some kinda freak show

Title: Blemished
Fandom: Hades (Video Games)
Characters: Hades, Zagreus
Relationships: Hades/Zagreus
Rating: Mature
Length: ~900
Summary: The young Prince attempts something he learned from some shades, much to the discomfort of his Father.
Status: Complete
Notes: This was written for Father's Day Incest Flash Exchange 2026. It was a fun little thing, and I got to remember why I enjoyed the original Hades as much as I did.

The House of Hades, bereft of its Lady, became quite a sorry place indeed.

That isn't to say life didn't flourish within the bowels of the underworld. The Gods and Goddesses who called it home— be it temporarily or permanently— still flitted within those vaulted halls, alongside the shades of mortals who trekked its bloodfilled river, suffusing the realms of Tartarus and beyond. Clerks carried duties, servants took orders, and the House's Lord oversaw it all, the verdant joy of the Lady's presence steadily darkening until only smolders remained.

It was still no place suited for a child. Not one whose mother did not know he lived, and never stayed to see life spark once more in his flame-touched soles. Not one whose friends were few and far between, split between their duties to the venerable House and having little time to spare with the growing Prince. Not one whose desire for companionship, adventure, and value would have him pushing boundaries not meant to be pushed in ways none knew how to reprimand.

 

It is no surprise that the child grew attached to the one other bound to the House just as tightly as he.

 

(Nyx did the best she could. But even the Night cannot remain eternal.)

 

The Prince was sitting on his Father's lap at that grand, imposing desk of overflowing papers that never seemed to end in the center of the entry hall. Parchment was signed, discarded, acknowledged in some fashion, only for another of the House's numerous clerks to replace it with another. The Lord spent most of his time there. Thus, the Prince— deprived of his usual accompaniments at this time— stuck close to the Lord less out of preference, and more out of sheer boredom.

This usually manifested in the form of sitting on the Lord's lap while he addressed the never-ending tide of bureaucracy. Questions were answered for a time, before falling into lapses of silence only broken by the blood-filled river lapping on stone.

Most days were fine. Most sessions were fine. Unfortunately for the Lord, today the Prince would not stop squirming.

Time was a fickle thing to Gods. Pleasures— for the Lord of the Dead specifically, as he was not as brazen as his brothers— even more-so. The Lord still cared deeply for his Lady and had taken no other since her departure. Still, enough time had passed for Prince Zagreus to grow from an infant to a proper lad. A fair enough passage for a mortal, but lengths longer for a God. And even Gods felt the sparks of a properly stimulated body.

The Lord's brow furrowed. Positioned as he was, the energetic Prince's rear was... conspicuously placed.

"Boy. What makes you act so?"

The Prince looked up at his Father. All wide-eyed, one red, one green, both eager for attention and acknowledgment. A smugly satisfied expression painted his face, accentuated by another, decidedly pointed shake of his hips. "Some shades, Father! They know all sorts of things from when they were alive. I never knew about any of it before."

Hades' heart stopped. He'd combed through enough mortal souls to read between the lines. A horrible pit formed within, knowing that his Love's final gift was tainted by them with him not even aware of its occurrence.

"They taught me this, too!"

And with that, Hades, the Lord of the Dead, the guardian of the Underworld, the Head of the House of Hades, could not move a single godly muscle as his son, the last visage of his dearest Persephone, looked up and kissed him square on the lips.

 

It burned. By the Titans, it burned.

 

It was only a restraint learned over a God's extended lifespan that prevented Hades from shoving the Prince away on the spot. From pushing him back in a display of disgusted violence for tainting Persephone's gift like this, and surely making the impressionable Zagreus fear him as a result.

He instead pulled back slowly. He instead set his quill down slowly. He instead hooked two great hands beneath the Prince's arms slowly, slowly lifting him off his lap and setting him on the floor, fiery feet singeing tile.

"Do not convene with those shades again," he said. He could barely stop his voice from trembling. "Do not enact their teachings again. Leave, boy. You are dismissed."

For a brief moment, Hades feared that he'd failed. That his son could see the weakness of fright taint his tongue, that it held the tremor of a thundercloud, the vibration of a great drum. But it remained steady enough, and the Prince, none-the-wiser for what he'd done, deflated sadly. He looked to his Father with hurt in his contrasting eyes. Then, with a heavy sigh, he left the entry hall entirely, surly looking for someone he could truly call a friend.

 

The Lord grew distant after that. Colder. Hardened. No longer was the Prince allowed to sit on his lap. No longer was the Prince allowed to enter his chambers. No longer was the Prince allowed to linger, pushed away with a firm glare and a stern dismissal. It could not happen again. He would not allow it to happen again.

 

(Many years later— centuries, millennia, be what it may, for Gods were not constrained by the same temporal barriers as mortals— Prince Zagreus would jolt awake in his bed, a partner on either side, and catch a memory of fire burning his lips.)