A/N: everyone go check out my new story "Ghost" please, and tell me what you think about it when you do! #shameless #self #promo
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Luke fell asleep just an hour after their conversation ended. The ocean rocked the boat, which seemed to help him pass out as he sprawled on the bench, his expression easy and unguarded. His lips are parted, his hair a blonde mess. His skin is tanned from the sun, looking soft but muscular in his sleep.

Michael, on the other hand, has been wide awake. Whatever wonders the ocean does for Luke, it certainly does not do for Michael. He sits with his hands wrapped around his knees, staring out at the water and trying to focus on not being sick. He glances at Luke's sleeping form every once in awhile, wondering how one can sleep through rocky waters and frothing waves.

Michael has to stay up anyway, though, because he's the one who has to direct the boat to the Underworld. Luke's presence helps the water stay clear, although it doesn't necessarily help to smooth the waves. Michael has started to get a headache.

He's glad when he senses the coordinates of the Underworld entrance coming near. He leaps to his feet and snaps his fingers in Calum and Ashton's direction. They both looked up.

"We're coming up to the entrance. We need to be ready," says Michael. He then looks down toward Luke, who still lays unconscious on the bench. Michael finds himself reluctant to wake him up. Slowly, he carefully touches his shoulder and shakes it.

Luke's blue eyes open groggily, and a yawn escapes his mouth. "Where are we?" he asks, and then he stills. "Oh. We're at the Underworld entrance."

Michael had forgotten momentarily that Luke could detect water coordinates, and blinks at him for a few moments before nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, we have to anchor the boat."

Luke drops the anchor. Ashton and Calum uses the oars to stop the boat from moving any further. Water laps at the sides of the boat, just the distant sound of ocean waves sounding in the air.

Ashton hugs his arms around himself. "Am I the only one nervous? I feel like I'm the only one nervous."

Calum knit his eyebrows together. "Just be respectful to Hades and you should be fine."

Michael glances at them. "It's really not that bad of a place. I don't know why the Underworld has such bad of a reputation."

When nobody says anything in response, Michael narrows his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest, sulking as he stares down into the murky water. He accepted long ago that the Lord of the Dead was his father. He made himself look the part-- he wore black, he surrounded himself with darkness and isolation. He ignored the glares of other demigods and heroes and creatures in the Greek world. He became a master at guarded expressions. But still, even now, he can't figure out why Hades children have such a prejudice against them. He doesn't see how being able to talk to the dead is any more frightening than being able to create tidal waves or lightning to strike the earth.

Michael just doesn't understand.

He glances at Luke, who quickly looks away. Luke doesn't seem to look at him in quite that way, although Michael can tell Luke doesn't trust him all the way. He hopes its because of simple trust issues than the deeper concern of Michael as Death's child. For some reason, the thought of Luke turning his nose up to Michael's blood makes his chest ache.

Beneath them, the water begins to churn. This time, Michael doesn't leap back from the edge. Instead he hovers over it, one finger trailing on the surface of the water. Luke looks slightly frightened, while Calum and Ashton widen their eyes in awe. A boat, smaller than theirs and definitely less impressive, surfaces from the water, bobbing on the top for a few moments as water drips down the side of the boat. Inside sits a preteen boy with red scratches covering his face, scraggly hair, and a mouth full of braces. He looks at them with brown, almost black, eyes and blinks.

"The name's Charon. Have you got your obolus coins?" says the boy. "Because if not, this is going to be much more complicated."

Michael rummages through his backpack for the pile of coins his father gave him a while back. Meanwhile, Charon blinks at them as though coming out of a haze.

"Wait a minute," he says. "None of you are dead."

Ashton replies, "Dead on the inside counts, too."

Charon looks skeptical. He sits in his tiny rowboat and uncomfortably looks down into the water. "Uh... just between me and you all, normally when people walk into the Underworld alive, they don't ever walk back out. It's a place of death."

"I know," says Michael. In his hands, he holds out four obolus coins. "But I'm Hades' son. We're on a quest and I need to see him. Regarding Persephone."

Charon's eyes widened. He reached out and snatched the coins from Michael's hand. "You know about that?" he hisses. He examines the coins and then drops them in his pocket. "Fine. I'll let you all in. Only because of you, son of Hades. I apologize for not recognizing you earlier."

Michael shrugs, and then realizes he still has Luke's green jacket around his shoulders. He swiftly pulls it off and hands it over to the blonde boy, who takes it with a smile.

"Are you still cold?" Luke asks, hesitantly putting it back on. Michael's stomach did a backflip.

"No. I'm fine."

Charon pulled a piece of gum out of his pocket and started chewing. "Well, are you gonna sit there all day? Get in."

Michael is the first to climb in, taking the brave spot beside Charon, who smells like a mix of blood and bubblegum and hair gel. Luke takes the center bench. Calum and Ashton squeeze together on the back.

"Hold your breath," says Charon dully, and the boat begins to sink.

Michael grips onto the edges of the rowboat, squeezing his eyes shut. He wishes there was a different entrance, preferably on land, but Michael takes what he can get. Ashton and Calum both gulp down air. Luke doesn't, however, and as the boat plunges into the water, Luke breathes as easily as if it were oxygen.

Streaks of blue and black water is all Michael is able to see as the boat sinks deep into the ocean. He feels slick fish rub against his arm, the flick of a fin against his cheek. Michael's cheeks are swollen with air, his face turning slightly blue. He's about to cough when the boat slips through the entrance to the Underworld, a slick, algae covered black cave. The moment they slip through, the water breaks around them, and Michael breathes in air. He can hear Calum and Ashton coughing viciously behind him, and the only person perfectly in good lung-health is Luke. He sits, perfectly dry, in his middle row, a look of slight discomfort on his face as everyone around him grimaces, soaking wet.

Charon starts rowing them down the river. Luke locks eyes with Michael, who sits now shivering and glowering. He begins shrugging off his jacket again.

"Don't," Michael demands, and Luke sheepishly slips it back on. He avoids looking at him for a couple moments.

Charon rows to the end of the river and then banks it at the side. Above him on the wall, a red light flashes. He frowns and lets out a groan.

"Get out. I've got more people to pick up. Hopefully these people will actually be dead."

The four of them climb out of the boat and watch Charon row himself back towards the entrance, dripping wet. Ashton looks around him, his hazel eyes looking darker in the dim light of the entrance. Calum looks slightly intrigued.

"I've always wondered what the Underworld was like," he says lightly, looking around him in awe. Michael looks up. There is nothing particularly fascinating about the Underworld entrance. It's nothing but a dark cave, a smooth, dark river in the center. It shimmers with energy, black and glistening.

"Well, this is it," Michael says awkwardly. He begins walking toward the gaping opening in the back which leads deeper into the Underworld. His shoes squeak from water on the slick ground. "Where I grew up."

Luke looks sideways at him. "I can't believe you grew up here."

Michael is slightly offended. "Why do you say it like that?"

"Like what?"

"As though it's a bad thing," Michael says. Luke doesn't seem to know what to say for a second. He shakes his head, parting his lips to say something but closing them soon afterward.

Finally he says, "I'm not saying it's a bad thing. It's just not very... I don't know. Home-like. Everything is so dark. And it smells like blood."

Michael isn't sure why he cracked. But he spins on his heel and steps like a ghost in front of Luke, who nearly slips to avoid running into him. "I'm dark, Luke. I smell like blood. This is my home and it always will be." He speaks generally to the three of them now, turning away from just Luke. "If you all stop secretly despising me behind my back, we could actually get this quest finished."

Calum says meekly, "We're not secretly despising you--"

"You more than anyone, Calum. You've been raised in this world just like I have," Michael says coldly. The temperature of the air seems to drop a few degrees. "Don't tell me people don't see children of Hades differently. Don't tell me that if I walked into your little house of demigods, that I wouldn't be stared at and glared at and completely ignored. I wouldn't be welcome. Don't tell me that wouldn't happen."

Calum knows Michael is right. He doesn't say anything, just breathing deeply and silently.

Michael's eyes loose the anger as abruptly as they had gotten it. He turns slowly away from the three of them, the temperature dropping a little more. He looks down and sees ice spread away from his footsteps. He takes a deep breath. Freezing the entrance to the Underworld won't help Hades' evidently bad mood. "That's what I thought," Michael says softly.

Michael leads them to the entrance in the back, his shoes squeaking. As he ducks through the door, he listens to the three boys following silently behind him, not uttering a word. That is, until--

"Holy shit!" Ashton swears, and Michael sees him a second before he rest of them do. A massive black figure moves from the darkness, all muscle and bones and snarling teeth coming from three heads. The dog growls low in his throat, its three heads swiveling to look at the four of them individually. Drool drips from one of their mouths and lands in a slobbery pile on Ashton's forearm. "Oh, for fuck's sake."

Cerberus sniffs them hesitantly, his big, black noses twitching, and Michael knows he smells the blood in them, the pumping hearts. Luke starts when Cerberus starts barking, bone-shakingly loud, and the three boys other than Michael slap their hands over their ears. From deeper in the darkness, he hears the skeleton guards' chains rattle as they stand. Michael remembers their faces. They're not technically skeletons, but close enough to them that it's chilling to see. Taut skin drawn over white faces, hipbones and ribs jutting out unhealthily. People who did bad things and got this as their punishment. Listening to Cerberus for any signs of living down in the house of death.

Michael puts out his hand. "Here, buddy. Smell my hand."

The three boys watch as all three heads turn towards Michael's small, dark body. Their noses are each the size of Michael's entire face. One of them snaps at his hand and Michael yanks it back just in time. "No, boy," he scolds. Tentatively, he holds it out again.

This time, one of the heads presses their nose into Michael's palm. Michael feels the smooth, wet texture of the dog's familiar nose, and after a second, Cerberus whines and sits down on its haunches. Three big, pink tongues loll out of their mouths lazily.

"Good boy," says Michael gently, patting the massive side of the black hellhound's body. The dog pants in response.

Michael steps past the hellhound and moves deeper into the Underworld. He recognizes the skeleton guards, who have settled back in their chairs now that the threat is seemingly over. Their faces are void of expression or consciousness, and Michael hears Ashton suck in a breath at the sight of them. Michael simply walks past and slips through toward a door on the other side of the hall. He pauses with his hand on the doorknob.

"This is my father's palace," says Michael. "Be kind."

The boys just blink back at him, and Michael opens the door slowly. 

The room is musky and dark. Michael breathes in the familiar scent easily, stepping into the room and holding the door open for the other three. In the center of the room is a throne, grand and made of smooth black metal. Beside it is a slightly smaller throne. Gold, with rose trimmed edges and a bouquet of flowers sitting in the cushioned center. It remains empty, although the darker and larger one is filled with a hunched over figure, pale and slight with a shock of long black hair curling around his jaw.

Hades looks up and his eyes fall upon his son. Despite his clear sorrow, a smooth smile covers his face.

"Michael," he says. His voice drips with misery. "My favorite son."

Michael smiles shyly and walks toward him. "You're only son."

"Minor details, minor details." Hades reaches over and plucks a flower from the bouquet and hands it to Michael's outstretched hand. Michael tucks it behind his ear with pale fingers. He looks up at his father's face. Hades is never usually happy looking. His face is thin and angular and pale, with dark shadows and spidery veins peeking through the thin skin of his temples. He always looks as though someone just died, because well, they had. You can only be so happy when you've been banished from your family all for speaking your own mind, destined to rule the dead by yourself for eternity.

Hades makes the most of it. And besides, he rules the dead, but he doesn't do it alone. Hades looks beside him to his empty golden throne full of flowers. A sigh escapes his lips.

"I expect you know what has happened," Hades says to his son. Michael bows his head and nods. Hades grimaces. "All my communication with you and the rest of the world has been severed. I suspect it is the same up in Olympus. I don't know who kidnapped her, Michael. But I can't leave this spot."

Michael feels the pit in his chest grow. He looks at Persephone's throne, feels her flower behind his ear. He remembers so many memories growing up. Being left in Charon's boat as an infant, this was his childhood home. He played with flowers in Hades' lap. He danced with ghosts of people who had passed, threw balls for Cerberus and played tricks on the skeleton guards. None of it had ever scared him. He was the only living child in the Underworld. Servants and guards loved him. They were his family. The hellhound was his best friend. And Persephone became a mother to him and Hades was a dark figure who became a loving father.

Hades helped him learn to use his powers, how to master them, and when he was eleven, Hades finally allowed Michael to pack a backpack and venture out into the world. There was an ocean, and trees, and air that didn't smell like blood but air that smelled of grass and water. He lived in the wild, in the open air and the rolling hills. He has nothing but good memories of the Underworld and his time spent outside of it. But Hades' house will always be his home.

Michael swallows thickly and blinks back tears. "That's why we're here, Dad. The four of us have been sent on a quest to free her."

Hades' eyes slip past Michael and to the three boys in the back. His eyes harden a little. "I didn't realize they were friends. I was going to have them sit in the Chair of Forgetfulness."

Michael chokes. "No-- don't. They're, well, not friends really, but... we're working together." He fiddles nervously with the flower in his hair.

Hades eyes the boys skeptically, and then shrugs. "Whatever." He gestures the boys toward him. The three of them stumble forward until they stand beside Michael. Michael can feel Luke's presence close beside him. "It is a group of monsters and figures who have kidnapped Persephone. I'm sure of it. I believe the head creature, who planned all of this, is Arachne."

"Arachne?" Calum echoes. Hades' eyes turn on him.

"Yes, son of Athena," Hades says coldly. Michael realizes for a moment how similar he often sounds like his father. "It was your mother who turned Arachne into a monstrous creature. Out of jealousy and spite. A weaving contest, for gods' sake."

Calum furrows his eyebrows and looks at his loafers. "Arachne boasted."

"And Athena's punishment for a bit of bragging was stripping her of her humanity?" Hades says. He then sits back in his chair. "Look, I just don't understand the way some of these Olympian gods and goddesses work. I feel like the only sane one sometimes, you know?"

"Where can we find her?" Luke speaks up. "Arachne, I mean."

Hades looks him over. "I wish I could tell you, son of the sea. My knowledge only goes so far." He turns to his son. "I have to put my trust in you, Michael. Persephone has been kidnapped against her will. I need you to bring her back to me. To us."

Ashton twists his lips. "Didn't you-- Lord Hades, sir-- kidnap Persephone yourself?"

Hades slams his hand against the arm of his throne. Flames flicker in their candles. Ashton looks startled and mildly frightened as Hades answers.

"Ignorant fools. That is a myth. Something the guys in Olympus say to try and make me look bad. They don't like us Underworlders. They'll twist stories until we're the villains every time," Hades growls.

Then he leans forward again. "I didn't kidnap Persephone. I was in my chariot while she was picking flowers at her mother's farm. She was intrigued by it. She begged to be brought with me to the Underworld. She begged to eat the pomegranate seeds so Demeter would have no choice but to allow her to stay, even for just a little while."

Hades sits back. "She loves to rule, Persephone does. I've never had a taste for it. She's usually the one running things around here. You arrogant demigods think everything is my fault, when perhaps, just maybe, we're not as bad as you all think we are."

It is practically the same speech Michael gave to them a few minutes beforehand, and the three boys look shaken to the core, their face drenched with guilt. Ashton becomes fixated on his tennis shoes. Calum shifts awkwardly.

"Anyway," Hades says, and turns back to Michael. "I believe in you, son. Bring her back."

Michael felt the weight of the responsibility crushing on his shoulders, but he nods. Hades offers his hand, and Michael takes it. He wraps his arms around Hades' broad shoulders, his father patting his back. They are both skinny and pale, dark hair and slightly too long hair. Michael shuts his eyes and sniffles before pulling away. He stares at his father's sorrowful, angular face for a moment more before turning around, wiping tears angrily from his cheeks.

"Come on," he says to the others. "Let's go."

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A/N: A little insight into Michael's mind and all that.

There has been a lot of theories and myths that Persephone was never kidnapped by Hades, that Persephone chose this life on her own. I chose this myth specifically because I like thinking of Persephone as the Honorary Queen of Hell lmao

Anyway. What do you think of the characters? Ashton and Calum? Luke and Michael?

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed. Please vote and comment and tell me your thoughts!

I love you to the moon. Bye