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“Don’t burn your tongue.”
Roxas tilts his head back to watch Axel step up onto the ledge of the clocktower where Roxas rests, alone, legs dangling, the weight of his fur trimmed boots reminding him of his Organization ones more than he would like.
Axel holds out a paper cup, steam curling from its lip, and Roxas reaches out to accept it, cupping his bare hands around the ridged cardboard and feeling them sting pleasantly from the shock of warmth. He waits until Axel is nestled beside him, their legs pressed together, perfectly aligned before he tilts his head to look up at Axel again and offers a soft, apologetic sort of grin.
“I can think of better ways to do that.”
Axel laughs softly and leans forward. His lips ghost Roxas’, his breath chocolatey sweet like the drinks they hold, and then he pulls back and traces a fingertip over Roxas’ lips instead. “Ah, ah, ah. First you gotta tell me what you’re hiding from all by your lonesome up here.”
Roxas blows air up slowly, mussing his bangs. He turns to stare out at the seemingly endless skyline. A canvas of ocean blue stretched beyond the city and flecked with white stars, almost ink black at the edges, burning like an ember where it touches the foothills on the horizon.
Their eyes stray down, to rooftops capped with snow like fields of mountains which glitter and catch the strings of soft golden lights trimming rain gutters. In the streets, clusters that in the dark look more like walking coats than people waltz around each other, meandering. Once familiar storefronts hold strange overbright displays. The corner the sea salt ice cream cart once occupied lies shadowy and vacant, an empty patch of snow hiding even its worn tire prints as if, like an Organization member, it meant to conceal it had ever been there at all.
“Just…” Roxas inhales and exhales the steaming hot chocolate. Pleasant, but not familiar, he thinks. Not what the clocktower is supposed to smell like. “Taking it all in.”
Axel sips and stares out himself. A smile tugs his lip and there’s awe in his voice, “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Hm,” Roxas considers agreeing, but can already see Axel’s thin eyebrows lifting, “I don’t know. It’s… different. I’ve only been gone a few months and the whole world is different than it was before: the weather, the food, the decorations, the…”
“Time of the sunset?”
Axel is kidding but Roxas nods.
Roxas has only been back from his most recent mission for a couple of hours. It had taken weeks longer than most. The kingdom council, formed after Sora’s return and comprised of all the keyblade wielders who wished to join, had sent him to Atlantica to help the coral choral choir practice for its winter performance after one of the tenors had been put on vocal rest. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the Heartless the Atlantica rep claimed were lurking about, but Isa had warned he likely wouldn’t. Still, as one of the few worlds whose leaders are aware of keyblade wielders, Isa had explained that they are trying to get back in their good graces after some previous “shall we say misunderstandings?”
It had been relaxing, but his fire wielder boyfriend hadn’t been able to come, and his gummi phone had shoddy reception under the sea, so it had gotten lonely, especially seeing the large, close-knit merfamilies like King Triton and his daughters and grandchildren. It made him miss Axel, Sora, Xion, Hayner and the gang… at his lowest point, even Seifer.
“I, just, before…” Roxas wishes he had the words to explain the chill lingering in his chest despite his warm drink, but finds comfort in knowing Axel tends to understand even when the words aren’t right. “It’s stupid, but it felt like mine.”
Axel looks at him, and Roxas’ heart flutters to see the soft trace of amazement, the warmth of affection.
“It’s not stupid, Roxas.” Axel elbows him, his bare hand gesturing out at the snowy roofs. Roxas is colder just looking at his uncovered, pale skin. “You didn’t have winter in your data Twilight Town, huh?”
Roxas shakes his head. “Never made it that far, I guess.”
Axel laughs abruptly, and Roxas tilts his head to face him, cocks a brow.
“You really are a sweet summer child.”
Roxas huffs, lip jutting in a pout, “I can and will put my keyblade in your spleen.”
“A fair point.”
Axel laughs, and Roxas is reminded of the bells on the horse drawn carriage he had seen earlier, still traipsing the square below now.
“Most every world has a winter, Roxas. But summer will come again. You just gotta be patient and, I think if you give it a shot, you’ll learn there’s a lot to love, despite the bitter, bitter cold.” Axel looks so at peace with it all as he reaches to wrap his arms around Roxas shoulders and draw him closer to his chest that Roxas wants to believe him.
“Yeah, maybe. Bitter cold’s not all bad. Not when I’ve got you right here.”
A soft vibration from Axel’s pocket tickles Roxas’ shoulder blade and draws a wry smile and an exasperated chuckle from Axel as he retrieves his sleek black modified gummi phone.
“You know what hasn’t changed?”
“Hm?”
“When your little friends can’t get ahold of you, they blow up my phone like it’s the end of times.”
A little divot appears between Roxas’ eyebrows. He speaks carefully, “Our friends.”
Axel only laughs as he sets aside his drink and then taps and scrolls at the screen he holds in Roxas’ lap. “Eh. I’d claim a couple of ‘em.” He tilts the device so Roxas can see the 15 missed messages, though Roxas doubts they are all his fault.
“Here, listen to this. Hayner. Hey man, you down to snowboard this weekend? Olette. Christmas cookie baking tomorrow morning 10 sharp at Remy’s bistro! Sous chefs and taste testers welcome!! Xion. Roxas, heard you’re back from the deep blue sea! Six shells and fish emojis. Caroling and ice skating tomorrow with a few friends from school, you in?
“Pence. Mamma Hamada found out you don’t have any folks in town and wanted to know if you and Lea are up for a good old-fashioned awkward family Christmas dinner. RSVP ASAP PLZ —Oh. Please.”
Axel glances up, expectant, but Roxas hunches his shoulders and sinks further back against Axel’s chest, burrowing his head under his chin although with the inches he’s put on the past year, he doesn’t fit as well as he once did.
Roxas doesn’t know what to say, how to explain, and his chest warms when Axel’s expression shifts and his arms squeeze around him, lips pressing briefly into his hair before he murmurs, voice decidedly less lilting, “And you don’t know what any of those words mean, do you?”
Roxas shakes his head against Axel’s chest. “I ate seaweed and fish for a month straight. When I got back on land I fell over because I wasn’t used to having feet any more. I love seeing new worlds, don’t get me wrong, but, I was ready to get back to something normal.” Roxas doesn’t like to mewl and complain but as starlight and exhaustion mingle and make his eyelids heavy and his mind slow, and as Axel wraps him so securely, he can’t seem to help it, doesn’t want to hide it.
More warm, soft kisses press against Roxas’ jaw and he chuckles and sighs. “Is that your solution for everything, Axel?”
“Look, I may not know how to skateboard on snow, but,” he wiggles the cell phone, “we did a lot of these on RG growing up, and what I haven’t done, I’m game to try. What do you say?” Another peck on the cheek. His green eyes are bright and eager, seeming to glow from within even in the dark. “How about it? Whatever winter tradition you want, we’ll do it together. One time, limited time offer.”
Roxas leans back and presses their lips together firmly, basking in the warm bubble Axel creates, like being home snug in their apartment anywhere they go.
Once they separate, his brow furrows again, eyes searching, calculating. “Even if you hate it?” he asks softly.
Axel nods, enthused. “Even if I hate it. Even if you want me to wear the most horrendous holiday sweater I’ve ever laid eyes on and everyone we pass walking down the street stops me to tell me so.”
“Okay.” Roxas laughs but pauses long enough that Axel’s eyes narrow even before he says, “I want to have one of those awkward family dinners you talked about.”
“With Pence’s folks? Really?” Axel sounds put out. “You can do that any time. I mean, it was kind of ‘em to offer, but I gotta say, I was not expecting…” Axel freezes, arms tensing, puzzling it out further, signaling he’s realized his calculation was incorrect.
“Not with Pence’s folks.” Roxas turns in Axel’s arms until they’re facing each other, reaches to squeeze Axel’s bare hand with his gloved one. “With you. With your parents. I want to meet them. I think it’s time.”
Axel blinks, jaw slack, eyes distant. “My parents?”
Roxas imagines his thoughts have drifted to the ones who had raised him. He can still practically hear Axel telling him the first time, misty-eyed, probably a little drunk, curled up on someone’s couch, not that long after the last battle of Kingdom Hearts.
Growing up, Isa’s family was the only one I ever had. They took me in, brought me up, his parents and his sisters were my parents and my sisters, but when Radiant Garden fell, they were gone with it, and when Radiant Garden came back, Roxas, it wasn’t like some of those fairy tale worlds you’ve seen. Nobody came back with it.
Roxas squeezes Axel’s hand tighter, his chest flooding with cold again.
“Knowing the two of you, Isa’s parents must have been forces of nature themselves.”
“But they weren’t who you meant, were they? You want to meet my birth parents.” Axel’s face is taut, still, the kind that he had seen shift in an instant to rage or joy, the kind that tells Roxas he’s playing with fire. “Roxas. You know who they are.”
Roxas laughs, but it’s dry and without feeling. “Kinda hard to forget.”
“Then you know why that’s not a good idea.” The hand squeezing back around Roxas’ is tighter and hotter than usual.
But Roxas doesn’t want to back down. He’s been meaning to bring this up for too long. It stings how tight-lipped Axel has been about the whole ordeal, to everyone, he knows, but especially to Roxas, who Axel has promised so many times he was done keeping secrets from. Roxas tries not to take it personally.
He understands to some degree. After meeting Sora, Ventus, Vanitas. After being stuck with the Organization. Stuck in a sim. Family isn’t always a walk in the park. But he wants Axel to let him in, chaos and all.
“You told me on the phone just yesterday your mom invited you over for a little dinner party with a few family and friends the week of Christmas. Wouldn’t that be the perfect time?”
Axel’s wincing like he regrets telling Roxas about it, shaking his head like he’s already made up his mind. “This is not at all what I had in mind, Roxas. They’re not, well, my father, he’s not exactly a good guy, you know?” His gestures are sweeping but vague, a little frantic. “He’s a work in progress, emphasis on the piece of work, he’s… look, I don’t even think Sora likes the guy.”
Damn. Roxas pauses a second, considering if he’s going to keep pushing this. Axel seems earnest, kind, despite the rejection, but Roxas isn’t going to let him out of it. Not this time.
“You like him.”
“Well, yes,” a quick, indulgent smile appears on thin pink lips. Axel’s eyes dart to the side, lost in a memory. He sighs a puff of white like smoke. “More than I probably should, all things considered.”
“Then I’ll like him, too,” Roxas insists. “Life’s not all good guys and bad guys, right?” That’s why they let Xigbar and Demyx crash on their couch sometimes despite the fugitive war criminal status they’ve been voted by the majority of the kingdom council for past crimes. “I mean, I like you.”
The indulgent smile stays on Axel’s lips, spreads. “I like you too, Roxas. Although, I’ll have you know I’m on my way to becoming a hotshot master keyblade wielder, the most heroic of heroes, once I can convince Aqua to let me take the test again.”
Roxas can’t help but cackle, though it gets him an elbow nudge in the ribs. “Eight’s your lucky number, right?”
“This’ll be more like ten or eleven,” Axel allows, “but now I’m just proving your point instead of mine, so I think I’ll distract you.” Axel kisses him again, slow, lingering, tasting sweet and warm.
Roxas cups his cheek and whispers, “Will you think about it?” His eyes are wide with concern and earnestness, and Axel looks pained.
“You’re a very difficult person to say no to.” Axel’s head tilts, eyes shutting, arm stretching to rub at the back of his neck. Finally, his eyes open. “Okay, I’ll think about it, but only because it’s you. And only if you give all the winter and holiday stuff a fighting chance. Snowboarding, baking, sweaters… the whole nine yards. Deal?”
Axel holds out his bare hand again, and Roxas seizes it immediately. He’ll try whatever new and strange customs Axel and his friends want him to if Axel will include him in this strange, new, shadowy part of his life.
“Deal.”
“Oh, damn it,” Axel drops Roxas’ hands as if Roxas is the one with skin like an oven burner, “now I sound just like him.”
“Him?”
Axel rolls his eyes and kicks the heel of his boot against the edge of the clocktower, jerking his head downward. “My father. Hades. King of the Underworld.”
* *
Two weeks, seven hot chocolates, and a partridge in a pear tree later, just as Axel had prophesized, Roxas, in fulfilling his end of the deal by doing as many festive activities as he and Axel could possibly jam in, has had a strong change of heart about winter and all of its holidays and traditions.
Axel, not one to back down from a promise, or at least not where Roxas is concerned, scored him an invite from his mother and, the day of, portals them into the Underworld. Roxas can tell Axel’s more stressed than he looks about the occasion because it takes him four tries to get a portal of Light instead of Darkness.
Stepping through it, they find themselves on a long, flat boat. They clutch the necklaces enchanted for them by the good fairies when they first joined the kingdom council and began to go on quests to help the worlds. With a shower of vibrant pink, blue, and green sparks, the fairy transformation magic does its work, reshaping bulky sweaters and jeans into long, soft, slate gray togas, clasped at the shoulders with Hades’ signature skull crest. Winter boots shift into sandals, and for a moment, in the dim light, Roxas thinks Axel’s body has a soft crimson glow.
A shiver runs up Roxas’ spine as his sweater vanishes and the fairy lights fade. The underworld is frigid and smells like a handful of wet earth.
“Your body will adjust,” Axel offers, rubbing Roxas’ shoulder as Roxas fishes a black knit ski cap topped with a pom pom from his old Organization backpack, which had been magicked to hold a certain number of items of any size. “Probably.”
Roxas huffs a sigh and pulls out a black and white checkered scarf. He offers it to Axel, who shakes his head. The temperature around their boat warms several degrees as Roxas wraps his throat and steps closer to the edge of the boat. The water is an icy green and below, floating in a sort of whirlpool, the silhouettes of people—dead people drift by as if they all drowned there. Roxas scampers back from the edge, takes a big gulp of air that hurts his throat. “Shit.”
“Hades says that’s where the worst of the worst wind up. Of course, he almost drowned in there himself one time, so you do that math. There are nicer places down here, although I know that’s not exactly comforting…” Still Axel sounds almost smug, like he knew coming here in particular would make Roxas uncomfortable and had planned their path accordingly. “We can still go back home, Roxas.”
Roxas shakes his head, squaring his shoulders. “I want to meet them.” Actually, seeing this world up close for the first time, Roxas wants to know what Axel sees in them.
He wants to know why after his initial visit, the one where Axel came down looking for lost friends, and ended up finding his long-lost parents instead, Axel felt compelled to keep coming down and visiting, practically once a month, if not more often.
Roxas doesn’t know almost any details. Doesn’t even know how much Axel really knows.
Sora had told Roxas about Hades before, one of the most formidable villains he had come across when he first wielded his keyblade, and, as their boat approaches a towering door, Roxas thinks he’s had nightmares that weren’t his nightmares about the light blue flames that rise from the torches ensconced on either side of the underworld’s entrance.
Axel stares up at it and sighs. He sounds resigned, a touch of manipulation in the way his voice sings and lilts, “I didn’t want to have to tell you this, but I thought this place would freak you out more, and I should have known better…”
“Yeah. Probably,” Roxas interrupts, unable to contain a brief smile of pride that quickly extinguishes like he imagines most light does down here.
“Truth is,” Axel sets down his oar to grip Roxas’ shoulders, grounding, settling, “my parents aren’t exactly chomping at the bit to meet you, Rox.”
Roxas blinks. He doesn’t understand. “They don’t like me?”
One of Axel’s hands lifts, thumb stroking Roxas’ cheek. “They don’t know you. They don’t know what they’re missing.”
Roxas scoffs, gently bats Axel’s hand down. “And you think I don’t know how to cope with being surrounded by people who don’t like me? Because, news flash…” His eyes narrow; he’s dangerously close to pushing Axel’s warm hands away from his forearms, his chest away from Roxas’ chest entirely.
“That’s just it, Roxas, you’ve had enough toxic family for a lifetime. You don’t deserve to deal with that again. I haven’t even made up my mind if I want to keep dealing with it…” Axel’s hands flutter to his own chest emphatically.
Roxas considers for a second. Axel had said his parents didn’t know what they were missing. They don’t know him. They don’t know how he feels about their son, how they feel about each other. How excited Roxas had been to meet them up until he had gotten there. But Roxas can show them. He’ll do what he did with the Organization. What Axel did with Sora and his friends.
“Sounds like a challenge.”
Axel scoffs and pats his cheek. “It isn’t a challenge.”
“I’ll make them like me.”
“Roxas.”
“Axel.”
Their stares are deadlocked, and as their boat begins to slowly rotate, the unnatural silence of the world seems to push at them from all sides, heavy, suffocating.
Finally, Axel’s sober expression shifts, the corner of his lip lifting slightly. “There’s no stopping you, is there?” He sees nothing but determination in Roxas’ gaze; despite everything, he perseveres. He remains optimistic. It’s one of the things Axel loves about him. Axel misses being able to feel like that. Hasn’t been able to since he died that first time, not like he once had anyway. “You are a wonder.”
Roxas beams, fresh determination in the clench of his fists around his oar.
Axel nods his agreement. “Alright, then.” He gestures to the massive stone door before them, carved in the middle with a zig zagging pattern. There is no clear handle or bell or any obvious way of opening it, aside from magic or sheer strength. “You want to do the honors?”
“Axel,” Roxas frowns up at it, “it’s very clearly locked.”
Axel stares at him, eyes wide, shoulders going limp.
Roxas chuckles. “I’m just teasing.” Calling Oblivion into his hand with a shower of purple and black sparks, he holds it steady and aligns it with the center of the door, whispering to the power within him, the persuasive echoing Darkness. The zigzag lights up electric blue and the door begins to draw itself open with a scraping sound like rocks rolling over rocks.
“If you really want to do this, there are a few more things I should probably warn you about,” Axel calls to Roxas over the rumble of the doors. They have returned to their opposite sides of the longboat, and, retrieving their paddles, begin to push through the River Styx together.
“First of all, don’t wish my dad a Merry Christmas. I know that’s the big holiday in Twilight Town, but he’s a Greek god. They don’t love that. I think he might literally burn you to a crisp.”
Roxas laughs, but when he looks to Axel. Despite his playful tone, he seems solemn, body taut with concentration as he pushes through slow moving, heavy water. Roxas sobers and nods himself. “Got it.”
“Second.”
When Roxas glances up from his oar and over his shoulder again, Axel does look sheepish this time.
“When I said this is a small party, I may have,” he shrugs, “exaggerated.”
Roxas almost fumbles his oar, turning around in his confusion. “It’s not a party?”
“It’s not a small party.”
Roxas’ teeth grit and his eyes shut a moment, trying to control the rising, hot trickle of anger tickling his chest. “Axel…”
“Lastly,” his paddling slows, “on the other side of that door is my dad’s giant-three headed guard dog.”
Perhaps in response, the foaming snout of a dog the size of a house pokes its way through the doorway, long yellow fangs bared.
“I can see that.”
The current picks up as they near, propelling them forward without further paddling until the water becomes too shallow and they’re forced to jump ship and wade forward or risk being swept back.
Axel jerks his head as the rest of the three headed dog comes into view, his ruby eyes fixed on the pair of them as foamy slobber drips down one of his jaws. “Say hello to Cerberus.”
“He’s a little bigger than I expected,” Roxas admits, nonetheless, pulling the backpack off his shoulder and rummaging around as Axel takes his hand and propels him onward.
Axel stops on a dime when he processes the words. “Does that mean you didn’t bring the three turkeys I told you to bring?” He doesn’t sound entirely surprised.
“I thought you were joking!”
“Tell me you brought something.”
Cerberus’ noses are sniffing the air, quickly taking an interest in the pair of them.
Roxas produces a large container of dog biscuits about the size of a basketball tied around the middle with a big red bow.
Axel laughs sharply. “Maybe you better get out your keyblade, buddy. They’ll swallow those in one bite.” He walks forward, confident, arms raised as if he intends to rub their chins. “Hey, good boys. You remember me, don’t you?”
One of Cerberus’ heads darts forward, jaw chomping, forcing Axel to leap back with a curse and admit to Roxas one of his parents usually meets him at the door. Even as Axel dodges, another mouth snaps at him from the other side, and Roxas charges blindly forward, prying open the dog treats he clutches in both hands. He isn’t sure what he intends to do with them and he doesn’t get to find out. As he reaches the dry land the monstrous dog reclines on, one of his sandals catches in a fissure and the plastic container of biscuits goes flying out of his hands, arcing in front of the dogs’ noses and showering treats to the ground in front of them.
Cerberus freezes, and so do Axel and Roxas. One of his heads yips and then all of them bow down, snuffling excitedly, massive tongues extended, lapping the miniscule treats from the ground.
Axel helps Roxas get steady on his feet and they sprint past Cerberus quickly and quietly as they’re able, and, chained to the wall of the massive entry gate, Cerberus isn’t able to follow them, nor does he really try, contented with his treats like a bird with breadcrumbs or a child with a handful of chocolate chips.
Clear of Cerberus, they wade through cool water, ankle high, that chills their toes and eventually gives way to mist and then a road of the same slate gray as the massive cavernous walls around them and the skull shaped structure that seems to be carved out of it, the base of it suspended from the ceiling. Thin, narrow, towering doors shielded by misty waterfalls hang below it separated by stone like long teeth.
“Awesome, huh?”
Roxas nods. “Hades really rolls out the welcome mat.”
“Not exactly holly jolly, no.” Axel chuckles. “Parties are more Persephone’s thing, but, from what I can tell, he can’t say no to her, and she gets bored in the winter, so that’s where this annual holiday gala comes into the picture.”
“Gala,” Roxas has the same look he expects he wore when he first bit into damp seaweed in Atlantica. “If you wanted to talk me out of this, you could have just started with ‘gala.’” He tugs at the dark cloth belted to his middle. “Are we dressed for a gala?”
“I don’t really know if there’s a way to spice up a toga, Roxas.” Axel laughs, and it strikes Roxas that he really does seem at ease in this place. “Relax. You’re going to make them love you, remember?”
Roxas rolls his eyes but laughs back.
They approach one of the entrances and see the pillars of the stone archway have been wrapped with blooming vines of orange honeysuckle. A strangely sweet, tangy aroma hangs in the air as they pass by, Axel lifting a hand and summoning flames to turn the waterfall into mist as they pass under it.
They find themselves in a lush courtyard garden so distinct from the lifeless chasms of stone outside that Roxas has to check behind him to see that the door is still there, and he hasn’t passed through one of the mirrors into Wonderland.
It’s warmer and strangely quiet for a garden, Roxas reflects as they walk. No wind rustling the tops of the fruit trees, no rabbits hopping through the underbrush, no birds calling to each other, no buzzing of crickets or bees as they wade through flowers that softly tickle their ankles.
Axel gestures to the other side of the garden and up. Twin stone staircases meet at a pillared alcove strung with lights and thick with red and white poinsettia blooms and clusters of leaves.
“All the way up there?”
“We could portal closer,” Axel admits, “but I thought you’d want to see this too. Persephone’s turned Hades’ private garden into a little slice of paradise.” He gestures around him where in the thick of it, the trees and flowers seem to go on for miles. “I could spend hours here.”
“You would fall asleep like a cat on a windowsill,” Roxas teases, nudging Axel’s arm, but he’s entranced. It’s like Deep Jungle or the wild flowers of Wonderland rolled into one extraordinary Eden of color and sweet floral music. “Your mom did all this?”
“They don’t call her the goddess of spring for nothing. C’mon,” he sweeps his arm around Roxas’ waist and propels him onward. After a while, he speaks again, this time startling Roxas by sounding quiet, contemplative, like he gets on the clocktower, “You know, Isa’s Dad was a florist, and that was a pretty demanding job back in Radiant Garden, but it was his passion, you know? His whole world. I think that’s why my mother left me in that place, and with them. She felt connected to them.”
“To you.”
“Maybe.”
“I’ve been wanting to ask you, but I didn’t want to push…”
“Push all you want, Roxas.” Axel reaches for his hand, squeezes it. “No more secrets.”
“Do you know why they did it? Why they left you there?” Human. Alone.
“Didn’t ask.” Axel shakes his head, mane ruffling, and Roxas can’t resist reaching up and running his fingers through it. “And they don’t seem to want to tell me. Here, wait,” he nods to something over Roxas’ shoulder, “these are Xion’s favorites, aren’t they?”
Roxas turns as well, and they step a little off the meandering path to a small crop of powder blue blossoms. “But you have to want to know.”
Axel plucks a sprig of forget-me-not and tucks it behind Roxas’ ear. “I’m more patient than anyone gives me credit for.”
* *
Absorbed with the flowers, the young couple does not notice the King and Queen of the Underworld materialize at the top of the skull castle staircase expressly to spy on them.
Hades sighs, long, drawn out, almost a growl. “I say we just throw ‘im out,” he offers, tone reasonable. “Maybe knock him off a balcony and into the whirling abyss.”
Persephone squeezes his arm and laughs, breezy and light like her smile, “Doesn’t tend to work out for you from what I’ve heard from your nephew, Hades, hun.”
“Are you taking Roxas’ side?” Though he speaks softly, the flames radiating from Hades flicker crimson. “That little golden brat almost got our precious little princeling killed. You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“Look at them, Hades,” she reaches to tilt his chin down to appreciate the view. “They’re hanging each other with flowers. Maybe they really are in love.”
“Psh, any sucker can pick a flower, right?” Hades’ flames blaze pink for a moment, and he eyes his wife with a sheepish smile, remembering how he’d tried to woo her much the same way when she had stolen down to the Underworld in a desperate attempt to avoid her own overbearing mother. “Alright, baby, you win this round. We won’t throw him out just yet.”
* *
Hades and Persephone greet Axel and Roxas at the top of the stairs with much cheering and fanfare. Their togas are, in fact, spiced up, Roxas notices, embroidered with delicate designs in golden threads. They hug Axel warmly and then turn their attention to his partner.
“We’ve heard so much about you, Roxas, welcome.” Persephone greets Roxas with a thin smile as she presses his hand in both of hers. “You’re much cuter than Axel mentioned.”
“Well, well, if it isn’t Sora 2.0.” Hades claps his back several degrees too firmly to be friendly and it feels like being hit by a fire Emblem Heartless.
Roxas jolts, brow furrowing. “Pleased to meet you,” he forces out, tone clearly strained.
“Couple notes, Mom, Pops,” Axel turns to look at each and if Roxas hadn’t known him for so long, he might have been astounded by the casual way he addresses them, like an equal. “He doesn’t like to be called ‘cute’ and he doesn’t like to be called ‘Sora’.”
Roxas can only nod. Persephone does as well, though her smile is merely amused.
Hades rolls his eyes. “Aren’t you literally his clone or something?”
“Do you like to be called Zeus?” Roxas asks with enough genuine curiosity that even Hades can’t accuse him of impertinence.
“Decent point,” Hades grits out, and then after a pointed look from Persephone, gestures them forward. “Come in, come in.”
Hades waves them toward the arched alcove and into the mouth of a great gray marble ballroom, accented with steely black and blue flame torches. What should have been dark and foreboding had been painstakingly transformed. Richly fragrant pine garland highlighted with silver hangs between each massive pillar. Branching candles illuminate tables cloaked in white and centered with overflowing bouquets of silver and gold blossoms that seem almost bewitched to gleam like gemstones. Snow drifts softly from the ceiling where even the demon shaped chandelier wears a fir wreath studded with berries.
The ballroom is, however, notably devoid of guests. In its center, near a vacant bandstand, only Pain and Panic can be spotted, squabbling over positioning fans around a massive ice sculpture of an evergreen tree hung with live candles with the same eerie pure blue flames, set on a dais floating over a hole in the ballroom floor peering down into the glowing golden abyss of spirits far below the castle.
Roxas turns to Axel. “Are we early?”
Axel turns a look of accusation on the gods. “We were supposed to be fashionably late.”
Hades waves them toward a central table with especially elaborate flowers and a black cloth rather than the snowy white. “We thought it might be nice to get some one-on-one time with your beau before this place gets more crowded than the Coliseum.”
Persephone clasps her hands, thickly tattooed with black patterns of gnarled branches, curling vines and thorns that seem to shift when Roxas glances away from them. “We have plenty of time to have dinner together as a family before the guests arrive.”
“You mean you wanted to see if you’re okay with him staying and meeting everyone when you present me to society,” Axel air quotes the last bit, clearly unenthused with some previously discussed idea of being shown off to the masses. He gives them both a careful, even glower. “That’s tough, folks. I’m not doing it without him.”
Persephone and Hades both open their mouths to object at once but Roxas is the first to speak.
“Axel, it’s—dinner is fine. It’s… what I wanted, remember?”
Axel softens, looking down into Roxas’ eyes and finding his peace offering genuine. The steel returns when his eyes dart back to his parents. “Fine.”
“Delightful.”
“Atta boy.”
Soon they are seated, listening to a band of flowery nymphs that has just filed in on some invisible cue, setting up and softly warming up their instruments.
As Hades conjures a tuxedo-clad Panic to their side and begins gesturing to their empty wine glasses, Persephone tugs at a tuft of Axel’s hair.
“You’re not really going to wear your hair like that for the party, are you, Lea, darling?”
Axel’s brows arch. “I didn’t want to give Rox a heart attack, Mom.”
“What? C’mon, he’s a noble keyblade wielder. Surely, a key kid can’t be that faint of heart.” Hades claps Roxas on the back again and he starts loudly in his chair, which everyone politely ignores. “Then again, I guess you’re both still getting used to having them.”
Axel scowls at the reminder. “Hey. This key kid is the bravest person I’ve ever known.” He sounds smooth, haughty, and Roxas thinks they’re both brave just to be sitting at this table.
Roxas’ own brows rise, wondering how much of their story Axel’s told him, how much he just knows because apparently sometimes gods just know things. Roxas turns toward Axel, feeling his voice shift toward teasing, “Wear your hair like what? I want to see.”
Axel shakes his head, but his frown has grown mild. “Now you’ve done it.” He snaps his fingers and the fierce red, gold locks of his hair begin to shift into long tendrils of actual flame that curl down his ears and neck. Roxas leans back, ready to hurl his freshly poured glass of mulled wine to put out Axel’s toga, but it doesn’t catch.
“That’s incredible…” Roxas mumbles, reaching out and then thinking better of it.
“Absolutely not happening for the big shindig.” Axel runs his own fingers through the flames to his bare scalp, and shakes his head. “I feel like Master Xehanort.” He snaps his fingers and his hair returns to its usual mane.
Roxas doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to look at it the same way again. It had been clear from the first glance that Axel got most of his looks from his mother. The angular, narrow face, eyes unnaturally green like leaves in the sun. Roxas had thought his hair was his own at least, so different from her vivid forest green locks, tangled with ivy and crowned with an onyx tiara studded with sapphires and opals.
“You would look so handsome, Lea. You shouldn’t be afraid to look like your true self.”
“I’m not.” Axel ruffles his usual sunset red locks back into place. “This is it.”
Persephone pouts until Hades distracts her with a wine glass of her own, and a chuckle.
“Let him be, Perse. You know how kids are. Besides,” he turns to mutter loudly to Roxas, hand over mouth, “she’s starting to sound like her mother.”
This seems to startle Persephone out of her fussing, although she swats Hades’ arm for saying it, before excusing herself to check on the band she keeps side-eying as if they aren’t doing something to her liking.
“Well, I’m famished,” Hades announces, clapping his hands and effectively summoning Pain to the table as well. “Let’s do apps, and your golden boy, Roxie, here can tell us all about himself. You don’t mind if I call you Roxie, do ya? So, what do you do for a living, Roxie?”
Roxas fiddles with his napkin, and his tongue feels a little numb in his mouth as all eyes fall on him. “I take university classes when I can, but mainly, I’m a keyblade wielder. Like Axel.”
Hades leans forward, predatory. “And how does that pay? You get good benefits? Weekends, holidays?”
Roxas chokes on a sip of wine he’d been hoping would get him out of more questions. When he clears his throat, he manages a weak, “Not exactly.”
Unamused, Axel lays a protective hand on Roxas’ shoulder, gives it a comforting squeeze. “Hades, lay off. You know we’re both keyblade wielders. And you know saving the world doesn’t pay shit.”
Hades claps his hands, enthusiasm apparently renewed. “That’s right! You’re both keyblade wielders. My son could have been an artist or a philosopher or a musician, something respectable, but he goes and becomes a keyblade wielder. And keyblade wielders, they’re like the cockroaches of the universe, impossible to stomp out, just keep coming back and getting into things they shouldn’t. Tell me, Roxie, whose idea was that, I wonder?”
“Stomp out…?” Roxas echoes.
“Not anymore,” Persephone replies, returning to her seat, and shaking her head. “Hades gets into such trouble when I’m gone for the summer. Some days I think I’m his entire impulse control.”
Axel’s standing, clenching the table, eyes locked with Hades’. “Mine, actually. It was my idea.”
“For who, though, really?” Hades remains seated, picking up his wine glass and plucking out an orange peel to slurp up like a noodle. “I’m just saying, being in an apocalyptic cult at least makes for an interesting conversation piece. What’s Roxas got going for him? I bet he still wields a Kingdom Key.”
“If you find it so endearing,” Axel bites, reluctantly slipping back into his chair to make room for a demon to deliver a tray of mini quiches. “You oughta know Roxas was in the apocalyptic cult, too.”
Hades jerks a dismissive thumb toward the young man at his side. “What, him?”
Roxas drops a mini quiche, mouth hanging open. The god is unbelievably rude. He reminds him of a less helpful Xigbar.
“Trained him myself,” Axel brags coolly. “And he got strong enough to take down any one of us to boot.”
Roxas’ chest aches to see them fighting at his expense. Clearly, Hades hasn’t seen the best side of keyblade wielders. He tries to push past the offenses and understand where he’s coming from. “You’re right though,” Roxas tells the fiery god, noticing how the air has heated as he’s gotten worked up. “I got into a lot of things I shouldn’t have before I fought my way out. But I’m trying to make up for it now.”
Hades barely spares him a glance before continuing to taunt Axel, waving his hand Roxas’ direction more emphatically. “Your little pipsqueak here fought his way out of his cult family to pave his own way in the world?”
Persephone sits with her chin on her fists and her eyes narrowed. “Sounds like someone else I know.”
Roxas stands now, angry that Hades won’t accept the olive branch he’s offered, but furious that Axel’s father isn’t making a little bit of an effort to like him.
“Call me pipsqueak one more time,” he seethes, opening a hand and letting sparks gather, “and I’ll show you my keyblades.”
“Roxas, baby, calm down,” Axel grasps at his forearm, green eyes wide with panic he doesn’t let show on the rest of his smooth, pretty face, as he hisses, “He is literally the god of death. You get that, right?”
A bark of laughter slips from Hades’ lips. “Keyblades, plural? Yeah right. You are a little spit fire, aren’t you?”
Roxas’ fist clenches shut and he picks up his heavy backpack and shoulders it, squeezing Axel’s hand over his. “You were right. I don’t think I can do this.” He turns and begins to stride his way toward the entrance.
Axel stands immediately to follow after him, but pauses when, with a world-weary sigh, Persephone stands too, and motions him back down.
The goddess is standing before Roxas before he can make it out of the ballroom and onto the flower hung balcony with its twin staircases. He stops short, stares at her expectantly.
She reaches out to run her finger along the soft flower petals above Roxas’ ear, and the bloom brightens and spreads further open.
“You know, Roxas,” her voice is conversational, soothing, “Hades didn’t always get on with his family either. Kind of had to pave his own way, make his own mistakes. Zeus still has him working to make up for them. You remind me of him, a little.”
Roxas takes a breath, his mind whirring, imagining someone so powerful as a bitter outcast, and yet, sequestered alone to the Underworld, separated from the golden world of Olympus that hung in the clouds above the Coliseum, it’s easy to see. He just hadn’t noticed. Hadn’t considered. He doesn’t know if he agrees with her, but it makes his fury ebb away.
“Wait until you meet Axel’s ex,” he replies, thinking of the sardonic taskmaster with the soft pastel blue locks, and imagining them in the same room. Isa and Hades would probably repel each other like magnets with the same charge.
Persephone chuckles warmly and rubs Roxas’ arm. “I have a feeling Hades will come around. Keyblade wielders make him nervous, that’s all. He has power here in this world. Yours is much further reaching. Why don’t you come back to the table?”
He wonders if it’s true, but again it makes sense. And who would know Hades better? A little stunned by her revelations, Roxas simply nods, and lets her take his arm and lead him back. When they reach the table, they see Pain and Panic using serving trays to shield themselves. Axel and Hades are in an argument and as they speak flames flare and sparks shower around them.
“You are never going to get a second chance at this, do you understand?” Axel demands, and Roxas is impressed to see there are no chakrams in his hands. “Would you believe he was excited to come here and meet you?”
Hades tosses up his hands in disbelief. “Excited for what pray tell?”
“I don’t know,” Axel does the same hand toss, and then crosses his arms, voice faltering when he notices Roxas back at his side. “Getting to know you? The fucking… festivities, I guess?” He leans in and presses his lips to Roxas’ forehead.
It feels like gratitude.
“You tell him, Roxas.”
Roxas takes a breath. He’s going to give this one more try. He’s dealt with just as hostile, just as explosive, just as snarky. Of course, it’s different when you can feel it. He tries to let the bubbling hot irritation go and give this one more run. He had been excited. He focuses on that.
“Well,” he begins tentatively, “for the holidays I’ve seen in Atlantica and Twilight Town, there’s singing and presents and…” The memories bring a gentle smile to his lips, and Axel kisses his cheek which makes Persephone grin.
“What? Holiday cheer?” Hades supplies with a sneer. “So, you want presents?”
This time Roxas’ smile doesn’t falter. “I brought presents.”
Axel goes rigid. “You what?” His look is a little horrified. “They’re gods, Roxas.”
Roxas digs through his magic Organization backpack, not without further sarcastic comment from Hades, and retrieves two carefully wrapped parcels. For Persephone, whom Roxas had been told loved plants, a small, enchanted saltwater tank of brightly colored coral from Atlantica. For Hades, whom Roxas had been told loved snacking, gingerbread men, baked and frosted with Xion and Remy back home.
“Cannibalistic desserts, huh?” Hades dangles a cookie by the foot, inspecting it carefully. “Reminds me of my childhood.” He scowls as he takes a bite, but he can’t seem to maintain it as he chews, his brows lifting. “Oof. These are delicious though. Ginger. A little nutmeg…”
Roxas nods, as, begrudgingly, Hades draws the cookie tin closer to himself, as if he fears Roxas will take it back.
“Well, my gift to you, Lea,” Hade says, folding his hands over the tin, “is allowing you and your little friends to reincarnate from the dead so many times. Looks like it’s finally sticking. You’re welcome.”
“Let’s hope so,” Axel replies. “I still have a name to make for myself.”
Hades turns his gaze to Roxas. “And my gift to your little sunflower here is that I’m allowing him to enter my domain and live,” he gestures broadly to the castle around him, “which is, historically, incredibly generous of me.”
Roxas feels a little like his jaw hinge is broken. The threat to himself barely registers. “You mean you brought Axel back from the dead…?” he asks softly.
“I let him come back from the… well, it’s a complicated process.” Hades flips his wrist as if to dismiss the semantics. “But yeah. After he died protecting your sleeping heart, protecting Sora. Coupla other times. Reckless guy you got here.”
“Thank you, Hades,” Roxas says, and this time Hades really looks at him because he can tell that Roxas means it with a depth he hasn’t heard from him before. “Axel didn’t think I would like you,” he admits though as Axel groans, he realizes he probably could have phrased it better. Still Roxas pushes on, “but if you saved him, you’re the greatest god I’ve ever known.”
Hades’ own mouth flaps open and shut, and Axel smiles softly. He shouldn’t have doubted Roxas could do it. Roxas had given him his heart back after all, despite whatever Hades claims.
Hades regains his composure quickly enough, wincing and lifting his hand to halt any further gushing. “Flattery will get you everywhere, but yeesh, tone down the dramatics. You’re welcome, 2.0.”
The main course comes soon after and their plates are filled and refilled with delicious smelling dishes Axel’s parents repeatedly reassure him were not home grown, after he almost chokes watching Roxas bite into a spoonful of pomegranate seeds.
They discuss softer subjects: the party, the guests, Roxas and Axel’s Christmas adventures, Roxas’ recent work for Hades’ brother Triton, or as Hades likes to call him “Po”.
As their meal is wrapping up, Persephone looks up from tending to her new coral tank, and meets Roxas’ eye. “I’d like to give you a holiday gift in return, if you’ll accept it. Anything I can do, anything you like.”
Roxas considers, but one thing comes to mind that cancels out anything else that could.
“There is something only you can do,” he begins tentatively, looking down at his plate, stirring with his fork before deciding, setting it down and meeting her eyes. They’re so like Axel’s that it gives him the courage to ask it. “Can you, could you please, tell Axel his story?”
Persephone and Hades exchange a cautious look.
Axel’s silverware clatters. “Roxas…” he warns.
“You know, how he came to be in Radiant Garden, why you...”
“Why we made him human,” Persephone answers. “Why we gave him up.”
Hades shrugs when Persephone’s eyes shift to his again. “He didn’t ask.”
Persephone nods gravely, turns back to the young couple. “Lea, my sweet child, we thought you didn’t want to know.”
Axel scoffs, a pained, hurt sound, and Roxas regrets being the one responsible for it. Axel must notice because his hand slips under the table, pets Roxas’ thigh reassuringly as he considers his words.
“Look,” Axel answers finally, “it’s been incredible getting to meet you both, but. Who wouldn’t want to know?”
The gods nod, exchange another unspoken decision and then Hades shrugs, fire flaring around his shoulders, and begins haphazardly, “Well, you were… what do you humans call it?”
“A surprise,” Persephone offers.
“An accident,” Hades replies, looking at her with the ghost of a smile, remembering, “And we talked.”
“And talked.”
“And talked,” he agrees, “and came to a difficult decision… The underworld is no place to raise a child, Lea. It’s no place to live your life.”
“We wanted you to see the sun and have adventures and fall in love…” as Persephone spreads her hands to illustrate, the room seems to brighten, flower petals drift from the clouds around her palms.
Hades rolls his eyes. “Something along those lines.”
“My mother was…”
“—A control freak—”
“She never let me have the life I wanted,” Persephone compromises, “and Hades never felt at home on Olympus, and so, with a little help from Hades’ friend Maleficent, we searched for just the right couple to adopt you, just the right world for you to live…until we found Radiant Garden.”
“We never stopped keeping an eye on you, though,” Hades offers kindly, gesturing with his wine glass in a sort of toast. He freezes, turns to Roxas. “Sorry, was that creepy?”
“Loveably creepy,” he offers, trying to be generous.
Hades reaches to ruffle Axel’s hair, and Roxas wonders if, to an immortal like him, they’re practically still children in his eyes. He isn’t used to the feeling, doesn’t know if he likes it.
“We never could have imagined you’d get involved with keyblade wielders and land smack in the middle of such a mess but…” Hades spreads his palms, “that’s the way the cookie crumbles, am I right?”
Roxas winces when one of his gingerbread men meets that illustrative fate, although Hades quickly reaches for another to munch on.
“It’s part of the adventure,” Persephone agrees. “And we promised each other we wouldn’t interfere. We trusted that if the Fates meant it to be, you would come back to us, someday.”
Hades laughs. “You trusted. I confirmed. The Fates are old friends of mine. We didn't want to give you up, Lea, but we didn’t want you to hate your life here, either. We wanted you to live it.”
Roxas looks up at Axel. A tear slips from the corner of his eye and he’s quick to rub at it. He has to clear his throat before he can speak, reaching across the table to grip his mother’s hand, meeting her eyes and then Hades’. “I tried not to let it, but it hurt, not knowing. Thank you for telling me.” He turns to Roxas. “Thank you for having the guts to ask.”
They sit in silence for a while, listening to the soft, slow melody drifting from the center of the ballroom.
“And you, Lea?” Persephone asks eventually, gently. “Do you have a wish?”
“I guess it’s only fair I give mine to Roxas…” He taps his chin and considers, side-eying him, as Roxas reaches to rub at his eye for him with the corner of his sleeve. Axel takes another breath and manages to sound like himself again, “Well, I was going to get him a puppy back in Twilight Town, but, I’m sure whatever you come up with will be better.”
“You were?” Roxas grins, elbowing him, and Axel nods, mussing his hair.
“Hadn’t picked one out yet or anything but.” They pause, noticing Persephone whispering to Hades.
The halo of flames around him flickers yellow and his brows rise. “I don’t really think…”
Persephone whispers more emphatically.
“You’re the boss, babe.”
Hades begins to shape the whirls of ever-present gray smoke that waft from the flames around him. It’s like watching a potter or a woodworker, chipping away and creating round, soft shapes, until a small puppy emerges. But Hades doesn’t stop there, shaping a second head, and then a third.
Roxas is overjoyed when the puppy shakes off the wisps of smoke and prances across the table and into his waiting arms, licking at both of their faces at once, as they exclaim thanks and admiration.
Hades watches, arms crossed, a smug little smile on his face. “This softie didn’t battle Cerberus, did he?” he asks Axel. “What’d you dose him with sleeping magic, bribe him with puppy chow?”
Axel offers a flicker of a smile back. “Possibly.”
They watch the puppy prance around the dance floor as Persephone and Roxas walk with her, until the pup’s three heads yawn, one after the other, and she lays down, Roxas carefully stroking her back as she settles onto her tummy under the shade of the icy tree above.
“He’s not like Sora, is he?” Hades mutters to himself. “Doesn’t always think with his sword.”
“He’s not like anyone,” Axel agrees fondly. “Not exactly.” He thinks Hades might be selling Sora short, but that’s a conversation for another time.
“Well, if he gets on with your mother and he gets on with Cerberus, and he’s not a complete obnoxious, heroic jerk…” Hades sighs, reaches back and rubs at the back of his neck, like saying it pains him a bit, “I guess he can stick around a while.”
“Is that what you said when I came by the first time?” Axel teases.
“Possibly.” Hades grins, blowing smoke from the top of the latest drink Panic hands him, which smells suspiciously to Axel like hot cocoa.
Axel’s about to ask for one himself when he finds Roxas’ tugging at his arm. “Hey, the guests are starting to arrive and the band’s warmed up. Your mom wants to show us one of her favorite holiday traditions.”
“Why, Roxas, are you asking me to dance?” Axel grins as he takes his hand and follows him to the floor. Before today, he had been anxious about meeting all the godly guests, finding his place in this family, but with Roxas at his side, the worries seem foggy and distant, replaced with light bubbling joy as they follow Persephone and begin to whirl through the fresh powdery snow.
Hades’ table is not vacant for long. He’s greeted by a once familiar cheeky salute from a woman in a violet gown with violet eyes. He notices her husband over at a buffet table, chatting with a satyr. He wonders why she would come to speak to him of all people, and then wonders if she just doesn’t know anyone else here.
“Happy holidays, hotshot,” is Megara’s greeting, a touch sarcastic, like every other word out of her mouth.
Two can play at that game, he reasons. He’s missed their repartee. “Back so soon, Meg?” he croons.
She pokes at his chest. “You’re just lucky Hercules is the forgiving type.”
Hades chuckles. “Lucky is a matter of perspective. But hey, Persephone likes you crazy kids. And as long as she’s happy.”
“Your little flower.” She follows his gaze to the dance floor, surprised when it doesn’t land on his lovely partner. “That’s him, huh?”
“Yup. The Princeling of the Underworld and his future husband. Terrifying, no?”
“He found a Wonderboy of his own.” She giggles behind her hand and her eyes dart up at him, knowingly, “I’m surprised you didn’t flick him off the balcony. You really have turned over a new leaf.”
“I was sorely tempted,” Hades admits, but he knows there’s not as much bite in it as there used to be.
“You fire gods always go for the unexpected ones, huh?”
Hades nods. “What’d you always used to say? People do crazy things when they’re in love.”