Chapter Text
The god of the underworld and the dead, also known as hades, has never had any known descendants.
Until came Dream.
Despite the name, he was a god of cruelty, raised by monsters and sinners alike. The underworld was the only home he’d ever known, and besides the occasional visits to Mount Olympus – he never knew the fates of mankind.
He never knew what decade it was or how many have passed, the time runs so much differently in his home he never even sought to look for another.
He welcomed kings, emperors, princess and princesses, peasants and slaves. It was his duty.
And when his father got busy, he got to take over the underworld for a little while, meeting with the rest of the Olympians, making sure monsters still roam the earth.
Then summer came and it got boring, Dream couldn’t bear to sit in the place alone. So, he went down to earth, disguised as a mere human.
Earth had a lot more to offer than he expected. Trees surrounding the entire land, soft grass rustling below his feet, flowers blooming fresh and sweet.
The laughter of children and teens, the joy of cold river water and fresh grape wine.
It almost looked more enjoyable than Mount Olympus itself, more heavenly.
Yet when he comes back to the gods, and exclaims what he saw, they laugh it off as a mere joke.
“They’re mortals, Dream, they don’t appreciate what they have, nothing ever satisfies them.” Zeus explains as he walks with the blond.
On the other side of him, stands Athena, whispering in his ear “They exist in a dangerous world, you can’t compare it to this one.”
And what is Dream to do other than believe them? The older, wiser gods all tell him that humans don’t live yet, they just exist for thirty years, and all of them meet the same fate.
- ☆•
Per his annual visit to earth, he notices something different this time. The birds aren’t chirping, the deer aren’t running across sunny fields, even the trees look still.
When he walks the grass feels heavy, like it lost all light.
That’s when he notices a boy in the grass, laying with his hands on his stomach, eyes closed.
He looks so peaceful, his naked body lies almost lifeless, but his chest still rises and falls.
Getting closer, his gently freckled face is more apparent, his soft features and cocoa brown hair complimenting each other.
His skin is shinny and smooth, as if made of porcelain, he’s tiny and frail, like a tree during winter.
His lips purse, indicating slight life in his state, as if he feels Dream nearby.
And Dream has never seen anyone more beautiful than the boy laying in the soft grass. Bushes rustle behind him, and he sees the little creatures he was looking for carefully watch the brunet from afar.
When Dream looks back, he can’t look away anymore.
On the small boy's chest, a tiny, reddened heart makes its mark. The marking of Aphrodite.
Not a son, not a lover, but a simple creation, crafted from clay and hot water.
The boys' eyes flutter, revealing their chocolate like colour, long lashes stretch across his eyelids.
He breathes steadily. “Hello?” A whisper comes out, the boy’s voice is as soft as a lyre, gently gliding through Dream’s ears.
“Hi,” He answers, though it’s been strictly forbidden to talk to mortals, he can’t help but talk to the beauty laying in front of him.
The boys' eyes avert to his, their gaze meets and the brunet smiles, “Are you my lover?”
A creation of Aphrodite, full of love and compassion, destined to meet their twin flame at least once in their lifetime.
Dream breathes heavily, “Yes, I am.” He says, it’s wrong, and it’s dirty, but he wants the brunet all to himself.
The naked boys smile widens, showing off his white, pearly teeth. He lifts his hand up to Dream’s hair and touches it with his fingertips, when he feels the frizzy hair against them, he gasps, as if his hands have never felt before.
And Dream questions, have they? How long has this boy been alive? What was his purpose?
“What’s your name, lover?” He asks, hand retracting back to gently lay on his stomach. Dream feels the innocence radiate off the boy, he doesn’t know he’s unclothed, he doesn’t know it’s shameful in the human realm, he doesn’t know Dream isn’t the one destined for him.
“Dream. You can call me Dream,” He whispers, afraid if he speaks any louder, the boy might just get scared. “And you, what’s your name?”
The brunet giggles, a soft sign escaping him, and in Dream’s thousands of years of living, he thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. “Dream,” he hums, the name rolling off his tongue like a water droplet. “George, my name is George.”
George. Such a common name, yet he makes it sound so beautiful. Has George even met any other mortals before? Does he have a family, a home? Or is he just that, a creation, made to appease anyone's eye.
Aphrodite was interesting in that way, creating the most beautiful mortals on earth just to appeal. He’s seen countless of them leave the mountain and return to the underworld after living an easy life.
But George was different, he was the most beautiful of them all, he could’ve been Aphrodite's son for all he’d know, it’s the mark that gives it away. His fingertips are gentle, his face is soft and smooth, unlike any other’s he’d seen come and leave earth.
As they look at each other, George yawns, his eyes fluttering, “Can you take me home, Dream?”
“Where’s your home, George?”
“With you.”
Dream sighs and smiles, “Yeah- okay, yeah, we can go home.” He doesn’t exactly know where home is, he can’t take him to the underworld, this boy is too sweet for that.
So, for now, Dream reckons home will be the lonely cabin in the woods, he’ll renovate it, he’ll make it a liveable place for George, away from any other human on earth.
The world can be cruel, especially cruel to a boy like George, he can’t let the world hurt him. Better yet, he can’t let the gods hurt him either.
Hades was never a very respected member of the Olympians; he got cast down to the underworld to take care of the dead, yet his kindness in history still remained. Dream was always angry for him, angry at how neither of his brothers treated him right, angry at how the world worked, angry for being forced to eternal darkness.
His anger was visible, and it made the others want to make him miserable even more.
The very first time he went to a meeting, he was shamed, everything that he loved and worked so hard for was stripped away from him, even the kindest gods never took his and his father's side. They were mere outcasts.
So, now that he has more than himself to protect, he has never been more afraid than now. If Aphrodite finds out he took in a creation of hers, the god of cruelty is nurturing her mortal, she will kill George in an instant.
He reaches out for his hand, standing George up. He was short and a lot smaller than Dream expected him to be, next to the blond, he looked almost like a dandelion next to an oak tree. The brunet wobbles, his legs shaking. “Can you walk?” Dream asks gently, holding up the boy by his waist.
He shakes his head no, cheeks turning pink, Dream can’t help but smile. He wraps his arm tighter around the boy's waist and picks him up. The shorter puts his hands around his next, laying his head on the taller’s chest.
“What’s this?” He points to Dream’s cloak, “It’s so soft and warm.”
“My cloak, I wear it all the time.” Dream hums.
When George looks down at himself, his eyes widen, and his cheeks burn a soft red. And it seems with every new concept Dream brings to him, George immediately notices it on himself. He knows he’s naked, and he’s starting to be ashamed of it.
It’s like the Christian story, something about an apple, a snake and a woman. How she realizes what shame is and that she’s naked. Maybe Dream, in this scenario, is George’s apple. Or maybe he’s the snake that tempts him to eat it. He’s not quite sure yet.
As they reach the cabin, Dream starts to worry, how will George live in it if it’s so unliveable? The stairs creek and are broken, the floors are rotten and old, the beds barely stand as it is, how will he sleep on one? Humans and their needs, their needs like food, water, sleep. It’s difficult to find all that in a broken-down cabin.
“Is this where you live?” George asks, awaking from his slumber and breathing softly.
Dream doesn’t, but he lies anyway, “Yes, this is my home.”
“It’s beautiful.” George says, looking up at the blond.
Aphrodite’s creation. Able to find beauty in any existing thing ever, from a wilting flower to a diamond castle. Able to love every single thing on earth and beyond, never judge their lover’s life, never hurt a soul. Never hurt anything.