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It had been an odd request, especially coming from Hades’ nephew. He asked him to consider allowing Castellan rebirth, asked him to allow him to wait for it. Hades had not received a request like this in a very long time, if ever, and found himself curious.
Hades didn’t do the weighing of souls himself, usually left it to the Council, but in this case, he found his curiosity leading him to find the boy. When he found him, he was not surprised to find him looking younger—most subconsciously chose to look like themselves at the happiest times of their lives—but the Camp Half-Blood shirt…
That was interesting.
Luke Castellan did not speak to him, did not beg or whimper or scream. His hands shook, but he looked him in the eye, eyes dim with resignation. Looking into his mind, he found the certainty that he would spend the rest of his existence in the fields of punishment, but beyond that was a yearning sort of pain. Hades nudged further and found a memory, found Perseus Jackson.
“Wait for me,” Percy pleads, “when you get to Elysium, wait for me before you reincarnate.”
“Percy, I don't think I'm going there,” Luke had to laugh behind Percy's ear, peeving the younger boy off more, “The Field of Punishment would be generous if they don't throw me in Tartarus.”
“Don't count yourself out yet,” Percy demands, digging his fists into Luke's shirt, “if not this life, I want to try again in the next.”
“Percy,” Luke's hands felt like they were burning where they touched Percy, but he didn't think Percy would let him pull away. He found he didn't want to, even if the pit in his stomach kept getting deeper, “I'll wait for you, if I get the chance, I'll wait as long as you need me to.”
That. That was very interesting. The promise had been genuine, but the boy had known it wasn’t likely, known he had already sealed his fate…
But Hades had a soft spot for his nephew, unfortunately, the nephew who had regained him a seat on the Olympian Council, made sure his children would always have a place with the rest of the demigods, ensured Nico was accepted and honored for his contributions. The nephew who had fallen in love with the traitor but done his duty anyway, only asking him to consider allowing something as a favor rather than asking him straight out for something he knew Hades may not be willing to give. The nephew who took his advice when it was given and had addressed him as family from the beginning, who had not used his foolish wife’s actions against her.
Hades sighed, then, for the first time in a very long time, weighed a soul the way he used to, back when there were less mortals on earth and he had the time.
He found pain, guilt, so much guilt, resentment, fear, and above all, love. Love for a mother whose mind was lost to prophecy, lost to a curse of Hades’ own devising, who he stayed for despite his fear until he couldn’t anymore. Love for Thalia Grace who he had sent armies after and very nearly succeeded in killing before she was turned into a tree. Love for Annabeth Chase, his little sister who had grown into a warrior and architect to be proud of. Love for dozens of demigods, siblings, friends, killed by and for the gods before his desperation to stop it, to do something lead to working for Kronos, to being dragged deeper and deeper until he’d passed the point of no return and kept going for lack of other options. Love for Percy Jackson who matched him in many ways, was the other side of his coin, who resented the gods just as much but knew that sometimes the best way out was through. Love for the boy he really only ever had for a single night, but gave his heart to anyway knowing he would never get it back, knowing it was safest kept tucked against his chest. Love for the boy who looked him in the eye and made the choice to hand him a knife so his little sister didn’t have to, who swore to him on his last breath that he would try to make things better so that nothing like this war would ever happen again.
“Ethan. Me. All the unclaimed. Don’t let it…Don’t let it happen again.”
“I won’t, I promise.”
Hades sighed once again and just for a moment, out of ancient habit, held the soul close to his chest to ease its pains. Stared at the stalactites high above them.
He could not allow this soul into Elysium. But there was something he could do.
Percy Jackson died young. Not as young as he once thought he would, practically ancient by demigod standards, but fifty-five was still young.
He had lived a good life, one to be proud of. He had been part of Great Prophecies, wars, a few to many cross-pantheon shenanigans for his liking, and ultimately fought more monsters than just about anyone ever had outside of the Pit itself. But those weren’t the things he was most proud of.
Percy Jackson had wheedled a lot of promises out of the gods and gotten them in the habit of following through. He had made a lot of progress towards gaining protections for demigods, and by the time he hit his thirties, there were so many that Annabeth had taken a page out of the Roman’s book and started building a city for them. He had fostered so many that whenever they all got together they needed to rent a venue. He’d never married, but his mom and Paul and eventually Estelle were only ever a phone call away and always willing to help. He had friends and family and a few very dangerous pets and more love than he knew what to do with, and he was happy.
There was always one things however, something that everyone knew but nobody understood. He never married, never even got into any particularly long-lasting relationships, and by all accounts didn’t really mind it. But sometimes, when he was alone and the world was quiet, he remembered that night, one warm, devastating, beautiful night with a devastating, beautiful boy and wondered if he was able to keep his promise. He still wore two necklaces beneath his shirt, and even as he stood in line for judgement he fiddled with the guitar pick on the one he’d held onto longer than its original owner had ever lived. He noticed hands no longer sun-darkened with crooked fingers, but smoother, less calloused, less scarred and wondered how old he looked.
He gave Cerberus a few pats as he passed, the big baby whining that Mrs. O’Leary wasn’t with him, then ended up hanging out with him a bit longer, making sure to give scritches behind all six ears because Cerby was the best boy.
“Nephew,” a low, familiar voice greeted him.
“Uncle Hades,” Percy grinned at the god, “Long time no see.”
“Should have known I’d find you here.”
“He’s a very good boy and deserves all the cuddles.” Percy declared shamelessly.
Hades grumbled under his breath about how some things never changed, then gestured for Percy to follow him, making his way toward the palace.
Percy, pretty sure he was skipping a couple steps, followed without complaint. Once they reached the palace, then eventually the throne room, Hades nudged him into an alcove and gestured for him to wait quietly for a moment.
Not a minute later, the doors reopened and in stepped Luke, older than Percy last saw him, appearing maybe in his thirties, and looking utterly gorgeous. And also very done.
“Daedalus is requesting another load of materials,” Luke began without preamble, reading off of an tablet, “There’s been an uprising in asphodel and apparently they found one of the Doors of Death—still shut, but they managed to find a battering ram somewhere and now they’re pissing off Thanatos. Also, Persephone took my advice, so expect Demeter to come banging down your door sometime in the near future trying to give her back early. You’re welcome, by the way.”
As he spoke, Percy found a grin creeping across his face. He didn’t know exactly what was going on, but got the feeling that Hades had been putting Luke’s managerial skills to good use for the past few decades.
“Fantastic,” Hades grumbled, but looked a bit fond against his will. “I’ll deal with those in a moment, but I believe we have other matters to discuss.”
Luke raised his eyebrows. “What is it?”
Hades glanced his way and Percy took the cue to step into the light.
“Hey,” he said.
Luke dropped his tablet.
“Now, before your dramatic reunion, which had better happen in Castellan’s rooms and not my throne room, a have a few offers for you both.”
Hades smiled at the pair’s looks of trepidation and hope as he began. It would be interesting having his nephew around, and Luke made a rather good personal assistant. He would of course eventually send them off to rebirth once they’d trained up a replacement eventually, but a few decades of entertainment would be more than enough.
(He may rethink this decision after finding Percy playing chase with Cerberus and a pack of hellhounds a couple months later, but a deal’s a deal and his fate would be sealed by then.)