Hi! This is just a little story that came from a dream I had. This is not based in the Percy Jackson Universe. This is my own world where I decide what happens. I pick and choose what I want and how I want it. Some myths are tweaked to fit this. I hope you all have fun with this!
Thank you for reading!
"Pass the beans."
The plate moved from hand to hand down the table. Cutlery clinked together in the silence. The awkward chewing and breathing filled the space. Eyes flashed from plates to faces and back faster than a human eye could perceive. The cavernous dining room was lit by a flickering fire in the hearth, its warm glow casting long shadows on the stone walls. The scent of roasted meats and fresh bread mingled in the air. The occasional clink of silverware was the only sound that dared to pierce the stillness.
"Why do we even do this?" Styx complained.
Thanatos let out a grateful sigh. "Oh thank Chaos."
"Salt, please?" Hades requested. He tactly looked anywhere other than Styx.
Persephone's smile turned a bit sharp. The gods around the table stared at the head of the table. No one said a word. The tense stare off between Persephone and Styx stole the air of everyone in the room. Well, everyone except Hades who started getting out of his chair for the salt.
"Here Papá," Zagreus answered, a strained smile passing over his lips.
Hades took the offered bowl and flashed a smirk at his son. "Thank you."
"Really?" Styx continued. "Not that I do not enjoy everyone's presence but our meetings are really enough. I don't need to see Hermes stuff his face like he hasn't had a meal since Julius got stabbed."
"Hey! That's not fair. I work hard for this."
"You should be up bothering Olympus, Pheletes. Or maybe your 'king' grew tired of you." Styx smirked at Hermes' outraged look.
"Ah-wha-how-Hades!"
The god ignored the call intently, cutting his chicken into equal sized cubes. His wife on the other hand blinked slowly, her hands carefully placing her utensils down. Her smile was tense like she was an inch away from sending them all out of the palace herself.
"Styx if you want to we can pack you a Togo bag to take home but we would be saddened if you left. I planned this meal for us to see each other again. It is regretful that so many are missing this dinner. I would hate for you to leave early." Persephone turned to the messenger god eyes stony. "Hermes, you are a full grown god. Hopefully I do not need my husband to defend your honor."
"No." Hermes cowered. "Ma'am."
They fell back into silence. This time was no less awkward. Melinoe carefully separated her vegetables and lamb making sure not even the tiniest particle touched. Acheron sneaked bits of rice onto Cocytus' drenched plate. Hypnos finally fell into his meal much to the amusement of Hecate and Lethe.
Macaria nimbly worked her way through her serving. With luck she would finish before someone else had an outburst. She had souls to take care of and adventures to oversee. Achilles had asked her if she could create a new beach for himself and Patroclus. Amelia Earhart had challenged Houdini to a race and Macaria was going to be the judge. She had to set up some of her spirits for rebirth. Elysium was a busy place after all.
Right as she was about to free herself of her familial obligation her sister dropped a spoonful of salad onto her plate.
"Melinoe! I was almost done," Macaria disparaged.
She looked forlornly at the door. At this rate she would be here until her mother let them free or Tartarus and Erebos got into another argument over who was Ananke's favorite. She could see them itching for their weekly 'battle'.
"Remember that thing." Melinoe raised her eyebrows and tilted her head towards Thanatos. "The one we talked about."
"What one?"
The god of death coughed, "The Brits."
"Why not-"
"You're the favorite child," Melinoe muttered, handing a bowl of corn to Macaria.
She passed it over Hypnos. "That's Zag."
"Ignore the baby. We need you to talk to Papá."
"I'm not a baby," Zagreus muttered. "What's going on? Did Melinoe lose some ghosts?"
"Shut up." Melinoe pushed their brother back into his chair. "Eat your bread or else Giagiá will lecture you about cereal again."
"Don't tell her!" Zagreus quickly stuffed the bread in his mouth.
Persephone sent them a curious look which the siblings responded by smiling innocently back. Their mamá turned back to her conversation with Kronos. Macaria focused on her meal as Melinoe checked to make sure no one was listening to them.
Thanatos leaned over his sleeping twin. "Macaria you have to. I can't deal with Hermes' complaining."
"Fine. But you both owe me." She turned away from their thankful looks.
Macaria continued with her meal, ignoring Melinoe and Thanatos. If she was going to bring up their issue, they would have to wait for her to finish her plate. And it gave her the pleasure of seeing them squirm in their seats.
"Mam-Papá," Macaria asked, catching the attention of the gods. "I've been meaning to talk with you about one of the cursed."
All chatter pulled to a halt. Macaria straightened her spine at the stares on her. Her gaze leveled on her father who shook himself out of a lovestruck daze from watching his wife. Melinoe and Thanatos owed her. Big time.
"Yes?"
"There has been a recent issue with the spirits coming from Britain or well the lack of the magical spirits."
Hecate coughed and looked away from Hades' questioning look. "I have noticed they've become bolder."
"As Hecate has confirmed, these spirits aren't leaving the mortal plane." Macaria folded her hands under the table and raised her chin. "For some of them their souls have been fused with their locations making it impossible for them to be retrieved. Thanatos and Hermes have had greater difficulty in the most recent years with souls that were severed too early. The cursed is responsible for this. Around two decades ago he began tearing his soul into pieces. With Hecate's curse on the ritual enabling such a feat, we found the culprit, Tom Marvolo Riddle if you remember."
"Yes, but what does this have to do with the cursed? I thought Thanatos brought him to the Fields of Punishment."
"See that is part of the problem. He has realized he can't out run us but he possesses the Wand. He bargained that he should be let into asphodel. Thanatos could only create a contract for Riddle to fix his mistakes in ten years, collect death's favors and bring them down to the underworld. His time is almost up and there are still a great many issues with the magical of Britain. We were hoping you could look into it or order him back."
Hades' eyes flicked to Persephone. Macaria held her breath as her mother mused over her words. A look passed between her parents.
"Well, I suppose I can give you temporary power to fulfill what you've outlined to me just now."
"But Papá-"
Persephone cut in with a sharp smile, "Let's save the work for our meetings, darling. Your father has given you his answer."
Macaria bowed her head. Melinoe and Thanatos owed her more than they could imagine.
"Yes, Mamá. Thank you, Papá. I am honored to carry out your wishes."
-o-
Macaria grabbed Melinoe and Thanatos' arms and vanished them to her room. She released them and stormed over to her balcony. The darkness around the Nyx's palace was comforting.
She could feel her skin itching at the thought of going to the mortals. It wasn't that she couldn't do it. It wasn't that she feared the task. She would obey Hades' order, as always. Not for fear of his power but for his job if he and Mamá left. She could feel it already: how presence would cling to her like an unwanted shadow. It was a small price to pay, but an irritating one.
"I am happy in Elysium. Why can't you see that? Every time I'm called to the mortal world, it sticks for years. It stains me. And for what? To fix your mistakes. To clean up your messes."
Macaria sighed, running her fingers through her hair. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask to deal with this cursed spirit nonsense."
The mortal realm's touch always clung to her—an unpleasant stain that would take ages to wash away, no matter how brief the encounter. It was never permanent, but it was always irritating. Macaria was fine with helping the others with their issues as long as she could stay in her domain.
"I swear we didn't know Papá would do that." All the calm Macaria had managed to pull together unraveled. "I thought Mamá would take over and just bring the mortal down to Punishment."
She stormed back into the room, the doors slamming shut behind her. Her hair floated off her back and her feet hovered a few inches off the ground. Melinoe stood in the onslaught of Macaria's vexation.
"You-you." Macaria paced her room before glaring at Melinoe. "When I come back from this you and Thanatos better have fixed up this mess-"
"Of course."
"-and do my duties-"
"Without a doubt."
"-and never get me involved in your problems again-"
"We would never."
"-and water my plants!"
"Wait why can't you do-" Melinoe smacked Thanatos' shoulder.
"We would be delighted to."
Macaria let out a sigh and fell into her bed. The blankets Hypnos had gifted her years ago made her wish this was a dream. Maybe if she fell asleep she would wake up and none of this would have happened. Macaria dropped her arm over her eyes blocking out the world. The bed shifted beside her as Melinoe sat down.
"You're quieter today. You should have already ordered Thanatos around by now," Melinoe murmured, her voice low, almost playful, but with an undercurrent of concern.
"I'm tired, Melinoe. I hate the feeling of them."
There was a pause, and then Melinoe's fingers gently brushed Macaria's arm. "You know it doesn't last forever, right? You'll shake it off, like you always do."
"I know," Macaria whispered. "But it's the feeling of it... like something stuck to me. The mortal realm leaves its mark."
"Think of it this way, you get to go to see the mortals."
Macaria threw a pillow at the winged god. "There's a reason I stay in Elysium!"
Melinoe let out a high-pitched laugh as the pillow she'd thrown smacked Thanatos right on his head. Macaria stifled a smile, watching as Thanatos squawked in indignation, his wings fluttering in protest. No matter how much the god said he was not a bird he always seemed to act like one.
Macaria sat up sending a wave of pillows to attack him. Thanatos held out the first pillow like a shield as his wings unfurled behind him. The magicked pillows swirled around him looking for any opening in the god's defenses.
"What has my brother done?" a familiar voice asked.
Macaria brightened at the presence of her husband. "Moros! Hades' ordered me to take a cursed spirit down to asphodel. All because of those two!"
Moros settled beside her, reaching up to gently brush a strand of hair from her face.
"Macaria, love, if you don't stop, my brother will end up more feathers than god."
She huffed, but couldn't suppress a smile. "And that would be such a loss, wouldn't it?"
He grinned and leaned in, his voice soft. "You know I'll always help you with him, even if it means turning him into a bird."
Macaria let out a huff but let the pillows fall to the ground. "Birdbrain, you dropped some feathers on the ground."
"Why do I need to clean it up?" Thanatos shook his arms and more plumage joined their brethren.
"Because you harassed my lovely wife and now she has to fix your mistakes." Moros pulled Macaria against his side.
"I didn't mean for this to happen," Thanatos muttered. "I just... I thought if I gave it some time, maybe it'd just work itself out."
"Well it didn't."
"I didn't think Hades would make you do it," Thanatos tried to argue.
"Then why did you ask me to tell him?"
"I don't know. He got mad when I got captured by Sisyphus."
"Thanatos." Macaria took a breath. "That was millenia ago!"
Moros coughed to hide his smile. "I can come, if you want?"
Melinoe cut in before Macaria could refuse, "Please do. She'll be insufferable for years if you don't."
"Fine." Macaria leaned against him. "Where were you? Mamá called a Dinner."
"Sadly, some heroes needed scaring before their quest. Not even Lady Persephone can go against the Fates' tapestry."
Macaria watched Thanatos scrunch his nose as he picked up the feathers. He had a crown of goose feathers on his head. Hopefully the others would keep it to themselves. Macaria stood up, tugging gently at Moros' arm.
"Let's get this over with, then."
Moros gave her a small, amused smile. "You make it sound like we're going to war."
"Well, it feels like it," she replied, rolling her eyes.
He chuckled and squeezed her hand, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. "Come on, then.
Macaria turned to her sister. "I expect my plants to be alive, Meli."
-o-
As they left the privacy of their room, the air grew colder—heavier. The weight of the mortal world pressed down on Macaria. Macaria cast a glance toward Moros, her fingers brushing his. "Ready?"
Moros' eyes darkened, an unreadable shadow passing over them. "Of course, my love."
Macaria shook off the feeling of traveling through the underground in milliseconds. She swore she could still feel the remnants of their touch in her hair, an annoying trace of the mortal realm that wouldn't leave so easily. Moros tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.
"That's one large house for a broken spirit." Moros let out an impressed whistle.
Macaria looked up at the house. More of a mansion really. Maybe they should have checked on the spirit earlier. Based on Thanatos' information this was the home of the Malfoy family. Not the half dead Tom Riddle. The grounds were well kept, far better than a witch could do alone. The house was a little dark but still lived in.
"Darling, I think Thanatos is out of date," Macaria muttered stepping past the witch's shields and alarms.
"I do believe you are right." Moros pushed the door open without care for the lock.
Macaria looked over the entrance before pulling them up the stairs. The mansion was large but lacked the grandeur of the Underworld. It was as if the house itself had given up on life, its corridors echoing with silence, save for the occasional creak of the floorboards. The magic in the air felt twisted, like a scar in the very fabric of reality
"I think I heard some mortals in the room over." Macaria followed Moros' direction.
A sharp scream echoed from the hallway.
"Why can't they just be easy to find?" Macaria huffed.
They made their way through the empty hall. It was quiet except the occasional scream. Sometimes it was from a mortal, others it was from the peacocks in the garden. Macaria wondered if she could take one home and set it on Thanatos' belongings.
She pushed the door in front of them. The voices on the other side were silenced at the motion. Macaria sent a look at her husband.
He smirked back at her. "This man's been running from Death for so long. Let's make it worth it."
Macaria stepped into the room, alone. Well it would look like that to the mortals. They would not see how her shadow grew larger than possible. Or how the wisps of darkness pulled at the hems of the mortals' cloaks.
"Good evening," Macaria nodded at those surrounding her.
The witches tried to draw near her. Their eyes flashed with greed, hands reaching for any touch. A man, who was so pale he might as well already be a ghost, stepped forward as if to take her hand for a waltz. Macaria skirted him, a smile plastered on her face. The shadows around her feet pressed the unwanted touches away. It gave up the pretense of being natural and pooled around her feet. Her husband stood at her back, invisible to the world but watching.
Their combined presence pushed away the crowd of witches. Macaria spared a glance to the mortals knelt before the gaudy throne. With a look Moros' shadows left their side to seep around the victims. Without the witches realizing their prisoners were free. For that one second, the brief form of Moros was visible behind his wife.
At a later date, if any of the witches were asked what they saw, they would struggle to describe anything that made sense. The woman appeared lovely, but dangerous, like a mirage in a desert. Behind her, though, lay something darker. It lingered at the edges of their perception—flashes of talons and claws, storms and fires, swords and illnesses. A knowing smile seemed to watch them, warning them to consider the price of her blessings.
Macaria stopped at the bottom of the dias. It was a tacky thing, with far too much silver and emeralds. It looked like a child's crayon drawing came to life. The man on the throne was not much better.
Thanatos' information was very out of date. The man in the photo he showed to her looked nothing like the abomination in front of her. This thing looked like a horrifying amalgamation of botched spells and curses. His very presence went against the very nature of death. Macaria felt the corrupted magic drip off him. It snaked towards her. Her skin crawled at oily magic searching for her touch.
"Tom, what are you doing here?" Her voice seemed to ring through the room louder than humanly possible. It hummed a melody of things yet to come.
"Who-"
"I mean. Really? Trying to get out of a contract with Death? That's impossible."
"How-"
"Anyway we've decided to give you one last chance to fix things and come with us."
"How dare-"
"If not? Well you do not have to come willingly."
"What are you all standing around for? Stop her!" The snake man ordered.
The witches around her did nothing. Even though their leader was insane that did not mean they could not feel the aura of death surrounding Macaria.
"Fools!" The abomination turned the Death Stick on Macaria.
She tilted her head to get a better look at one of Thanatos' favors. He had far too much fun with his siblings that night. She remembered Moros and Ker returning to Nyx's palace giggling over whatever prank they had played on the mortals. Of course Thanatos would make a harmless prank something mortals could hold over him.
"You cannot stand against me!" Voldemort screamed, raising his wand. "I am Lord Voldemort!"
Macaria, unfazed, stepping forward with a smirk. "You think your wand will save you? It's not a wand you need to fear, but Death itself."
She raised her hand. The shadows swirled around her. Voldemort's curse fizzled as the shadows consumed it, and Macaria stepped closer, her voice calm but deadly. "You're already dead. You just don't know it yet."
"I do not care who you are but no one dares to stand against Lord Voldemort!"
Macaria ignored the rest of his idiotic rant. "If only you listened to my brother-in-law. You might have had a nice afterlife in a field. The Furies are enjoying creating a punishment for you."
"Never! I am Lord Voldemort. I am immortal. I am-"
"Dead." Macaria finished for him.
The mortal's last seconds were wasted screeching.
His pitiful spells were just flashes of light that faded before reaching her. Macaria stepped close to him and, with very little care, plucked his soul from his form. Macaria wrinkled her nose at the feeling of the whirling spirit. Four wisps of dark smoke shot through the glass windows and one from the poor snake by Macaria's feet. They joined the roiling mass in her hand and fused together. The small glowing form of a man stood in her hand.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle, you will serve the rest of your eternal afterlife in the Fields of Punishment, as ordered by Lord Hades, King of the Underworld."
Macaria watched as the small spirit floated away, waiting for one of the psychopomps to retrieve it. At least the room felt less heavy. It was as if someone had opened a window and let out years worth of stale air. Even the witches around her could sense it.
Macaria turned to the witches around the room. "Have a good day."
Moros emerged from her shadow and kissed her hand. And then they were gone.
-o-
Stories circled the wizarding world about the disappearance of Lord Voldemort. Some said he died, others that he never existed in the first place. A few claimed he was biding his time. Others whispered about a goddess who came with a god made of shadows and teeth and took Tom Riddle away.
Not that the gods cared. Thanatos was too busy hunting souls and looking for the remaining favors. Melinoe had her hands full, removing restless ghosts from a certain school. Moros lingered at the edges of mortal perception, as he always had, a dark figure barely noticed, but always present.
And Macaria? She continued watching over Elysium with her Pappoús. Well, she did after a long bath. And much grumbling about corrupted spirits sullying her domain.