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To be completely honest, Hades never really thought he would have children.
Yes, he’d humor the question when nosy relatives sipped their drinks and stared down at him from the tips of their crooked noses. He knew that no matter what answer he supplied, prying whispers would still be swapped in the corners of galas and country clubs wherever he went.
The man beat it out of him, probably for the best he doesn’t screw up another generation.
He hasn’t even brought a girl in years, it just makes you wonder if girls are in the picture at all…
Maybe he’s just destined to be a hermit.
To be alone.
And Hades was fine with it. Really. He was.
The whispers died down a little when he first got with Minthe but as the blatant animosity and coldness grew between them, they started back up with a fury that Hades couldn’t simply ignore. That maybe she had a point to be cross with him so publicly, they mused over champagne and unwanted opinions. He was always so sweet with Rhea in public, all smiles and glamour. Who's to say that they aren’t strikingly alike, in more ways than one?
These whispers… These whispers led to more empty bottles of scotch and therapy sessions than he would like to admit, but it happened all the same. Hades decided that his life just simply read as a Greek tragedy, a man doomed to live in misery for the rest of his life, in all the aspects of his life. Parentage, Upbringing, Romance…
Family.
But then, something changed.
More specifically, someone changed his life.
Persephone, with soft hands and a determination in which Hades had never seen matched, had single handedly tugged him out of the grave in which he had dug himself. She pulled him out from the cracked soil that had rested upon him for so long that he was blinded by all the light she brought with her. Her smile, her laughter, the way she perfectly roll her “r”s as she casually conversed with her mother in the low light of that little kitchen in a two bedroom house that lived on a street Hades never thought he would find himself.
She was not perfect, no; that would be an insult to all the work she has done to work around her inherent flaws and shortcomings, more done in twenty four years than he had begun to do in his forty three.
But she was damn near close in his eyes.
This near flawlessness was only heightened in the candlelight glow of their bedroom this night, well, morning really. But Hades had no want to wrestle with the concept of time once more, especially not right now.
Persephone was always gorgeous in his eyes, that was a given. He thought it on quiet Sunday mornings when she was still fast asleep, eyes fluttering with dreams as a snore laced her breath, the silken wrap around her head catching the light pouring through the windows. He thought it when she was dressed in lace and pearls, the diamonds he gifted her dripping from her ears and fingers, a pastel pink fur wrapped around her shoulders as she offers a hand for him to lead her into a dance. He thought it when she was in loose blouses and pencil skirts, buried in work she loved and so determined that her tongue slightly stuck outside her mouth in concentration.
But none of that had anything on this.
Persephone, his wife, his beautiful wife, was currently laying in their stripped down bed, her still swollen stomach covered by the Mets jersey she had stolen from him in the later days of her pregnancy (not that he could do anything to stop her). Her hair was a crown of briar, tangled and slightly matted from sweat, but a halo in the dim light of flickering candles. She was surrounded by pillows supporting her, keeping her from falling flat completely in her exhaustion, large absorbent pads underneath her to catch any mess that might happen.
What really made this scene, as frantic and slovenly it seemed, was the undeniable, tranquil peace brought by the tiny, oh so little baby in her arms. The most beautiful newborn he had ever seen, her sweet, wrinkled face all drawn up as she curled against her mother’s chest in search of the heartbeat she knew so well, the most familiar metronome.
His daughter ( Dear Lord, he has a daughter ) was born with pale patches scattered across her body, originally a point of worry that was quickly soothed by the assurance that one of Demeter’s aunts had the condition, a recessive trait that just happened to appear in his little Melinoë. Melinoë Antaea Olympus. Born six pounds and seven ounces, Hades didn’t know his heart could be split and given to such a little thing so easily but to be fair, he had never been a parent before. But while his daughter had one piece of his heart, his firstborn son had the other.
Aidoneus (Persephone had insisted) Zagreus Olympus was currently curled up to his father’s chest, Hades gently holding the six pound baby in the crook of his left elbow, eyes heavy lidded with desperately needed sleep but the man refused. Both Demeter and Persephone were sleeping in the hours after the birth, Hades keeping a vigilant watch over his new family so they could rest peacefully. Well, most of them anyways.
Hades felt a slight stirring his arms, wintery eyes flicking down to watch his son try to stretch, only to be held back by his swaddle which lead him to accept defeat and settle back into his father’s arms. Hades expected the babe to go back to sleep but was surprised when Zagreus had cracked his eyes open up at him, unfocused and hazy as all newborns’ eyes are. It was still enough to make Hades’ breath catch in his chest. A grin spread across the man’s face.
“Hello, Zagreus.”
Hades didn’t expect the rasp of disuse in his voice but to be fair it had been… Two, maybe three? Hours since things had settled down after the birth. He guesses that he hasn’t had much need for talking since then, but he’s more than happy to strike up conversation with his son, even if he seems less than riveted.
“Are you staying up to keep your old Baba company?”
Hades received a few lazy lip smacks in return.
“I don’t know when your Mama and your sister are going to wake up , you’re just ahead of the curve aren’t ya? I can keep you company until they do, but I’ll warn you, I’m horrible at small talk.”
Hades paused, looking over his son once more. His eyes flickered over to his girls laying on the bed, then back to his son. He settled in deeper into his chair, holding his son a little tighter as his lips became tightened with soon spoken secrets, like a sinner in a confessional.
“I feel like I need to be honest with you, Zagreus. A man to man talk. Can I do that?”
A slow blink of small eyelids.
“Zagreus, when me and your Mama found out that one of you two was going to be a girl, I was relieved. I had an idea of how I was going to handle a daughter. But when they said we were also going to have a son…”
A lick of his lips.
“Well, I was scared. Really scared. I… I thought that if I had a son, I would be too scared of being like… Like my father, that I couldn’t see you but instead, all my insecurities projected onto you. That you would never have a fighting chance with me as a father. But, now that you’re here… All I can see is you. This little being filled with all this potential and love that you don’t even understand yet. It’s all inside you, and I can’t, couldn't stop myself from loving you if I tried.”
Hades watched his son yawn with his tear-blurred eyes, some finally escaping with a blink, falling down to the rumpled collar of his button up. He can only imagine how foolish he looks right now—a forty six year old man crying over a baby at five o’clock in the morning. He smiles anyway. Gently, his left hand supporting Zagreus’ neck and his right the rest of the baby’s body, he raised his son up until his little forehead touched his lips, pressing a kiss to the baby’s crown.
“Θα είσαι πάντα το αγόρι μου. Πάντα,” he murmured.
The moment was cut short by the sound of Melinoë letting out a short wail, followed by a longer one which jolted her sleeping mother awake. It seemed that someone was hungry, and she wasn’t taking no for an answer, not that poor Persephone could deny her anyways. Hades began to get up to help her but Persephone waved him away, not wanting to be coddled in this very moment. She groaned and hissed through her teeth as she readjusted herself to a sitting position, shifting her daughter into the position Demeter taught her for nursing. She began unbuttoning the Mets’ jersey with a sleepy hand, only to be greeted with more hiccuping sobs from her daughter.
“No te preocupes, Baby girl, no te preocupes.” Persephone muttered, but the situation worsened as Zagreus decided that one baby crying simply wasn’t enough and joined his sister in a chorus of sobbing. Hades felt himself begin to fluster, gently (panickedly) trying to rock his son back to sleep only to have Persephone shake her head.
“He probably wants to eat too, give him to me,” she spoke, voice gravelly due to her earlier screaming and sleep. She simply extended her free arm to Hades, too tired and short tempered to do anything more than that. Luckily for her, her husband wasn’t one to argue. Hades leaned over and handed the baby to Persephone, watching how she instinctively re-positioned herself and their daughter to accommodate the new addition of Zagreus. It was only a matter of moments before the smaller Aidoneus latched onto his mother, leaving the room blissfully quiet.
Hades could be little more than in awe as he watched his wife look down upon their children, her tired, strong eyes filled with a love that he knew he could never understand. But then again, he loved them just the same in his own way. Perhaps that was just the way of mothers and fathers. He leaned over to place a kiss on Persephone’s shoulder, only to be stuck there when she thunked the side of her temple to his crown. A tired mama is still tired, he supposed with a chuckle. He turned his head slightly to look down at his children, his heart inflating with that warm, engulfing sensation of love all over again.
For a moment, he thought of the fact that his father had almost taken this away from him, the opportunity to be a father, to know how to love a son. But, something rang true in the dim glow of that candlelit room. If there was anything Cronus had passed down to him, anything good at all, it was this: a chance to prove to an Olympus that a hand should be gentle, and a voice should be kind; that there was love to be had, and he would be the one to give it.