Part Two: Hades Blames His Emotions

prompts: stampede ; giant ; bishop ; kitten ; straw ; threat ; flowerpot

"Nico." The word was spoken in a solemn, cool tone.

His son snapped his head up at the familiar voice, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly before they narrowed in annoyance, a scowl making its way onto his face.

"Yes, my lord?" he asked in a mocking voice, his right eyebrow cocked, though the sarcasm would've been lost if you weren't paying attention.

Hades winced internally, the familiar guilt bubbling up within him. In the last few days, he had been threatened by this emotion way more than what was considered healthy for one of his stature. It almost felt as if there were a giant looming behind him, shadowing him with "GUILT" tattooed on its forehead, making sure that Hades could never forget.

He had tried to annihilate this monster, get rid of this emerging threat, because all he could do was think about his son. He had failed, of course, and had ended up feeling even worse. My goodness, he felt so bad, it were as if he'd drowned a basket or two or orphaned kittens. He was the god of Death, yes, but he wasn't heartless enough to drown helpless kittens.

The familiar emotion had been made worse by the ever-absent presence of his son. Of course, they didn't exactly meet all the time, but Hades always sensed Nico's presence whenever he came into the Underworld, which was often—at least once a week. Whether it was to check up on Cerberus, deliver news of the surface world—it was terrible how long news took to reach the Underworld—or just, as young people called it, "hang out", Hades felt an unfathomable sense of comfort from Nico's presence.

Of course, he wrote it off that attachment as being solely because of the fact Nico was his…his bishop, of sorts, handling things about the Underworld that Hades couldn't be bothered to—which was, admittedly, anything that wasn't part of his immediate kingdom—but he knew, way, way, way deep down inside, that it was because he was fond of his son. Proudof him.

Tartarus, he loved his son.

That fact was why he was standing in the middle of Central Park, in the middle of the night, standing next to the very root of his problem—Nico.

"We need to talk," was what Hades said in reply, his voice commanding and firm.

"Talk about what? I mean, what ever is there left to discuss?" Nico plowed on, his voice still controlled and an expression of feigned innocence on his face, though his eyes flashed with anger.

Hades wondered whether it was possible to unleash a stampede of hellhounds on this dogged emotion known as guilt. If not that, maybe he could burn it to a crisp, unleashing his wrath upon that useless feeling.

God up, Hades! he rallied himself on. You are the GOD of the Underworld, one of the most feared deities in Greek mythology. Do not allow a single boy cow you! Do not let him drag you into the trap known as emotions. Stand your ground!

"Why, there is lots left to discuss," Hades countered in the same way. "For example, how was your trip?"

The comment had the desired effect. Nico's façade fell away, cracking into a million pieces. "Oh, it was wonderful," he sneered sarcastically. "She showed me so many damn flowerpots, all of which were planted with straw and wheat and all those other useless grains. Of course, she also gave me my own flowerpot, which is where she put me when she transformed me into a flower from time to time!"

"Ah, how very interesting," Hades quipped, still in his I-am-innocently-asking-questions-without-malicious -intention demeanor.

Nico clenched his jaw, then released it. "What do you want, my lord?" Nico asked, his tone much more controlled.

Hades wished that his son wasn't as gifted in holding grudges as he was.

"I…" The rest of Hades' sentence was lost as he mumbled too low for anyone to hear.

"…What?" Nico asked.

"I…believe that I…" Hades repeated, "I…" The next few words were lost once more as he mumbled too low for anyone to hear.

"You think that you mumblemumble," Nico repeated flatly.

Hades took a deep breath. It was now or never. He had to do this. He took another deep breath, more of a way to calm himself rather than something he needed to live, and opened his mouth again.

"I think that I should be the one…the one…the one…" The words seemed stuck to Hades' throat, refusing to become unstuck. Godsdammit, why couldn't he just getthe words out?

Of course, he knewwhy. His pridewas in the way, standing as a bouncer in his esophagus, refusing to let the apology—because that's what he was mumbling—out.

"Father…are you…all right…?" Nico asked, brows furrowed in concern.

Hades harrumphed and Nico blinked in surprise, leaning back subconsciously. "I'm fine," Hades reassured.

"Okay…then what are you trying to say? Is there something stuck in your throat? Can gods get, like, colds or something?" Nico questioned, for a minute forgetting he was supposed to be never talking to his father again.

"Nico!" Hades announced, his eyes shut to help him concentrate and focus. "I. Apologize. For the Demeter fiasco. I mean, I still believe that you should never aggravate Persephone, but I should not have sent you with that she-devil." He opened his eyes, stared down upon his flabbergasted son, and scowled. "There. I said it. Don't expect me to repeat it."

Nico seemed unable to form a coherent sentence. "You're…you're…you're, uh, sorry? As in, sorry for sending me with Demeter?" he finally got out.

Hades thanked the gods—your welcome, he replied to himself just as quickly with a smug thought—that he didn't have blood that made it possible to blush, because he would've probably been blushing like a pathetic, doe-eyed schoolgirl. "Yes," he said amidst a lot of throat-clearing, and he averted his eyes to stare at the fascinating oak to his left. "I am."

"Oh," was all Nico said, and then a faint spread of pink filled his cheeks. "I'm…uh…sorry—" he cut off his apology abruptly, unable to go on "—I guess I could've toned down the needling-Persephone thing a bit as well. Even though what you did was cruel," he said, staring to his left and staring at the marvelous willow tree that was standing there.

"Yes. We're settled, then?" Hades questioned, still averting his eyes, marveling at the downright beautiful bark patterns on the oak.

"Yes," Nico replied, talking to the willow tree, his cheeks still tinged with pink.

"Good." Hades harrumphed in a self-conscious manner. "Will I…will we expect you for supper tomorrow night?" he asked, his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes stillaverted.

Nico tore his gaze from the tree and instead settled on his father with wide, surprised eyes. "Um, yeah. Sure," he said quickly, and then added, "if I don't, y'know, have plans or anything…" His gaze rested on the ground.

Hades tilted his head toward the boy, his lips twitching imperceptibly before he gathered himself. "Very well, then. I shall…see you tomorrow?"

Nico raised his head and met his father's gaze, a small curve to his lips. "Sure." His father's intent gaze made him look away again.

"I'll be…going now. I have to deal with…with, uh, the thing .That needed to be dealt with," Hades invented. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, father," Nico said, this time in a much warmer tone than how he'd said it last time.

Hades nodded at his boy once more and then teleported out of Central Park in a shroud of shadows, leaving Nico with a small, bemused smile on his face.