[Third Person Pov]
Hades and Agares stood face-to-face within the fragile skeleton of an alternate dimension, a reality not meant to endure the weight of their existence. The very fabric of that space trembled, groaned, and warped beneath their presence, as if it were a thin sheet of glass moments away from splintering into oblivion.
Hades stood in his divine form, his body cloaked not in fabric, but in living darkness. It rolled endlessly off his shoulders like a sentient mantle, pooling and dispersing in slow, suffocating waves. The shadows did not merely exist—they obeyed. They breathed with him. They whispered with him. His hollow face bore no mortal features, only the faint outline of a skull-like visage, and within the abyss of his eye sockets burned two dim, purple lights. They were not eyes, but verdicts—cold, ancient, and absolute.
Opposite him, Agares stood in his True Form, stripped of all pretense and civility. His body had become something inhuman, something older and crueler than mortal comprehension. His skin was cracked like cooling magma, and from every fracture surged hellfire that pulsed with violent life. Flames leaked from his pores like sweat, spilling into the air and igniting reality itself. His face was twisted and demonic, elongated and predatory, with jagged teeth clenched tightly as heat distorted the air around him.
The dimension itself had been divided by their mere existence.
Behind Hades stretched an endless abyss of impenetrable darkness. It did not simply block out light—it devoured it. Shadows rose from the ground like starving wraiths, writhing and clawing at anything that dared exist within their reach. The temperature there plummeted beyond natural cold, beyond winter, beyond death. It was the cold of nonexistence. Any mortal who stepped within that domain would feel their soul slow, their heartbeat falter, their life quietly surrender as the darkness claimed ownership of their being.
Behind Agares, Hell itself had manifested.
The ground was torn apart, overturned as if the planet's flesh had been flayed open. Rivers of lava surged violently through massive fissures, glowing veins of molten destruction that illuminated the landscape in a sickening orange glow. Flames erupted in chaotic bursts, pillars of fire roaring upward as though attempting to pierce the heavens. The air was suffocating, thick with heat and sulfur, every breath an act of agony. The terrain was no longer land, but a living inferno that answered only to its Duke.
Two absolutes.
Death and Hell.
Without warning, Hades moved.
There was no buildup, no visible motion—only inevitability.
One moment Agares stood free, and the next, Hades' hand was wrapped tightly around his throat.
The darkness around his arm coiled and reinforced his grip, binding Agares in the suffocating authority of the Underworld itself. Agares' flames sputtered and recoiled at the contact, dimming as if instinctively recognizing a superior force.
Hades' hollow gaze bore into him, those twin purple lights piercing through flesh, bone, and essence alike.
"Agares," Hades spoke, his voice quiet and emotionless, yet heavy with a pressure that bent reality itself. It was not a threat. It was a declaration.
"I will only say this once." His fingers tightened slightly—not enough to destroy, but enough to remind.
"Leave by your own will… or regret discovering how you would leave by mine."
Agares' hands shot up instantly, clawing at Hades' wrist. His strength—capable of toppling cities and commanding legions of Hell—felt insignificant. Useless. His fingers dug into Hades' arm, but it was like grasping the void itself.
He trembled.
The Duke of Hell trembled.
His teeth chattered, not from cold, but from something far worse.
Fear.
He could feel it—Hades' gaze reaching into him, peeling back his layers, examining his sins, his existence, his worth. It was the gaze of a being who did not need to prove superiority. It simply was superior.
Hades was not merely a god.
He was the certainty of death.
Even immortals feared him.
And Agares was no exception.
Slowly, reluctantly, Agares stopped resisting.
His hands loosened.
His shoulders sank.
He exhaled shakily, forcing himself to meet that hollow, merciless stare. "…Fine," Agares said at last, his voice strained but steadying. He raised both hands in surrender. "You win. I'll return to Hell."
The admission tasted bitter.
But survival demanded humility.
For a moment longer, Hades held him there, as if weighing the truth of his words.
Then, without ceremony, he released him.
Agares dropped back, coughing as he clutched his throat. His massive, demonic form began to shrink, flames retracting, cracks sealing as he returned to a more restrained, humanoid appearance. His breathing steadied as he rolled his neck, wincing slightly.
Hades watched him the entire time.
Silent.
Unblinking.
Daring him to reconsider.
Agares stuck out his tongue briefly, grimacing as he rubbed his throat. "Choking really isn't one of my fetishes," he muttered dryly.
"Just leave," Hades replied flatly, the faintest trace of exasperation in his otherwise emotionless tone.
Agares paused.
Then his expression shifted.
The humor faded, replaced by something more thoughtful. "Before I go," he said, adjusting his suit and regaining his composure, "your spawn… what's his name?"
Hades remained silent for a moment, he examined Agares—not for deception, but intent.
Finding none, he answered "Lucian." There was a brief pause, "Lucian Blackheart."
Agares repeated it quietly, committing it to memory. "Lucian Blackheart…" he murmured.
At his feet, fire began to gather, swirling into a growing pillar of infernal flame. The heat intensified as the portal to Hell opened.
Agares looked up one last time.
"Tell him," he said, his voice now serious, "that I have my eye on him. I'll be watching his growth closely."
The fire surged higher.
"That child is clearly… special."
The flames consumed him completely.
Then—
Nothing.
Only drifting embers remained as silence reclaimed the dimension.
"…More like special needs," Hades muttered to himself.
The darkness behind him surged forward, swallowing the hellscape Agares had left behind. Fire vanished. Lava froze into nothingness. The dimension itself collapsed inward, devoured by the will of its conqueror.
Hades stepped forward—and returned to the mortal realm.
Immediately, he felt it.
Lucian's presence.
Without hesitation, Hades began walking toward it. Wherever he walked, attention followed. Mortals turned instinctively, their eyes drawn to him without understanding why. Men and women alike stared, captivated by his flawless appearance, his effortless grace, and the quiet authority he radiated. His beauty was unnatural. Dangerous. Divine.
But Hades paid them no mind after all their fascination was irrelevant.
Hades stared up at the diner with a faintly curious expression before stepping inside. The warm scent of fried food, sugar, and coffee filled the air, a stark contrast to the cold stillness that naturally followed him. His eyes scanned the interior, and it didn't take long before he spotted them.
Annabeth and Lucian sat together in a booth near the window, leaning close as they shared a milkshake with two straws between them.
Hades stopped mid-step as he watched them.
For a brief moment, the present blurred, replaced by a memory that wasn't truly a memory but a longing. He could almost picture himself sitting where Lucian was, and Persephone sitting where Annabeth was, her soft laughter filling the air as they shared something so simple and human together. He imagined her smiling at him, her eyes warm, her presence bright enough to make even the Underworld feel alive.
The image lingered longer than he cared to admit. Hades exhaled quietly and shook his head, forcefully dispersing the thought. He was starting to miss his wife more than usual. Spring and Summer had always been the worst seasons for him. They were the seasons that took her away.
He composed himself and walked toward the booth. Both Lucian and Annabeth noticed him almost immediately. Lucian stiffened slightly, while Annabeth's eyes widened before a faint blush crept across her cheeks. Hades noticed, and a quiet snort escaped him as he gestured for Annabeth to move over. She complied without hesitation, sliding aside to make room. Hades slid into the booth beside her, sitting across from Lucian with complete casualness.
"Yes, Father," Lucian said dryly, leaning back slightly, his tone thick with sarcasm. "Please, sit down and join us on our date. Your company is most welcome."
"Thank you," Hades replied without the slightest hint of shame.
He reached forward immediately, grabbed a handful of Lucian's fries, and lifted them into the air before dropping them into his mouth. He chewed slowly, calmly, as though they belonged to him in the first place.
Lucian's brow twitched in irritation as Hades casually rubbed the salt from his fingers. Beside him, Annabeth tried to suppress her laughter, her shoulders shaking slightly as she hid her smile behind her hand.
"Now then," Hades said calmly, folding his hands on the table as he fixed his son with a steady stare. "Care to explain to me what exactly the two of you were doing summoning a demon?"
"Hey, I'm innocent," Lucian said immediately, raising both hands in surrender. "Blame Annabeth. She's the one who summoned him. I was merely a bystander."
"And I told you already it was an accident!" Annabeth snapped, slamming her fist against the table hard enough to rattle the dishes.
Hades blinked once, mildly surprised that she hadn't denied it outright. "Seriously?" he asked. "I would have expected that level of recklessness from that brat." He gestured lazily toward Lucian. "But not from you."
Annabeth immediately lowered her head, shame washing over her expression. She avoided his gaze entirely. "We were exploring the British Museum together," she admitted quietly. "I found this ancient tablet. Part of the text engraved on it was wrong. I corrected it and read the proper version out loud. The tablet broke… and Agares appeared."
Hades exhaled sharply through his nose.
For a moment, he said nothing. Then he lifted his hand and gently placed it on top of her head. "Just be more careful next time," he said simply.
"Yes, Lord Hades," Annabeth replied meekly.
Lucian's head slowly turned from Annabeth to Hades, then back again, his expression twisting into pure disbelief.
"…What?" Lucian said flatly. "Oh, come on. You cannot be serious."
Hades glanced at him. "What?"
"If it were me," Lucian said, leaning forward, "you would have torn into me without hesitation. But she summons a literal Duke of Hell, and she gets a pat on the head and a 'be careful next time.' Where exactly is the justice in that?!"
"Because," Hades snarled immediately, his patience thinning, "she is not normally as catastrophically reckless as you are."
Lucian scoffed loudly.
"Remind me," Hades continued coldly, "who it was that recently declared Poseidon his enemy."
Lucian immediately looked away. "That's irrelevant to this discussion."
"It is entirely relevant."
Lucian pressed his finger against the table, his jaw tightening. "I am your son. I demand justice. I demand fairness. Reprimand her like you would me"
Hades leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping into something far more dangerous.
"Lucian," he said quietly, "it is because you are my son that I have not already beaten you for half of the insane, suicidal, reality-breaking decisions you've made."
Lucian opened his mouth to argue.
Annabeth sat quietly beside Hades, holding the milkshake in both hands as she watched the exchange unfold. Neither of them noticed the look on her face. There was amusement, yes. Warmth, too. But beneath it was something deeper. Something quieter.
Envy.
She watched the way they argued so freely. The way Lucian challenged him without fear. The way Hades, despite his harsh words and cold demeanor, remained present. Attentive. Involved.
He cared.
It was obvious.
Even if he doesn't often say it out loud.
Annabeth lowered her eyes slightly, taking a small sip from the milkshake.
Deep down, she wished she had that too.
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