#hades!michael

Here's my Michael masterlist if you want to read more of my stories about him! ➡️ Masterlist

(Also, I love how this dialogue fits so so well with my headcanon) Here's my masterlist if you're interested to read more of my stories about him: Michael Langdon Masterlist.

If you’re interested to read the other story I wrote about Hades!Michael you can find it here: Hades!Michael: The myth of Hades and Persephone.

{- Hades and Persephone (Michael au) -} No one ever told him it would be this lonely. When the children of Chronos overthrew their father, they realized that they would have to rule the gods in his stead. Zeus was quick to claim the skies and declare himself King of Olympus. Poseidon laid claim to the oceans and seas, building a kingdom beneath the waves. Michael found himself left with the Underworld, the vast kingdom of the dead, absent of life and light. Another god might have felt cheated, but he didn't complain. In truth, Michael didn't feel like he was cut out to be a king, even if he was given the kingdom neither of his brothers wanted. If he was going to have the role of ruler forced on him, he figured that he could do the least amount of damage in the Underworld, where all of his subjects were already dead. At first, it wasn't so bad. After all, he was lord of everything under the surface of the earth, including the precious stones and other riches buried deep in the ground. His palace was smaller than Zeus's or Poseidon's, but much more luxurious than either. His subjects respected him, and he quickly earned a reputation as a just and fair king, if a somewhat distant one. After a few years he grew into the role, developing into an imposing figure wrapped in black robes, with green eyes that sparkled like the many jewels decorating his palace and skin almost as pale white as that of his many subjects. Eventually, he even grew accustomed to the eternal screams of tortured souls, which used to keep him up at night when he first arrived in this place. He knew that these poor, deceased souls were incapable of loving their king, but they obeyed him and even admired him, and he told himself that it was enough. The mortals, on the other hand, had no love for the King of the Dead. They feared him because they feared dying, to the point where his very name became a synonym for the end of a life. They did not build temples in his honor like they did for his brothers and sisters. They offered sacrifices to him, but only when their loved ones were dying -- they didn't understand that winning Michael's favor would not save them from the inevitable, as he had no power over a person's time and cause of death. They walked in fear of him, and when they died they came to the Underworld cowering in terror. The other gods were not much better. They did not fear Michael, as they could not die; they respected him and the kingdom he had built in the land of the dead; but they did not love him. He was an outsider, rarely invited to Olympus and only contracted by another Olympian when they needed something from him. His brothers both got married shortly after they inherited their kingdoms, but none of the goddesses would even look at him twice. Why would they, when all he had to offer them was a cold, lifeless realm inhabited by poor, lost souls? He told himself that it was okay, that he would rather be alone. The other gods were selfish, sometimes even cruel: Zeus and Aphrodite with their many love affairs, Poseidon with his storms that leveled entire cities, Aires and Athena with their petty squabbling. He told himself that he was above all that, and that he was happier without it. But he longed for the sunlight that no longer warmed his skin, for pleasant conversations with intelligent people, for the warm touch of another living being. He was lonely, so lonely, and he had no one to turn to. He was alone in the most complete and unforgiving sense of the word. It was because of his loneliness that, after several centuries, he took to wandering the earth whenever he could get away from his duties as King. He disguised himself as a young mortal, keeping a low profile as he observed the humans and their blessedly boring lives. He watched their festivals and their holidays, their weddings and their funerals. He watched children playing games and old men telling stories and lovers sharing a stolen moment of affection. And it all made him feel the warm, pleasant emotions that he had almost lost in the dark and hopelessness of his home. It was on one of these outings that he found you. He heard your voice first, clear and sweet but with a faint underlying tone of sensuality. He was captivated by it, his chest constricting almost painfully as he listened to your song. He had to find the source of the mesmerizing song; it was almost like he was driven to it by something outside himself. He ran after the haunting melody, somehow breathless even though he had no need to fill his lungs with air. He felt like he might literally die if he didn't find the person responsible for such a beautiful song, like if she stopped singing he might shrivel up and wither away into nothing. He had never needed anything so much. When he saw you, his heart seemed to literally stop beating for a few seconds. You were beautiful, more beautiful than all the jewels in his kingdom, even more beautiful any goddess he had ever seen, though he could tell by one glance that you were mortal, though the touch of the gods was obvious in your features and the way you carried yourself. You vaguely resembled Demeter, a goddess he had little contact with these days -- he quickly assumed that you were her child, half human and half goddess. You sat in the shade of a beautiful tree, braiding strings of flowers together as you sang. You had already woven a bunch of daisies into a crown, which sat on top of your head and only added an element of adorableness to your breathtaking appearance. He approached you slowly, as if you were a deer that he didn't want to startle. "Hello." His voice was hushed and breathy, almost a whisper. He winced as the word left his throat. You looked up, a friendly smile touching your lips. (He did his best to ignore how your lips were soft and pink and begging to be kissed.) "Hello." He stared at you. For the first time in centuries, someone was looking at him with something besides fear in their eyes. Your wide, beautiful eyes were filled with curiosity and possible excitement, but not the terror and resentment he had grown so used to seeing. He cleared his throat, struggling to find words. "May I... sit with you?" You nodded slowly, patting the ground beside you. He lowered himself gingerly to the ground at your side, gasping as he accidentally inhaled your sweet, addicting scent. Your smile was kind and inviting, and he was fairly sure that it was because you didn't know who he was. He forced himself to return it with a lazy grin of his own. (He would later realize that it was the first time he had smiled in years.) "I like your singing." A faint blush dusted your face, and he was sure you were more beautiful than the sunrise. You ducked your head so that your hair partially hid your pink cheeks. "Thank you." He felt like a child as he stuttered out his next question. "Will you sing for me?" Your blush deepened as you nodded quickly, staring at the ground because you couldn't remember how to breathe when you looked at the beautiful stranger next to you. You decided to sing one of the lullabies your mother would once use to lull you to sleep. As you sang the simple, soothing melody, you went back to weaving flowers together. You worked and sang without looking up at him for the entire song, though you could feel his gaze, never straying from your face. When you finished singing, he sighed contentedly, feeling as if a hole in his soul had been filled. His smile was as gentle as he could make it as he cautiously moved closer to you. "What is your name?" You answered easily, leaning back against the tree. "(Y/n). May I ask for yours?" He carefully avoided your question. "Will you teach me how to do that thing with the flowers?" "Of course." You smiled warmly at him and took his hands in your own. His skin was cold, as if he had just come in from a snow storm. You felt your face blush again at the contact as you placed two flowers in his grasp, showing him how to tie the stems together. Soon the two of you were working in comfortable silence, weaving flowers and occasionally throwing curious glances at each other. You were intrigued by this man -- you wanted to learn his story, to discover why there was such an immense sadness hidden behind his beautiful eyes. His breath hitched as you placed your finished masterpiece, a crown of wild violets, on top of his head. He looked up at you with open child-like wonder and admiration, studying the graceful features of your face. Slowly, curiously, he brought his hand up to gently touch the flowers on his head, so much lighter than the bejeweled crown he wore at home. You giggled at the strangely adorable sight. "You look very pretty," you teased, "Those flowers suit you very well." He laughed for the first time in decades. "Thank you, m'lady. They are almost as beautiful as you." You both stared at each other with wide eyes when you realized what he said. His mind raced as he watched the emotions fighting behind your eyes, and he saw it. A flicker of something, not quite fear, but nervousness. You did not feel entirely comfortable around him anymore. The thought made his heart ache in his chest. "Forgive me." He took your hand, squeezing it gently. "That was very forward of me. I meant no disrespect. But it is true that you are very lovely." You smiled shyly. "Thank you, you are very kind. But I'm afraid I must ". My friends will be looking for me." In truth, you didn't have any friends. You were Demeter's favorite daughter, and she was very protective of you. She had commanded a group of forest nymphs to watch over you, as she could not bring you, a mortal, to Olympus with her. The nymphs were quite possessive of you; they never let you go anywhere by yourself, and never allowed you to have visitors aside from your mother or occasionally your uncle, the god Hermes. You has snuck away from them today for some much needed alone time, but you knew that by now they had noticed your absence and were searching frantically. You had to get back before they called on your mother. "Don't go, please." His voice was desperate as he clung to your hand. You were the only person he had ever met who was capable of showing him kindness, and he couldn't let that slip away from him. He was so tired of being alone. He needed companionship, needed you. He had never in his life taken anything for himself -- he accepted the kingdom no one else wanted, he asked for nothing from his brothers and the other gods, he did his duties quietly and without complaint. Surely, he deserved this one ray of light in his life? He knew that he couldn't live without you. If he didn't have you, you would haunt his thoughts for all eternity until he wasted away. Just this once, he had to take something for himself. "Come with me." It was meant to be a polite request, but his tone was pleading, begging you not to leave him alone again. "I can give you everything you could ever need. I'll keep you safe. No harm will ever come to you, but please come with me." "B-but my mother--" You were shocked by this stranger's boldness. You had only just met him, and yet you felt strangely compelled to accept his offer. As you looked into his desperate expression, you saw something there. He was the only person you had ever met who seemed lonelier than yourself. "(Y/n)." His voice had changed, deeper and darker and more authorative. It was the voice of a king. The king of the dead. "Come with me." You gasped as he stood up, the glamour concealing his true form falling away. His simple clothes were replaced by rich black robes, his skin seemed even paler, his face even more terribly beautiful. You knew now who you had been so pleasantly sharing company with a few moments earlier. Your voice shook. "M-michael. Lord of the Underworld. What are you doing here?" He kept his grip on you hand, his touch still oddly gentle. "I'm so alone, (y/n). I won't be alone anymore. Come with me." It was no longer a request -- it was a command. You took a deep breath, remembering the promises he made you before. You nodded slowly. You didn't really have much of a choice. He was a god, and the gods were famous for taking what they wanted, whether it was rightfully theirs or not. You followed him into the unknown. The entrance to the Underworld was much like you had imagined it. It was tall and intimidating, carved from jet black stone. There was a huge crowd of recently deceased souls, which parted immediately when they saw their king. A few bowed respectfully; most just stared in awe, some appearing confused by your presence at the god's side. One particularly desperate soul grabbed onto your dress, tugging you away from Michael and whimpering pitifully. "Please, help me..." "Get away from her." Michael's voice was a low growl as he ripped the spirit away from you. "Don't you dare touch her, you--" "Don't." You laid a hand on his arm, stepping around him and trying not to let him see your hands shaking. "It's okay." You knelt down in front of the soul. You could see now that it was the spirit of a child, a little boy probably no more than ten years old. He looked up at you with huge, scared eyes, chewing nervously on his thumb. You smiled kindly. "Hello, my name is (y/n). Who are you?" "P-Phillp." The boy smiled shyly. "Please, I think I'm lost. I-I was swimming and then I couldn't breathe and it was dark, so dark..." He started to cry. "Please, I just want my mama." "I-I'm sorry, Phillip." You gently stroked his hair, surprised that you could physically touch him. He was as cold as ice. You didn't know how to comfort him. "Shhh." "Hey." You looked up in surprise when Michael knelt next to you, looking into the little boys eyes with the same quiet kindness he had showed you earlier. "It's alright, Phillip. Don't be scared. You're dead, little man. But you don't have to be afraid, because I can tell you're a good boy. I promise nothing bad will happen to you here." The boy stared at him in awe. "Are you Lord Michael?" A crooked grin lit up the god's face. "Yeah. And I will personally make sure that you're given the best treatment here. And when your mother dies, I'll see to it that she is brought straight to you, okay?" The little boy nodded, smiling cheerfully. "Thank you." Michael ruffled the boys hair, standing up. He turned to the crowd of the dead, raising his voice. "Let this boy to the front! He's to be taken immediately to someone who can care for him and help him adjust to the afterlife! Am I understood?!" The souls moved aside, shuffling Phillip towards the front. The little boy turned to offer the two of you one last smile and wave before he disappeared in the masses. You looked at the god standing next to you with a new curiosity. He was much kinder than you had ever imagined the god of the dead would be. He treated the child with genuine concern, and was able to instantly calm him. Maybe he wasn't the heartless king you had been lead to believe he was. You let out a soft gasp when you saw the palace. It was carved from the same black stone as the gate, but was beautifully decorated with jewels of all kinds. Every surface seemed to sparkle, despite the dim lighting. You turned in a slow circle, staring in awe at the high ceilings and silk curtains. Michael smiled shyly, silently hoping that you would grow to love the palace and accept it as your home. "My lord." You turned towards the source of the voice, shrieking when you found yourself face to face with a human skeleton dressed in servant clothes. You leapt closer to Michael, clinging to his robes without thinking. He laughed softly, taking your hands and gently uncurling your fingers. "Its okay. That's just one of my servants." "Y-your servants are skeletons?" You couldn't keep the fear out of your voice, despite your efforts. Michael frowned when he noticed your hands shaking in his. He wanted you to feel comfortable in his kingdom. He nearly brought your hands to his mouth and kissed them, but stopped himself when he realized it might make you even more uncomfortable. Instead he settled for gently leading you to his throne room. His grin reminded you of an excited child's as he shower you around, explaining what everything was. Finally, he sat down in his throne, looking up at you expectantly. "Do you like it?" "It's much more beautiful than I ever thought it would be." You answered honestly. You removed the flower crown from the top of your head; the flowers had all died as soon as you left the world of the living. "But I really should be getting back. My mother will be worried." "(Y/n)," He spoke slowly, anxious to make you understand why he couldn't let you leave. "You can't go home." Your heart stuttered to a stop at his words. "Why?" "Because you're going to be my queen." You wouldn't speak to him. He couldn't really blame you, but every time you he looked into your eyes he saw tears and heartbreak and fear, and every time he felt like there was a new hole in his heart. You looked so lonely and sad. You were losing weight because you refused to eat. You disappeared for hours at a time. Sometimes, he found you with Cerberus, the giant three-headed dog that terrified everyone but had somehow become your adoring pet. Sometimes he found you wandering the banks of the River Styx, the rushing of the water almost drowning out the sounds of your sobbing. Usually though, he found you in his garden. The plants were not colorful and full of life like those on earth, but they brought you a small bit of comfort anyway. He once told you that you could have the garden to do with whatever you wished, which earned him the first smile he had seen on your face since he brought you here. You hated him, and he knew that. He hated himself sometimes, when he looked at your lifeless eyes and your miserable expression. He had taken something innocent and pure and beautiful and turned it into something broken and tragic. He knew he deserved your hatred, though he craved your love. He wanted to feel your warm hands in his and your soft lips on his mouth and your delicate body in his arms. But you couldn't even bring yourself to look at him. The bird does not love the man who cages it. Sometimes, he almost convinced himself that he had done the right thing, that you could learn to be happy in you new home. But then he laid awake at night listening to your raw, broken sobs in the next room and he knew that he was a monster. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to let go. Hermes, the messenger of the gods, was the one who eventually discovered where Demeter's favorite daughter had disappeared to. He had been sent out to search by Zeus after your mother started refusing to allow anything to grow on the earth. He followed the trail down to the cold depths of the Underworld, where he found you within the palace walls. Your face lit up at the sight of your uncle -- you leapt to your feet and ran into his familiar arms. Hermes sighed, beginning to realize that getting you back to the surface would be no easy task. "(Y/n), what are you doing here? You aren't dead: your skim is still warm. What happened?" "I met a man." Your voice was hoarse, whether from lack of use or from the long nights of crying. "H-he brought me here. I can't leave... We're going to be married in a few days." "But do you want to marry him?" Hermes demanded, carefully searching your face for answers. "Do you love him?" You ducked away from him, staring at the ground. In truth, you didn't know anymore. While it was true that Michael had brought you here against your will, he had never been cruel to you. In fact, he had done nothing but show you kindness. Even though you couldn't look at him without crying, you felt a strange connection to him nonetheless. You felt that he genuinely cared for you, though he was awful at expressing it. And... well, you had seen the Underworld. You knew firsthand how lonely it was down here, and how little love the deceased had for their king. You didn't blame Michael for being so desperate for companionship. "Get off her!" Almost as if your thoughts had summoned him, Michael stormed into the room, whisking you out of your uncle's arms. "What do you want here, Hermes?" "Michael." Hermes stood up straighter, glaring at him. "You're the one who kidnapped Demeter's daughter?" Michael ignored him, gently skimming his fingertips over your cheeks, his gaze concerned as he scanned your features. "Are you alright, (y/n)?" You nodded slowly. "I'm fine." He smiled gently, cautiously, like he wasn't sure how far he was allowed to go. "Why don't you go up to your room, or out to the garden? I'll be with you in a moment, if you want the company." You shyly returned his smile. Maybe it was time to break the wall of ice that had formed between the two of you. "I'd like that." You squeezed his hands before leaving, offering one last smile and quiet greeting to your uncle before you took your leave of them. "Michael." Hermes spoke slowly after you had gone. "You have to let (y/n) come home. She isn't yours to keep." "She stays." Michael's voice was cold, dripping with authority, with an edge of aggression. The messenger god visibly winced at his tone. "Our wedding is almost upon us. She is my queen. And I-" his voice caught in his throat. "I love her." "The earth is dying." Hermes seemed tired, defeated. "Demeter is heartbroken, and she refuses to let anything grow. Famine overwhelms the humans -- they're dropping like flies up there. The entire world is crumbling, and Demeter won't save it until her daughter is safely returned to her." Michael frowned. He had noticed the recent increase in new arrivals to the Underworld, but had assumed there must have been a war or something. "I can't let her leave. (Y/n) is half human; she has a human life expectancy. But once we are wed I can make her a goddess. She'll never age, never die. Can't you see I'm saving her?" He sighed in frustration, running his hands through his hair. "She isn't yours to save." Hermes looked upon him with something no one but you had ever showed him: pity. "She belongs with the living." "She belongs with someone who loves her." Michael's voice shook. "I can give her everything. I will always take care of her, and unlike Demeter, I won't leave her alone so often. I would never hurt her." "Can't you see?" Hermes spoke sadly. "You already have." You cowered behind a pillar, eyes wide as you listened to their conversation. You heard Michael order Hermes to leave his palace, and you heard Hermes promise to return for you. As soon as Hermes was gone, Michael ran directly to your hiding place, collapsing beside you and grasping your shivering hand in his. You weren't surprised that he had found you. He always seemed to instinctively know where you were. You were shocked to see tears welling up in his beautiful eyes. You were certain that no one had ever seen the Lord of the Dead cry before. Tears dripped down his cheeks as he stared fervently into your eyes. "Do you want to go back? Do you want to leave me?" "I don't know," you whispered, gently wiping the tears from his face. "I do miss my mother, and the sun, and the flowers, and the sky..." You watched him wince at your words. "But I would miss you if I went away." "Even after everything I've done to you? How could you not hate me?" He was clinging to your hand like it was a lifeline, like you were the only real thing in the entire world. "You've been so kind to me." You whispered, cautiously wrapping your arms loosely around his torso. "I know how lonely you must be. I don't... I don't blame you for wanting, needing, someone to share it with. I-I would be honored to be your queen." He sobbed, clutching you closer and resting his head on your shoulder. "I love you. I love you so much it hurts. I swear, I will do everything within my power to make you happy." For a few seconds, you sat in silence. You both knew that you couldn't say it back, you weren't at that point yet. But the two of you would try, and that was what mattered. "What will we do about my mother?" He sighed. "I think I might know a way you can have the best of both worlds." He looked up at you, smirking. "Do you like pomegranates?" {- In Finem -} [A/N: wow, this is the most I've gotten into a oneshot since my Halloween series. I really hope you guys like it. I know I've changed some things from the original myth, but it occurred to me that the original story is kind of creepy and rape-y, so I took creative license to make it less so. Like making (y/n)/Persephone a demigod, making Demeter Hermes's sister (since she was Hades's sister in the original), ect. And I made it more of a love story because I think that, in original mythology, Hades did learn to love and respect Persephone over time. Anyway, I'm a huge mythology nerd (in case you couldn't tell) and this has got me in a fantasy mood, so if any of you have ideas for mythology/fairytale aus for the other guys, feel free to request!]