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The sounds of ringing bells woke Nico up.
Faint lights passed through the stained glass windows. He opened his eyes, only to meet with the iridescent eyes of the woman dressed in colorful hues, looking down at him so gently, so far away. Mary, he knew her name was.
A hand landed on Nico's cheek, its touch velvety soft. The face of another woman obscured his vision. Black hair and blacker eyes, her shades were a contrast of Mary on the color glass. Nico's mind would recognize her even if all the images were bleached white.
"Mio caro," His mother smiled down at him, her lips curved like rose petals and her eyes crinkled at the corners. Her voice was honey-sweet. "Wake up, it's time to go home."
It felt like a childhood dream coming to life.
Maria took his hand and Nico followed her out of the chapel. The crowd flowed around them like tides and Nico instinctively tightened his grip. Maria smiled down at him from under the brim of her veil hat in a way that made Nico fear getting separated from her even more.
They walked through the streets, hand in hand in the flickering snow. Everything was white, except for the canals that looked even deeper on a snowy morning. The waters were sad today, Nico realized as their forlorn tunes flowed through his ears, leaving only a lingering weeping in the back of his head.
Around them, people brushed past as quickly as the breezes. Their whispers are distant and distorted, drown out in the canals' song. Nico glanced up at a passing girl but couldn't make out her face. He didn't think she had one, to begin with. Like everyone they passed, she was just human-shaped paper cut-outs, just blocks of black fluttering on the white sheet, trying to become some sort of a children's drawing.
Nico's heart pounded in his chest. His skin crawled at the sudden onslaught of coldness that didn't go away even when Nico pulled his jacket tighter around himself. Something was screaming at him and it scared Nico that he didn't know what was it and what it was screaming at.
Frantically, Nico looked up at his mother, tugging on her hand. "Where are we going?" He asked in a weaker voice than he expected. Nico felt like a pathetic child running up to his mother at the smallest wound, whining for her to make it better. And he was.
"We're almost home" was all Maria said.
The answer should have reassured Nico. It should. He thought he should have recognized the walk back home. He remembered old brick roads and ivy walls, red tiles and vibrant flower boxes by the windows. Their colors looked washed out under the frost. Instead of calming him down, the sense of familiarity only unnerved Nico.
Maria beamed at him. In every memory that Nico had, his mother was always smiling. Her smiles never failed to comfort him, keeping the nightmares at bay with their gushing tenderness. Her gaze never left Nico as they kept walking. Nico's feet carried him along with his mother as if they had a mind of their own, whereas Nico's own head seemed to be piled with snow, all cloudy and white.
And then, there was a voice.
A deep, low voice that seemed to reverberate between the brick walls and silent waves. It shook Nico's core, sending everything crashing down at the first knock like snow on a willow tree.
Nico stopped before he knew.
Maria's fingers dug painfully into his palm but Nico didn't care as he turned around, searching for the one that called.
Amidst the white snow and crowd of faded grey, the dark figure was difficult to miss. He stood there, just a few steps away from Nico, a stark contrast that sucked in the blinding light and tore the cotton dream apart.
"Son," the man said. His voice carried through the bustling street and the whining waves easily. "You don't want to go there."
Nico remembered him.
His father appeared the same as every time Nico had seen him, dark and gloomy in his ebony suit and fedora, with harsh lines ingrained into his old, weary face, from those thin lips to the permanent frown between his brows. Hades looked at Nico and his gaze had always been an inescapable thing, sharp and commanding. He found himself rooted at the spot, clueless and lost.
"Why not?" he asked, because Bianca had said he was annoying like that, "I want to go home." It came out almost like a whine.
Somehow, Nico knew his father's eyes had narrowed below his fedora. He could feel the disgust weighing on the man's lips and it hurt him.
Maria kept pulling on Nico's hand, just a little bit painfully now. Nico wondered why she hadn't said a word to Hades. Nobody seemed to acknowledge him except for Nico. A woman almost walked right into Hades before vanishing in a rain of dust.
People had rarely been fond of his father's presence for as far as Nico's memories went. But Maria was different. His parents' love had been something more beautiful than the happy-ever-afters in Bianca's fairy tales. It didn't seem like that right now. Nico wanted to tell her, That's papà, mamma! Shouldn't they go home together? Why didn't papà want to go with them - to their home?
As if reading his mind, Hades answered that for him, "Your home isn't that way, Niccolò."
His pale, bony hand reached forward, open for Nico to take. It promised somewhere far away, a place that wasn't the home that Maria had promised Nico. "Come, you're going to be lost going that way."
Nico stared at his father, watching the shadows dance at the man's feet. The hat flickered in and out of sight. The fabric of his suits rippled with unrecognizable faces. His head hurt. Hades' eyes conveyed a range of emotions - the fury Nico was familiar with, and then there were the urgency and desperation Nico would never have associated with him. He felt like a child fumbling with an adult's problems trying to figure out the message.
His mother needed no time to decide on her course of action, it seemed, as she yanked mercilessly on Nico's arm, sending pain flaring up his shoulder and almost knocking him off his feet. His scream came out muted.
Horrified, Nico looked up at his mother, only to find a distorted face with two glowing orbs where the soulful eyes should be. Belatedly, he noticed the edges of her image blurring away almost imperceptibly. Her lustrous hair dissolved into thin air like smoke at the ends and her dress was gleaming akin to hundreds of stars. Her hand felt cold in Nico's grip despite the velvet glove.
He gasped, breathless, "Mamm—"
She wasn't his mother.
The truth hit Nico like a truck. The call lodged in his throat.
It felt like plunging into the maw of Tartarus all over again.
The world shattered like glass around them. Maria - no, not Maria - towered over him, her figure encompassing darkness that obscured the sky. The two stars that were supposed to be her eyes shone so bright Nico had to shut his eyes lest they blinded him. Everything in Nico's head screamed Danger! and he didn't look back. He turned away, reaching blindly for his father's hand.
The few steps between them were suddenly too many as sharp talons locked onto Nico. The woman's breath felt cold on his neck, her voice was still soft and warm.
"You shouldn't let go of your mamma's hand, mio figliolo," she lamented as her claws ran down Nico's cheek. "I would be heartbroken losing you."
She sounded too much like his mother. Why did she sound so much like his mother. Nico's eyes felt wet. Bild rose to his throat. Nico wanted to throw up, or cry, or both.
Hades was in front of him before the first tear escaped the brim of Nico's eyes. A flash of grey and the man was seizing his hand in a vice grip. Nico would recognize those cold, rough fingers anywhere.
"Lay your hands off my son," the god growled.
Immediately, the claw loosened. The woman's overwhelming presence receded as quickly as it came, replaced by Hades' milder, familiar one as Nico was pulled into his father's chest.
The snow was gone and so was the childhood road. Shadows rushed to envelop them, flickering like black flames. Nico could practically hear them seething, sense the boiling rage in the way Hades' arms wrapped rigidly around his shoulders.
Nico looked back at his mother's impersonation. The woman looked glaringly inhuman. Her dress melted into cascading darkness, coated in tiny galaxies that shimmered like jewels. Her eyes shone brighter than the Polaris he and Bianca used to look for in the sky and her lips - those lips of his beloved mother that had smiled at Nico so tenderly just minutes ago - curled into a twisted grin that screamed of vengeance and delirium. She was mouthing something to him behind the blazing flames of hell that Hades beckoned.
Everything faded into black before Nico could make it out.
Hades closed his hand, crushing the dream into a million pieces before burning it into ashes, feeling acutely the last of Nyx's presence evaporate.
The darkness finally dispersed, returning the usual calmness to the room. Hades made sure all the shadows returned to where they belonged before carefully removing his other hand from his son's forehead.
Slowly, Nico opened his eyes to blink up blearily at him from where the demigod lay defenselessly on the large bed, tangled up in a pile of blankets, still clutching the fabric tight. He was sweating profusely. Each breath came out in ragged puffs. Waking up from Nyx's illusions had never not taken a toll on him.
Disoriented, it took the demigod a little longer than normal to focus on Hades. Relief flooded his face immediately when he finally could.
"Dad?" His son breathed out heavily. Nico's broken voice scratched a part deep inside Hades' barren heart - had been ever since he nearly lost it to the accursed Twin Giants.
Hades hummed. He moved to brush Nico's sticky strands out of his eyes. The boy's skin felt so cold despite the thick layer of sweat. Hades tried to keep his hand from trembling. Thinking about how near Nyx had been to Nico brought an onslaught of intense feelings that made Tartarus heaven compared to what they would have Hades done.
"Did I dream again?" Quietly, his son asked, to which Hades nodded minutely.
Nico closed his eyes resignedly. His heartbeats rang melancholic in Hades' ears, having returned to the soft cadence of his soul again after the panic attack. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
Fingers threading through his son's soaked curls, Hades smoothed out the messy knots and tangles as gently as Persephone had taught him. Nico's hair was getting too long now.
"It's alright. I'll always bring you back."
Nico's eyes flicked up to meet his. Hades hoped his voice managed to carry the consolation he meant. Gods rarely hoped, for they had no one to pray to, but it wasn't the first time Nico'd gotten him to do unbelieving deeds.
The demigod was silent for a moment, and then, "I almost believed she was mamma." A pause. His lips trembled. "No, I—I wanted to believe."
A tear escaped the brim of his eye. Hades watched it dampen a spot on the velvet pillow, a snare around his divine heart as Nico rolled to bury his face into the blanket, dislodging Hades' hand in the process. "I should have known it couldn't have been her, but I wanted it to be so bad."
He wasn't the only one.
The snare inside Hades' chest tightened. Memories flashed through his eyes again. Old brick road, warm hands and bell-like giggles. The smile that bloomed on his beloved's face was more radiant than Apollo's sun as they met each other's gaze over Nico's bouncing heads, her lips pressed on their son's curls in the middle of a sweet kiss. Everything was sweet by her side, and Hades had been tasting bitter for so long, nectar now tasted like those days they spent together.
"You had always been clingy when it came to Maria. I wouldn't expect any less." Hades said.
Lately, it had felt like a disclosure whenever he mentioned Maria to Nico, be it a mundane recollection or a major clarification.
That day, it had come as a shock to have Alecto barrel into his office and another to be reminded that he was, indeed, the childhood that Nico had lost - had been robbed. The Lethe wasn't the only one that held Nico's seventy-years-ago. Hades hadn't intended to keep the precious memories of Maria to himself - outside of necessity regarding his children's safety, of course - but perhaps in his efforts to preserve them, Hades had been stealing it away from the very one who deserved it the most.
-And tragically provided Nyx with a perfect chance to stab where it hurt the most, in the process.
Maria had always had to herself a tremendous part of Nico's youthful, loving heart. He adored her more than anything in the world, and she loved him in kind. Maria made a point to dote on him as much as she could. His son had taken the first breath, walked the first step - had lived every second bathed in Maria's overflowing love. It had baffled Hades at first, and perhaps, made him a little envious. He didn't want to speculate whether it was due to the lack of similar sentiment on Rhea's part or his reduced time with Maria.
In hindsight, Hades should have seen it coming, should have seen through the vulnerable side of his son in the face of Nyx's meticulous manipulation and in return the Mother Maniac's obsession with being the one thing Nico lost. Of course Nyx would make Maria a weapon to capture him, right when the boy had just gotten a smidge better after moving in with him.
Hades' palm flattened on the velvet covers. Nyx had been infuriatingly close and further was Nico. One wrong move and his son would slip away like time's sand.
A talk with Hypnos was due, soon.
Nico's face left the pillows for a fraction, tilted just the slightest to look up at Hades. Tears trickled down from the corner of swollen eyes, reminding Hades of the Cocytus with just how sad it made him. The boy swallowed, "Was I—that clingy?"
"You would cry whenever she was out of your reach." Hades recalled softly, "It was a fortune we had maids to take care of the house since you never left her side. Even I couldn't soothe your cries."
The reminiscence seemed to pick up a piece of Nico's memory. The little demigod was thoughtful, his watery eyes glazed over, searching for something far away. And then:
"You were always holding Bianca's hand," he said, only half accusing.
But his words drilled deep into the god's essence, and it hurt much more than Celestial Bronze or Imperial Gold or Stygian Iron.
Nico curled into himself tightly, his hair barely brushing Hades' sleeve and his pale fingers drilling into the blanket as if he was refraining from touching, even when Hades knew his son had been the most physically affectionate in the bunch
It felt too far.
Hades knew - of course he knew. He remembered their family outings when Maria would swiftly slot Nico's tiny hand in Hades' before discreetly sweeping Bianca away, or when she would drop Nico in his lap and Hades had to hold onto the toddler lest he fell out chasing his mother's clapping hands.
He remembered all the anguish written so clearly on his son's young - young and painfully young - face when he had, in his most foolish, absurd, ludicrous moment, let loose the cruelest of words right after his sister's death. Hades had done the last thing he should to his only son, the last remnant of his once-happy family, who was on the verge of crumbling just like their old life. It was a blessing that Nico was still here, with him, and not wasting away in some corner of the Asphodel, never wanting to see his father again - if he would even call Hades such, then.
"I was," there was no use in lying now. More than anyone, they were both aware of what wounds they had caused. "I made a mistake I know cannot be undone. And I'm sorry."
Nico didn't say anything, but Hades could read the question in his gaze nonetheless.
Why?
If Hades had his way, they would never have to talk about this. He debated in his head if it was worth risking the little closeness they had managed to build just these last months, if this would lead to Nico distrusting and distancing himself again, leaving Hades wallowing in regrets forever.
Speaking up again wasn't an easy feat, especially when Nico was looking at him like that. "Holding grudges is my fatal flaw, and I was unwise enough to let it get the better of me," he admitted. "And you were just... so much like it - like what I couldn't get over even after all those years."
Hades consciously strayed away from mentioning even a sliver of his thoughts at that time. He wasn't proud of what he had called his youngest child just because the kid loved his mother so much and Hades himself couldn't get over the petty feud with his youngest brother.
It was much easier with his daughter, back then. Bianca was the spitting image of Maria, whom Hades had loved so dearly already, and she knew when to back off and give Hades space, clasping her hands behind her back like he usually did. She had been a doll to him, reserved, careful with just enough sweetness to mellow him out when Hades let her.
A frown marred Nico's expression, questioning.
Hades didn't expect him to understand, nor did he want him to. His Nico shouldn't have to deal with godly family dramas. That was half of the reason Hades took him to the Underworld in the first place.
"You didn't do anything wrong. It was me who failed to be the father you deserve." Hades breathed out, and wondered whether gods could get this weary with just a conversation. He reached for his son but changed his mind at the last second, unsure if that was allowed. His hand remained hovering, just short of touching a thick curl sticking up. "And even then, you always had Maria, so I didn't think to make it up to you. I thought... I thought it was okay. I was wrong."
Perhaps that was why Hades could never be as good as Maria, always so caring and unapologetically loving. He could never be as good as his half-mortal son, dear little Niccolò, who still chose to bare his heart despite the bleeding wounds. It had taken Persephone a good hundred years to get used to the way Hades delivered his love, and even more since the day Zagreus declared not wanting to see his face.
Years of unhealthy coping mechanisms caused Hades to fumble at the mere idea of expressing affection to anyone other than Persephone, but Maria had held his hand and showed him all over again. And what was it for if not give it to their children?
"Now, I would never trade you being here with me for anything else, son." He said, and meant it.
As long as Hades still existed, Nyx would never have his son.
He knew better than underestimating the imbalance of their powers. But if there was anything Maria di Angelo had taught him, it was that you could stand against something much larger, stronger, more terrifying and absolute to protect those you hold dear.
To his relief, Nico didn't turn away or reject him as Zagreus had done. He must have understood, as those onyx eyes slipped closed with a sigh and he turned his head just enough to knock Hades' thigh. Tension rolled off him in waves.
Hades took it as a cue to rest a hand on his soft, black curls.
The demigod picked at a snagged thread. He seemed a little disoriented, but Hades was patient. Nico could have fallen asleep right then and there and Hades would just call it a day.
Finally, he spoke up, and his voice was so small it brought Hades back to seventy years ago, "I miss mamma."
Oh, how he wished he could give his son everything he wanted, be it against the laws of nature. "I do, too, my dear. I do."
To Hades' surprise, Nico's hand found his own when another surge of tears threatened to fall. The boy had grown so much, gone through too much suffering, yet his hand still looked so small in Hades' much larger one. Thin, pale fingers squeezed Hades' longer ones - the way they once had so long ago, on the old fondamenta of a distant Venice - and Hades returned the hold as he should have back then.
"I don't want to lose you too, Dad," Nico whispered, to which Hades didn't hesitate. "You won't."
Nico was the only one he had left, too.
Only they knew - all that was lost.
The boy tugged on their joined grip until he could rest his forehead on the back of Hades' hand. Nico's skin felt cold still. His soft, wet lashes were tickling and the tears left burning marks where they smeared across the god's knuckles.
Being the Lord of the Underworld with a reputation to uphold, Hades was rarely fond of direct physical contact, but right now, he couldn't be more grateful that his son had taken the initiative to be open - vulnerable - with him, after everything he had done.
"When the time came, would you be there for me?" Nico asked, and he sounded more desperate than Hades would have liked, asking such an obvious thing.
Because his son was made of love and so much love, loneliness was the one thing that killed him inside and out. That was why he couldn't bear being without his mother when he was young. Before, Nico had had Maria to keep it at bay, and then Bianca when Zeus separated them. And had Hades not messed it all up, Nico would never have needed to learn of pain and misery, of sorrows and sufferings. He would never be subjected to Nyx's vicious, traps wandering across the dreamscape, unconsciously seeking warmth. But as flawless as Zeus tried to claim godhood to be, Hades made a mistake, and it must have been the Fates' punishment to have the consequences weighing on his son instead.
Nico could choose Elysium. He could choose rebirth or he could become one of the Judges working alongside Hades - the demigod had been showing interest lately - or simply a resident ghost playing with Cerberus and Zagreus, and Hades would gladly indulge him. Thanatos would possibly complain - sure, nothing he couldn't endure. If Zeus wanted to complain, the brat could get his butt down here and Hades would make sure he had to trudge through Tartarus, ten times what his son had gone through.
He and Nico could have another ten years or the rest of eternity together, and there was still so much they needed to talk through, still learning how to bea family again.
But for now, as Hades squeezed his son's cold hand between his equally cold ones, all he said was:
"I'll be with you every step of the way."
And just like that, with his forehead pressed into his father's hand, Nico fell easily into sleep, tear streaks on his cheeks and a smile on his lips.
The night was long, but they had each other.