#fempercyjackson

Out of sheer boredom and temporary loss of impulse control, Sally Jackson lists the God of the Underworld, Hades, as her daughter’s godfather. She fully expected nothing to come of it. Then, a package arrived at her door.

Based off of the prompt: Your parents listed Hades as your godfather as a joke, That would not be an issue if it were not for the 3-headed puppy delivered to your doorstep by Persephone and Hades themselves, planning to protect you from the Olympian's shenanigans due to Zeus' bulldickery

Chapter Twelve

Priscilla “Percy” Jackson aka Fem! Percy from Rick Riordan’s series of Demi God camp goers 

Out of sheer boredom and temporary loss of impulse control, Sally Jackson lists the God of the Underworld, Hades, as her daughter's godfather. She fully expected nothing to come of it. Then, a package arrived at her door.

Based off of the prompt: Your parents listed Hades as your godfather as a joke, That would not be an issue if it were not for the 3-headed puppy delivered to your doorstep by Persephone and Hades themselves, planning to protect you from the Olympian's shenanigans due to Zeus' bulldickery

Chapter Ten

Author’s note: I read back the last nine chapters and realized how many inconsistencies I’d written in. Notably switching between past and present tense. For example, in chapter nine, I’d written that Hades never called his children and Adrestia. I wanted to use the excuse that they call him, but I ended chapter seven with Hades calling Adrestia. I have ADHD, so I forget things a lot, and with how long it takes me to write these chapters I’m going to forget a couple of things. 

I also can’t write these to be long. Otherwise I want to do something else and forget I have this waiting for me. 

Nico, Bianca, and Adrestia had many expectations for what their godfather/uncle/father would look and be like. What they got was somehow very far but also very close. 

They’d expected a mystery man. Someone average who could easily blend into the shadows, go unnoticed. They knew he had to be of the one percent. A poor or middle-class man would never pay for so much in one year, especially for three kids he’s never met and would never discover if they truly valued him past the gifts. Nico, Bianca, and Adrestia weren’t shallow, but it’s a reasonable assumption when you’ve only talked to someone over text or through a call and never face-to-face. 

They stared at the man before them, failing to believe this was the generous man they’d heard so much about. 

“Hello, children,” the man said, staring at them as if to memorize what they looked like. It was the same voice from the voicemail. 

Adrestia wrapped her arms around Orthrus’s neck. One thing she noticed was the uncanny resemblance between the man and Nico: the unbelievably pale skin, the dark eyes, the long hair, and the scary aura. The only thing the man was missing was an emo look and fake piercings. And maybe some stubble he’s too lazy to shave off. 

Nico must’ve noticed as well. “Dad?”

The man looked at him. “Yes, son?”

Adrestia reached out and poked the man’s face, dragging the tip of her finger down his cheek before drawing away. “That’s his actual skin tone.”

The man smiled, his obsidian black eyes twinkling in amusement. It sent a chill down the siblings’ spines. Including Nico’s, and he didn’t scare easily. “What? Did you think it was makeup?”

Adrestia nodded. “Yeah. You’re whiter than bone.”

“Bones are yellow.”

“And you know that from all of the people you killed?” Adrestia retorted. She hadn’t liked how sure her godfather sounded when he said that, like he studied bones in a non-legal way. It didn’t help with her belief of him being in the mafia. 

Instead of a dirty look – something Adrestia and her siblings expected – her godfather laughed. A sharp bark of sound that chilled the air. The dogs’ ears perked up, like they were shocked this man could laugh. Adrestia, Nico, and Bianca sat in stunned, stiff silence, not sure what to do while their godfather/uncle/father continued to laugh, clutching his chest. 

What felt like an awkward eternity passed, and the man’s laughter died down.  He wiped away a tear. “Let’s talk more in the dining room.”

The man stepped out of the way. The siblings’ shared a look. A part of them wanted to stay in the safety of the limo with their dogs, but this was the man who’d essentially made their lives better; and their mother had taught them to never judge a book by its cover. 

Being the oldest, Bianca stepped out first, her dog trailing behind her. Nico and Adrestia soon followed.

“You can leave your luggage in the car,” the man said. “My servants will get them and take them to your room.”

They stood at the end of a long driveway leading up to an ominous dark castle that appeared easily twice the size of the Palace of Versailles. It looked like a palace made from nightmares. It had turrets, the points puncturing the sunless sky. There was no light to be seen from the inside, and the siblings’ expected a bolt of lightning or two to appear along with a booming bash of thunder – like what you’d see in those animated scenes of scary castles. They knew, for a fact, there had to be a dungeon. Not because it was expected in castles, but, looking at this castle, it was the first thing that’d pop into your head. 

As they walked up the driveway, Bianca swore she saw a look of amusement on her father’s face. Apparently, he found their trepidation funny. 

They passed under a tall archway, the gate already raised. The siblings’ stared, awed, by the skeleton guards. Judging by the clothes the guards wore, they came from different eras ranging from Ancient Greece to recent wars, like the one in Afghanistan. Adrestia wondered how useful a skeleton warrior was. Ever since that scene from Scary Movie 2 where Brenda and Cindy dismantle the skeleton and rearrange its bones to make fun of it, Adrestia never saw a skeleton creature as threatening. She fought back the urge to sneak up on one of the guards and grab one of its leg bones just to laugh as it fell, like a person snatched of their cane. Adrestia thought that’d be too cruel. 

The man led them through magnificent halls of pure gold and silver, decorated with bouquets of flowers made from jewels the siblings’ didn’t know the name of. Those halls gave Adrestia the vibe of “Tell me you’re rich without telling me you’re rich”. 

They smelled the food before they saw it.

The dining room table, a long and thick mahogany slab on stone podiums, was blanketed with delicacies the Jackson-Di Angelo siblings knew so well; because it was their favorite. Blue foods and desserts for Adrestia; affogato and lasagna for Nico; moussaka and spaghetti and meatballs for Bianca. There were others, but those mains caught the siblings’ eyes. 

The man stood at the head of the table. “Now, let’s begin with introductions. My name is Hades, Lord of the Underworld and God of the Dead.”

Second Author’s Note: Wanted to end this story by telling you I’m planning on a second Hades is my Godfather, one called Goddaughter of Hades. It’s not a sequel to this story, it’s an alternate universe. In it, Nico and Bianca aren’t Adrestia’s adopted siblings, and Adrestia talks to Hades daily through an altar. 

Out of sheer boredom and temporary loss of impulse control, Sally Jackson lists the God of the Underworld, Hades, as her daughter’s godfather. She fully expected nothing to come of it. Then, a package arrived at her door.

Based off of the prompt: Your parents listed Hades as your godfather as a joke, That would not be an issue if it were not for the 3-headed puppy delivered to your doorstep by Persephone and Hades themselves, planning to protect you from the Olympian's shenanigans due to Zeus' bulldickery

Chapter Eleven

The siblings waited for the man to say “April Fools!” – even though it was June. He didn’t. 

Adrestia searched the man’s face for any sign of this being a joke. She found none, not even a flicker. He was completely serious. She wanted to laugh, to demand where the cameras were and ask where their real godfather was. Judging by the looks on her siblings’ faces, they were thinking the same thing.

“Are you joking?” Bianca demanded, anger seeping into her voice. The kind of tone swiftly followed by a scolding. 

If the man didn’t like her tone, he didn’t show it. “No, I’m incredibly serious.” He gestured to the chairs. “Sit.”

Defiance shone brightest in Adrestia, and lingered somewhat in her siblings. They all ignored the order. The reason why differed. Bianca desired answers and would do nothing until she got them; Nico distrusted the man who called himself Hades and wanted a quick getaway in case things got ugly; Adrestia disobeyed just because. 

“What,” Bianca crossed her arms, “you honestly expect us to believe you’re Hades. As in the “God of the Dead” Hades from Greek Mythology? You expect us to believe you’re some powerful immortal?”

“Who’s also our dad?” Nico added, skepticism coloring his voice. 

“And my godfather,” Adrestia said, hands on her hips.

Hades' dark eyes landed on each of them, studying. Whatever he was thinking, they couldn’t tell. If he was a poker player, he’d win every time, Adrestia thought to herself. Now that she looked at him, Adrestia felt an ancientness to his . . . everything. She couldn’t pin it down. 

Hades exhaled a long, tired sigh, one somewhere between exasperated parent and defeat. 

“If you sit down and eat, I will give you the proof you need.”

“Yeah, what are you gonna do?” Adrestia taunted, smirking. “Raise the dead?”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t tempt me.”

The siblings shared a look, questioning whether they should take Hades’s deal and trust the food he’d offered. Thousands of words flew between them. Wariness showed plain and simple on their faces, towards Hades, the food, and what they’d witnessed on their walk into the place. It all felt like a dream. The only thing that made it clear it wasn’t was the fact that they’re all experiencing it together; and nothing weird or unexplainable had happened. Yet.

Finally, with a firm nod from Bianca, they all sat. Stiffly and ready to run, but they sat. 

Orthrus, Crimson, and Maria settled beside their respective owners. Bowls of water and grounded up meat mixed with bits of fruit and veggies appeared in front of them. The dogs started eating as soon as their owners’ gave the signal. 

Adrestia filled her plate with nachos and burgers with blue buns, a smile creeping onto her face. Bianca smiled widely, savoring the rich and savory taste of spaghetti and meatballs doused in marinara mixed with parmesan. No sign of pleasure or content appeared on Nico’s face, but those who knew him could tell he was enjoying his lasagna.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Adrestia watched Hades. He ate silently. To her, he didn’t seem like much of a threat. There was a certain air about him, fear and dread radiated off him like heat from the sun. But Adrestia couldn’t help but think how easily she could beat him in a fight with how slim he was. 

A deep part of her brain told her it’d be a foolish idea to engage him in battle.

After they all finished eating, Hades led them out of the dining room and deeper into his castle. The more of the skeletons Adrestia saw, noting how each of them came from a different era of warfare, she got an eerie feeling that they were real and not props or excellent costumes. Real skeletons, moving around as if they were still alive. The idea sounded absurd.

They stopped in front of a massive door. It stood out from the entire castle. Etched into the wood were three large dogs frolicking in a field of flowers and trees. Happy, was one way to describe it. 

Hades opened the door and pushed it aside, gesturing for the siblings to enter. They did so, their dogs at their heels. A massive room laid before them, walls lined with shelves and file cabinets. On the shelves, Adrestia recognized several familiar clay figurines and posters she and her siblings had made, along with framed photos of her and her family. She stared at a picture of her, Nico, and Bianca standing in front of Cinderella’s castle at Disney World. They were smiling widely, bits of their lunch sticking to the corners of their lips. It was a shiny, warm day.

“I remember this,” Bianca murmured to herself. She dragged a fingertip down a crudely made clay heart. “Why is this . . . ?”

“What the–?” Nico had chosen to look through the file cabinets. He found letters, all of them difficult to read due to sloppy handwriting or words spelled incorrectly. “My name is on some of these.”

“Yes,” Hades said, standing in the doorway, “because you wrote them.”

The siblings turned and stared at him, pelting him with silent questions. 

A smile ghosted the Lord of the Dead’s lips. “Surely, you children remember sending the man who has provided for you for so long gifts? Although, seeing how long ago it was, it makes sense you forgot.”

Nico showed his two sisters the letters, which were dated when they’d be around six to eight years old. There was no denying it. Him having these drawings, letters, photos, and pieces of childish creativity – things they themselves had created and sent – was proof enough of who he was. 

Out of sheer boredom and temporary loss of impulse control, Sally Jackson lists the God of the Underworld, Hades, as her daughter's godfather. She fully expected nothing to come of it. Then, a package arrived at her door.

Based off of the prompt: Your parents listed Hades as your godfather as a joke, That would not be an issue if it were not for the 3-headed puppy delivered to your doorstep by Persephone and Hades themselves, planning to protect you from the Olympian's shenanigans due to Zeus' bulldickery

Chapter One

The sun hangs high, casting an inviting warmth across New York City, as white fluffy clouds drift slowly as a glacier across a vast sheet of pastel blue. A spring breeze whips around the diverse city, ruffling hair and skirts, carrying the captivating scent of freshly bloomed flowers, cut grass, and street food. Car horns blare, drivers bicker over who has the right of way, and tourists trek around the city to see the only two tourist attractions they know. 

At eight thirty that morning, a glossy yellow school bus, its windows down and students' disorderly conversations echoing down the street, came to a stop in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. 

With a pull of a lever, the doors opened inward. Students’ leapt out of their seats and shuffled out onto the sidewalk in a single file line, dispersing and grouping up with their friends. Lively laughter and friendly cursing rang out, several students voicing their displeasure at having to spend the day at a museum. A few bragged about the luxurious vacations awaiting them at the end of the school year, and others quietly mentioned the urge to pay someone to buy them beer over the summer. “Just to see what it tastes like,” they said in a joking manner, in case a teacher overheard. 

A loud “E' una vera stronza!” erupted from the bus, followed by more Italian words in what people could only assume was a scolding. 

Four students got off the bus – the four outcasts of Yancy Academy. 

Bianca Di Angelo-Jackson: A kind girl in a band of misfits, she is the oldest of the four and a Yancy Academy graduate, having left as a straight A valedictorian. Her silky black hair was tied back in a tight braid and her olive skin shimmered in the sunlight like sand at a tropical beach. The only reason she was on this trip was as a personal favor to the teachers, who expressed their condolences to her for having siblings like Nico and Adrestia.

Nico Di Angelo-Jackson: A Mythomagic fanatic with a look that could kill, Bianca’s little brother was the definition of a closeted emo. His black hair was always messy, like he refused to brush it after getting out of bed, and his hands were as cold as ice. It was suspected that his wardrobe consisted entirely of black clothing because it was the only color anyone saw him wear, along with his aviator’s jacket and steel-toed boots. Unlike the other two, he sent chills down everyone’s spine with his blank stare and the madman glint in his brown eyes.

Adrestia Jackson: With jet-black hair as wild and untamed as her personality, the six foot tall skater girl was a powerhouse and the definition of sass. In the midday sun, her tanned skin glittered like polished bronze and her sea-green eyes blazed with defiance, firm muscles embellishing her lithe form. Several rumors about her run-ins with the law and past expulsions had circulated around the school since the start of the year, giving her a troubled kid reputation. Her friends call her Addie or ‘Desti. 

Grover Underwood: A new addition to the group, he is not as intimidating. He was a scrawny boy with a wispy beard and curly brown hair, and he had a muscular disease in his legs. He’d cry whenever he got frustrated and walked funny. Everyone believed he only joined their group for protection.

Adorning Bianca, Nico, and Adrestia’s neck, its silver sheen glinting, was a skull pendant. It was a creepy piece of jewelry, too realistic looking for anyone’s liking, and the rubies in the eye sockets made people feel it was truly looking at them. As far as everyone knew, they never took it off their necks. 

Nico aggressively points to Adrestia, saying more words in Italian that no one could understand, gesturing for her to get closer while gesturing to Bianca, as if he was asking her to step in or something. The girl shakes her head as she replies in Greek – another language no one could understand – and raises her hands in surrender, taking a step back. Grover steps forward, nervously putting his hand on Nico’s shoulder, telling him something in Greek. The people who stopped to watch and listen wondered how one could know what the other was saying, because Italian and Greek were vastly different grammar wise. Nico visibly relaxes at Grover’s words, reluctantly relenting from whatever he couldn’t let go.

Mr. Brunner, the Latin teacher, rides up in his motorized wheelchair. He stops and says, “May I ask what has upset you so much, Mr. Di Angelo? I wouldn’t want whatever is bothering you to affect this trip.”

“It’s nothing,” Nico grumbles, stuffing his hands into his jacket. 

Mr. Brunner turns to Bianca with a questioning look. 

“He’s angry he can’t get revenge on Nancy,” she explains. 

Nico sends her a glare, speaking in a hushed voice through gritted teeth. “Bianca!” 

“And why exactly does he want to get revenge on Nancy?”

“She threw pieces of her peanut butter and ketchup sandwich at me the entire bus ride,” says Grover sheepishly.

Nico sneers in disgust, muttering, “Che schifo.”

“I would’ve decked Nancy,” Adrestia butts in, leaning against the bus and crossing her arms over her chest, “if I wasn’t on probation.”

“Well, I’m glad that stopped you,” Mr. Brunner says, giving her a stern look. “I wouldn’t want that one mistake to threaten your future, Ms. Jackson. I expect great things from you.”

Adrestia raises a brow at his words, a flicker of disbelief appearing on her neutral expression. When Mr. Brunner told her that, or something close to that, she wanted to be angry. Not only did her dyslexia and ADHD let her never get anything above a C-, she was constantly in trouble with authority. She believed you shouldn’t expect great things from a person like her, and she wished he wouldn’t.

Mr. Brunner turns to Nico. “Mr. Di Angelo, I suggest you follow Ms. Jackson’s lead and avoid retaliating against Nancy. You may not get in as much trouble as your sister, but that doesn’t mean you should put your future at risk as well. Do you understand?”

Nico looks away, stubbornly avoiding his intense brown eyes that look as though they belong to someone who’s lived a thousand years. 

“Do you understand, Mr. Di Angelo?” Mr. Brunner asks again, his voice firmer this time. 

Nico growls. “Yes, I understand,” he answers, grinding the words out through clenched teeth.

Mr. Brunner glances at each of them, staring longer at Grover, before rolling away. The group watches him leave. 

The moment he’s out of earshot, Adrestia comments, “He’s weird.” 

“He’s not weird,” Bianca lightly chides. “He’s just trying to help you.”

“Why?” Nico questions, glancing at his older sister. His skeptical gaze returns to the middle-aged man in the wheelchair.

“Does it matter why? He’s one of the only teachers who actually doesn’t want to give up on you two.”

“Yeah, the other one’s Mrs. Dodds.” Irritation flashes across Adrestia’s face, a corner of her lip tugged into a sneer. 

A throat clearing steals the group’s attention. They look up to lock eyes with their fifty-year-old math teacher, Mrs. Dodds, wearing her usual black leather jacket and strict expression, eyes boring into their souls. 

“I think she heard you,” Nico whispers, leaning towards Adrestia.

“Ya think?” Adrestia’s voice is just as low, a chill running down her spine as Mrs. Dodds eyes narrow.

A small sound similar to a bleat escapes Grover’s lips. The trio looks at him, noting the pink coloring his light-brown cheeks. Grover clears his throat, hurriedly saying, “Mr. Brunner is calling for us. We should get going.”

A murmur of agreement rises between them as they join the others, ignoring the derisive stares they had more or less gotten used to. Bianca, Nico, and Adrestia had the looks and the personality to be one of the popular kids. The only thing stopping them was a number of things: Adrestia’s troubled history, Nico’s homosexuality, Bianca’s loyalty to her siblings, their poor background, and them not caring about popularity. It didn’t help that they had foreign roots. Their peers often mocked the way they spoke, purposely mispronouncing words with a terrible accent. Although, it was more tolerable than the stereotypes. 

“What’s wrong with Mrs. Dodds?” Bianca asks in Italian, turning to her younger sister.

Adrestia shrugs, replying in Greek. “She’s too . . . harsh, I guess.”

“What? Is she abusive or something?”

“No, but,” Adrestia pauses, shaking her head as she sighs. “It feels like she hates me or something. She gives me the evil eye a lot.”

“She’d probably stop giving you the evil eye if you paid attention more,” said Grover in Greek. 

“Maybe if she didn’t sound like the teachers from the military academies I went to, I would actually try to pay attention,” Adrestia retorts as they walk towards the museum with the rest of the group.  

Sally: Adrestia, your father isn't dead, he's --

Poseidon walks in.