Who: Hades & Nutmeg What: Honeymooning with the potion of immortality When: This weekend Where: Greece! Rating/Warnings: Language and fondling, but that's it Status: Complete!
When it came to the concept known as paradise, the Greek gods knew their shit - the Ionian Islands fit the bill (one island in particular, Ithaca, was the home of the infamous Odysseus - the name might be familiar, if one knew their works by an old dude named Homer). Kefalonia, a larger island, was chock-full of family getaways. Corfu and Zante were the islands you hit when you wanted to do nothing but party and forget about, well, everything. But that wasn’t what Hades, in particular, was after.
So, Ithaca it was. Private bays, underwater caves filled with barracudas (fitting, considering who his new bride was, the most beautiful barracuda), seals, and fish that literally sparkled. No matter where you went though, no matter which island, you’d find those beaches that were nothing short of perfectly preserved and obviously the very best Greece had to offer. On Ithaca they’d have plenty to see - secluded villas, seas that were clear-cut as fine diamonds, miles and miles of sand soft as velvet. There were only two hotels in this area, and Hades chose wisely.
It was a boutique hideaway set up above a quaint waterfront town. So very serene, so quiet, and in the room there were both antique dressers and modern art - so kind of an ‘old meets new’ vibe which may be fitting in a few ways. Step onto the terrace and look down, and you’d see shimmering water that was the infinity pool, an extension of the azure ocean. The bed was a four-poster, draped in comfortable fabric, and there was even ancient Greek poetry scrawled on all the walls. He really didn’t want to go back to Orange County after this.
Well, he just wouldn’t think of it now. They were here, may as well enjoy. Carrying their luggage into the room, he immediately went to open up the terrace doors and just get a whiff of that salted air. Ahhhh. “Now this is nice,” he announced, looking back over his shoulder. “Makes me want to get comfy and drink a bottle of ouzo.”
A sect of Megara’s family hailed from here - boisterous, colorful bloodties that crossed the continents, settled, and of course thrived in the circus spotlight (theatrics clearly ran in the family and skipped a generation) - and considering it was the origins of dreams that intricately tied her and her newfound husband together? It felt homey. Mediterranean breeze from waters clear as crystal, old and classic architecture, native music, emerald-green landscaping.
Toss in some mythological beasts, a couple of flubbery Titans stomping around and it’d be perfect. But, actually, don’t.
A scrunchy in her hands and fingers used as combs, she pulled her mane of hair into a ponytail up high. Her dress was blood-orange, short and inspired by the Grecian tunics sold at market stands, and not to mention flowy and light - the summers here were vibrant and smoldering, and she had packed lightly. Skimpy lightly, too. It was a honeymoon.
“Reaaaaally,” she smiled, slinking up behind him slide her arms around his waist and fondle that godly package of immortal balls. “Here I thought you’d take the chance to defecate on the Temple of Zeus. Think you’d get stuck by lightning?”
“Oh, please,” Hades snorted, as if the concept of taking a dump on Zeus’ temple was absolutely ludicrous. But it wasn’t that at all, because really, get him in the right mood and he would. “Like I’m worried about that fucker’s lightning.” Ha! Bring it on, jackass. He had a version of the bolt at home, the phallic-looking Olympian crystal that he would not hesitate to use if he had kids trespassing on his lawn again. Which made him sound like an old man, sure, but oh well - better he have the crystal than Zeus himself, who didn’t even dream and was too busy navigating shark-infested political waters. As a smarmy Senator with Presidential ambitions - always more power with that one.
He rumbled pleasantly at the package-handling, though. That was always sufficient at soothing ruffled feathers when it came to Zeus. “We can find the Necromanteion instead,” he added, turning to face Megara and rest his hand on her hips. “Meeting point of the rivers which flow to the realm of the dead - joyless, burning coal, and lament.” Cheery, right? But checking out his own temple might be fun. The Greeks viewed him as more personable than his dreams showed (or other people’s dreams showed), so it was interesting to hear tales of him not simply ruining lives.
And while he wanted to get right to the worshipping at her altar, he had something to take care of first. A couple something’s. “Got a gift for you,” he added, unable to resist copping a feel over that dress - fondling breasts in return for the ball fondling, he’d just have to stay focused. Right. “Wedding present? Something like that. Besides what’s in my pants,” the Lord of the Dead smirked.
Super cheery. Meg looked forward to it, too. These islands and their history were part of them; it was nice to wiggle the toes into the soil and stories, ones that were kinder to him. Most mainstream fiction had the image of the God of Death all cocked up but at least he didn’t turn into a swan and to rape someone - remember that, kiddies.
Not that it was the worst thing Zeus had been told of doing. Pretty high up there, though, if you asked her.
“Is that so,” she drawled, that voice husky and always so thick with sarcasm, and her fingers danced across his chest. “You spoil me, husband. I might have gotten something for you too.” Something that might give him a complete aneurysm because she was terrible, picking fun at that fiery temper - she thought him bursting into a flame was cute sometimes, actually.
Funny how love turned things she thought would be so annoying as endearing. Someone bludgeon her.
Oh, he’d bludgeon her alright - with his godly package, special delivery. In addition to that, Hades had wanted to find something nice for Meg, in celebration of both their wedding (which had been small, low-key, and done in mere minutes at the courthouse with no paparazzi trespassing - he saw to it) and them officially traversing the path of immortality together. He wasn’t sentimental often, but he occasionally had his moments. Proof that he actually paid attention and could be a pretty good husband, even if he’d sort of failed at it the first time. This go at it was entirely different and a fresh start. He wouldn’t fail now.
“I do kinda spoil you, don’t I?” he asked thoughtfully, with a grin that betrayed his seriousness. A flash of those pointy teeth filed with the bones of those who crossed him - or whatever the rumor was. “But I guess you’re worth it. Here - happy wedding.“
He unzipped one of the suitcases and handed Meg a wooden, velvet-lined box. Inside were various pieces of jewelry - necklaces, bracelets, a ring or two. Earrings. It would all look familiar though since this jewelry belonged to her. Originally her mother, however. Hades was aware that the orange-tinted toilet scrubber stole everything from Meg, including precious family heirlooms, but who else could her now-husband trust to get it back if not a pirate?
It took Killian some time to find everything, the scattered pieces, but he’d been compensated well for his efforts - with Hades having more money than God, let’s just say he’d have paid anything to get all of this back and the cost was a mere blip. At least the PI apparently had extra fun threatening the culprit too, in an effort to gain information about what Adonis did with the trinkets in order to afford that fashionable powdered nose of his.
“Yuuuuuuuuup,” Meg deadpanned, the little quirk of a smile betraying the tone. She blew her bangs from her hazel eyes and had plopped at the edge of the bed, crossing her legs. “You’ve been trying to buy my love the moment you met me - doesn’t always work but sure, hon, feel free to continue.”
Wink. But oh, what was this? The box had her curious - she half-expected a golden replica of his cock, the greatest prize there was - and while she certainly found precious metal in the box, none of it was phallic. All of it, however, was familiar, and the coyness was sucked from her face to be replaced by surprise.
Her fingers touched the jewelry to confirm everything. They weren’t fakes or copies, they were the originals. “How did you -” Surely, Hades had his ways. Megara wondered how much blood was shed, and if Adonis’ soul was swirling down the Underworld Toilet Waters. “Did you at least burn his body??”
Clearly she wasn’t against the murder, but he either nabbed a new soul for his collection or did the nice thing of robbing him blind.
Tempting to kill him, sure (and Hades wouldn’t have paid someone to do it, he’d have done this job himself for the lolz) but...eh. Overall, and it may seem ironic, he wasn’t a killer. He’d never killed anyone before and didn’t intend to, unless dire circumstances presented themselves. “I don’t really have need for his soul right now, nor do I wanna see his ghost trying to crash casting calls and Hollywood parties,” the King of the Underworld snickered. Though really, he did see ghosts - more often than he wanted to sometimes.
Then he sat down beside Meg on the bed, giving her thigh a squeeze - so no, that was his way of saying that her ex was still kicking. For now. If he died of a drug overdose, well, who cared. It was probably inevitable anyway.
“Hired a PI a bit after you romantically proposed,” he told her. “I knew I wanted him to find all of this for you. He ended up finding Poseidon too, but I’ll tackle that when we get back.”
Aww. It was a rare occurrence - quickly, take a picture - that her eyes looked so adoring. To even remember that the sack of shit had taken her stuff for pawning material, and then actually track it down after all this time. It wasn’t easy. Hell, the harder the task the higher the cost, she assumed. “I never thought I’d see these again,” Meg huffed a chuckle. It was one of the few things she’d taken from their traveling homestead when she decided to make the (awful) mistake of getting on the back of that motorcycle and zooming off.
After all this time she thought she’d deserved it for being so dumb, young and in love, but it was back - while she was in love again, with the right person.
“Well, now you’re about to make me feel like an asshole,” she said, pulling her carryon bag over to unzip. Mischief was ablaze in her eyes. There was a chance Hades might hate her for a minute. “Just remember that I do love you, but -”
And there it was. A copy of Disney’s Hercules, Blu-Ray.
He didn’t hate her, no - mostly Hades was just really fucking confused. “The shit is this?” he demanded, taking the Blu-Ray disc and reading the back of the plastic cover. It was - pretty much what they dreamed about. The story there, just a synopsis of it.
What they dreamed about, what they lived so long ago, was a goddamn cartoon? And a Disney one at that. Now wasn’t that a big ol’ ‘slap my ass and call me Sally’ kind of surprise.
“I swear to, well, me - if anyone yells at me one more time for random shit I never heard of...” Which he had never done, thanks, because clearly he was Disney Hades,”I’m going to shove this in her face,” he grumbled, setting the Blu-Ray where he had his laptop bag. Maybe they’d watch this later. But ideally, honeymoons weren’t meant for movies. And he’d already seen enough, because he’d had to dream it all in the first place - seeing himself lose was preeeeeeeetty much not on his agenda.
Other things were, however. “Now, for this, I might tie you up and have my way with you, Nutmeg. Though you are an asshole, you’re not wrong there.”
Megara had to laugh, really laugh - and then she, of course, knew she had to quell this metaphorical flames he was spewing and straddled his lap, dress shamelessly hiked up for the revelation of those naturally tanned legs, the bells of her ankle bracelet jingling with the movement. “I do love you,” she assured, gathering his face between her hands for a kiss, all intentions to rob his lungs of air and push his back against the bed. The duvets were fluffed with feathers - they’d be decorating the floor tonight. “But there’s a big difference between what happened there and what’s happening here, and I’m going to give you the best of the rest of your life. Slight asshole moments included, of course.”
They were mandatory in this relationship - they’d started out with witty banter and sass in this life, didn’t they? And despite it all, what they dreamt and what the outcomes were she hadn’t had cold feet and fled this immortal trek she was taking with him. That promise of taking the potion of immortality was a kind of engagement of sorts, and time was a way of making sure that this was the right decision for both of them.
Because it was a serious decision. Megara would see her friends and family perish over the years, the lineage continued through her cousin’s offspring brewing in that magical womb, but she was willing to do it all with him.
“So where should we toast, hm? I’ll be drinking the potion - and you?”
“I love you too, I guess,” Hades groused - though he really did, and he fully expected those asshole moments. They were just a charming part of Meg’s personality. His hands traveled up her legs, disappearing beneath her dress and coming around to be filled with glorious ass - hey, he didn’t make the decision, sometimes his hands had a mind of their own.
He gave her a spank too, just a small one - later she might get more, if she was a baaaaad girl. Oh ho ho.
Shifting on the bed, he swapped their positions and hovered over her, planting a kiss on her pouty mouth before sliding off and heading to the terrace. They had water glasses in the room, but he transfigured them into golden goblets with a poof and a puff of black smoke. There was also that bottle of ouzo he summoned - faster than room service, right? Ah, ouzo made the ancient way - just mixing ingredients and bottling, simple enough. It tasted silky and sweet, was meant to be sipped and enjoyed.
“Come here, Nutmeg. Grab the potion on your way.” It was nestled in one of the bags, a corked glass vial. Hades waited on the balcony, pouring them both a drink into those fancy goblets.
Ho ho, indeed - she’d have to get on all fours and wiggle her curvaceous bum in the air later, begging for more. Megara stretched on the mattress, legs spread with all to see for a split second before rolling onto her belly, fishing through their one of the bags on the edge of the bed until she retrieved the utmost precious cargo. Unbreakable vial, of course, to endure the trip across the globe.
“Got the goods,” she said, traipsing across the room to the opening of the balcony, the sound of bells still at her feet. There weren’t nerves, no whirlwind of butterflies in her stomach making her nauseous, no goosebumps on her skin. The bottle was uncorked with a pop and she poured the contents; it was that bright green, the liquid so airy it almost looked like smoke spilled out instead. “WIth this made from your blood, I’ll have you inside me in more ways than one - hope it tastes good.”
It probably didn’t, but a lady could dream.
Nope, it would probably taste like sulfur water and something foul - but it was mixed in the Underworld, originally, not much in that dumpster of the universe resembled candy or cream puffs. It was ill-advised to even eat stuff there anyway, lest you never wish to leave. Such a great place Zeus had stuffed his brother into, to get him out of the way. Thanks, pal.
“I’d rather be inside you in the fun way,” he noted, and touched his goblet to hers. The view was utterly beautiful, the shimmering water and the sea stretching out below them so far it looked like forever - fitting, really. Forever was going to be an actual concept with them. “So it’s finally happening, huh? To us, then. Eternity and being an asshole.”
He didn’t think the potion would make her sick - it should go down smoothly, not leave Meg laid up in bed for the remainder of the honeymoon. Which was good because he had plans. Like defiling that bed first and foremost.
Liquified rotten egg, so yum. “To eternity,” she echoed with a smile, all genuine and amused. “And to being an asshole.”
Megara wouldn’t take the hesitant route of sniff and sip - this wasn’t a cocktail to nurse but one to knock back, both hands hugging the bottom of the goblet to hold still as the concoction went into her mouth, hit her tongue and coursed its way down her throat like firewater. Its taste wasn’t pleasant - it tingled like a light burn - but it wasn’t the kind of thing to make her gag or choke. Hallelujah.
Every last sip was drank, and soon the goblet was bare and finally, she breathed air in her lungs. Shudder. “Well,” she started, dryly. “That was…interesting.”
Interesting was also maybe the right word to use what was going on with her skin. It was greying, a shade all too familiar to his true form.
Out of all the side effects, Hades hadn’t anticipated that - the ashen skin was fading in, Meg’s natural olive tones fading out. “Wow, damn - “ His eyes widened in surprise (had he drank that ouzo too fast? Nope, it definitely wasn’t the diesel fuel alcohol) because hers were changing colors - they’d been hazel before, right? Sometimes brown, sometimes with flecks of green, maybe a little gold?
Now they were aaaaaaaaall gold. Yellow, actually. Just like his. Bright as the sun.
Her hair too, voluminous and...magenta. Teetering back and forth between something purple, looking like it might, in fact, burst into a beacon of blue flame. “I like it,” Hades decided. “Might need to get you a glamour if this sticks, but - “
They kinda matched? Cute.
Megara stood still, very still as she felt it all change - from flesh to hair, blue embers of what had been shaped like hair flickering as the wind blew. There’d been no way to anticipate any other changes aside from the longevity of life, but the potion had been brewed with his blood, the blood of a god, bounding her to him and linking them in a very eccentric manner.
Slowly, her brow rose, her arms crossed, and her hips dipped and cocked. “Huh,” she mumbled, clicking her tongue. Her head turned and that blazing ponytail was tossed over her shoulder. “I think I wear it better.”
Not that she had checked a mirror, but it was a guess.
She really needed to check a mirror. Hades was just grinning, shapeshifting as he did, so he didn’t even bother to hide his teeth - they were as they should be, demonic and pointy. His magic seemed to be a combination of both the apparent Disney version of his dreams and the second set wherein he pined for a Wicked Witch, which meant a puff of black smoke accompanied the rest of his shifting; he looked far less human now. More the color of cloudy skies and the eerie glow to his peepers.
Hey, if Meg was going to show off her new brand of special beauty, then he would too. Damn good thing this was a private balcony.
“Well, at least the potion to grant you immortality didn’t kill you,” he quipped, heading back inside. “Come on, take a look - I’m kinda turned on now, gotta say.”
Kudos to not being dead a second time, or reduced to an ill pile of mush from ingesting that creation. Its taste remained on her tongue, vivid with the feeling of change - Megara was that much more aware of the God of Death, the pull like a moon orbiting a planet.
“You must have this innate desire to fuck yourself in some twisted way,” was her retort, amused yet curious to see her reflection. Poses occurred before the mirror for a proper inspection. It was still very much her. No features distorted or exaggerated except for molten gold filling her irises, the discolored skin, hair strands that were now ribbons of fire that didn’t burn.
There was a quick examination of her teeth - oddly, normal. Thank the gods. Meg didn’t care to have the dental work to match her barracuda pet name. “I’m guessing there’s no off switch to this, is there.”
Surely they’d figure something out. She wasn’t worried.
“Unfortunately not, but it’d be easy enough to hide,” Hades said, and he wasn’t worried either. Maybe Meg didn’t have shapeshifting skills per se but he could conjure up a little illusion for her - using whatever piece of jewelry she wanted to wear. Maybe her wedding ring, or one of those baubles that were family heirlooms.
In fact, he opened the box and found a necklace, a thin gold chain with a gemstone attached to the end. “Put this on, we’ll see how it works,” and he fastened the necklace on her, securely clasping it in the back. A few seconds of concentration, some murmured words, channeling his magic -
Ta da! The illusion shimmered into place, once the slightest bit of smoke cleared - most everything involved smoke with the Lord of the Dead. Smoke and fire.
That was weird. Megara’s ‘magic senses’ had been heightened due to his presence - that ability to differentiate the natural from the supernatural when in the constant company of a deity - but to feel it swirl on her like this, a magic veil cloaked over her skin and soon, her reflection mirrored what she was always used to.
Toasty-toned skin, the yellow gone from her eyes - back to those specks of green and warm honey. Normal mahogany hair.
“Aren’t we just the cutest matching couple,” she quipped, slinking her arms around him after a fiddle with the gemstone around her neck. Immortality wasn’t a horrid look on her. She liked the look on him (and on herself too) and the two were officially entwined in a otherworldly level now. “And how weird would it be if I took a pretentious selfie with hash-tag twinsies to freak my cousin with, hm?”
Hades chuckled. “Not weird at all, I’m sure she’ll be thoroughly charmed by your newfound special beauty.” And would want to see some photographic evidence that her cousin was having fun in Greece, right? The necklace could just be taken on and off, in order to wear the ruse or not wear the ruse - but really, he sort of preferred Meg as herself. Meaning, he wouldn’t get tired of her new look anytime soon.
Turning to face her better, his arms went around her in turn and he ducked to plant a kiss on her - relieved, elated, just plain smitten. Come on, he was totally gone. That’s why he’d did the whole ‘I do’ thing again anyway. “I may want to take a detour to consummating our marriage though, Nutmeg, so take a fast selfie.”
Okay, one last detour. No snapchat filter could give the illusion of the picture she was about to take, either - and she’d send it later anyway, with a punctuation of ‘and then we had a lot of sex’ (because why the fuck not with the TMI, hadn’t they once discussed her swallowing godly spunk anyway?). Megara giggled, so girlishly, and kissed him in return - pushing him towards the bed.
Her phone was on there, somewhere.
“Alright, alright, a quickie with the selfie,” she said, hands all over him. Groping, squeezing, caressing, distinctly not looking for her phone but she’d get to that eventually.