I love you, and I know you care for me the same.”

Alec shook his head, looking a bit dazed, “Well, I love you, and I would love to kiss you.”

Magnus brushed his knuckles against Alec’s cheek, “Well, I certainly won’t argue with that.”

Alec bent toward him and Magnus watched the slow sweep of his eyelashes before he closed his own eyes and tipped up to meet him. Their lips brushed and Magnus hummed in pleasant surprise at how soft Alec’s were. Alec pulled him closer and the soft press of their lips shifted as Alec gently pulled Magnus’ lower lip between his own. The kiss turned slick and warm and Magnus felt shivery and strange when they parted, swaying in for another without a thought.

When they finally parted, Alec’s mouth was a deep red that filled Magnus with smug pride.

“So. . .” Alec started, only to blink distractedly at Magnus’ mouth.

“Kissing.”

“Yeah.” Alec breathed and then he was pulling Magnus in again, swallowing his delighted laugh.

—

Later Magnus would offer him a bottle of the finest Ambrosia and they would discuss plans for finding Magnus’ mother and how Alec might still come to him on the surface.

Later Magnus would press triumphant kisses to his soft mouth after winning one of their many contests out in the realms of the Underworld and he would be grateful that Alec had come after him, that first time.

Later they would whisper together how happy they were, how grateful for the centuries stretching before them.

After all, Life and Death shared an Undying Bond.

#Hades fanfiction #Malec #Shadowhunters #Magnus Bane #Alec Lightwood #Shadowhunters AU #Malec secret santa 2022 #Malec fanfiction #stand alone #An Undying Bond

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underworld-beats · 1 year

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💠 "You're sure you don't want back?"

🔥 "Even with my duties being in the Underworld, you'll still be my princess up here Heat"

A slightly more AU-ish yume/self-insert ship in which Zagreus (mainly called Zag) kinda can decide himself where he wants to be after reuniting his Family.

This kinda runs on the Percy Jackson/Heroes of Olympus rule of "Hades and Olympus move with the times", so Zag appears in New York instead of Greece

Everyone is on par with the current time and their outfits immediately switch so something fitting for the modern times when in the mortal world

Than/Zag/Meg is canon in this, especially since Heat's basically Zag's mortal world relationship and all of them are okay with that.

Some information about Heat Summer

Heat (spoken Heart) Summer is a well knowm musician who happened to stumble into Zag after his resurfacing in the current day and apparently sparked something inside the godling. Was it her fiery determination? Her drive to stand equal to legendary musicians? Or just her roughish, tomboyish appearance that reminds him in some way of Meg, doesn't matter, the two hit it off and are happy since although it took sone time for Heat to heal from an manipulative relationship that haunted her since.

#canon x oc #selfshipping #hades game #Selfship #proshippers don't interact #proshippers dni #selfshipping community #selfship community #Yumeshipping #Yumeship #zagreus #hades zagreus #zagreus supergiant #tw abuse #Just in case; even if it's only mentioned once and more referencial #biphobes dni #Panphobes dni

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argetcross · 9 months

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I was writing down what injuries Zag has sustained on his mortal adventure and it's honestly a miracle he's still standing. 😅

#zag mortal au #wasting beats of this heart of mine #he's like 70% injury #zagreus #my doodles #not illustrated is him crunching his nose against than's collar #hahahaha

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awholelotofladybug · 10 months

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Fabricator: A Stammering Adrien AU Story

Based on This AU

Disclaimer: The only characters or locations I own are the ones I make up. All other fictional characters and locations about Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir are the property of Thomas Astruc and Zag. Please support the official release.

Credit for the plot and new characters in this story goes to @shadowlorddemon

“That’s it, Marinette. Nice and steady,” said the mayor. “Keep your back straight. You’re doing just fine.”

Marinette gulped as she walked forward. Anyone who knew Marinette could tell you that she was a klutz. She was dreading the potential disaster awaiting her if she took a bad step. Every inch forward felt like a risk as the stack of books on her head tilted back and forth like a looming pendulum.

“Mr. Mayor, not that I don’t trust you, but what does balancing books have to do with party etiquette?” Marinette asked.

“You’re the one who said you wanted to be proper and sophisticated for this party,” said Chloé, her eyes not leaving her magazine. “A big part of that is having good posture.”

The mayor gave a proud nod. “And this is one of the best ways to practice. Now come along, Marinette. Just a few more steps.”

Marinette made her next step, then another, and another, each step made as if there were landmines on the floor. Finally, she made it over to Mayor Bourgeois, who gave her applause.

“Well done, Marinette. You did it.”

“I did it?” she asked with a smile. “I did it! Yes!”

Marinette raised her fist to the air, but sudden movements, gravity, and heavy books do not mix well, and the poor girl toppled backward with the books landing on her head. The mayor and his daughter rushed to help her.

“Mama, is that you?” asked a dizzy Marinette. “I’m all ready for beddy-bye.”

“Well,” said the mayor, “At least she obtained a new skill.”

“Plus some mild head trauma,” Chloé teased.

About twenty minutes and an ice pack later, Marinette was sitting with Chloé and the mayor at a hotel restaurant table with a pot of tea.

“Now, to continue,” said the mayor. “Despite what you have seen in movies and television, one should not extend one’s pinkie finger when drinking tea.”

“Really? Why?” Marinette asked.

“It’s rude and connotes elitism,” said Chloé. “It’s one of the first things I had to “unlearn.”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “Wow. You learn something new every day.”

“You’ve done wonderfully so far,” said the mayor. “You even managed the cutlery lesson in record time. Only four tries.”

Marinette rubbed her hands. “Don’t remind me. My hands are still sore from all the slapping.”

“Hey, it’s how I learned, so it’s how you learned,” said Chloé.

Marinette sighed. These lessons were about as pleasant as cuddling a porcupine. But then she remembered why she was doing it. She took out a picture of her and Adrien from their last date, and gave a longing sigh.

“It’s all for you, my buttercup. I just hope I don’t blow it.”

Chloé laughed “Honey, please, you could set the place on fire, and Adrien wouldn’t regret it.”

“You think so?” Marinette asked.

“Are you kidding? He’s crazy about you.”

Marinette smiled. “Thanks, Chloé. And thanks for helping me with this.”

Chloé rubbed the back of her head and blushed. “Honestly, after all the awful things I did, it’s the least I can do.”

The two friends, once mortal enemies, smiled at each other as the lessons continued.

The night of the party had finally arrived. Adrien was ready to burst with excitement as Gorilla drove him up to Marinette’s house. This was his first big party with Marinette. Once they stopped, Adrien got out of the car and rushed into the bakery. The first thing he saw was the warm, smiling faces of Marinette’s parents

“Ah, there he is,” said Tom. “My little girl’s Prince Charming, come to take her to the ball.”

Adrien blushed. “Hi, M-M-M-Mister Dupain, Mrs. Cheng. Is Marinette r-r-r-ready?”

“Tom, go get her,” said Sabine. “I’ll keep “Prince Charming” company.”

Tom smiled and went up the stairs. Meanwhile, Sabine saw Adrien tugging at his necktie. She shook her head as she gave him a hand redoing the knot.

“Look at you,” she said. “All dapper and debonair. Excited about tonight?”

“I sure am, Mrs. Cheng. Tonight is g-g-going to be great. I’m... I’m going to make Marinette feel like a p-p-princess”

Sabine chuckled. “Honey, when she’s around you, she always feels like a princess.”

“Did somebody ask for a princess?” said Tom’s voice.

The two of them looked to see Tom, who moved to the side to present Marinette in a short, white dress with decorative white roses on the left shoulder. Her face was painted with tasteful makeup, and her hair was up in a bun. Adrien could feel his heart pounding as he saw this approaching vision of beauty.

“Adrien?” said Marinette. “Adrien, can you hear me?”

Adrien snapped back to reality, cleared his throat, and offered his hand.

“Shall we?”

Marinette giggled. “Let’s.”

Marinette looked around the ballroom. The room abounded with the rich and famous. There were the Agrestes and the Bourgeois’, of course, as well as the Blanchets and the Tsurugis. There were celebrities like Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale, as well as businessmen like Emil Dupre and Mortimer Hugo. Marinette’s head spun a little. She felt like a mouse in a lion’s den. But as nervous as she was, she was not nearly as nervous as Adrien, who was shaking like a leaf.

“You too, huh?” Marinette asked.

Adrien gulped. “Yeah. It’s b-b-b-been a while since I've been to one of these.”

“Okay… Okay, this isn’t a problem,” said Marinette, trying to work things out. “Let’s just stay close together and look for people we know.”

“Yeah, good idea,” said Adrien, trying to ignore the beat of sweat on his brow.

The couple made their way through the room, holding hands. Every once in a while, they caught a pair of eyes following them. Many seemed friendly enough, but others showed disdain at the sight of a wealthy young man dating a “commoner,” no doubt. Still, Marinette and Adrien ignored them as best they could. That’s they heard a familiar voice.

“Marinette! Adrien! Over here!”

A sight for sore eyes if ever there was one. Chloé and Sabrina were waving at them and standing with Emilie and Nathalie. With a quick sigh of relief, the young couple made their way toward them.

“Hi guys,” said Marinette. “So good to see familiar faces.”

Chloé chuckled a bit. “Yeah… You know, a year ago, I would have fumed at the idea of you being here. Probably would’ve thrown a huge tantrum.”

“Yeah. You were pretty awful back then.”

“Yeah,” said Chloé. “But now, honestly, I’m really glad to see you.”

Marinette’s eyes became as big as dinner plates. “Wow.”

“What? Did I say something wrong?” Chloé asked.

“No, no, it’s fine,” said Marinette. “In fact, that was the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me… Thank you.”

Chloé’s cheeks turned pink. Hearing that “thank you” sparked a warm, comforting feeling in her chest. A small smile made its way across her face as she decided to be playful.

“Well, now that we’re friends, I guess you better get used to it, Dupain-Cheng,” she teased.

Marinette smiled as they found a table. She loved this new side of Chloé. Sure, she still seemed a little spoiled, but at least now she was spoiled sweet instead of spoiled rotten.

The night marched on, and so did the party. The lessons Marinette had taken with Chloé and the mayor had paid off, from walking with proper posture to the proper utensil usage. Though she and Adrien spent more time flirting than they did eating. However, those who were focused on eating did work up a thirst, and Chloé decided to quench hers with a glass of punch. While at the bowl, she suddenly got the feeling that she was being watched.

“Chloé Bourgeois. What a surprise.”

Chloé turned to see Mason Edmund, the fashion designer. The thin man had salt-and-pepper hair and a scruffy beard surrounding a semi-permanent scowl. He wore a charcoal gray suit, grey dress-gloves, oxblood shoes, and carried a black walking stick with a golden lion head handle. Chloé felt her skin crawl a little. She had heard about Mason Edmund. Her mother called him “Dream Killer.” He had a talent for destroying the confidence of aspiring young designers, making them give up before they even start.

“Always a pleasure to meet Audrey Bourgeois’ youngest ankle-biter,” he said with an Eastern Finnish accent. “And how are we tonight?”

Chloé gulped. “Bonsoir, Monsieur Edmund. I’m doing alright. Just here with a few friends.”

“You actually made some friends? How cute,” he said snobbishly.

Chloé growled under her breath. Keeping her temper in check was hard enough without this know-it-all chumming the waters.

“So, who are these friends of yours, Miss Chloé?”

“Well, you already know Adrien Agreste and Sabrina Raincomprix,” said Chloé. “But the one with the bun is Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“Cute as a button, that one,” said Edmund. “So what is she? Teen model? Child TV star?”

"No, nothing like that. She's a baker's daughter," said Chloé.

"Quaint."

Chloé cleared her throat. "Yeah, but she is an aspiring fashion designer. It's her lifelong dream."

"Lifelong dream, you say?" Edmund said as his lips curled.

Chloé's blood ran cold at the tone in his voice. "W-Wait! Monsieur Edmund! I didn't..."

"Run along, child," said Edmund. "I'm off to have a chat with our little dreamer.~"

The villain adjusted the silver crown lion pin on his floral-print tie, and walked away.

Chloé facepalmed. "Me and my big mouth.”

Marinette poured herself a glass of punch. So far, the night was going smoothly. No words had been fumbled, no glasses had been broken, no utensil was misused, and despite a few glares from the higher-ups, she felt surprisingly confident.. That soon changed, however, when she felt a pair of eyes fall upon her. She turned around and nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight of the thin old man looming over her..

“Oh! Uh, M-Monsieur Edmund. B-Bonsoir.”

“Bonsoir, Ms. Dupain-Cheng,” said Edmund. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

Marinette smiled as best she could. “So, uh, how’s the fashion industry?”

“As cutthroat as ever,” he said. “Speaking of which, a little blonde birdie told me you were an aspiring designer yourself.”

“Uh, yeah. I’d like to start my own fashion line.”

“Yes, it’s nice to have dreams, isn’t it?” Edmund continued. “Just by looking at you, I can tell a good deal of your designs include floral patterns. With plenty of pastel colors, am I right?”

Suddenly, Marinette felt uneasy. “Y-Yeah?”

“Oh, how precious. And bold. Not everyone in the fashion world is bold enough to use colors and imagery often reserved for toddlers. Perhaps you could add some cute little bumblebees and butterflies into your designs. Maybe a princess and a unicorn as well.”

Edmund’s words cut like a knife, Marinette’s confidence began to crumble and she felt herself shaking and spilling punch onto her dress.

“Oh my,” said Edmund. “How very clumsy of you. Well, perhaps this can inspire you to design yourself a bib.”

Marinette felt like she was two inches tall. She could hear a few people laughing at her. She was ready to start crying. but just before she could...

“You leave her alone!” said Chloé.

Adrien held Marinette close. “Don’t t-t-t-talk to my girlfriend like that, you b-b-big bully!”

“What’s this? Audrey’s little shrew shows compassion, and Gabriel’s little mouse shows some backbone. Tonight is full of surprises,” said Edmund. “But come now, if anything, I’m doing Ms. Dupain-Cheng a favor. The fashion world is incredibly cutthroat, after all.”

That is when Emilie and Nathalie walked up.

“Whether or not it’s “cutthroat” is irrelevant,” said Nathalie.

“You, Monsieur Edmund, are just a bully,” said Emilie. “You’ve always been a bully.”

Edmund scoffed. “If you and your little friends can’t handle a few harsh words, that’s not my problem.”

“A few harsh words?!” said Adrien. “You... You insulted her t-t-t-to her face!”

“Yeah! And you’re one to talk!” said Chloé. “You went on a month-long tirade after my mom gave you a bad review!”

“There is an elegance to be found in simplicity! Something your tasteless hack of a mother wouldn’t know!” Edmund exclaimed.

That is Chloé snapped. “Marinette’s designs are leagues ahead of yours! At least they have some color! Yours look like something out of a bad Halloween movie! People would rather wear old potato sacks over your depressing rags!”

Edmund snarled. “I have half a mind, you little blonde brat!”

Just then, Edmund heard chatter off to the side.

“Arguing with children. Pathetic,” said Mortimer Hugo.

“Indeed. Such insecurity,” said Pierre De Leon. “And the Bourgeois girl isn’t even wrong.”

“Quite. His last fashion line was about as dull as dishwater,” said Emil Dupre. “Honestly, from what I’ve heard, that Dupain-Cheng girl could design circles around him.”

Edmund shot Marinette a glare and stormed off, not noticing the following gaze and insidious half-smile of Emil Dupre.

Marinette and her friends stood by the punch bowl. That ordeal had felt like an emotional 4k run, and this was a chance to catch their breath.

“I lost my temper again, didn’t I?” Chloé asked.

“Yeah,” said Sabrina. “But to be fair, Monsieur Edmund started it.”

“Chloé, I have to ask,” said Marinette. “Did you mean what you said about my designs?”

Chloé blushed. “Yeah. The truth is I’ve always liked your work, even if I never admitted it.”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “You did? Really?”

“Of course she did,” said Adrien. “That j-j-j-just goes to show how talented you are, princess.”

Marinette blushed. “Oh, Adrien, you big smoothie.”

“Not to... Not to mention smart, funny, pretty, and w-w-way too kissable.”

Before Marinette could respond, she felt a barrage of what she liked to call “Adrien smooches.” Each peck from his lips tickled her cheek.

“Adrien,” she said with a giggle. “Control yourself.”

Chloé shook her head. Watching these two was like reading a cringy romantic fanfiction. Still, it was pretty cute. However, just as things were starting to calm down, there was a loud slam as the front door swung open. As the crowd looked toward it, they saw what looked like a living mannequin with blank eyes and a big ear-to-ear smile. He wore a white top hat and tailcoat tuxedo with glitch distortion patchwork, and he carried a walking stick in his right hand made to look like a red-headed sewing pin.

“Attention, distinguished members of Paris’ Elite!” the villain proclaimed. “I am the Fabricator, the first, last, and only word on the world in haute couture! And I am here to show all of you what a REAL fashion designer can do!”

The crowd trembled as Fabricator searched the room. He slowly shifted his gaze back and forth until his eyes

“Starting with you, little dreamer,” he said with a smirk. “You like pink and flowers so much? Let’s see what I can stitch together for you.”

Marinette froze as she saw the villain’s attack fly her way, only to be snapped out of it after hearing Chloé shout “Marinette! Look out!” and being shoved to the floor. As Adrien helped her up, what Marinette witnessed would plague her memories. Poor Chloé had become a lifeless mannequin in an unflattering, hot pink flower gown. Gasps and murmurs escaped the crowd while Fabricator chuckled.

“Hmm,” he said. “A member of the Bourgeois clan sticking her neck out for someone else? How surprising... How noble... How nauseating.”

Sabrina’s eyes welled up with tears as she looked at her petrified friend. However, sadness gave way to rage as she tackled Fabricator, and fought him for his walking stick.

“You MONSTER! You SICK, TWISTED...”

She was suddenly silenced as she became a mannequin, one wearing a purple and green superhero costume.

“Poor child, but that’s what you get for trying to play the hero,” said Fabricator. “Now where was I? Huh?”

Marinette and Adrien were gone, but Fabricator could only laugh at this.

“Run and hide all you like!” he proclaimed. “But I will find you, and you will suffer!”

Outside the building, Marinette and Adrien gasped for breath as they found a brief bit of safety. Each one knew what they had to do next as they looked at each other.

“Find somewhere safe to hide,” they said in unison.

“Huh? Oh, okay. Love you,” they responded in unison.

The two youngsters turned away and ran off. Marinette found herself a dark alley. Once she knew she was alone, she let Tikki out of hiding and put the earrings on in a huff.

“Ugh! I knew this would happen,” said Marinette. “Nights like this just scream “akuma attack.”

“Sorry, Marinette,” said Tikki. “But as the Ladybug, you have your duty.”

Marinette sighed. “I know, I know. It’s just... Ugh!” Marinette stopped herself. “No. No griping. This isn’t about me. Tikki, spots on.”

Meanwhile, back in the ballroom, Fabricator was giggling and grinning as he put his mannequins up in ridiculous poses, laughing to himself.

“My latest line is underway,” he said, “I’ll call it “Tasteless Fools.”

“Since you’re the one who m-m-made the outfits, would that make you the tasteless one?”

Fabricator turned his gaze towards this new critic, and much to his delight, there was Ladybug and Chat Noir.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the Miraculous Misfits in their playsuits,” he said with a scoff. “You saved me the trouble of tracking you down. Now it’s time to add your Miraculouses to Hawkmoth’s wardrobe.”

Ladybug took a fighting stance. “Not gonna happen, Fabricator.”

“Yeah, and what m-m-makes you think Hawkmoth can pull off this look?” said Chat as he struck a pose that made Ladybug giggle.

“Give it up, Fabricator,” said Ladybug. “Your freaky fashion show is over.”

“We’ll see about that, Ladybrat,” said the villain as he blasted aimed at the duo.

Ladybug and Chat dodged each blast as best they could, dodging each beam. Anything the beam touched found itself in one bizarre outfit or another. One chair was now dressed as a clown, and another was dressed like a chicken. Each outfit was a clear attempt to make Ladybug and Chat look ridiculous, but thankfully, they hadn’t been hit yet. Chat Noir, growing impatient, rushed over and fought the villain face-to-face, followed by Ladybug

“Time to s-s-s-send you and your designs to the cleaners, Fabricator!” said Chat with a confident smirk.

Fabricator snarled. “Not before I have you de-clawed, kitty boy!”

While her partner distracted Fabricator, Ladybug snuck up behind the villain, and swept his legs.

“ARRGH!”

The villain did not stay down for long, though, springing back onto his feet, he swung at the heroes, only for them to dodge his blows. After that, Ladybug jumped away from the action, and took out her yoyo.

“Now’s as good a time as any,” she said. “LUCKY CHARM!”

The Lucky Charm appeared, and as usual, it only served to baffle the spotted heroine.

“A jar?” she said aloud. “What can I do with a jar?”

Ladybug looked around the room, trying to think about how she could use her seemingly useless weapon. That’s when her Lady-Vision kicked in, and spotted Fabricator’s walking stick.

“Okay, it’s a long shot, but here we go,” she said.

Ladybug rushed the villain, and placed the jar onto the handle of the walking stick. As soon as he tried to blast them again, the blast was stopped and redirected onto the stick, making it hot and causing the villain to drop it.

“AUGH! HOT! HOT!” he screamed.

“CHAT! NOW!” Ladybug called. “DESTROY THE STICK!”

Chat rushed over, and grabbed it. “CATACLYSM!”

As the stick turned to ash, the Akuma appeared, flying toward the window. Now was Ladybug’s chance.

“No more evil doing for you, little Akuma,” she said as she activated her yo-yo. “TIME TO DE-EVILIZE!”

The Akuma was caught, purified in a flash of light, then released.

“Bye-bye, little butterfly,” said Ladybug before tossing the Lucky Charm in the air. “MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!”

Things were settling down as things went back to normal. The villain was defeated, all of the damage was undone, and all of the petrified victims were flesh and blood again. As the evening came to a close, Marinette and her friends regrouped outside.

“So where did Mason Edmund go?” Adrien asked. “I haven’t s-s-s-seen him since before the attack.”

“He left,” said Chloé, rubbing her arm. “I tried apologizing, but he just laughed said that I’ve gone soft.”

Sabrina put a hand on Chloé’s shoulder. “Don’t feel bad, Chloé. At least you tried.”

“Did he apologize for what he said about Marinette?” Adrien asked.

“Not even a little,” said Sabrina.

Adrien growled a little before feeling Marinette’s hand take his.

“I’m okay, you guys, really,” said Marinette. “This night wasn’t all bad anyway.

“What do you mean?” Sabrina asked.

“I got to be with my buttercup. That’s always a plus,”

Adrien blushed as the two of them hugged.

“And not only that, I now know, without a doubt, that Chloé cares about me,” said Marinette.

Chloé blushed. “I mean, I couldn’t just let the Akuma hurt you...”

“Come on, Chloé, don’t be modest,” said Marinette. “You kept me from being a mannequin tonight. You saved my life.”

Chloé cleared her throat. “Well, yeah, why wouldn’t I?” she asked. “We’re friends now, and that’s what friends do, right?”

“Without a d-d-doubt,” said Adrien as he pulled them all in. “Group hug!”

Marinette smiled as she embraced her boyfriend and her former enemies. The night had been far from perfect, but at least it ended on a happy note.

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chloe bourgeois #sabrina raincomprix #chloe bourgeois redemption #post redemption chloe #stammering adrien au #miraculous ladybug fanfiction

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smallraindrops-blog · 2 years

Text

Update

currently working on:

requests:

WMFTD!soft aftercare

fem! Zag x mortal

Fanfics:

WMFTD/ northern star: on pause while I work on the final chapter of the modern!AU

(Ps. I will tagging these posts as ‘Raindrops updates’ so you don’t want to see them, use that to block.)

#Raindrops updates

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eightw · 3 years

Photo

*mortals your zagreus*

#edit: i rlly feel the need to clarify that this is literally an edit of his sprite 😅 like i redrew and edited it but it’s not rlly mine #so pls stop telling me i’m a good artist 😩#hades game #hades #zagreus #human!zagreus #mortal!zagreus #fanart #redesign #fan art #hades fanart #zagreus fanart #princesthings #i stole the colour pallet and the belt and the flowers from persephone and the earring from meg #but i coloured and like redesigned it myself by hand bc im STUPID #he's also more tan and his hair is a different colour #this is for an au im writing where he becomes mortal but idk i thought other people might like it #i might do the rest! bc ngl having this on a transparent background makes me wanna make fake screenshots #this could also count as an au where persephone takes zag with her who knows #im very proud of how it still looks like an official sprite

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spiderbirdo · 3 years

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I wonder what Zag would be thinking about if he could see all the suffering that has been happening, would he regret and wished he never made that choice or still be like trying to tell himself it'll be worth it in the end?

the thing is that right at the start of things Zag was really really unhappy like, he doesn't know what his purpose is, he has a job he hates, his dad is awful and he’s unbearably lonely.

I know its game mechanics for you to get closer to people as you progress but it really does seem like for thousands of years (or however many years zag has been alive) he just wasn't close to anyone.

So yeah to him before the events of the game, his relationship with Meg is all messed up cuz of the breakup, Than is never home, Hypnos is just an annoying dude, Achilles just dispenses generic wisdom, Nyx is kinda hands-off and aloof, Dusa runs away as soon as she sees him, Orpheus has been carted off to a pit, and his dad is passive-aggressive and scolds him all the time.

He was deadass ready to throw everything away to find a woman he’s never met before just on the off chance that she’ll love him. In a way, he’s running away from his problems.

So keeping this in mind, if offered the deal again but knowing that everyone around him would suffer would he take the deal again? Maybe? He’s rash and not exactly in a good place when he made that deal.

Does he regret it? Well, we’ll have to see.

#asks #Mortal Coil asks #zag... wasnt having a good time at the start #lol au where zag escapes first try and just up and disappears #now THAT would be amazing #Anonymous #meta

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awellboiledicicle · 1 year

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I just remembered another Hypnos/oc au i had that involved a daughter Loki had with [spins wheel] who knows just before he was, you know, chained to the boulder.

Under the cut bc long

Her name is Osk and has the patience of Thor, Loki’s bent for magic, and the body of a brick wall. She’s actually a perfectly nice person when not annoyed, the problem is she loves her brothers and sister. And isn’t entirely convinced the world would end if they were treated better, which is a problem because Odin is 99.9999999999999% sure she’s wrong on that. Good news is she was basically Freya’s ward due to the goddess just kinda finding her one day after her mortal mother died of sickness. Bad news is Freya and Odin have been watching Demeter’s unending winter spiral out of control for the last fifty years and they’re... well not antsy. They know Ragnarok is going to come at some point. They’re just in agreement that maybe the great tree shouldn’t get frostbite early, nor should Fenrir be allowed out of his chains just because his little sister thinks he could be calmed with some work.

So a pantheon spanning convo happens between Odin and Zeus--who is also not loving the long winter, or the warring he isn’t involved in over resources--to figure out what to do. Because if the long winter is the Big One, their only hope of stalling it would be cutting out a possible trigger. And the best way to do that, since they can’t just stick her in Helheim because she might stir up Hel early, is to lock her in place somewhere where she can’t possibly contact her family. And them greek gods sure are good at locking up big powerful things. AKA Zeus offered to bind her into service of Hades. Because he does, at the time, have a reputation of only letting very specific cases leave his realm--and only if they follow the rules. It keeps her busy--he knows his brother, though they don’t talk much lately, will have work for her. And, maybe, the resulting offense from Hades will make him answer one of Zeus’ calls. It doesn’t. Hades answers a missive from Odin about it. No one knows how the raven got into the House in the first place, but it seemed content to follow Charon out. They come to an agreement that, yes, he’ll take Asgard’s problem child so long as she does a service to his house and doesn’t cause trouble. Which is good, since he will be her master for all intents and purposes.

What’s bad is Osk and Freya--who is there largely to make sure she doesn’t channel her father and fuck off--show up about a month before Zagreus starts trying to escape. Which gives Freya time to try to convince Hades to marry Zagreus and Osk in a bid of ‘well if shes married perhaps it will slow her response upon ragnarok’. Hades, much too tired for this scheming and already trying to just be a good host until she fucks off, keeps saying no. Partially because he doesn’t want to deal with the chaos of a wedding, and partially because he seriously doubts Zagreus would be able to keep a wife. Just on a responsibility level. Then Freya tries to talk him into marrying her off to one of Nyx’s sons, assuming he’d have a say in that since the story was still that Zag was Nyx’s son. Hades definitely does not have the energy or time for this and says no.

Meanwhile Osk is not quite sure why she’s there. Like she knows she’s been essentially sold into service, the end date of which is ‘when the world ends’. She’s aware of the mechanical why. She just doesn’t understand why it was necessary-- she doesn’t want Ragnarok to happen any sooner than anyone else. She simply doesn’t want her family to suffer in the meantime. But no one seems to believe her, and thus.

The upside is she does meet Zagreus and get along with him rather well--though sparring is done only under close supervision of Achilles. Osk might have a more mortal kind of immortality, but she also fights like she’s trying to tear someone apart with her bare hands. Zagreus, being trained by Achilles, does much the same. Which means if they’re not careful, they’ll both be climbing out of the pool of Styx. Which is best avoided. Meanwhile she’s very interested in Hypnos, in a very specific kind of way. Initially, she was curious if he and hsi river Lethe could be used to calm her brothers into stalling ragnarok, or on her father to make him sleep so deeply that the venom in his eyes no longer pained him enough to cause earthquakes. Then she got to know him and her interest turned into: “He is a funny little man, more suited like a housewife than some master of the realm.”

Basically she went “he’s pathetic, i love him” and spent a lot of time giving him pretty trinkets because she liked how flustered he got. Meanwhile he’s a bit caught up in the fact she could destroy him. The fact he was told, very sternly, that he was to knock her ass out if she disobeyed orders was noted and filed away behind her calling him a delicate poppy.

When Zagreus fucks off for the first time, shes the one who gets the job of hauling a very upset Cerberus out of the lounge. Her job, until Zag gets his as security tester, is literally to carry things around for Hades. Not because he can’t carry things, but because there’s so many fucking rolls of parchment. She’s just glad she doesn’t need to memorize all of them because oof.

She also refuses to believe Theseus isn’t Asterius’s father. She doesn’t know the story, no one wants to teach her to read to learn the story or tell her the story, so she just. Assumed, because of proximity. Hypnos corrects her because he’s his favorite fighter and oh darkness, no.

Once Zag gets his security job, he principally hijacks her for what he calls ‘stress testing’ on the off chance the shades are getting too used to how he fights. This is also known as ‘Osk punches her way through the underworld until she actually needs a weapon, in which case she just summons one with magic because what kind of woman would she be if she could not magic up a sword bigger than Theseus on command’.

That said, she’s mildly upset to find out Demeter throwing a fit is why everyone back home got so nervous. Well, not a fit but an overreaction. It’s not like the mortals asked Persephone to go missing. Once Persephone comes back though, Hades has to order her not to tell anyone. Because while yes, it would stop the winter if Demeter were focused instead on her daughter, it would mean a much larger war.

basically im ponder

#Osk au

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