The silence between them stretched long enough for the echo of their last argument to die against the walls. The torches flickered softly, blue fire licking the stone. Hades sat still on his throne, his expression unreadable, while the blond boy stood before him, shifting his weight like a man who'd forgotten why he was standing.
Finally, Hades spoke, his voice low and dry as dust.
"I did not call you here to test my patience."
The boy blinked, looking genuinely hurt. "You didn't? Ouch. I thought this was quality bonding time."
"What we have," Hades said evenly, "is unfinished business."
Owen gasped dramatically. "That's what people say when they don't want to admit they enjoy my company."
Hades ignored him. "I have a job for you."
"Finally!" Owen brightened immediately, clapping his hands together. "I was starting to think you'd summoned me for the atmosphere." He looked around the throne room, scanning the endless marble. "So… where's my seat?"
Hades' eyes flicked toward him. "Your what?"
"My seat," Owen said, gesturing vaguely. "You know, the hero seat. Preferably something comfortable. I'm not a fan of standing. It's so… common."
There was a pause long enough to be painful. Hades just stared at him.
"You want a seat," he said at last.
"Obviously."
The god's fingers twitched once against the armrest. "You are capable of standing."
"Capable, yes," Owen said. "Willing? Now that's questionable."
Hades said nothing. His silence filled the room until it became a kind of weight pressing down on the air. Then, without a word, he raised one hand and gave a small, dismissive wave.
There was no flash of light, no sound, just a faint ripple through the air, and suddenly the Mist surrounding Owen shimmered and faded. The shift was subtle but unmistakable, like a veil being lifted.
Owen blinked. Then again. He looked down at himself.
"What the—"
He patted his face, his chest, his hair. "No. No, no, no." He glanced at the reflection in the polished floor and let out a strangled noise halfway between horror and disbelief. "You didn't."
Hades said nothing.
"Oh, youdid!" Owen pointed at him like he'd committed a crime. "You actually did!"
The god's tone was calm, measured. "Consider it an adjustment."
"Adjustment?!" Owen's voice jumped an octave. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to get the Mist to stick properly? Weeks, Uncle Bones. Weeks!"
"Perhaps next time you'll invest that time into something useful."
"Iwasdoing something useful! Presentation is everything!"
"You were deceiving mortals."
"I wascharmingmortals!"
"You are fifteen."
"I waseighteenfive minutes ago!"
"That was an illusion."
"It was a lifestyle!"
Hades tilted his head slightly, studying him with faint, cruel interest. "And now it's over."
Owen stared at his reflection again, lips parting in despair. "Do you know how hard it's going to be to pick up girls now? I look like I should be studying for exams."
"Perhaps you should."
"Funny." He dragged a hand down his face. "You realise I hadmomentumup there. A reputation. And you've just torched it."
"You're welcome."
"That wasn't gratitude!"
Hades regarded him silently for a moment, a flicker of satisfaction ghosting across his expression. "Your appearance now matches your maturity. I find it refreshing."
Owen glared. "You're enjoying this."
"Immensely."
"You're supposed to be the god of the dead, not the god of ruining people's self-esteem."
"It seems I can multitask."
He sighed dramatically, brushing at his shirt as though he could will the glamour back. "You've just made my life ten times harder."
"Good."
"Now girls are going to think I'm some awkward kid."
"They'd be correct."
"I can't believe you'd do this to me."
"I can," Hades said calmly.
Owen threw his hands up. "Uncle Bones, I'm scarred."
"You'll live."
"I won't recover from this."
"I imagine you'll find a mirror and manage somehow."
He stared up at the god, completely unamused. "You are a cruel man."
"And yet," Hades said, settling back against the throne, his eyes glinting faintly, "I sleep well. And will sleep even better after this."
The silence that followed was full and final. Owen folded his arms, muttering under his breath, while Hades simply looked down at him, utterly unmoved, faintly amused, and quietly satisfied.
"Stop sulking," Hades said at last. "I have a job for you."
"I can't," Owen replied, his tone flat with exaggerated despair. "I'm too traumatised."
"You're not traumatised. You're vain."
"Iwasvain," he said, gesturing to his face. "Now I'm a victim."
"Grow up," Hades said coldly. "I'll pay you well."
"Nothing can fix this," Owen muttered. "No amount of drachmas can heal emotional scarring."
"You'll recover."
"I'll never recover!" He threw his arms wide, pacing dramatically. "I'm a broken man!"
"You're a fifteen-year-old child," Hades said.
"I'm eighteen, it's not my fault the world decided to fuck me over and punish me for three years."
The god let out a quiet sigh, the sound of patience dying. "My Helm of Darkness has been stolen."
Owen froze mid-gesture. "Wait. Your what?"
"My Helm of Darkness," Hades repeated.
Owen blinked. "You mean your emo fedora?"
Hades' expression didn't change, but the air in the room dropped ten degrees. "Do not call it that."
"Right, right," Owen said quickly. "Thetragic crown of gloom.But, uh, have you checked under the sofa? Things tend to go missing down those areas sometimes, socks, weapons of mass destruction, dignity—"
"Enough," Hades said, voice low and final. "And Zeus' Master Bolt has been stolen as well."
Silence.
Then Owen's shoulders began to shake.
It started as a small snort, the kind that slips out before you can stop it, then another, and another, until he was clutching his stomach, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.
"Oh—oh, fuck off," he gasped, doubled over. "No way. That'shilarious!"
Hades' voice sharpened. "You find this amusing."
"Amusing?" Owen wheezed. "It's comedy gold! The emo fedora and the Boom Boom Stick;gone!" He snapped his fingers. "Just like that! Poof! Oh, gods, that's hysterical!"
"It isnothysterical," Hades said, his tone a razor's edge.
"Come on," Owen said, grinning like a madman. "You've got to see it. Someone actually stole your emo fedoraandOld Thunderbrains' Boom Boom Stick? That's art. That'sperformance!"
"Compose yourself."
"I can't," Owen said between gasps. "Zeus is probably up there right now screaming at every cloud that moves!" He was barely holding himself upright. "Uncle Bones, you've got to admit, it's objectively hilarious!"
"I admit nothing."
"You should. This is a once-in-a-millennium comedy event." He wiped a tear from his eye. "Whoever pulled this off, legend. Absolute legend."
"This is a crime, not entertainment."
"Depends who you ask," Owen said, still breathless. "I'd shake their hand. Actually, I'dkisstheir hand."
"This is not a game."
Owen ignored him, caught in the momentum of his own amusement. "I mean, seriously, the heist of heists! The guts it must've taken! I'm actually jealous I didn't do it myself."
"You should not be."
"I am, though!" He said brightly. "You can't tell me that stealing the emo fedora and the Boom Boom Stick isn't every troublemaker's dream come true."
Hades leaned forward slightly. "Do you ever stop talking?"
"Not when I'm impressed."
"Then I fear for this world."
"Join the club. But honestly, I have to meet this guy," Owen said suddenly, his grin widening. "Whoever did this... absolute genius. Criminal mastermind. What an icon. Such a role model."
He snapped his fingers. "And to think, I used to believe meeting the guy who started the 'King of the Emo Allegations' thing about you was my number one priority."
"That was you," Hades said flatly.
But Owen was already talking over him, gesturing wildly. "Whoever started that rumour's got to move aside, because I'm officially the number one fanboy for whoever pulled this off! The emo fedora and the Boom Boom Stick,gone!It's beautiful. It'spoetic!"
Hades closed his eyes, unmoving, as Owen's laughter filled the vast chamber once more, echoing off the marble and dying into the dark. And when he finally caught his breath, wiping his eyes and grinning like a man possessed, Owen said with complete sincerity,
"Seriously, Uncle Bones… I'msojealous I didn't do it first."
The sound of laughter still echoed faintly through the throne room, long after it had any right to. Owen was bent over, hands on his knees, still wheezing out the occasional snort while Hades sat frozen on his throne, staring straight ahead like a man trying to remember how to breathe.
Then Hades moved. His hands curled into fists against the armrests, the torches flared, and the air itself seemed to tighten around them.
"Enough!"
The word thundered through the chamber, rattling the pillars, shaking dust from the ceiling. For a heartbeat, everything fell utterly still.
Owen straightened up at once, coughing into his fist, pretending to clear his throat. "Right. Yeah. No, you're right," he said quickly, forcing down another chuckle. "It's really… not that funny." He nodded, face suddenly solemn. "Very serious matter. Gravest of tragedies."
Hades' glare could have melted stone.
"And as such," Owen continued, adopting a voice of mock gravity, "I swear upon my honour to do whatever it takes to return the emo fedora to its rightful owner, the king of the Emos. As what is a poor, sad little emo without his fedora?"
The god's expression didn't change, but the silence that followed was heavy enough to make the torches flicker.
Owen grinned. "You don't have to thank me, Uncle Bones. I'm just doing my duty."
"I will thank you when you show an ounce of respect," Hades said sharply.
"Ah, so never. Good to know."
Hades' glare deepened, but Owen carried on as if it didn't exist. "So what's the plan? You got any leads, or is this another one of those jobs where I have to, gods forbid, actually put effort in?" He shivered dramatically at the word, rubbing his arms. "Ugh. Effort. Disgusting."
Hades' voice came out low and cold. "Zeus is up in arms. Olympus is near revolt. He's nearly at war with Poseidon."
Owen tilted his head. "Because of the theft?"
"Because Poseidon's son is the main suspect."
There was a pause.
Owen blinked. "Wait. What?"
He raised a brow, slowly straightening, mouth parting in disbelief.
"Aquadaddy has a kid?"