Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mark huffs out an aggravated breath as he finishes counting up the sheep in the paddock. He shakes his head and starts counting up again sure that he somehow missed one. Ten attempts later and still a sheep short despite his methodic counting, he starts to realise that maybe it’s not his counting ability that’s letting him down today but that a sheep has in fact escaped.

For the fourth time this week…

“You guys never make things easy for me do you?” Mark tutts at the sheep who continue to chew on their grass, paying no attention to the boy’s frustrations.

Looking back up the hillside, Mark sighs and starts the climb to find the escapee.

Picking his way through the overgrown shrubs, Mark grumbles through his annoyance at the lone sheep who has turned into a mastermind escape artist. Clambering up a big stone, Mark cranes his neck to look over the green slopes. Not a white fluff ball in sight.

Hopping down, Mark continues up a makeshift path of trampled grass, praying to the gods for just a sight of the damn thing. And minutes later his prayers are answered through the sighting of the sheep in question. Oblivious to its surrounding as it munches on a particular lush section of grass beneath the shade of a towering tree.

“Okay! Okay, yes! I’ve got this.” Marks whispers, egging himself on to capture the sheep and be done for the afternoon.

He starts to tip toe, coming in from behind the sheep. He gets closer, arms outstretched, mere inches away from making the grab, he goes in for the kill…

“Ow! What the hell!” he suddenly cries out in pain, holding onto the back of his head where it is now throbbing.

Paying no mind to the sheep, Mark turns his attention to the object that had been launched at him. “Woah, that’s one industrial apple going on there” he groans as he bends to pick it up, still rubbing at his head.

“Excuse me?”

Mark quickly jolts up, holding the apple in his hand as a new voice appears. In front of him is stood three young men, all far too clean to be so deep into the countryside.

“Oh hi” he replies, smiling through the pain, “if you’re looking for the way to the town I’m afraid it’s all the way back there”.

“No, no.” Another of the men speaks, “You’re actually just holding our apple”.

Mark drops his gaze to the apple in question, “You can have it dude, but damn which one of you threw it? You’ve got a hell of an arm on you.” He comments, wincing as he feels a bump start to form on the back of his head.

“No!” The third one exclaims, stopping Mark from tossing it back to them. “We want you to give it to the one who you think is the prettiest.”

“Oh no, I can’t do that” Mark stutters, slowly backing away. “Here, just take the apple and we’ll call it even”.

“Come on! It’s not hard, just tell us who you would rather date”.

Mark sputters and starts to wave his hands chaotically still trying to back away enough to run. “No! Look! If you guys really want to know there’s this dude that lives a hill or two over from here. His name’s Paris or something, he likes attention and will be happy to play this game.”

“That won’t work” replies one of them as he shakes his head. “The apple landed on you so it must be you.”

“What the fuck are you guys on?” Mark comments to himself and turns around to leave this mess, the sheep can find its own way back for all he cares now.

He takes a couple of strides forward to only hit an obstacle straight away.

“Yeah, you can’t leave till you decide”. Mark looks up and swivels round to see that yes, one of the men has somehow moved to be in front of him.

“What the…”

“Look. Maybe telling you our names will help --”

“I doubt it…” mutters Mark but the shorter man continues.

“-- I’m Kun”. Kun then points to the “This is my son Xiaojun and this is Doyoung”.

“Um, okay cool.” Mark replies, “Well, I’m Mark…”

“Do you not know who we are?” Doyoung asks, an unimpressed look on his face.

“No?” Mark responds again, still trying to catch up that this is actually happening.

“You know the seasons, kind of important for someone like you I think” Xiaojun exclaims as he waves his arm between himself and Kun. “And then there’s Doyoung! How have you never heard of his name before!”

“I don’t go out much I guess…” Mark mutters, a blush creeping up on his face as he puts his eyes to the ground.

“Don’t go out much…” Doyoung breaths, “It shouldn’t matter if you don’t go out much! It’s common knowledge! Who even raised --”

“Okay!” Kun exclaims, “We’re getting nowhere. You don’t need to know who we are to pick, do you now Mark? Just tell us who you think is the most attractive and we’ll be on our way”.

“I can’t…” Mark pleads, wishing he had never come to look for the sheep and instead pretended that they were all there.

“And please enlighten us why” Doyoung grits out, obviously reaching his limits with patience.

“Because I’m straight dude! I don’t find any of you attractive!” Mark exclaims, suddenly wishing the ground would swallow him up as he sees Doyoung’s face start to turn a deep shade of red.

“Dude, look it’s nothing personal, it’s just the way it is” Mark quickly adds, trying to mend the impending explosion.

“Okay, why don’t we take a second to breath” Kun steps in, in an attempt to calm the storm brewing in Doyoung.

“Just do it,” Xiaojun comments, sideling up to Mark, “We can’t leave till you tell us your answer”.

“Don’t you guys have jobs?” Mark asks, “Something that you should be doing instead of wandering around asking strangers ‘who’s the prettiest’?”

“He just asked us if we have any jobs...” Doyoung mutters in disbelief, shaking his head as he drops down onto the grass.

Mark follows Doyoung’s decision to sit and firmly plants his butt on the ground, mind made up to wait this out. “Well, I’m technically done with my job for the day so let’s see who can hold out the longest.”

“This is ridiculous!” Xiaojun moans, “What was Jungwoo doing tossing the apple at this guy?”

“Toss?” Mark cries, “He fucking hurled that thing like a missile at me!”

Xiaojun shuffles over to Mark and sits far too close to him for comfort, personal spaces banished all of a sudden.

“Come on” Xiaojun begins, leaning against Mark’s arm, “Attraction and feelings aside, are you really saying you don’t think any of us look hot?”

Mark takes a moment to look at Xiaojun, and then glances over at Kun and Doyoung. All three of the men sit in silence with baited breath. 

The silence continues for another couple of minutes.

...

“No. Not at all actually.” Is all that comes out of Mark’s mouth before he is tackled and feels a pair of hands shaking his shoulders.

“Let him go Doyoung!” Kun yells, “This isn’t helping our situation!”

“You guys are crazy!” Mark shouts as Doyoung continues to assault him in such a way, “Just let me get my sheep and let me leave!”

“Who is the fittest?!” Doyoung screams and Mark notices a vein start to bulge at the side of his temple.

His head pounding, Mark goes slack and lets Doyoung continue to vigorously shake him for an answer.

All Mark wanted was to peacefully get his sheep…

Chapter Text

It’s awfully hard to pretend the world isn’t real when there’s a cold dog nose poking into your side.

“Hey,” Lucas calls out to the far off crackling fire.  “Your dog won’t leave me alone.”

“That’s not my fault, is it?” a voice calls back.  There’s some shuffling, hard footsteps against the marble floor, and suddenly Jaemin’s in view.  As per usual, he’s decked in full black, skin pale enough to glow.  His gaze is dark with mirth as he drops a hand to pat the dog’s head.  “You’re the one that’s not supposed to be here.”

Lucas shoots up with a groan.  Normally, he towers over Jaemin, but lounging on the couch in Jaemin’s kingdom, he feels particularly small next to the king of the dead.  “You said I could stay here.”

“Yeah, for a couple weeks, and it’s been like four.  Jeno wants his couch back.”

Lucas, however, does not move.  Instead, he drops an arm onto his eyes and huffs a heated breath.  “What am I supposed to do?  Go back up there?  Not on my fucking watch.”

Jeno’s cold nose pokes into his thigh and Lucas swats a hand.  A grumble and the sickening sound of bones crunching later, and Jeno stands beside Jaemin, as anthropomorphized as an immortal hellhound can get.  Non-dog Jeno grabs Lucas’s hand and threatens to crumble the bones in his grip.  “Up.”

“Lucas, Lucas, Lucas,” Jaemin sing-songs, abandoning the tragedy at the couch to his freaky pet dog.  “Your house is up there.  In Olympus.  With the rest of the major gods.  As much as I love the company, I miss the solitude.  Get out.”  He slides in a laugh that sounds fake and likely is. 

“But I don’t want to,” Lucas complains.

And that’s the truth.  He doesn’t.  There’s a war going on up on the surface.  Lucas chose to align himself with a real promising group of Greek entrepreneurs, real insightful folks with ideas, and they repay his favor by losing in some skirmish against some Persian merchants.  Or something.  He’s tried to block out the specifics because it’s frankly embarrassing, and a few name people up top always laugh at him when he walks by.

“You’re the god of war,” that one asshole centaur said, the one and only time Lucas descended to the mortal realm to watch over the entirely awful battle.  “Aren’t you supposed to be good at wars?”

Lucas has been hiding in the Underworld ever since.

“Grow a pair.  If Kronos could grow them back, so can you,” Jaemin chides.  The voice comes from across the room, over by the fire, where apparently Jaemin can see all three major realms and everything in between.  Last time Lucas tried looking into the fireplace, all he got was an eyeful of flame and growl at his side.

Jeno’s been a bit of a pain.

“No one said he grew them back,” Lucas argues.  “Actually, did you ask him?  He’s down here, isn’t he--”

“Wait, shut up,” Jaemin interrupts, hand up.  Without either of their voices or the hell hound’s snarling, there is only the rough crackling of the fire.  If Lucas were to hone in his senses and really listen, he’d be able to pick up on the distant screaming of the damned.  

“I--”

“Shut up, ” Jaemin blurts again, shooting Lucas a quick glare.  “There’s drama.  In the mortal realm.”

Suddenly, Jaemin hurries back over to the unlikely duo, tugging at Lucas’s shoulders.  “Get up, get up, let’s go!”

“Why do I have to go?”

Jaemin rushes around the chamber, fixing his hair and straightening his cloak, Jeno following with flat ears at his heels.  Even looking human, the hell hound still wears puppy eyes like it’s his last resort, whimpering whenever Jaemin ignores him.  When Jaemin is finished, he pauses to baby talk Jeno.  Lucas looks away, feeling for the four hundredth time during his stay like he’s intruding upon something weird.

“Because there’s activity, Lucas, hostility!  Isn’t that your thing?  Tension?  People are fighting!”

Lucas grumbles, “That’s actually Discord’s thing, I’m-- I’m the blood guy, I don’t--”

“Whatever.  I’m going, and Jeno doesn’t like you, so you’re going, too.”  Jaemin wanders back over to him and grabs his wrist.  

And-- here’s the thing-- Lucas is a god, the god of war, actually, which is very impressive if he does say so himself, but because Jaemin precedes him in creation and in rank, somehow, he’s higher up on the power hierarchy.  So Jaemin can drag him to that horrific, dark fog of a chariot, and Lucas is powerless to his wishes.

At least so he tells himself.  It has nothing to do with his four-week long moping session, no way.  Not like he’s accidentally weakened himself or anything by not doing his godly duties, nope.

The chariot, guided by skeletal horses, rips them from the Underworld at top speeds.  They fly past the Styx and all it’s forgettable cousin bodies of water, past the deep pits of Tartarus and the howling of those it holds, past the fleeting wisps and shades of restless spirits.  It rips them from the heated hell hole of the Underworld and spits them onto mortal ground, atop a sprawling vast meadow, roughly a few paces away from where a trio of gods and a random guy argue.

Or, well, had been arguing.  The second the chariot hits the grass, the four horses gnawing at the grass with clanking teeth, Doyoung launches at the random guy.  And under the force of a god, the guy is helpless, head rocking back and forth with Doyoung’s incessant shakes.

Even just a tinge of argument has something burning within Lucas, but he stamps it down.  Now is not the time, nor the place.  That’s a mortal.  And even though Lucas loves to stand amidst the bloodbath of mortality, a god against a human has an unfair advantage.

Also, it looks like too much fun, and Doyoung was one of the types to give Lucas the stink eye after the “Greeks with New Ideas Incident,” so therefore Doyoung can only ever be boring.

“Yo!” Jaemin calls out, snapping.  Three godly heads jerk to face them.  Doyoung loosens his grip on the mortal.  “What is this?  Why are we fighting?”

Kun scoffs.  “This isn’t for you.  For either of you.  So just mind your business, okay?”

“Actually,” Jaemin counters, holding up a finger.  “If this guy dies, then yeah, it is my business.  I gotta call my guys.  Do I need to call my guys?”  Despite the warning to his words, there’s an excited gleam in Jaemin’s eye.  

“No, you don’t,” Xiaojun replies.  He steps back and crosses his arms, then nods toward a particularly shiny apple on the ground.  “We were simply trying to settle a matter, and this kid here made things difficult.”

Only now, the mortal opens his mouth to speak.  “I’m not a kid, I’m just straight, okay?”

Jaemin glances back at Lucas and raises a brow.  “Well, whatever it is, it was enough to appear on my danger radar.  So unless I’m calling my guys-- which I still can, mind you, they’re on call, all the time--”

“We’re not calling your guys,” Kun reassures.  “We just need Mark here to give the apple to one of us.”  

“And all he has to say is that he’s straight.  Straight my ass!  How hard is it to give a piece of fruit to someone?” Doyoung exclaims, reaching for Mark’s shoulders once more.  Mark flinches back and scowls.

“I’m sorry, he’s what?” Jaemin asks.  “Afraid I’m not familiar with the term.  Aren’t the Greeks supposed to not care about these sorts of things?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about--” Mark tries.

Lucas steps forward, arms squared, and the scene stills in front of him. 

“Oho,” Doyoung teases, snarkily.  “Looks like the god of the dead has two dogs, now.”

“Fuck off.”  For fuck’s sake, he should’ve stayed down in the pits with Jeno.  He’s been avoiding an encounter like this for a reason.  “I’m not the one threatening a mortal.”

Wrong words.  Doyoung laughs at this, and Kun makes a half-assed remark, and then Jaemin says something that pisses Xiaojun off, and it just all falls to pieces.  To make things worse, right as Mark recognizes his opportunity to escape the grasp of the gods, Jaemin’s antsy quartet of skeletal horses charge for no reason, effectively knocking several people over.

Lucas, usually the one to embrace such chaos, takes one last look at Mark the mortal before deciding it’s too much work.  

He sinks back to the Underworld without waiting for Jaemin or his elusive mess of a chariot, restless to the core.

Chapter Text

Mark barrels his way down the hill, stumbling over his feet as his head is still pounding.

Screw this, screw those wackos, and screw that damn sheep. Mark bitterly thinks as he brings a hand up to hold the bump, in an attempt to push away the throbbing ache.

Pushing the pain to the side, Mark hurries on. Not giving the crazy men from the top of the hill a chance to find him again.

Finally making it to the bottom of the hill he begins to stumble his way back towards his home, passing the paddock on the path. Reaching the sheep, Mark quickly scans over them to make sure he is only reporting one missing sheep to his parents.

He blinks. Rubs his eyes. And blinks again.

“What the hell?...” Mark wonders out loud.

“How on earth did you get back here?” He exclaims, pointing an accusatory finger to the runaway. “And also how did you get into the paddock?” He asks, proving his point by shaking the securely locked gate.

“Maybe that psycho concussed me…” Mark grumbles, reaching back up to poke at his bruised head.

Deciding to just come back and count again tomorrow Mark continues down the track, now taking his sweet time with his legs now feeling like lead.

*

“Baekhyun, honey!” Mark hears as he finally gets to the cottage he and his parents live in. “You know I love you right? But I swear by Jungwoo that if you leave your damn muddy shoes just lying haphazardly on the floor again I will make you sleep with the goats for a week!”

Mark winces at how pissed off his Dad sounds and shuffles towards the front door to witness his Dad throw his Pa’s shoes right out the kitchen window.

“Kai! Not those ones! You know those are my favourite!” Mark’s Pa whines from inside.

Mark quietly enters the house, not wanting to disturb his parents ‘discussion’ and takes the initiative to leave his own muddy shoes outside the door. Trying to sneak past his parents and make it to his room, Mark tiptoes past the kitchen.

“Don’t give me that look Baekhyun. That look lost its power well over fifteen years ago when you used it one too many times.”

“Fifteen years?! Now you’re just making us sound old” Mark heard his Pa whine.

“We are Baekhyun… Mark is already 20” Kai responds with a huff.

“Nope, I don’t believe it! Our boy is still not a day over 10!”

Mark lets out a light laugh at his parents' antics and continues to move only to cringe when he steps onto a creaking floorboard.

“Mark! You’re home!”

Mark doesn’t get a second to respond before he is engulfed into a warm embrace, and one he lets himself fall into after a moment.

“By the gods Baekhyun, it’s not like he just got back from war or anything” Kai comments, wiping his hands on his apron before coming closer to ruffle Mark’s hair affectionately.

“He might as well have!” Baekhyun replies, squeezing Mark even tighter to make his point. “My boy is out in the fields all day now, I never get to see him anymore!”

“Yeah and you’re about to make him bedridden if you don’t let him breathe” Kai states, pulling his husband back to let their poor son take a gasp for air.

“It’s just showing love” Baekhyun grumbles with a pout, “nothing wrong with that.”

“Of course not love” Kai responds, appeasing Baekhyun. “But you might be overdoing it when people start to turn a bit pale.”

Finally catching his breath, Mark straightens up too quickly and feels the throbbing of his head return full force. He does his best to hold in a grimace but nothing escapes his Dad’s eye.

“What’s wrong?” Kai asks. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, it’s nothing major. Nothing to stress over at all.” Mark states, “What are you cooking? It smells really good in here at the moment.”

“Nice try, but no. Come sit down and let me see.”

Mark groans as his Dad pulls him further into the kitchen and pushes him down onto a chair. As his Dad starts to take a look at his head, Mark isn’t able to stop the wince that comes out this time as fingers brush against the bump.

“This looks nasty, what did you --”

“MY POOR BABY!” Baekhyun cries, suddenly clinging to his boy, “That’s it Kai. We’re never letting Mark out of our sight again. Just look at the state of his beautiful head.”

“Pa, calm down. I’m fine, I just slipped on some rocks coming down the hillside on my way back” Mark lies, not wanting to start one of the infamous storm Baekhyuns that are known to occur whenever someone tries to mess with their family.

“How can you say that?! There’s a literal egg hanging out of the back of your head as we speak!” Baekhyun continues to cry. “

I’m just going to clean it up real quick. I think the mud and blood is making it look a lot worse.”

Mark nods as his Dad quickly rummages under the sink for a bowl and rag. “Pa, I promise you I’m fine.”

“Do you pinky promise?”

Mark laughs at his Pa’s silliness and happily locks their pinkies together. “I pinky promise I’m fine.”

Mark lets his Pa continue to hold his hand as his Dad sorts out the water as a way to keep him calm. As his Dad gets to work gently cleaning out the muck from his hair, Mark suddenly remembers what he wanted to tell them.

“Oh, the reason why I’m a bit late is because there was a rogue sheep. I went up to catch it but then this happened.” He points at his head, “So I just called it a day and came back. But I recounted on my way back and there were all of them in the paddock… maybe one of you can go tomorrow morning with me to see how many there actually are? I think the hit to my head messed up my counting skills.”

“If there is a sheep missing it can fend for itself on the hills for all I care” Baekhyun mutters angrily from his seat next to Mark. “Because of it my baby could have died! In fact, I have a good mind to find the damn thing and --”

“Alright!” Kai cuts in, “All done! And honestly, it looks fine. But I agree with your Pa here and think that maybe you should take it easy for a day or two.”

“Okay, okay.” Mark sighs, accepting his fate. “Thanks for cleaning it up though.” He adds as he cranes his neck back to look at his Dad.

“No problem!” Kai responds, running a hand through Mark’s fringe. “Remind me to give you a haircut as well once your head heals come to think of it, I could tie all this up. No wonder you tripped over, bet you can hardly see a thing.”

More like violently shoved to the ground but sure, I can’t see. Mark thinks bitterly.

“Actually, how about you run into town tomorrow for us? Unless you think you might fall over your feet again on the road?” His Dad teases, making Mark laugh.

“No! He should be on bed rest! No moving till his injury is recovered!” Baekhyun insists.

“I’ll go!” Mark calls out, silently thanking his Dad for giving him the opportunity to escape the mother hen that is his Pa.

“Great!” Kai says, clapping his hands together. “I’ll have a list ready for you tomorrow morning then! Now go and have a bath, dinner will be ready in about an hour.”

Mark hops out of his chair and gives a quick salute. “Yes sir!”

As he is clambering up the stairs to his room, Mark pauses for a second to listen to the waves of laughter drifting out from the kitchen; his parents obviously having made up from the whole muddy shoes fiasco. He smiles and hurries up to get his bath ready.

Chapter Text

Lucas really should’ve waited for Jaemin.

As the King of the Underworld, Jaemin has certain privileges that other gods may not be privy to.  Like, the ability to control where he ends up in the deathly realm.  Or the ability to not get godly whiplash.  Or--

Forget it.  Lucas has enough of a headache as it is, trying to navigate the labyrinthine halls of the palace dungeon, where some of the pesky souls of the damned are imprisoned.  Not everyone fits into the funnel, Dante.

He’s been wandering for what, twenty mortal minutes?  Time doesn’t really exist down here without the glowing rays of the sun or the rising tides of the moon.  His footsteps echo down the long chambers and his calls for Jaemin or that rude dog Jeno are only answered with more damned screams.

“Would you shut up?” Lucas finally snaps, glaring at a wide-eyed wisp of a person.  “Where the fuck am I?”

“Free me from this cage and I will guide you to where you wish to be!” the soul warbles.

Lucas waves it off.  “No, I don’t think I will.”

A whimper.  More hands reach out from behind the cell bars.  There’s an inhumane amount of souls stuffed in there, and if he stares at the mass for too long, all gelatinous and glowing and tangled like rubber limbs, something unsettling grows in his gut.  Stepping out of reach, Lucas sets his gaze on the far wall and strides forward.

BOOM!

Fucking finally.

Jaemin’s deep voice bounces off the dungeon walls.  The clip-clop of skeletal hooves signify that the chariot is back, and with a proper point of reference--

Lucas waves a hand, tearing open a wrinkle in the world, and walks through to the chariot room, abandoning the whining souls of the damned.

“-- what the fuck, Jaemin?  Why did you take me?”  There’s a voice here that belongs to neither Jaemin nor his hellhound.  Frowning, Lucas rounds the chariot to discover Xiaojun, who, scandalized, crosses his arms over his chest.

Jaemin waves off a hand.  “Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it!” Xiaojun exclaims.  “Shit, this isn’t some prophecy, is it?  I heard stories about that one girl, you know, and that guy kidnapped her and they got married--”

“You’re remembering it wrong,” Lucas throws in, effectively startling the other two.

“Oh, you’re still here?” Jaemin regards Lucas as he pats one of the skeletal horses.  There’s a strange stretch of eye contact between them.  Lucas is the first to look away.  Whatever this is, it isn’t his problem, and he’s not exactly interested in starting more drama with another god.  “Well, Jeno’s taking the couch, so you’ll both have to share the floor.  If you’ll excuse me.”  The King of the Dead begins to strut down one of the many never-ending halls.  Lucas wordlessly follows, leaving Xiaojun scrambling to catch up.

“Hey!” Xiaojun calls.  “If you’re just going to ignore me, can you show me the way out?”

No response.  In fact, Jaemin picks up the pace.

“You have to let me out,” Xiaojun tries again.  “I reign over the changing seasons.  If I’m not up there, in the mortal realm, the seasons will never change, and the harvest will never end--”

Lucas grunts.

“Oh my god, this isn’t a forced marriage, is it?  Just-- can you tell me anything?  Please?”

Jaemin shoots a look over his shoulder.  “Can you calm down?  I’m late to feed my dog.”

Lucas doesn’t think he’s ever seen Jeno eat a single thing in his life, but hey, he’s not going to call out the guy he’s been mooching off.  In fact, the sooner they get to that large echoing chamber, the sooner Lucas can go about moping about today’s events.

“Hey, Lucas.”  Xiaojun’s smaller hand latches onto Lucas’s sleeve.  His voice lowers, like he expects Jaemin to not hear his next few words.  “You understand, right?  I can’t be stuck down here.  I need--  I can’t marry this guy--”

He scoffs.  “That’s what you’re worried about?”

Balking, Xiaojun’s thick brows pull together.  “Being stuck down here?”

“No, the marriage bit,” Lucas repeats.  They’re close enough to the main chamber, so he slows down and jerks his head toward the scene devolving in front of them.  Up ahead, the dog Jeno charges at Jaemin, who stands in the middle of the cavern with his arms wide.  As Jeno gets closer, he transforms into his more human form, and the two crash to the ground.

Lucas averts his eyes right as the two begin to suck face.  Xiaojun blinks, flabbergasted.

“He’s not interested in marriage.  I don’t know why you’re here, but you don’t have to worry about that.”

Silence befalls the two uncomfortable onlookers.

“How long have you been down here?” Xiaojun asks.

“Uh.” 

Xiaojun doesn’t wait for him to add anything else.  Lucas isn’t planning on it.  “So this is-- this is normal,” Xiaojun says.

“I don’t think normal is the word for it.”

“No wonder he’s never at family functions,” Xiaojun grumbles.  Then he pauses and shrugs.  “Well.  It’s not like Jeno’s his brother, so that’s progress.”

Lucas clears his throat awkwardly.  “How is it. Up there.”

Another shrug.  “It’s pretty much the same, but your seat is always empty.”

Oh, right.  That thing.

There’s a massive chamber up in the clouds designated for the major gods, where they all have a seat and a stained glass window.  This very chamber is where they would debate the nature of the mortal realm beneath them.  Wars and philosophy and internal disputes and such.  It’s also where lesser gods would bring forth issues for wider debate and where recently deceased heroes would plead deification.  Lucas sits between Ten and Yuta, who weirdly enough, he misses. 

Sometimes, he and Yuta would go down to the mortal realm and fuck around with some testosterone laced dude-bros, which was always fun because he and Yuta would win whatever fight or lyrical battle they started.  And Ten would slip Lucas sips from his flask during the particularly dull meetings.  And sometimes they’d all party together, just the three of them, because there’s far too many people up there who don’t know how to have a good time.

It’s weird, yet reassuring, to think about his vacant throne.  Jaemin has a seat up there, too, but the God of the Dead rarely abandons his kingdom unless for something petty or in his personal interest.  Lucas’s throne must look awfully empty.  The light from the stained glass would reflect little shards of color across the chair.  Yuta would have no one to make snide comments to, and Ten-- well, he probably just passes his flask to Yuta instead, but still.  

“Kun says Jungwoo asks about you.”

Simply hearing the name of the King of the Gods sends a shiver down Lucas’s spine.

“Stuff about ‘when’s my loser son coming back to do his job,’ or whatever,” Xiaojun supplies, promptly crashing Lucas’s steadily inflating ego.

Scoffing, Lucas scowls.  “Not any time soon.”  Loser son.  That’s a low blow.  Just because those crafty entrepreneurs weren’t as promising as he thought they’d be, that didn’t mean--

“I don’t think so,” Jaemin interrupts.  “You’ve been down here too long, Lucas.  And while I’m more than fascinated by your crumbling fortitude, you’re a bit of a downer to be around.  Also, Jeno’s tired of you.  I’m kicking you out.”  He’s still on the floor, crowded by the hunkering form of his human-dog, but Jaemin’s voice rings an icy tingle through Lucas’s core.

There’s so much at the tip of his tongue.  Lucas glances between the odd couple on the ground and the sheepish Xiaojun, fire licking at his veins.  Looks at the wide windows overlooking the wisps of lost souls and endless flames.  Sucks in a breath, and smells ashes and blood and death.

Without a word, Lucas steps back through a rift, disappearing from the underworld.

Chapter Text

“You still up for heading into town today?”

Mark nods his head to his Dad’s question whilst chewing on a piece of toast.

“If I had my way, you wouldn’t be going anywhere” Baekhyun pouted. “The outside world is too cruel for my baby”.

“Come on now love, stop sulking. He’s only going to town, what’s the worst that could happen?” Kai comments, subtly trying to bribe his husband by placing another few pieces of bacon on his plate.

“Lots of things!” Baekhyun exclaims. “What if some wrong doers come and try to kidnap our poor boy and because of his head he can’t react quickly enough? Forget kidnapping, he could even get run over by a cart! Remember Aeschylus? He was just walking along, minding his own business until a damn eagle dropped a tortoise on his head and bam. Dead. A stampede could even --”

“Okay, we get it!” Kai laughs, pushing Baekhyun back into his seat. “With that imagination of yours you should have gone into play writing instead of farming yourself.” Turning to Mark Kai adds, “Give me 5 minutes to double check the list and then you can be on your way”.

Mark gives a thumbs up, “Awesome”

True to his Dad’s words, 5 minutes later Mark is all set for his day trip to the town.

“Right, that’s everything I think.” Kai says, “Take all the time you want. Just make it back before the sun sets”.

“Sounds good Dad. And Pa, don’t worry you’ll see me back soon!” Mark replies, hoping to cheer up his overthinking father.

With the day still young, Mark walks at slow pace, taking the opportunity to breathe in the crisp fresh air. As he’s plodding along, Mark can’t help but think back to yesterday’s events. His parents had kept him occupied enough that the three strange men hadn’t popped up in his mind till now.

“I don’t know what they expected of me” Mark grumbled to himself, “I did tell them I was straight after all. Wouldn’t have been much help anyway…”

However, despite being utterly weirded out by the men, Mark does admit to himself now, secretly, that they were all extremely attractive. At the level which most people could only dream of. Even the other two who oddly arrived so suddenly held the same level of beauty.

Not a single imperfection in sight.

And honestly, that freaked Mark out even more. It would have been fine if one of them had been insanely attractive. He could have just lobbed the apple at that man and called it a day. But no, the world was not on his side and all three of them held a godly glow.

Wonder where they came from to all look like that. Maybe they’re from the same family? Could run in the genes and would explain how they were all batshit crazy and kinda vain.

Kicking a loose stone in front of him, Mark huffs, not sure why he’s overthinking about them. It’s not like he’s going to be seeing them ever again.

And if he does whilst back up the hills, he’ll just set his Pa on them anyways.

Mark pauses in his tracks, actually that might work, he thinks, my Pa loves to judge people like that anyway.

Mark laughs to himself at his thoughts and is about to continue walking when he hears some rustling in the bushes just off the path.

They die down for a second and Mark’s about to brush it off before he sees a set of hooves. Knowing that someone is likely looking for their horse if it’s managed to get free, Mark creeps over so he doesn’t spook the poor thing.

As he goes to grab it, Mark is prepared for a bit of a tussle and quickly tries to calm the panicked horse, “Whoa! Whoa I got you it’s okay! It’s okay!”

“And who the hell are you telling to whoa?” Comes a voice from above him.

Mark blinks for a second, and looks for the source. Peering up from where he is holding the horse from it’s torso, Mark yelps as he hastily lets go and jumps back as if he’s been electrocuted.

“What the fuck!”

“I think I’m the one who should be asking questions. I didn’t come and assault you whilst you were minding your own business now did I?”

“I I I, I’m so sorry.” Mark stutters out. “I’m afraid I hit my head pretty hard yesterday and I think I’m more concussed than I thought. I honestly thought you had the body of a horse for a second there dude.”

“Thank you for pointing out the obvious, I know”.

“Well shit.” Mark breathes, “So I’m not seeing things?”

“Any chance you’re high right now?”

“No!” Mark exclaims, “I mean, I don’t think so?” Mark questions, scratching his head. “Am I?”

The strange being sighs, and rubs his head. “Look, I need help finding someone right now. And considering how you just assaulted me for no reason, I will take your help as a way of forgiveness.”

“Umm, okay, yeah, sure.” Mark says, “Can I know your name?”

“I guess so, it’s Shotaro.”

“Well, hi! I’m Mark Lee! It’s really nice to meet you!” Mark states, bringing out a hand to shake.

“Hm, no thanks. But follow me” Shotaro comments, turning around and walking deeper into the forest.

“Hey, I don’t want to invade on personal stuff.” Mark says, speed walking to catch up with Shotaro, “but can I ask what you call yourself? I’ve never met a creature like you!”

Shotaro turns his head to Mark and sighs, “if you must know a centaur…”

Mark hums but doesn’t add anything else.

“What? Have you never heard of my kind before?” Shotaro asks, his brow crinkling, “Humans hear about us growing up with their stories.”

“...”

“Not a thing?”

“No…” Mark admits. “If you must know, I never found the myths interesting growing up so my fathers stopped reading them to me pretty early on.”

Shotaro shakes his head in disbelief, never in all his years of living had he come across a mortal who hadn’t been taken with the legends they grew up with.

“Well now you know.”

They walk in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, Mark taking the time to get a better look at his new acquaintance. He internally groans when he sees that he is faced with yet another face with absolutely perfect features. Moving past Shotaro’s face, Mark isn’t even surprised at this point to see that the lovely blue roan colour that makes up Shotaro’s horse-like body is shining in the sunlight.

I wish I could get my own horses looking so clean and dazzling.

“You know when you spoke about personal boundaries? Yeah I think you crossed it.”

“Shit, I said that outloud didn’t I?” Mark cringes, “You don’t have to answer that, sorry, haha…”

Shotaro looks down at Mark and snorts out a laugh, making Mark bolder to ask the real question on his mind.

“But I do have another question!”

“I am not surprised…”

“Who is it that we are looking for?” Mark asks curiously.

Shotaro’s face darkens and Mark winces at the anger that builds up in the centaur’s expression.

“A brute that’s who.” Shotaro states. “Me and my companions graciously allowed this man, a “hero” to the people, to stay with us on one condition. To not drink, touch, or even look at our wine. We turn our backs for a minute and he’s gone with the lot. Not a drop left. That despicable thief took it all, but I know he’s nearby. He wouldn’t have gone far before the need to drink had set in.”

Damn, that must be some pretty good wine. “So what’s this man's name?”

Still keeping a brisk pace, Mark only still beside him by doing a light jog, Shotaro sneers out “Sungchan.”

Chapter Text

Lucas spawns, accidentally, on the edge of Taeyong’s mystical forest.  The trees are particularly dense here, and the forest is rather isolated in comparison to the godly suburbs where Lucas’s house is, so it plants him exactly where he wants to be.

Lucas, unlike his wiser, battle-strategic counterpart Renjun, is one to think on his feet.  It is not the preparation of war that fuels his power, but the act of war itself.  The violence, the passion, the blood and guts and glory.  Without war, Lucas lacks power.  Currently, he is but a shell of the god he usually is, and since Jaemin kicked him out, he figures it’s high time he try to get it back.

Mission objective: Get a taste of glory and refuel his power.  Avoid most gods (or at least the ones who gave him shit for shirking his duties out of shame.)  Then leave.

Unless things went miraculously well, and Jungwoo felt particularly… generous, or something, and those crafty Greeks down on the surface weren’t eating total shit.  Then Lucas could like, gloat or something, like he usually does when he does well with wars.  Which he’s supposed to.  Because he’s the god of war.  Obviously.

There’s some movement behind him, veiled by the thick trees of Taeyong’s forest.  The last thing Lucas wants is to get spotted by a nymph or one of Taeyong’s secret service hunters, so Lucas slips out from the treeline and approaches the winding path.

Up ahead, Olympus city sits.  Palaces and temples and waterfalls and clouds and pink skies.  In the center of it all, the famous godly chamber.  Jungwoo will be there, lounging in his throne, overlooking the godly and mortal realms, brow creased with judgment and thin humor.  Lucas will show up and, uh.

Yeah.

“One step at a time,” he tells himself. 

*

Jungwoo is in the chamber, as per usual, but he’s not alone.

Doyoung, Jungwoo’s vengeful spouse, the Queen of the Gods and the God of Marriage, sits at his side.  His eyes narrow as soon as Lucas walks through the grand doors, and he leans over not to Jungwoo, but to Kun, who also sends Lucas an intense glare.  As they bicker quietly, Jungwoo stands and stomps his lightning bolt staff against the marble floor.

No other god is currently present, which makes for a rather pathetic scene, as ten of the thirteen seats are empty and thus unimposing.  Still, though, the crackling sound of lightning against the floor sends a jolt through Lucas, and the two scheming gods fall silent.  The stained glass windows around the room shine a bit brighter.

“Ayo, it’s my loser son,” Jungwoo jokes.  He beams down at Lucas from his slightly elevated seat and holds out his arms, almost accidentally hitting Doyoung with the lightning staff.  “I was wondering when you’d come crawling back.  How’s your uncle?”

“Jaemin--” Lucas begins, and Kun and Doyoung sharpen their glares on him.  “--is fine.  Same as usual, I guess.”

“I heard you boys were causing more problems than usual,” Jungwoo replies.  “Something about kidnapping some kid--”

Kun shoots up from his seat.  “That kid is my son, Xiaojun, and I’d like him back!”

Lucas throws up both hands in defense.  “That wasn’t me!  I wasn’t there when Jaemin did that!”

“I can’t believe this,” Kun bemoans.  “My poor son, taken by that pervert, stuck down there in that fiery pit for the rest of his days.  Next thing I know, they’ll be getting married, and I’ll never see Xiaojun again!”

“Why are you all so worried about marriage?” Lucas grumbles.  He shakes his head.  “They’re not getting married, Jaemin isn’t interested, and he’s not that big of an asshole, either.”

“Then why won’t he let Xiaojun back to the surface?” Kun rounds on him, leaping down from his slightly elevated seat.  He’s got a finger jabbed in Lucas’s face before Lucas can blink.  The god of grain and harvest huffs.  “I’d go down there myself and give him a stern talking-to if I could.”

Did Lucas miss something?  “Why can’t you?”

Kun’s expression hardens.  “ No one can go down there unless Jaemin permits it.  Why he let you stay down there for so long is a mystery.  You can’t even deal with the mess you started, and you’re a shit god, dodging your duties like this, yet somehow you can come and go freely from the realm of the dead.  And my poor son, poor Xiaojun-- he’s more likely to become Queen of the Dead than he is to ever see the sunlight again!”

“Again with the marriage,” Lucas mumbles, shaking his head.  “Fuck this.  I’m here to get my chair back.”

Jungwoo blinks down at him.  He’s grinning, clearly amused.  “Get your chair back?  You never gave it away, did you?”  The King of the Gods points to Lucas’s empty chair.  It looks the same as it had last time Lucas saw it.  Something calls him to it, luring him in with the promise of power and responsibility.  “Go on, sit down.”

It can’t possibly be this easy.  Nevertheless, Lucas strides over.  A few paces away, his stained glass pours flecks of color onto the floor.  In front of the throne, he pauses, and instead reaches out a hand.

His fingertips meet a barrier.

“Hey!” Lucas exclaims, whipping around to scowl at his dad.  “What’d you do to my chair?”

“Me?  I didn’t do a thing,” Jungwoo says.  He shrugs playfully, still smirking to himself.  “No one’s touched your chair.  Actually, no one can.”

Doyoung snorts.  “If we could, we would’ve sold it out to Jaehyun.”

“Jaehyun!”  This is unbelievable.  Lucas stands in front of his throne, attempting to shield it from the trio of prying eyes.  “Jaehyun’s not even an original god!  Fuck, is he even a god?  I thought--”

“It doesn’t matter.  He’s beautiful, and he’s very nice, and he’s here, unlike you,” Jungwoo replies.  “The point is, Lucas, honey, loser son of mine, you’ve been doing an awful lot of moping lately.  Which is fine, I don’t give a shit.  But it’s been a few weeks since you’ve done anything productive.  You know what happens down in the mortal realm, when you’ve got a job?  If you don’t do it, and you don’t show up, you get fired.”

Rage.  Lucas balls his hands into fists, nails biting at his palms.  Heated, he seethes, “Are you firing me?”

“Me?  No?  Do I need to remind you how little I care?” Jungwoo laughs.  He waves a hand at the chair.  “No, the chair did.  Or, well, is trying to.”

“Explain this to me,” Lucas demands.

“Yes, yes, alright.”  Jungwoo finally stands and wanders over, hands clasped behind his back.  There’s a mess of expressions on his face.  When he speaks, his voice is pensive and slow, like he’s explaining the death of a loved one to a child, but delighted mirth flickers in his gaze.  “Since you haven’t been doing your job-- since you haven’t been sitting in your throne-- the chair thinks the position is up for grabs.  It’s shielding itself right now because there’s currently no god of war.  Do you understand?”

“I--”

“You need to do your job to keep the chair,” Jungwoo finalizes.  At Lucas’s deep, angered inhales, he adds, “A K A, go fix that mess you started in the mortal realm and you can come back.”  He slaps a hand on Lucas’s shoulder.  “Great talk, kiddo.  See you next year?”

Doyoung scoffs.  “He better fix this before then!  I don’t know what you thought you were doing, but those ‘crafty Greeks’ of yours and the Persians are in a full out war.  Clearly, you wouldn’t have noticed, but things have gotten worse.  Fix it!  You’re the god of war, so fix it!  Just end it!”

There’s more passion in Doyoung’s words than anyone expects, so all three other gods gape at him.  Doyoung, feeling awkward, clears his throat.  “There’s, uh--”

“Doesn’t matter.  You’re right.  I think Lucas knows that now,” Kun says, then adds, “And maybe, while he’s down there whispering sweet nothings into the ears of the Greeks’, he can get my fucking son back.”

Lucas points a finger at Kun.  “That’s not my job.  I’m not taking responsibility for that.”

“Yeah, yeah, just go.”  Jungwoo waves him out, a clear sign of dismissal.  “You’re welcome back anytime, you know, you just have to do what you’re supposed to do--”

“I know, I know!” Lucas shouts.  His feet carry him out as Kun continues howling on about Xiaojun and “that pervert Jaemin.”  There’s some scuffling and some hushed whispers, but Lucas tunes it all out, resolution set in his heart.

He knows what he needs to do.  Fixing the mess he created-- it’s only reasonable that he sort out this, uh, full-blown war that’s apparently blossomed in his absence.  And he knows this.

But this is also a matter of pride.  And sending the godly realm into such disarray?  That feeds something guilty in Lucas’s heart, because there’s nothing more empowering than causing minor battles amongst his equals.  A war is a war.  A fight is a fight.  Lucas will feel the energy in his bones no matter who is involved.

(Besides, he’s not entirely ready to face his problems, so the war of the mortals will have to wait just another day.)

Chapter Text

“Sungchan”. 

Mark nods his head hearing the name from Shotaro, “Cool.” 

“You have no idea who he is do you?” Shotaro sighs. 

“Not at all.” Mark admits without a hesitation. 

Shotaro heaves out yet another sigh and slows down, “Let’s stop here for a minute”. 

Mark perches on a tree stump and looks up at Shotaro with quizzical eyes. Whilst he has never been one to keep up with the heroes roaming around Greece, maybe hearing about who this Sungchan is might mean he is able to find the dude more quickly. 

“You really don’t keep up a lot with the public world do you?” 

“My Dad restricts all this quite a bit because my Pa gets too obsessed with what’s going on”. Mark shrugs with a laugh, “when he found out that it took Odysseus 10 years to get home, he refused to get out of bed for a whole week. The next month and our subscriptions for all the hot topics had been magically cancelled”. 

“Right, I guess that clears a few things up.” Shotaro mutters, folding his arms. “Well I’ll give you a quick rundown about this savage we are searching for.” 

Mark crosses his legs and leans his head on his right hand, making sure he’s comfortable enough for the story time.

“This particular man,” begins Shotaro, looking off into the distance, “is no mere mortal. His father is the king of the gods, Jungwoo, his mother is a princess named Alcmene. I could go into his tragic backstory that all these heroes tend to have these days, but that isn’t important for now. Long story short, this hero kills his family and is now scurrying around completing labours to make up for his sins. And that’s why we graciously allowed him to stay with us.” Shotaro takes a breath, calming the anger brewing within him. “Despite our kindness to let him stay with us before he completes the labour he is currently in, this brat, this drunkard, went off and stole what is most precious to us.” 

“And that’s the wine?” Mark asks from his position. 

“Yes.” Shotaro replies. “What can I say? Us centaurs like to party.” There’s a beat before he continues, “Anyway. I suggest splitting up to find this sorry excuse of a hero, he wouldn’t have gotten very far. He is still yet to capture the boar at Eymanthos, he can’t go back till he has it.”

“Okay!” Mark exclaims, leaping up from his seat. “How do I find you once he’s been found?” 

“Just yell.” Shotaro shrugs, “I’ve got good hearing.” 

Mark gives him a thumbs up and turns away, heading deeper into the dense forest. 

*

Wandering through the trees, all Mark can hear is the rustling of branches and chirping of birds. Keeping both his eyes and ears peeled, he continues to make it further into the forest. The further he goes with crossing no one, not even a small rabbit, Mark starts to doubt the sincerity of the centaur’s issue. He wouldn’t be surprised if this is all a hoax just to get back at him for grabbing Shotaro so rudely. 

Well we’ve come so far, might as well keep pushing for now.  

As Mark pushes through a particularly thick section of bushes, Mark finds himself in a pool of sunlight, closer to the river’s edge. Blinking to get used to the sudden brightness, Mark goes closer to the river hoping to hydrate himself a bit. 

Crouching down, he cups his hands and lets the clear water pool in them before bringing his mouth down to drink. He goes to get another handful of water but nearly stumbles into the water from shock. In the reflection of the water, Mark can see a figure just off to the right of him, sleeping in the sun. 

He quickly turns to get a better look at this person. 

The sunlight makes their skin glimmer a healthy glow, their chestnut hair falling around their face perfectly despite lying in the luscious grass. Nothing about this individual was out of place. 

Can someone I meet please just be normal? Mark thinks bitterly, overseeing all these people who could easily be marble statue models. 

Mark looks around, he hasn’t seen anyone else in all the searching he’s been doing. This then must be Sungchan. Shotaro’s description fits. Lazy; the man is asleep so early on in the day, maybe he is also sleeping off the hangover he is inevitably feeling from the wine as well. Also Mark feels like heroes have to be good looking, it’s just part of the job description, which works out here. 

Wanting to take no risks, Mark doesn’t hesitate and cries out, “SHOTAROOO!”

Sungchan’s eyes open rapidly, blinking in confusion. Turning his head he sees Mark crouching right next to him and hurriedly shuffles away, trying to get out of reach to escape. 

Okay, so maybe yelling straight away wasn’t his best idea. 

Mark then does the only thing he can think of and pounces. Trapping Sungchan down with his body. Maybe he can flail around on top of the hero long enough for Shotaro to arrive and take over. 

“Let me go!” Exclaims Sungchan, struggling underneath Mark. 

“I’m sorry dude but I can’t!” Mark replies through his teeth, sweating from using all his strength to keep the man down. “You owe a pissed off centaur a lot of money and if you escape then he’s just going to put all that aggressive energy on me!” 

“That makes no sense!” Sungchan yells.

“It makes no sense to you? Well imagine being me!” Mark cries back, praying for Shotaro to turn up. 

“Mark?” 

“Shotaro!” Mark calls out, “I’ve got him!” 

“Nice job kid, although I’m surprised you have managed to keep him down, you’re stronger than you look” Shotaro states, coming closer to the pair when his eyes widen. “O my God Mark get off him! That’s not Sungchan!” 

Well shit. 

Mark sheepishly looks down at the man trapped below him and lets out a small laugh, “Haha, um, my bad?” 

An unimpressed face just stares back at him, “If you could be so kind, do you think you could get off me now?” 

“Yes! Yes he will!” Shotaro rushes, “Mark get off him now.” 

“Right, yep, I can do that!” Mark says, jumping up from the man’s body. 

Mark rubs his hands on his trousers before holding his hand out, “Here, let me help you up.” 

The man snorts, “Not a chance.” And promptly gets up on his own, somehow still looking like he’s ready for a portrait to be done of him. 

“Well, if you can hold yourself back from attacking me again, I’m going to go.” The young man states and starts to stalk away. 

“Taeyong! Please accept my apologies on behalf of the twit over there.” Shotaro begs as he walks past the centaur, “He has no knowledge of you or anyone, if he had known he would never have approached you as such!” 

Taeyong just hmphs and disappears into the forest. 

“You fool!” Shotaro cries once Taeyong has fully gone. “You dense fool! Do you have any idea who that is?” 

“Well, you just said his name is Taeyong….” Mark says, fumbling with his fingers. 

“Taeyong is a god!” Shotaro continues, “And do you know what he’s the god of?” Mark opens his mouth, “Actually don’t answer that, of course you don’t. Hunting, wild nature, and chastity. Yes, you just basically assaulted a god who has taken a sworn oath to remain a virgin for eternity. ETERNITY!” 

“How was I meant to know?” Mark mumbles, “It’s not like he was wearing a sign saying all this shit.” 

Mark hears Shotaro grumble to himself, only making out a few strong curses, and cringes. “Look I really am sorry. If Taeyong was still here I would ask for forgiveness again! But I just wanted to catch Sungchan for you.” 

“Look kid, it’s over, it can’t be changed.” Shotaro says, rubbing a hand over his face, “Let’s just stick together from now on so that you can’t attack any more mythical figures, whether that’s creatures or gods.” 

Mark sighs, wondering how for the second day in a row he has apparently come across a god and follows Shotaro’s lead back into the forest as the search for this infamous Sungchan continues. 

Chapter Text

Instead of storming off toward the sharp metalwork of his eternal residence up in the clouds, Lucas veers a sharp right after emerging from the pantheon chamber, setting his course toward the forest from earlier.  Yet instead of following the curving path toward Taeyong’s domain, Lucas ducks under an ivy-laced terrace and eyes the slightly less intimidating treeline ahead.

Ten, the God of Wine and Partying and Fertility and probably about fifty other things, resides in a sprawling villa buried behind those incoming trees.  Although his property is majority forest, home to the maenads and spare satyrs, there is a secret slope of vineyard that Ten uses to cultivate wine befitting of the gods.  This is an important note because despite Ten’s attempts to keep it a secret, literally everyone knows about it, and treats it as a bootleg hole in the wall during a prohibition.

Ten’s wine, like everything else about him, is a bit too sweet with an unexpected kick, and if you drink too much, it’s likely you’ll end up on the opposite end of the planet with no recollection of who you are or how you got there.  Of course, that doesn’t stop Ten from inhaling it like life fuel. 

Which is exactly what he’s doing as Lucas materializes in the plaza of the villa.  In Lucas’s absence, Ten has wired his plaza fountain to no longer spit out nectar, but to flow dark with the hues of godly wine.  The god of wine himself stands beside it, body loose and movements fluid, tossing back a series of shots with some random maenads.  Booming music echoes from deeper within the forest.  Lucas, still a bit on edge from his rather unfruitful meeting with Jungwoo, watches the scene with discontent.

It takes Ten a beat too long to notice that Lucas is standing there.  When Ten does, he drops his kylix.  The ceramic shatters against the flagstone.  

“Oh, wow, I must’ve done something right to see you,”  Ten drawls.  He shuffles over to where Lucas stands, limbs like jelly, and claps a hand on Lucas’s face.  “You even feel real, too!  Maybe I laced the wine.”  A laugh.  “Did I?”

“It’s been a while,” Lucas notes.  Even though he’s the one who said the words, they still make him feel like shit.  Ten’s one of his best friends.  If Lucas remembers correctly, he barely said anything to the other god before sinking to Jaemin’s deathly depths.  No goodbye, no nothing.  “Sorry.”

Ten hums, smiling dopily up at Lucas.  “It sure has!  What, six years?  I’ve missed youuu~ drinking buddyyy~!”

Six years.  Lucas snorts.  “A month and half, actually.”

“No, noo, that’s not long enough,” Ten remarks.  The kylix he dropped is back in his hand and filled to the brim with dark wine.  Given the shape of the cup, each movement of Ten’s sends liquid sloshing over the sides and onto the stone below.  Throughout the plaza, maenads sip at the fountain.  Their skin sparkles as they dance to the distant music, voices tinkling in song.  “It’s definitely been longer than that.”

“Hey, Ten?”

“Yesss, Lucas?”

“Can you cut it out?  I actually want to talk to you.”

Ten’s dopey smile falls flat in an instant, eyes clear, face smooth and unflushed.  With a roll of his eyes, he huffs.  “What is this?  Is me having fun too much for you to handle?”

“It’s not that,” Lucas says.  “Actually, is Yuta around?  It’ll be easier to talk to both of you.”

Blinking, Ten jabs a hand in the direction of the distant music.  “Clearly it’s been too long if you can’t even recognize the sound of Cash Money Rap God over there.”  As if to prove his point, the music booms louder, rhythmic beats so steady and alluring like sirens coaxing sailors to death.  “Come on.  He won’t be able to hear us over that racket.”

*

Out in the forest, near the invisible line that divides Taeyong’s lawful land of peace and quiet from Ten’s sprawling party property, there is a large white tent.  Shaped like a dome, it is draped in vines and blossoming flowers.  Maenads and satyrs dawdle about outside, swaying to the music, eyes rimmed red.  Pungent fumes of thick incense and something else invade Lucas’s senses, and he sniffs, suddenly reminiscent of Yuta’s relatively recent interest in recreational, ah, plants.

Boom, boom, boom, goes the music, and thump, thump, thump goes the heart inside of Lucas.

All the partygoers are too cross-faded to care, luckily.  Yet this-- being around people, mythical people, people who know who he is and what he’s done-- still pricks at his frayed nerves.  Maenads are such horrible gossips.  Most likely, not a single soul apart from Ten and Yuta will remember Lucas was even here come the next morning.

Ten takes the lead and slips through the gauzy entrance of the tent.  Lucas follows, gait heavy with purpose.

The tent is larger on the inside than it appears on the outside, but it is filled to the brim with maenads, nymphs, satyrs, and the occasional lucky centaur.  Up toward the front, where Yuta manages some mess of musical device, some of the Muses dance in synchronization.  Two more Muses stand behind Yuta on the stage, piping in with lilting tones and high pitches when necessary.  A large multi-colored glass fixture hangs in the middle of the tent, and when the light from the pink sky filters through it, the fixture casts the tent in a rainbow glow.

“He’s gotten really into this lately,” Ten shouts over the music.  Lucas has to bend a bit to hear him.  “He calls it a rave, although-- something tells me he’s a bit before its time.”  

Lucas grunts in response, but the noise falls deaf amidst the pounding beats.  Together, he and Ten move through the dense crowd.  Some of the partygoers give the incoming gods some space, but most are too out of their minds to notice and push up against Ten and Lucas in dance.  

Had Lucas stumbled into such a scene a few months prior, not a soul would even dare breathe in his direction, much less bump into him.  He takes the accidental physical contact as an insult and scowls.  Damn.  He can’t even enjoy a good party now with the way things are going.

Yuta spots them before they reach the front.  The God of Music, Poetry, and all that other good stuff directs the two Muses on stage to take over for him before jumping down from the platform and sauntering over to them.

“Oho, what a sight for sore eyes,” Yuta greets.  He’s as golden as ever.  Honey-colored eyes, freckled skin, hair brighter than the sun.  When he smiles, warmth rains down from the heavens in waves.  “Heard you’ve been camping down in the pits.  Tell me, what’s it like?”

“Without your stupid face?” Lucas teases back, only some of the tension spilling from his shoulders.  “Awfully artificial.  Fires of the damned just aren’t enough.”

Yuta laughs heartily and slaps a hand on Lucas’s bicep.  “Let’s get out of here.”

*

The three of them take refuge in Ten’s bedroom back at the plaza.  Draped in red and purple silks, lattice windows propped open, vines hanging from the ceiling, the room proves to be the only place that no other soul occupies.  

There’s something comforting about being back in Ten’s personal space.  Lucas has woken here one too many times after a night of intense victory drinking, sprawled on Ten’s floor covered in winning spoils.  Greater celebrations followed when all three of them allied on an issue and won.  Those nights typically ended in wild orgies out in mortal woods.  

Today, though, is no day for a celebratory orgy.  Frankly, Lucas doesn’t even feel like drinking anything at all.

Ten offers him a drink and Lucas takes it anyway.

“I think I fucked up,” Lucas admits.

“Speak, then,” Ten urges.  “What’s up?”  Yuta nods and takes a sip of his own drink, and Lucas spills all.  Rambles on about his aimless time in the realm of the dead, about the unnecessary bit where Jaemin dragged him to the surface solely to kidnap Xiaojun, about meeting that random mortal boy whose name he already forgot, about Jungwoo, and the chair, and those Greeks who let him down.

By the time he’s done, he’s exhausted.  The wine spills something warm and gooey inside of him that makes his limbs feel like rubber.  Lucas sinks into the meat of his seat.

“That’s rough, buddy,” Yuta eventually says.  

“Sounds like a problem you should ignore tonight,” Ten suggests.  “Come party with us instead.”

Lucas opens his mouth and pauses.

What else is he to do, right now?  It’s not like that war he caused will be resolved overnight.  And it’s been too long since he hung out with Ten and Yuta, and even longer since he actually let loose--

“Yeah, okay.”

Ten grinned, wide and knowing, and refilled Lucas’s cup.  Across the room, Yuta winked at him and withdrew a familiar pouch from his pocket.

“Let’s take this to the mortal realm, yeah?”  Yuta’s voice carries with the pouch he throws, and Lucas catches both, answering with an eager nod.

Chapter Text

Mark and Shotaro end up travelling in silence for the next portion of their hunt as Mark makes sure to clamp down on his tongue to prevent anything escaping his unfiltered mouth. Peering up at the tops of the trees, Mark can just about make out the bright sun filtering through. Looking around himself, he realises how deep they’ve really come into the forest now. 

Shotaro suddenly veers left. 

“This way” is all he states, moving into a slight canter. 

“Hey!” Mark calls out, unable to hold himself back now. “At least keep at a speed that us bipedal lot can keep up with!” 

He huffs as Shotaro shows no signs of slowing down and pumps his legs even faster. Realising that Shotaro has gone too far ahead, Mark comes to a stop, gasping for air. 

“I’ll just wait here...” Mark wheezes. 

His only response is a bird chirping in a tall tree. 

Groaning, Mark flops to the ground. Flinging an arm over his sweaty face to block out the sun that is peeking through the gaps. 

“I should have listened to my Pa” he mutters, “I turned down being in bed the whole day for chasing a wine thief with a moody horse man…” 

Mark closes his eyes and as his breathing starts to even out he feels himself slipping into a gentle slumber. 

“Maybe I’ll just close my eyes for a second…” 

*

“Do you think he’s dead?” 

Mark frowns and shifts away from whatever is prodding him in the ribs. 

“Oh he moved! That’s our good deed of the day done, let’s go.” 

Mark, still hazy from sleep, opens his eyes to suddenly scrunch them back closed as the blaring sun hits him in the face. 

“Jeez, how long was I out for?” He wonders to himself. 

“I dunno dude, but you sleep like a rock.” 

Mark snaps his eyes back open fully awake now and springs up, facing the new voice. His eyes widen as he takes in the figure. 

Before him is a young man holding an aggressively large club. He isn’t leaving much to the imagination with his clothing, a rather small loin cloth and some sort of throw, is that a lion skin? , is all that covers his body. 

“Yes, I know, it’s me. Be careful to not be dazzled by my good looks.” Comments the young man, flicking some hair over his shoulder. “Now, I don’t normally do autographs at random, but I think I can make an exception for you.” 

“Dude are you actually wearing a lion?” Mark asks, still trying to wrap his head around it. 

“Huh?” The man looks a bit taken aback. “I mean yeah of course. It’s my trademark look,” and pointing to the club in his hand, “along with this bad boy.” 

He seems to try to prove his point by swinging the beastly thing around only to get caught up in the action and for it to hit him in the shoulder. 

Mark cringes at the smack that comes from the contact, “You good man?” 

“Of course I’m good! I’m great . A fierce hero like me feels no pain.” Grits out the young man. 

Mark decides not to comment on the tears he can see gathering up in the man’s eyes.

“Well.” The man says, having composed himself. “Like I said before young mortal, today is your lucky day! For you will be getting a personalised signature from the incredible Sungchan!” 

A beat passes. 

“SHOTA--” Is all Mark manages to scream before his mouth is muffled. 

“Please don’t. I’m already here.” Shotaro breaths into Mark’s ear. “Hello Sungchan, fancy meeting you here.” He then states, turning his attention to the man of the hour. 

“Oh Shotaro my friend!” Sungchan says, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles. “What can I do for you?” 

Shotaro scoffs at ‘my friend’ and hisses out, “I am here, to get the wine you so brazenly stole.” 

“Now, now” Sungchan smiles, “Surely you can forgive this poor hero here? After all, I spend my days making sure all you people are safe.” 

Mark sees Shotaro’s eye twitch and quickly takes a step back to be at a safe distance. 

“Why you --” 

“Sungchan! I finally finished hiding all the wine, do you want to go get that damn boar now?” 

Shotaro holds back from charging at the hero as everyone turns their attention to the newcomer, one that is flying down from the trees. 

Mark’s eyes widen comically at the sight before him. Floating down is another man, one that looks strikingly similar to Shotaro except he has large wings. Luxurious white hair, down to his shoulders, is flowing around him from the gusts that his wings are making. 

“Is he, like, an upgraded version of you?” Mark can’t help but murmur to Shotaro, smirking when he sees the centaur whip his head round and glare. 

“Hardly.” Shotaro dismisses. “He might look the part but up there,” he taps his temple, “it’s purely just sunshine and rainbows. He wouldn’t be able to hurt a bunny even if he tried. He’s also not a centaur, he’s Pegasus.” 

The new arrival only notices them when Shotaro finishes speaking. 

“Shotaro! You know I don’t like just being called that! My name is YangYang, now say it with me, YangYang. ” At Shotaro’s non-existent reply YangYang continues, “you’re still just jealous that Jungwoo made me like this. You wish that you had my looks.” 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night” Shotaro fires back under his breath. 

YangYang keeps a smile on his face and continues to lightly taunt at the centaur, “Fancy bumping into you here? What could have possible driven you to leave your precious grove and wine?” 

“Funny you should ask that YangYang …” Shotaro grinds out, “What was that you were just saying about hiding a certain something?” 

“Oh that!” YangYang stutters, scratching behind his ear, “Just some odd pieces that Sungchan has collected from fans on his journey so far. Wouldn’t want to lug all that about whilst catching the boar now will we!” 

Mark sees Shotaro’s eyes twitch again and decides to step in purely for the health of his companion. 

“Hey dude, you don’t know me, but I’m Mark. Hello, hi.” He waves at both YangYang and Sungchan. “Um, I honestly don’t really understand still what is going on, but I do feel like you guys owe my main man over here some wine.”

Sungchan and YangYang look at each other for a moment, turn around and state happily in unison, “We’re good!” 

Mark sighs for what feels like the hundredth time today and it’s not even lunch yet. 

Why can’t things ever be simple in my life?

Chapter Text

Lucas comes to the middle of an unfamiliar forest.

This is not the first time something like this has happened, and it certainly won’t be the last.  Yet no matter how many times Lucas parties so hard he blacks out, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the weird throbbing at the back of his head, or the dry spot at the base of his throat.  

Carefully, Lucas pries open an eye and sighs in relief.  The forest is dense enough to block out most of the sun--

“You’re welcome,” Yuta’s voice rings out.

“What?” Lucas blurts.  Yuta snaps and suddenly light pours in, right in Lucas’s eye.  “What the fuck, man?”

“You always sleep the longest.”  Yuta shuffles around the clearing, fabric rustling.  Only now does Lucas notice the piles of people-- Maenads, satyrs, and members of Ten’s mystery cult-- lying strewn about like Lucas.  There’s a Maenad pressed against his side and a cloaked worshipper by his feet.  A heavy metal shield-- his heavy metal shield-- rests on his abdomen.  When he looks up, again, Yuta stands above him, eyes surveying the scene.  “But you sleep even longer now that you’re… yeah.”  The muse god extends a hand.

Lucas takes it.  “Where’s Ten?”

“Off partying elsewhere, probably,” Yuta sighed.  “He dipped shortly after most people here started crashing.”  Once Lucas is up, Yuta claps his hands.  “Cool, okay.  I actually have somewhere to be, so… think you’ll manage down here?”

Lucas tries not to take offense to the blatant implication that he can’t handle himself, and scoffs.  “Uh, yeah.  Get lost, Cash Money Rap God.”

Yuta’s mouth quirks up into a smirk, and he claps Lucas on the shoulder.  “Sure thing, crybaby. ”

“Wait, what?”  But Yuta is gone.  All around the clearing, people moan and shift in their sleep.  Lucas opens a rift and throws his shield in.  He could follow Yuta, but Yuta’s typically impossible to track, so it’s a worthless pursuit.

Instead, Lucas tiptoes around the passed out partygoers toward the edge of the clearing.  And he almost makes it, but some satyr kicks out a leg in his sleep and trips the god of war, sending him stumbling into a bush.  He contemplates just laying there for a while and staring at the blue sky, but then--

“-- but I do feel like you guys owe my main man over here some wine.”

Wine?

“We’re good!”

These voices sound oddly familiar.  Lucas scrambles to get himself together.  If he squints, he can see movement beyond the trees in the distance.  The familiar shape of centaurs.

If he’s close to a centaur camp, then maybe he can nudge-nudge-wink-wink his way into getting absolutely hammered again, which would be an excellent excuse to not think about solving wars or earning his godly place or whatever.  Typically, the centaurs like Lucas, because when Lucas is near, heroes usually aren’t.  Something about him being the god of war sends the less courageous bunch running home to their mommies.

Once he’s back on his feet, Lucas shakes out his limbs and heaves a breath.  He glances down to watch his step around the bush.  And he promptly stumbles again.

No wonder Yuta looked so amused.  That bitch-ass was probably waiting for Lucas to realize that he’s covered from head to toe in bloody red wine stains.  Someone, likely Ten, finger-painted “ CRYBABY” in wine dregs on his arm.  Lucas and his drunk self are not well acquainted, but he assumes he thought it was hilarious at the time.  Only the Fates know why.

He rubs at the wine marks.  Something about Ten’s godly brew makes it near impossible to remove from the flesh.  All Lucas manages to do is smudge out the majority of the “ BABY” bit, leaving “ CRY” in harsh red slashes. 

Funnily enough, Lucas finds himself not particularly caring.  Anyone who’s anything will know that it’s just wine, and will recognize him, and will know who he’s been partying with.

So without further ado, Lucas pushes himself toward the centaurs up ahead.  He manages to catch snippets of the tense conversation, but the brief phrases aren’t enough for him to piece together context.

“-- guys stole it, it doesn’t belong to you--”

“-- what does the word gift mean to you--”

“Can we just--”

Lucas rounds the corner, and four people scream.

So, not a centaur camp.  Actually, there’s only one centaur here, and it’s Shotaro.  Then there’s that hero guy Sungchan who Jungwoo just adores, and that entitled prick Yangyang, and… some mortal guy.  

Wait.

The same mortal guy!  That one dude, who got wrapped up in that whole apple ordeal.  It’s the same guy!

“Shit, who cursed you, kid?” Lucas asks, eyes set on the mortal.  

“Somebody cursed me?!” the mortal exclaims.

Sungchan is the first to gather himself.  With widened eyes, he seems caught between several actions, and eventually puts his hand to his forehead in salute, standing rod straight.  “Sir, yes, sir.  Lucas, sir.”

Yangyang quickly mimics the hero.  Shotaro, however, pats the spot on his chest where his heart is, eyes glued to Lucas. 

“You scared the shit out of us,” Shotaro says.  “Are you covered in blood?”

Lucas frowns at the two militaristic greetings before turning his attention to the centaur.  They’ve run into one another a few times in the past, usually regarding wine and Lucas’s desire to consume some.  They’re not friends-- Lucas only has so many, and he can count them on one hand-- but Shotaro seems to calm seeing him there.

“No?” Lucas replies.  “It’s Ten’s wine.” 

Shotaro lets out more breath.  “Oh thank Jungwoo.  This is actually perfect timing, you see--”

“Lucas, sir,” Sungchan clears his throat.  “We sincerely apologize for disturbing you.  There’s just a dispute, you see--”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t see,” Lucas snipes.  Dealing with mortals and semi-mortals can be so exhausting.  He jerks his head toward the mortal kid, who gapes.  “You there.  Tell me what’s going on.”

“Uh,” the mortal stammers.  

“What’s your name again?” Lucas interrupts.

“Mark?” 

Lucas gives him a look.  “Is that a question or an answer?”

“M-my name is Mark,” the mortal replies.  Something about Mark strikes Lucas as odd.  He’s clearly caught off guard, and Lucas’s wine-bloody disposition isn’t helping, but there’s no fear brewing within him.  Lucas can feel the piety pouring out of the other three, and yet Mark seems to hold little to no regard for who Lucas actually is.  “And, uh.  Sungchan stole Shotaro’s wine.”

“It was a gift--”

“Stolen my ass--”

Both Yangyang and Sungchan rush to defend themselves.  Lucas, however, doesn’t give a shit, and gestures to the empty clearing.  “So you’re telling me there’s no wine here?  At all?”

“Only the wine that’s on you,” Shotaro grumbles.

“Damn.”  Frowning, Lucas regards the odd quartet and the blatant discontent amongst them.  It’s no war, and there’s certainly no blood, but the dispute feeds into that vial of power that has been empty for so long.  Maybe, if he lingers with this bunch for a bit, he can muster up enough fuel to…

To…

To do what, exactly?  He’s said it before.  This isn’t his area.

“Well, you’re in luck,” Lucas announces, crossing his arms.  “I’ll help you find this wine, as long as I get a bottle out of it.”

“Deal.”  Shotaro nods victorious.  

Sungchan lets out a forced laugh.  “Yes, well, let me lead the way then!”  Nobody moves.

“Are-- you waiting for permission?” Lucas asks.  “Wine, please.”

“Ahahaha, yes, sure.”  Sungchan salutes once more-- why does he keep doing that?-- and marches off in some random direction, Yangyang on his heels.  Shotaro is next to move, followed by Mark.  Lucas brings up the rear.

The centaurs begin to bicker once more and Lucas finds himself staring at the back of Mark’s head.  How is it that the same mortal ends up involved with the otherworldly twice in such a short time, and lives to tell the tale?  Does he even understand the gravity of what he’s witnessing?

Or maybe he doesn’t.  Maybe Mark is like, some oddball mortal who isn’t familiar with the gods or their power.

When Lucas lets out a laugh, Mark glances back over his shoulder.

That’s impossible.  There’s no way.  The mortal realm is filled to the brim with idols and art and literature depicting the gods.  Everyone knows the gods, even if they may not believe it at first sight.  

Mark’s probably in shock, poor guy.  Interacting with five gods, a centaur, a half-pegasus half-man, and a self-proclaimed hero over what, three days?  Lucas can only imagine.

Chapter Text

Mark does his best to not gawk at the new arrival, or maybe he should say Lucas. That’s what the others had called him. Despite suffering from a pounding head the other day, Mark is 95% sure that this dude witnessed him getting strangled for a hot second before he managed to run away. 

He takes another quick glance behind him as they continue to follow Sungchan only to make direct eye contact with the man in question. 

Shit, just act normal. 

“Um, so didn’t you see me, like, getting throttled yesterday?” 

Yep, that ought to do it.

Before Lucas can even reply, merely raising an eyebrow, YangYang appears beside him. “Woah dude! We don’t need to hear about all the things going on in your private life.” He gives Mark a cheeky nudge, “But wait, does that mean you two know each other?” 

Mark begs for the ground to swallow him up when YangYang wiggles his eyebrows. 

“No dude! No way! Not like that at all. ” Mark exclaims when Lucas at the same time states, “Yes.” 

Mark swivels round to Lucas, “Why would you say that?! We have never even spoken , the bear most is a second’s worth of eye contact.”

“Judgement free zone here!” YangYang says happily, “Not gonna judge you on what you choose to do in your free time little mortal boy.” And with that he trots off. 

“Seriously dude?” Mark complains, “Now he’s gonna tell all the others we…” he stutters for a moment, “you know… did stuff” he finishes in a whisper. 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Lucas huffs, rolling his eyes. “Look kid, I’m very hungover and just want to go for another round of drinking which is why I’m here. My current state makes me very sarcastic and in all honesty YangYang’s harmless. No one listens to him anyway.” 

Lucas starts to walk again and goes right past Mark before Mark is able to catch up with his thoughts. 

“Hey, look, no need to be harsh dude. You’d be lucky to have all this” Mark points to himself for effect, and then blushes at what he says, eyes widening. “Not that I’d ever let you have it, but you know, if you hypothetically were to, then yeah lucky is what you would be.”

Lucas looks at him from the corner of his eye and mumbles, “What a strange mortal…” 

“Who are you calling a mortal?” Mark asks, “Aren’t you one too? Kinda weird of you to address us like that dude.” Mark then picks up his pace a bit. “Anyway, I need to ask Sungchan how long it’s going to take to find this damn wine. I’ve still got to get all this stuff from the market you know.” 

Mark waves his list around in his hand as he walks forward, not sparing a glance back at Lucas. 

“Hey Sungchan.” Mark calls when he gets closer. “How much further are we? I really got some other stuff I need to --” 

“You don’t know who I am?” 

Mark stumbles as a strong hand grabs onto his shoulder, cutting him off mid sentence. 

“Woah dude! Careful with the strength, I’ve already got a banged up head. Don’t need a broken shoulder to match it.” Mark exclaims, turning around to see Lucas staring at him. 

“Don’t be surprised that he doesn’t know who you are” Shotaro states, “I have learnt that this human knows nothing outside his little pastoral world.” 

“Hey, what’s with all the insults being thrown at me?” Mark says, slightly wounded. “I know plenty. I’m sorry if I didn’t take the time to listen to the stories most people listened to at night.” 

“ Stories…” Lucas breaths out. 

“Have you ever stepped into a temple before?” Asks Sungchan curiously from slightly ahead. 

“Ummmm,” Mark hesitates. “No?”

“How the actual fuck have you never been to a temple before? What do you do when you want a good harvest? When you want your sheep to prosper?” Sungchan questions again, his face crinkled up in confusion. 

“Put it down to bad luck and I’ll just try to work harder?” Mark says uncertainly, “Look, I’m just not that interested in architecture either alright. What use do I have for going to one?” 

“ Not that interested in architecture” Lucas repeats. “Seriously, how have you gotten through life so far without paying attention to the gods?” 

“Pretty well actually” Mark shrugs, “But back to my question, how long?” 

“Actually we’re here” YangYang states.

Mark looks around, they’ve come out of the depths of the woods and back closer to the river again. The area is pretty barren, a sandy bank going down to the river but apart from that it doesn’t strike Mark as a prime hiding spot. 

“So.” Shotaro starts, arms crossed. “Where’s my wine?” 

“Why don’t we play a game? Like a treasure hunt!” YangYang exclaims, clapping his hands. Seeing Shotaro’s deadbeat expression his excitement dwindles, his clapping slowly coming to a stop. “Or not. Fucking party pooper.” 

YangYang keeps grumbling obscurities about Shotaro as he stomps towards the river’s edge. Mark, getting interested as to where the wine is hidden, follows YangYang. Walking slightly into the river, YangYang bends down and starts pulling up some rocks, throwing them further into the middle of the river. About 8 rocks in, he gives something a big tug and is almost thrown back when he manages to free a large bag from the depths. 

“Here!” YangYang calls as he walks back to the shore, dropping the bag at Shotaro’s feet. “Happy now?” 

“Let me make sure it is all there and intact first.” Shotaro mumbles as he opens it up and takes a look. Counting under his breath, the others wait for him to finish up. “Hm, yes it all seems to be here.” 

“Now, how about a pot for my help?” Lucas asks as he sidles up next to Shotaro. 

Mark holds in a snort trying to think about the help that the hungover man gave in retrieving the wine but doesn’t comment. 

“That was the deal.” Shotaro says, reaching in and grabbing an amphora for Lucas. “Here. For your hard work.” 

“I don’t even care that you’re being sarcastic.” Lucas mutters as he lifts the vase up with both hands, tips his head back and starts to chug. 

“Whoa man!” Mark yells out, nervous that the man is going to drink himself to death. “Slow down a bit, this stuff smells strong! It doesn’t look like it’s been mixed with water yet.” 

Having to take a breath Lucas pauses and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “This shit isn’t going to work. It’s going to take all of this for me to feel just a tiny bit.” 

“Don’t hate on the wine.” Shotaro says, “Not our fault you're immune.” 

“How can he do this?” Mark wonders out loud, looking at the others. He starts to feel like something is off when none of them make eye contact with him.

Mark is about to voice his question again when Sungchan steps forward, “It would be an honour to drink with you Lucas. I am sure that I can easily keep up with you. Afterall, you do know how my father is.” 

What’s his father got to do with his drinking capabilities? 

“Oh hell no.” Shotaro calls out, already stepping in front of his wine. “You’re crazy if you think I’m  going to let you touch my wine again.” 

*

“And that’s how I ended up killing my entire family” Sungchan sobs into YangYang’s chest. 

Everyone is sitting around in a circle on the riverbank, not even thirty minutes has passed since Shotaro finally caved and let Sungchan have a couple kylixs worth of wine. 

Mark, feeling tears coming to his eyes from Sungchan’s backstory, hastily wipes them. Feeling eyes on him he peers to the side where Lucas is sitting next to him and sees him looking at him without a confused stare. 

“Why are you crying?” 

“How can you not?” Mark sniffles, “Didn’t you hear the whole story? It’s tragic!” 

“All heroes have a messed up lives before doing their ‘heroic acts’.” Lucas shrugs, taking another gulp of his wine. “And Sungchan is known for having a flair for the dramatics, it comes with who is his father. Actually, considering who his father is, I’m torn between being disappointed and unsurprised at how badly he can handle his alcohol.” 

“I mean, it is really strong.” Mark comments, scrunching up his nose in distaste when he gets another whiff of it. 

“For you yes. But me…” Lucas trails off as he glares at the wine and scoffs. “It does fuck all really. Not even a buzz.” 

“Did I ever tell you all of the time I beat the Hydra?” Sungchan suddenly pipes up, tears all gone. “It was with my bare hands as well!” 

Mark chuckles as Lucas sighs and continues to swig the wine, himself giving his attention back to the extremely drunk hero as Sungchan stumbles over his feet trying to stand. He drags YangYang up with him to act out as the Hydra whilst he shows how he managed to best the beast. 

Mark leans back on his hands and soaks up the midday sun as Sungchan starts to manically wave his club in YangYang’s direction, Shotaro with his head in his hands. Laughing at the scene in front of him, Mark is starting to enjoy the company he is in. Yet, there is something niggling away in his mind and as he sneaks a look at Lucas from the corner of his eye he can’t help but think there’s something to this man that he's missing.

Chapter Text

There’s only so much hero moping and mortal staring that Lucas can take before he loses his patience, and his patience had already been on thin ice.  Luckily, his hangover is mostly gone-- mortal wine practically serving useless in that direction-- so as soon as he’s feeling up to par, he can bid farewell and get out of here.

Somehow, after finding the wine, the ragtag party managed to clamber their way to a riverbank.  Shotaro stands off to the side a few paces away from Lucas, surveying the scene, while Sungchan finalizes his dramatic performance of whatever beast he’s claiming to have slain.  The sloppy moves and slurring words of inebriation remind Lucas of his early days as a god when war was the only language that many could speak, and the taste of victory had never been sweeter.  Now, watching this wannabe demigod stumble through such a tale…

Lucas scoffs.

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been here.  Long enough for the blue skies to begin to pale, dusk edging at the horizon.  Long enough for the mortal Mark to lose his smile, and gain an expression of worry instead.

Hearing Lucas’s scoff seems to jolt Mark out of his daze.  “Oh, shoot!”  There’s a bit of frantic observing, as though Mark is looking for an answer just out of reach.  “What time is it?  I still need to go to the market, my dads--”

“Relax,” Lucas interrupts.  His voice comes off a bit too stern than he intended, but oh well.  Blame the last dregs of his hangover.  “The day isn’t over yet.”

Cue more mortal staring.  Mark squints at him.  “Do you even know where we are?”

Of course, Lucas knows.  It took a minute, but he knows.  He is a god, after all, despite Mark’s lack of knowing.  “Yeah, I do.  We’re not too far from your village.”

This response gains him a frown.  Mark blurts, “Wait, how do you--”

“All in due time, Mark,” Shotaro jumps in, literally, as he yanks the last bit of wine out of reach of a stumbling Sungchan.  Sungchan takes it in stride and pretends to fall at the hands of an invisible enemy.  Yangyang howls in place of an absent chorus.  With a bow from Sungchan, the performance is over.  Shotaro hauls the bag of ceramic onto his back, then turns to Lucas.  “Shall we ditch these guys?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Lucas jokes.  He waves Mark over.  “You too, kid.”

“Kid?  You don’t look that much older than me,” Mark grumbles, but follows nonetheless.  There’s a cry of anguish from one of the two drunkards on the bank, but the three travelers pretend not to hear and slip through the treeline.

With each step they take, the hangover from Ten’s godly wine lifts more and more.  Almost there.

“So wait, where are we going?” Mark asks.

Shotaro shrugs.  “Well, I have to take the wine back to my camp at some point, so probably there?”

“Wait,” Mark repeats, frazzled nerves reemerging.  “Where’s your camp?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Shotaro teases.  “I’m not telling you the exact location, but it’s somewhere around here, ish.  In the forest.”

“But the market--”

“We’ll get there, don’t worry.”  Shotaro waves him off with his free hand.  “What do you need so badly from that market, anyway?”

Mark coughs.  “Uh.”  He sticks his hand into a hidden pocket and pulls out a crumpled note.  “Just some basics, like milk, bread, butter, uh, oil?  I think.  Some cloth.  Um.”  Mark lifts the note higher, brows furrowed at the messy handwriting.  “Wait, I can’t read this--”

In his efforts to better decipher the chicken scratch handwriting, Mark renders himself blind to his surroundings, and Lucas gets to watch in real-time as the mortal trips over a protruding root.  Palms and knees block Mark’s fall, but he drops the note in the process.  Lucas picks it up.

“Aw, man, I’m never going to be allowed to leave the house again,” the mortal complains.  He glances left and right.  “Where’d the note go?”

“I don’t know,” Lucas lies.  “It was in your hand.”

Mark lets out a long groan.  “Great, just great.  My parents are going to ground me for life.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Shotaro attempts to comfort.  “I remember, when I was a young centaur--”

“You’re like the same age as me, though?”

“-- my parents told me--”

Lucas halts his step and waits for a beat.  When neither of his two traveling companions turn, he steps backward into a rift, note crumpled in his fist.

*

The bustling streets of the agora greet him from the alleyway he spawns in.  He typically avoids these areas lest he be recognized in some fashion or another, but his godly energy is so weak that he doubts the average mortal would notice anything off about his presence.  To be safe, though, Lucas grabs a bit of clothing from a nearby clothesline and wraps it around himself like a cloak.

Then he remembers that he’s covered in wine dregs, and snatches a smaller stretch of fabric to cover the bottom half of his face.

There are so many people.  It’s no trouble at all for Lucas to slip in between the gaps of the crowd, pocketing random goods with sleight of hand.  Godhood aside, he truly feels like an outsider.  Chatter from shopkeepers and market stalls hit his ears but the words fail to mean anything.  Debates over worth and bargains.  Whispers about the toy stall closest to the fountain being overpriced.  Mortal qualms over mortal troubles.  These things do not matter to him.

When Lucas has acquired all items on the list and a shiny red apple for jest, he ducks back into an alley and lets the shopping list fizzle to flame in his grip.  The cloak falls from his shoulders and he deposits the items before tying together the fabric in the fashion of a large sack.  One last glance at the street and Lucas rifts back to the forest, where his two traveling companions await.

*

“-- and that’s how I was grounded for three months.”

They’ve hardly made any distance, but neither of them seem to notice that Lucas had ever left.  

“Three months is a long time,” Lucas remarks, then, “for your lot.”

Shotaro laughs, shaking his head.  “It really wasn’t that bad.  I learned my lesson.”

“Three months is a long time!  That’s what I’m going to face, when I get home,” Mark groans again.  Lucas takes this time to slip the handle of the makeshift sack into Mark’s empty grip, and shifts to the mortal’s other side.  Immediately, Mark comes to a halt.

He tests the weight of the bag.  “Yo, what the hell.”  He turns to Lucas.  “Did you just give this to me?”

Lucas raises both palms in defense.  “I don’t know, did I?”  Shotaro comes to a pause, too, and turns around.  Taking advantage of the break, he sets the wine onto the ground and stretches.

Mark tears open the bag and gapes.  “What the-- these are the things I needed from the market!”

“It certainly looks that way,” Lucas replies, trying his best to keep his face blank.  Amusement tugs at the corner of his mouth, though.  He pretends it doesn’t, because what would that mean?

“Did you-- you did this?  How did you--” Mark shakes his head, tying the bag back up.  “Did you pay for this?”

Well, the correct answer is no, but Lucas is both a god and a liar, so he says, “Yeah, obviously.”

Mark looks at him for a moment too long before letting his gaze drop to the bag.  “Where did you get all this?”

“The market.”

“Yeah, but like, how--”

Yet before the mortal can interrogate Lucas any further, there’s a sharp sting of lightning just a step in front of them, and a very familiar face appears.  Standing tall with his arms in front of him, lightning bolt staff at his fingertips, is Jungwoo.

And by some miracle, his attention lands on Shotaro and Mark, and not Lucas.  So Lucas does what he’s gotten very good at recently, and he hides.

Chapter Text

“Woah man! Somehow I didn’t see you there, sorry.” Mark says, suddenly coming to a halt when a large man appears in front of him. 

“Here, let me move”. He adds as he shuffles to the other side of the path, dragging his now heavy sack with him. 

Mark looks back up when he’s done and sighs when he sees the expression of his fellow companions. “Am I missing something again?”  

Shotaro facepalms and waves him off. “Please. Pay no attention to him Jungwoo. What is it that has honoured me with your presence today?” 

“I heard through the winds that you had others with you today.” Jungwoo comments, “Where are they?” 

Shotaro doesn’t reply straight away, suddenly finding the treetops very interesting, so Mark takes the opportunity to reply himself. “Oh, you mean Sungchan and YangYang? Dude they’re gone right now, hammered, black out drunk, absolutely plastered. Going to need a good day or so to sleep off those effects honestly. That’s why we left them at the river bank just there, they couldn’t even stand up right!” 

Mark laughs hard as he remembers the struggle of getting the pair to stop drinking and calm down. Sungchan was desperate to keep telling his stories and it wasn’t until the pair had passed out that the rest of them were able to escape. 

However, being greeted with silence Mark’s laughing slowly trails off. Shotaro looks like he is willing the earth to swallow him up whilst Jungwoo’s face is rapidly twisting into one of anger, his face becoming very red. 

“Would you mind repeating that?” Jungwoo grits out. 

“Oh” Mark starts before Shotaro can stop him, verbal diarrhea spilling from his mouth. “Well it’s not like we planned on drinking today, well I didn’t, alcohol doesn’t sit right with me you know, but after hours of searching for Shotaro’s beloved wine we took a short break and before you know it, everyone is on the floor piss drunk!”

“I see…” Jungwoo scowls, “So are you going to tell me how that led to my son being passed out on the riverbank?” 

“Oh I mean, I thought it was fine to leave them there!” Mark replies, trying to make light of the situation, “At least there they can properly hydrate themselves when they wake up hungover! Am I right?” He jokes. 

A beat passes. 

“Hold up!” Mark’s eyes suddenly bulge. “Did you just say son ?” 

Frantically looking between Shotaro and the newcomer, Mark struggles to think of a way to get out of the massive hole he has shoved himself into. 

“Look, I was just joking really! You know how us boys are, bantering around and exaggerating stories. Really all they had were a couple of sips and then --” 

“Thank you Mark!” Shotaro exclaims, “I’m sure Jungwoo has been blessed with your voice enough now.” 

Mark grimaces and fully shuts up, turning red with embarrassment and decides to make himself busy by taking a proper look at everything that is now in his bag. He still can’t wrap his head around how Lucas managed to pull off a stunt like that. 

Thinking of Lucas, Mark peeks around to see if he can see where the man in question is. 

No where. Not a trace of him left behind. 

Mark pouts, feeling slightly regretful that he never said his thanks to Lucas right away. His Dad would give him a good beating if he knew he had accepted such a gift without even properly thanking them. 

Turning his attention back to the other two, Mark zones into the conversation. 

“I hope you know I would never purposely get your son drunk, your excellency. I was simply trying to get back what is rightfully mine.” Shotaro states, beads of sweat starting to trickle down the sides of his temples and Mark would bet good money that it has nothing to do with the burning sun. 

“Where did I go wrong with him?” Jungwoo mutters, waving off Shotaro’s apologies. “He’s meant to go down in history as this legendary hero, not as a legendary drunk.” 

“Well if this whole hero thing doesn’t work out then I reckon he’s got a pretty bright future ahead of him as an actor!” Mark states, unable to hold the thought in (again). 

“No son of mine will ever be an actor!” Jungwoo bellows, “I breed legendary figures! Ones which will be told from generation to generation!”

“No offense dude, but maybe that’s the problem.” Mark cautiously states. “Like ‘breeding’ doesn’t sound very loving. Maybe you need to be more involved in your kids lives.” 

“What do you think this is, mortal boy?” Jungwoo snaps, “I am here to make sure Sungchan is succeeding and this is what my effort comes to! Not even worth the time if you ask me.” 

“Mark, I am begging you.” Shotaro states, as he moves closer to him, leaning down to hiss in his ear. “This one time, please just keep your damn mouth shut.”

“Yep, got it. I can so do that.” Mark says, giving a thumbs up. Cringing as he can feel the air around him crackle from the anger coming out of Jungwoo. 

Turning back to his goodies, and now fully keeping himself out of the conversation, Mark wonders where Lucas could have disappeared off to this time. 

Chapter Text

See, if Mark really wanted to find Lucas, he didn’t have to look far.  Just, like, behind him, and through a thick bunch of leaves, where Lucas is poised amongst a crowd of underbrush.

Shit, why did Jungwoo have to arrive now?  He’s probably bored up there sitting in that massive chamber all by himself while Doyoung and Kun bicker like bitter widows.  And of course, he would happen to choose Sungchan to check in on because Sungchan is likely his favorite of his plethora of bastard children.  And of course, he would choose to do so when Lucas is right there, literally only so many paces away.

And right when Lucas did something nice, too!  For that odd mortal kid, too, who doesn’t even understand piety or the importance of the gods.  Whatever.  So much for that.  Olympus forbid he ever do anything nice again.

Now, the scene in front of him depicts a thoroughly pissed Jungwoo.  Lucas knows how angry his father can get, and has seen it firsthand, but it’s strange to see such a reaction emanating towards the relatively decent centaur and a--

Well, he was going to say unsuspecting mortal, but that’s not strange at all.

“For all your vices against my bloodline, I sentence the two of you to never come towards me or my son ever again,” Jungwoo announces.  There’s lightning in his fists and crackling from his eyes.  “Lest I strike upon thee with the power of my divine fury--”

Shotaro takes a step back and clasps his hands together.  “Forgive us, Jungwoo.  We will gladly take our leave from Sungchan’s storyline.”

At Mark’s silence, Shotaro kicks out a leg to nudge him.  “Uh, yeah, what he said.”

“Good,” Jungwoo says, firm.  He relaxes the tension in his shoulders, nodding towards the riverbank.  “Before you go, though, help me get these two piss babies off the bank.  It’s bad for the image.”

“Yes, of course,” Shotaro fumbles out, pushing Mark towards the body of water.  “No problem.”

Lucas lets out a sigh, eyes glued to Jungwoo’s imposing form.  That was close.  

“Aha!”

A different voice, one far too close to Lucas’s ear, harrumphs in victory.  There’s a distinctly familiar sound that seems an awful lot like someone cracking their knuckles.  Lucas, startled, turns to find Doyoung, who is in fact doing just that.

“I finally found one of you fuckers,” Doyoung seethes as he nearly yanks each of his fingers off in an effort to stretch them.  “No more running anymore, Lucas.”

Why!  Why?  Why now of all times!!  

“You and I are going on a nice trip to the Underworld,” Doyoung continues, eyes sharp.  “There’s some business we need to attend to down there first.”

“That’s not my jurisdiction,” Lucas says. 

“Ha!”  Doyoung clamps a hand around Lucas’s bicep in a death grip.  “At this rate, what is?  If you dawdle around for much longer, we’ll have to recruit a new god of war.”

Doyoung’s right, but he doesn’t need to say it.  All the words do is unsettle something that had finally calmed within Lucas’s core, ire prickling at his veins.  With godly strength, Lucas yanks his arm out of Doyoung’s grip and nearly growls.

“Fuck off and stay in your lane.  My life isn’t yours to control.”

Something unidentifiable-- dare Lucas say soft?-- flickers across Doyoung’s gaze, before his expression hardens.  “ No, it’s not.  You’re right.  But you’ve created a massive mess for the lot of us, so I’ll be damned if you don’t fix it!  All you’ve been doing is fucking around--”

Doyoung, while waving his arms and exaggerating the rate at which Lucas has been wasting time, finally catches sight of Jungwoo.  Jungwoo, who had been watching the fumbling mortals over on the riverbank, is distracted by the commotion in the bush.  The pair stare at one another for several moments too long.

Then--

“I knew it!  I fucking knew it!  ‘I have an errand to run’ my ass!” Doyoung shouts, springing to his feet.  He points an accusing finger in Jungwoo’s direction, glare ice cold.  “You just wanted to go putz around with Sungchan.”  The name falls like venom from Doyoung’s tongue.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Jungwoo strikes back, holding up his hands in defense.  “You’re not much better!  All that sneaking around with Kun makes me think the two of you are planning a coup!” 

“Xiaojun.  Is.  Missing!  How many times do we have to get that across to you!  If we don’t get Xiaojun back, then everything is fucked, and there won’t be a Sungchan to follow because there won’t be any food!”

“Xiaojun is fine!  He’s not missing, we know where he is!  And he’s not a child anymore either, so can you two chillax?  He can handle himself,” Jungwoo spits.  There’s a beat, then, “And why do you get to be so up in Xiaojun’s business, huh?  He’s not even your kid!  Sungchan is my son!  I’m allowed to check on him!”

“‘Sungchan this, Sungchan that,’ oh please, check on him?  It takes everything I’ve got to stop you from breathing down this guy’s neck!  Anytime anyone wants to talk about their mortal offspring you turn it into a competition and go on and on and on about the glories of Sungchan, who--” Doyoung pauses to fling his hand in the direction of the riverbank, where Mark and Shotaro have halted, eyes wide.  “--is piss drunk!  Oh my, what a hero!  Forget it!”

“At least I have a heroic child,” Jungwoo scoffs, which sets Doyoung off even more.

“Don’t even get me started, Kim Jungwoo--”

Lucas takes this opportunity to slink out of the line of fire, feet carrying him toward the peanut gallery on the riverbank.  Shotaro catches sight of him before Mark does and he raises both brows.  The sacks of food and wine lay abandoned a distance away in the sand.

“Where did you go?” Shotaro whisper-hisses.  “We could’ve used your help there!”

Huffing, Lucas crouches down beside the sleeping hero and his companion.  “I wouldn’t have been much help,” Lucas admits.  “Actually, I might’ve made it worse.”

Lucas can only imagine how Jungwoo would’ve initially reacted, flying down from the heavens to preach the glories of his favorite son only to find the one causing problems instead.  He never would’ve heard the end of it.

However, dealing with either Jungwoo or Doyoung appears to be an issue worth dodging, as the two of them are locked in verbal combat.  Lucas eyes both Yangyang and Sungchan with disdain one last time before placing a palm flat on both of them.

He hasn’t done this in a while, and usually, it’s to soldiers who have lost their fighting spirit, but it’s worth a try.  Lucas channels inklings of his divine power into his palms, the power sparking red against skin, and on an exhale, he utters, “ Wake up.”

Abruptly, the two drunken figures are inebriated no more.  Their eyes fling open with sudden awareness.  When Sungchan catches on to his father’s presence, he scrambles to approach the brawling pair, eager for attention.  Yangyang follows on his heels.

“What--” Mark begins to say.

“My work here is done.  See you never.”  Lucas stands back up, brushes off his hands, and opens a rift behind him.  As he steps back into it, there’s a burst of commotion and a flash of light, and something topples into his legs, knocking him over.

Chapter Text

Mark groans as he lands on the hard floor with a thud. Keeping his eyes closed in an attempt to fight off the nausea, he feels as if his insides just went through a blender. Holding his stomach, Mark tries to hold in a retch as he feels some movement under him. 

As the movement starts to increase, Mark groans again, his head spinning. Unable to move Mark tries to curl up on the uneven ground, in the hope of stopping himself from throwing anything up. 

“Okay this is ridiculous, you need to move” A voice grunts out 

Mark only manages to shake his head in response, not trusting himself to open up his mouth just yet. 

“By the gods” the voice mutters, “since when did my life come to this?” 

His head clearing up, Mark starts to recognise the sarcastic tone of the voice. Still refusing to open his eyes from fear of the motion causing him to feel more sick again, Mark manages to squeak out, “Lucas?” 

“Yes, it’s me dumbass. Now would you so kindly move so that I can get up?” 

“Why do I need to move?” Mark weakly asks, “Why do you want to even move actually? Isn’t the ground shifting for you as well?” 

“If by ground you mean me, then yes I am moving, because I am trying to get your fat ass off of me!” Lucas replies through his teeth. 

Mark opens his eyes at that. 

Hesitantly peeking down from his curled up position he sees that Lucas is in fact not bullshitting him and Mark is currently curled up rather tightly over Lucas’s abdomen. 

Nausea suddenly forgotten, Mark leaps away from Lucas. Hands up and eyes wide. 

“Dude I’m sorry!” Mark exclaims, looking at Lucas who is still reclining on the floor. “I have really bad motion sickness and yeah any movement makes me feel all kinds of bad you know? Speaking of that,” he continues scratching his head, “how the hell did we get here? Like weren’t we just in the forest with the others? I just tripped over a stick and bam. I’m here.” 

“Were we really?” Lucas asks as he dusts himself off after getting up. “I don’t seem to recall.” He adds sarcastically. 

Mark scoffs at Lucas’s reply. He takes a moment to look around the room he finds himself in and grimaces, “And where is here? This is pretty gross dude not going to lie, it’s in need of a good clean that’s what.” 

Scattering the room is empty and broken bottles alike, old food on plates cover the tabletops, and packets cover the sofas. 

“Well apparently some people think it’s acceptable to use someone else’s house and then leave it looking like a shit show” Lucas haughtily replies, turning his nose up at the mess surrounding him. 

“Wait, this is your house?” Mark says, ears turning red with embarrassment at his blunt statement earlier. 

“Yes and you know, as much as I love our little conversations” Lucas states, “I think you’ve already outstayed your welcome so bye-bye!” He finishes with a little wave of his hand. 

“But wait!” Mark yells, “Can’t you at least tell me how to get back?” 

Mark can see Lucas’s mouth moving but doesn’t hear his reply, already falling away from him. 

“BY THE FUCKNG GOOOOOOODS” Mark practically screams as he continues to fall... and fall... and fall a bit more. 

Till he finally lands with (yet another) thud on the ground. Miraculously without any bruises or broken bones from what he can feel and Mark looks back up to the sky he fell out of and brings his fist up to it. 

“Screw you Lucas and your fucked up ways!” 

Mark feels a bit of satisfaction at standing up to the slightly terrifying man even if he can’t say it to his actual face. 

Taking a breath, Mark pushes his fringe out of his eyes and looks around to see where Lucas had thrown him to. 

“Oh seriously, fuck you Lucas” Mark harshly whispers, seeing where he is. 

In the market. With many, many, people who had just witnessed him falling from the sky. 

Giving those who are staring at him with beady eyes a small smile and wave, Mark tries to make the situation seem as normal as possible and starts to walk away. 

Thump. 

Mark pauses in his step and hesitantly turns his head to where the sound came from. Lying on the ground is the sack of food Lucas had brought him back in the forest. Sheepishly smiling at the bewildered townspeople, Mark shuffles back to the sack and snatches it up. 

Well, at least he doesn’t have to go shopping. 

*

By the time Mark makes it back to his home, it’s beginning to get dark outside. 

“I’m back!” Mark calls from the front door, kicking off his shoes before going into the kitchen and placing the food onto the table. 

“How was the market?” his Dad asks as he comes into the kitchen himself and looks through the items Mark bought. 

“Good, uneventful really,” Mark states, refusing to make eye contact with his Dad. “But I managed to get everything on your list!”

“I can see that, thank you for helping me out.” Kai replies, “But are you sure --” 

“Do you care to tell me why I have heard of stories on the hills of a young man falling from the sky at the market today?!” Baekhyun exclaims as he marches into the kitchen, hands waving. “And not just any random man, but someone who bears an uncanny resemblance to my beautiful boy.” 

Mark gulps and busies himself in helping to put the food away. “I think that some of the old folks are getting a bit bored with the town life and decided to come up with their own stories.” 

“I see.” Baekhyun hums as he takes a seat by the kitchen table, “Well, true or false, they are claiming that this boy is in fact a god and is here to bless our lands.” 

Mark chokes. 

Going into a coughing fit, he happily accepts the glass of water his Dad offers to him and sips on it as his back gets patted. 

Although he can feel eyes on him, Mark waits till the tears in his eyes clear before replying, “Well, um, I mean, that sounds pretty cool.” 

“Hm, yeah it really does.” His Pa says from his position. “I mean, if our son had somehow ascended and become a god. I think that means we should win some sort of parents of the year award right honey?”  

“Baekhyun stop teasing.” Kai chuckles, kicking him in the shin from under the table. “But seriously, you know you can tell us if something happened right?” 

Mark turns to face his Dad at the question and shrugs, “I really don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.” 

“Oh come on. Have you met your Pa?” Kai scoffs, “He’s the most gullible person I’ve ever met! No offense love” He adds as an afterthought at Baekhyun’s affronted face. 

“Well, how about centaurs, heroes, and very intimidating men with weird powers?” Mark casually asks as he moves to fill up his glass with some more water. 

Chapter Text

Mark vanishes through the rift with a shout, and the portal zips closed with a snap.  Lucas heaves a sigh and drags a hand over his face.

Mark is gone.  Lucas has eluded Jungwoo and Doyoung, once again.  He’s back at his house, where he’s alone, where apparently no one will bother to look since everyone has assumed he won’t be coming back and trashed the place in his absence.

So much for his pristine blood-red walls and gore-splattered marble floor!  There’s shit everywhere, piled up on the mahogany of his dining table, strewn on the cushions of his lounge.  Finger smudges and wine dregs stain the windows overlooking the valley of godly residences below.  Dust and grime swallow his once glorified light fixtures.  And the smell of something rotting-- not the good kind of war rot either, but the smell of depression and decay-- pours out from the andron.  A trail of wine dregs and crumbs leads Lucas to it.

Lucas grumbles audibly and kicks a stone pillar over.  The fixture crumbles onto the floor.

Oh, they want a war?  Forget that measly child’s play in the mortal realm.  Lucas will start a war, alright, and he’ll obliterate whoever had the balls to traipse in here and disrespect the god of war.

For now, though, he settles on spawning a series of small rifts underneath piles of garbage and trashed ceramics.  Destination: that patch of deserted road behind Jungwoo’s palace where the king of the gods goes to prey upon mortal souls.  Because fuck him, apparently.

With Lucas’s presence, his palace thrums with energy, shaking off the dust of old.  His chair may have betrayed him, but his residence never will, not with all the guts and grime Lucas has dragged back here after each victorious battle.  Not even Jaehyun could win Lucas’s sprawling mansion of doom over.  Bitch ass. 

“Can’t believe they’d give my chair to him,” Lucas grumbles as he storms about his house, vanquishing garbage with each rift.  “Doesn’t know up from down, he can’t start and end a war!”

The house responds with silence.  As Lucas nears the andron, his nose scrunches up.  Better now than later.  Crumbs and dust melt under his sizzling energy.  Stone statues of anguished mortals line the hallway, murals of bloody wars coat the walls.  Towering urns that cradle the ashes of the best heroes sit under each window.  Sunlight pours through red-tinted windows.  If the stones beneath his feet were black and heat from undying flames surrounded him, Lucas could have convinced himself he was back in the Underworld.

It’s better he’s not, but the days feel so short-lived.  He has spent eternity in his palace upon the clouds, as it is his home, yet something about Jaemin’s realm calls to him.  The comfort of no responsibilities, perhaps.  The illusion of carefreeness.  Who down there is to judge him apart from the dead?

Lucas sighs once more and rounds the corner to the andron, where the trail of crumbs stops, and the stench of something permeates.  He squints into the dark room, startled by the aura of gloom, and--

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Lucas blurts.  Flinging an arm forth, the torches in the room burst to flame, casting the slumped form of Jaehyun under the harsh contours of light.  “You!  What the fuck are you doing here?”

Jaehyun weakly lifts up a jar of what smells like Ten’s wine in greeting.  If Lucas had been plastered this morning, then Jaehyun’s a straight goner.  Still, though, the sight of Jaehyun enrages him.  

“Did someone give you my house?  Fuck-- if they gave you my house, I’m going to--”

“Nooo,” Jaehyun bemoans.  “Nooooo, ‘m jus here…”

Somehow, drunk Jaehyun makes Lucas even angrier.  He lurches forward and grips the shoulders of the not-god, seething, “ Wake up.”

Keyword, not-god.  Jaehyun jolts.  The effect isn’t nearly as strong as it had been on Sungchan and that bastard Yangyang, but it’s enough to sober Jaehyun enough for his gaze to clear.  Seeing Lucas strikes a flash of fear in Jaehyun’s eye and he falls back against the wall, nearly knocking over the jar of wine in the process.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

Jaehyun blinks several times.  “I’m-- I didn’t think you’d be here, you’ve been gone for months--”

“Answer the question.”

“Fuck, okay, I’m hiding,” Jaehyun blurts.  Eyebrows pulling together, Lucas relaxes his hold on Jaehyun but doesn’t give the not-god space.  “I’m hiding.  Weren’t you hiding?”

“Yeah, but I’ve got a good reason,” Lucas says, which somehow feels like a lie to himself.  “Why are you hiding?  And why the fuck are you hiding here?”

“People stopped looking here a couple of weeks after you left, so I thought it’d be the best spot.”  Jaehyun glances at the mess around the room, sheepish.  “Sorry.”

Anger, ire, rage.  “Did you do this?”

“No!  No, no, I didn’t, but I didn’t clean it up.  Some of the others-- they thought it’d piss you off, bring you back if you felt your stuff being messed with, but I didn’t touch it, not really--”

Nothing about what the not-god says makes sense to Lucas.  “What, so you decide to hang around my house, but you don’t bother to clean up any of the mess at all?  Are you a slob or just rude?  How fucking long have you been here?”

“Uh,” Jaehyun blanks, glossy gaze boring into the far wall.  “A while.  I… things have been bad, okay.”

They’re getting nowhere.  Jaehyun, scantily-clad, totally ripped Jaehyun, Jaehyun who the other gods wanted to give Lucas’s chair to, Jaehyun who has like zero responsibilities whatsoever and is only here for people to ogle, looks back up at Lucas with teary eyes.  

“Are you gonna kick me out?” Jaehyun babbles, still definitely a bit drunk.  “Because I-- I don’t know where else to go, and I’ll get castrated if Doyoung finds me--”

Sounds familiar.  Lucas isn’t prone to sympathy, but it seems both he and the not-god have a common enemy.  So, instead of following his enraged gut feeling and kicking the mooching Jaehyun to the curb, Lucas shakes his head.  “No, it’s whatever.  You can stay, I guess.  But you’re helping me clean up.  This place is a shit-show.”

Jaehyun lets out a hefty sigh, breathing his rank wine-drunk breath in Lucas’s face.  “Cool, thanks, bro.  I appreciate it.  And yeah, lemme just.”  He pushes himself upright and sways.  “Woah, yeah, I’ll help you in a bit.”

Lucas huffs.  “What’d you do, anyway?”

“What?”

“Why are you hiding?”

Jaehyun blinks, slow, face burning red.  “I slept with Taeyong.”

“Psh, that’s…” Lucas had prepared to say that’s nothing until it dawned on him just who Jaehyun said.  “What’d you say?”

Jaehyun laughs a little.  “I slept with Taeyong,” he repeats.

“Taeyong,” Lucas parrots.  “God of the hunt and virginity.  Taeyong, who rises with the moon and hisses when people touch him?”

“Hey, he doesn’t hiss,” Jaehyun defends blandly.  

“You slept with Taeyong.”

Jaehyun shrugs.  “Yeah, I did.”

“And people found out?”

A shake of the head.  “ Doyoung found out.  He walked in on something.”

Silence.

Lucas tries to withhold his snort, but it comes out anyway, and suddenly the two of them are laughing, giddy like mortal children.  Picturing Jaehyun, the walking sex-not-god, ravaging pure little innocent Taeyong in front of angry Doyoung sends Lucas into a laughing fit, because holy shit, that’s the best thing he’s heard in a while.

“Woah, okay, how the fuck did you manage that?” Lucas blurts.  “Because, like… that’s Taeyong.”

Shrugging again, Jaehyun pushes himself off the wall and slides off the seat.  “It’s this cool thing called finesse.  I’d tell you about it, but I don’t think you’d understand.”

Torn between laughing at the roast and breaking Jaehyun’s arm, Lucas chooses instead to keep his distance, faltering amusement stuck on his face.  “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”  He shakes his head, dismissing the clever insult.  “Find me when you sober up.  We’ve got some work to do.”

And with that, Lucas leaves Jaehyun to his devices in the dim andron, feeling strangely like he’s just gained himself an ally.

Chapter Text

Mark sighs as he slumps down into his chair, sipping on his third cup of tea of the morning. After his discussion with his parents last night, it hadn’t taken much for his Pa to convince his Dad to confine him to the house for the whole of today. Whilst Mark isn’t sure how much of his story his parents believed, it was obviously enough for them to be slightly concerned about his welfare. 

Still slouched, Mark thinks that at least he should be in for a quiet day. He’s had enough centaurs and drunken heroes to last him a fairly good portion of his life. 

Just as he goes to take another sip, there’s a pounding on the door. 

So much for that quiet day then. 

Hesitantly getting up, Mark tiptoes over to the window and peeks out trying to see who it is. 

Stranger danger. Mark definitely does not recognise the young man incessantly hitting the door and he swiftly moves back to the kitchen table out of sight and picks up his cup of tea. After the last two days he is not putting himself through any unnecessary shit with people he doesn’t even know. Mark hopes that if he ignores the guy long enough then he will just give up and leave him be in peace. 

And his wish is granted a couple of minutes later when the knocking stops. Mark creeps back to the window to make sure that the man is in fact leaving and not doing something ridiculous like making camp. Although knowing Mark’s luck, that is easily something that could happen. 

He’s gone. Mark lets out a sigh of relief and turns around only to drop his cup of tea on the floor with a crack. 

“What the fuck ?!” Mark, quite literally, screams as he scrambles back towards the door. “How did you get in?!”

“You let me in” The man who had been outside Mark’s house seconds ago replies with a shrug. “Or rather, I saw that you were being frightfully rude by ignoring me so I decided to let myself in.” 

“Maybe that’s because you’re not welcome” Mark exclaims, trying to find a weapon of sorts. 

His hands find a rolling pin. That will work. Mark holds up the pin, still covered in flour from his Dad’s baking, and cries out “You have ten seconds to leave!” 

The young man looks at him with an unimpressed expression, “Wow, and I’m not in the least bit intimidated. I really expected more from you.” The man scrapes back the chair he is sat on, and starts to slowly stalk towards Mark. “I have heard of a mere mortal who has been dilly dallying with both gods and mythical creatures alike. And not only that but has also now been named a god by the common people.” The man stops in front of Mark as he looks him up and down. “I don’t know about you, but I imagined a rather strong and charismatic individual to take on such beings.” 

“Yeah exactly.” Mark gulps, tightening his grip on the pin. “So it’s obviously not me. Like why would I get mixed up in that type of shit? It makes no sense whatsoever for myself to be with them. I don’t meet any of those requirements you just said.” 

“Do you even know what you’re playing at right now boy?” The man asks

“Um, not really?” Mark squeaks out. “Like I really didn’t mean to get all mixed up in this dude. Like I had never even heard of all these people till a couple days ago!” 

The man blinks at that. His harsh demeanour slightly drops as he lets out a snort. “What? You don’t know who the gods are or something?” 

“Yes!” Mark cries out. 

“How?” The man questions, “How does a mortal not know of us gods that preside over you?” 

“You know what,” Mark mutters. “I’m starting to wonder the same thing myself…. Wait. Did you say ‘us gods’?” 

“Yep!” The man replies with a smirk. “I’m Chenle, the god of messages, trade, travel, thieves, all the good stuff. Even the patron of shepherds, so for people just like you. ”

*

“ You’re the one who stole my sheep?” 

Chenle chuckles, munching on some bread he had ‘borrowed’ from the fridge. “Look, you’re the one who didn’t keep a very good eye on them. I was bored, not many messages to deliver that day, a perfect opportunity to spice up my afternoon.” 

“That means you’re the reason for all these events the past 48 hours!” Mark cries, flailing his arms around to prove his point. “Without you meddling, I would have just gone home that day. No being strangled by some psychos, no wild goose chases for some damn wine, and I wouldn’t have this stupid concussion!” 

“Hmm, yes. It would seem so.” Chenle nods. “Guess you should be thanking me for spicing up your life then.”

“I liked my life though!” Mark insists. “Boring? Maybe. But at least I didn’t have to worry about a drunken hero crying on me or Lucas being weirdly bipolar. Like who glares at you the one minute and then magically goes and gets you all your groceries? In fact, I have never --” 

“Hold up.” Chenle states, putting a hand over Mark’s mouth to cease his chattering. “Did you just say Lucas?” 

Mark pushes Chenle’s hand away and wipes his mouth roughly against his own hand. “Yeah. And? Like I said, he’s a bit of a prick but also comes out with nice shit too. Although I still don’t get what was so important about him that even Shotaro listened to him.” 

“That” Chenle whispers eagerly, “is because he is only the fucking god of war. ” 

Mark stares at Chenle with wide eyes, “You’ve got to be kidding me…”

“Nope!” Chenle chirps, ripping off some more bread. “And now I really need you to tell me where that mother fucker is because I swear to the gods I am starting to go bald from the stress of it.” 

Mark winces as Chenle shows off his receding hairline as he pushes his fringe back. 

“Look man, I was only with him that day. I actually tripped him over and we started flying or something? But anywhere he kicked me back out before I could take anything in. That’s how I ended up falling into the town.” 

Mark isn’t sure why he just lied to Chenle. He knows that Lucas took them both back to his house, despite the mess. He doesn’t owe anything to the tall man, yet he doesn’t know the whole story and honestly right now would rather face an angry Chenle than an angry Lucas. 

“What a shame.” Chenle grumbles through a mouthful of bread. “Look, if you magically bump into him again, find a way to let me know yeah? He’s wanted by a lot of people, kind of in the hot seat right now.”

“Sure thing dude” Mark replies, giving a sarcastic thumbs up. There’s a brief pause in the conversation, the only sound is Chenle who is still ploughing through the loaf of bread. 

“So” Mark begins, “Lucas is really the god of war?” 

“Oh yeah.” Chenle says, “Although he’s doing a pretty shit job at it right now. You know the war going on over Sicily?” Mark nods. “Yeah, he had a minor fuck up so he has gone awol and left us to fix his mess”. 

“Well damn.” Mark states, still trying to get his head around that the god of war went and got him his food. “What about Jungwoo? I’ve come across him a couple times now as well.” 

Chenle slightly chokes on his bread, Mark snorts. Serves him right. 

“Jungwoo is the king of the gods.” Chenle gets out after recovering. “You know, thunder, lightning, overall dickhead?” 

“Jeez…. Well I guess the last part makes a lot more sense now.” Mark says. “Oh, I also met three more guys, what were their names?” Mark takes a second to think, drumming his fingers against the table. “Oh! One was Kun, the other Xiaojun, and the other?....” 

“Well Kun is the god of agriculture, one you really should be aware of already.” Chenle starts as Mark keeps thinking. “And Xiaojun is the son of Kun. He deals with grain a lot. Actually he’s missing right now, so it’s interesting you saw him just two days ago. I should let Kun know --”

“Doyoung!” Mark exclaims, “That’s the crazy dude who tried to strangle me!”

Chenle looks at Mark for a beat, and then hits a hand to his head. “Well, you just got strangled by Jungwoo’s husband. So the other king of the gods. Congratulations. What could you have possibly done to deserve that?”

“Nothing!” Mark replies. “The three of them were going on about giving a damn apple to the most beautiful and I couldn’t answer! They said none of us could leave till I answered and I didn’t want to, so Doyoung quite literally attacked me! If it wasn’t for Lucas and that other guy, Jaemin I think? I would have been food for the dogs!” 

“Jaemin?” Chenle asks eagerly, leaning forward in anticipation now. “He’s the one who kidnapped Xiaojun! That’s very good, we now know Kun isn’t going crazy and putting the blame on him for no reason. We can now focus our efforts on trying to get into the underworld!”  

“Did you just say underworld?” Mark squeaks

“Oh yeah, you’re not even ready for this one!” Chenle laughs, eyes glinting with amusement. 

Mark leans forward and grabs the loaf of bread, ripping off a piece for himself. He might as well make himself comfy if he’s going to be listening to more. 

His Pa is going to flip if he hears how he spent his day ‘alone’. 

Chapter Text

The main chamber of the infamous Crimson Palace glistens as spotless as it had roughly five months ago before all that shit went down and Lucas had to jump ship.  Strains of ruby run vibrant under freshly polished white-gold marble floors.  Ionic columns tower free of dust.  The trash, the debris, the damage: it’s all gone.

Lucas sucks in an unnecessary breath and gazes up at the morbid mural.  Enchanted as ever-changing, the painting slowly shifts through the harsh moves of a bloody battle.  Mortals brawl mortals, and in the heavens, the gods fight titans.  Red splatters the ground. 

When he shuts his eyes, he can hear distant battle cries, flesh splitting, bodies falling.  At his fingertips, the heat of the battle, the adrenaline, the rage.  The power.

“Hey, I cleaned up the andron for you.”

“ Fuck,” Lucas blurts.  He honestly forgot Jaehyun was there.  “What, did it take you two hours to get up?”

Jaehyun steps closer, but Lucas flings up a hand, shooting the sexy not-god a glare.  “Stay back, you reek.”

Jaehyun shrugs.  He looks only marginally better than he had roughly three hours ago.  “I don’t know how you can smell anything over the smell of mortal.  Was someone else here?  It smells like…” a shake of the head, “sweat?  Anxiety?  I dunno, man.”

Lucas’s glare sharpens.  For some reason, thinking about Jaehyun poking him for details about Mark rubs him the wrong way.  “No.  Fuck off.  It’s probably me.  Forget it.  Look, can you go shower or something?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”  A beat.  “Where’s your shower?”

“You’re kidding me.  Did you just--”  Scoffing, Lucas closes his eyes once more.  Recollects himself.  His rage is going to start swinging out of control if he stays up here in the clouds for too long.  Slowly, he inhales, quells his budding rage, then exhales.  Does it matter if Jaehyun never bothered to use the facilities?  No.  Has Jaehyun, supposedly sexy godling extraordinaire, likely not moved from his spot in the andron since arriving?  It doesn’t matter.  “It’s-- okay.  Whatever.  There’s like, seven baths.  Just choose one.  I don’t care, just--”

“Yeah, aight.  I’ll be back,” Jaehyun says.  He takes three steps before coming to a stop.  “Are you like, good?  You’re acting kinda weird--”

“Get the fuck out of here and go shower.”

“Yup, okay.”

*

Walking through the corridors of his house reminds Lucas who he is.  Rather, who he’s supposed to be.  Who everyone expects him to be.

Blood-stained weapons lay in heaps in his so-called armory.  Dim light ricochets off metal plates and sharp blades.  A lot of this stuff is ancient.  Famous weapons of heroes left abandoned, their wielder slaughtered on a battlefield; armor of colosseum champions; the first of every weapon known to man; angular arrowheads and ragged spears of civilizations long past.  Traps and explosives and thin wires.  There is not an item in this room that cannot either kill or prevent oneself from being killed.

Usually, walking into this room fills Lucas with bouts of pride and warlike fury.  These are his trophies.  His work.  They are the pieces that show just what an impact he has on all living and nonliving things.  Lucas, as the God of War, is a companion god to the sentient race.  Without clashing ideas, he would be nonexistent.  

For the first time since his godly creation, Lucas feels nothing of pride upon looking at the room.  Rather, he feels tired.  Drained.  Only the barest of power licks at his fingertips.

“This place is a mess.”

Lucas jolts.  Jaehyun strolls in, naked apart from a towel tied at his waist.  He smells considerably better, but the sight of the not-god still gives Lucas a shock of displeasure.

“What even is all this stuff?  I’ve never seen you use like, any of this.”

“Sneak up on me one more time and we can change that, not-god.”

Jaehyun snorts.  “Hey, I’m a god.  I’m as immortal as you, bro.  You know, you were there at my deification ceremony.  Stabbing me with this--” He grabs the rusted handle of a bronze spear, “--won’t do like, anything.”

Of course, Lucas knows this, but it’s not like he wanted to hear Jaehyun say it ever.  “Are you going to help or not?  Because if not, I’m taking back my offer to let you stay.”

“Damn, yeah, chill.”  Gesturing at the contents of the room, Jaehyun looks toward the god of war.  “We starting here?”

“No,” Lucas replies, stern.  “As of now, this room is off-limits.”

Once he herds Jaehyun out, the doors to the armory slam shut behind them, chains rattling from the floor and locking the door shut.  A large silver padlock appears in the middle without a key.

Lucas will get over it, surely.

*

“So, you were down in the Underworld, right?  Wasn’t that weird?”

Jaehyun’s a bit chattier now than he has ever been, and Lucas slightly regrets offering a place for the not-god of desire to stay.  “Weird how.”

“Like, lonely weird,” Jaehyun continues.  They’re in one of the minor chambers now, where a large fountain sits dry.  The more Lucas puts into influencing the outcome of war, the more he puts into using mortal hands to slaughter, the more blood flows through the inner-workings of the fountain.  Currently, several crumpled pieces of paper and rotten fruit await in the large basin.  “There’s like no one down there except Jaemin and his pet dog and all those dead people.  You’re a party guy, so wasn’t it boring?”

“Boring isn’t the right way to put it,” Lucas eventually says, thinking back to Jaemin’s unreadable disposition and over-protective Jeno.  Poor Xiaojun.  “But it was different, yeah.”

“Can I be real with you, man?”

Lucas blinks.  “I guess.”

“It’s been months.  Aren’t you tired of hiding?  It’s not like anyone’s going to hate you forever.  Just handle that mess in the mortal realm and come back.  A lot of people miss you.  At least, I think they do.”

Yeah, right.  Coming back is inevitable.  Lucas wants to prolong it for as long as he can.  He pats down the ire that rises at the question and tries to answer neutrally.  “Yeah, okay, I’m tired, but not in the way you’d think.”

“In what way, then?”

There it is again.  The rage.  “What are you, a cop?  Lay off.”  Lucas’s head pounds.  “Does it matter?  So what if I’m tired of people hunting me down.  Or of my responsibilities or whatever.  It doesn’t matter.  It’s not like anything’s going to change.”

Jaehyun doesn’t say anything at first, which somehow serves as a cue for the rage to surge, and for more words to pour out of Lucas’s mouth, unbridled.

“Is it so bad that I want to, I don’t know, do something nice for a change?  Huh?  Is it illegal for the god of war to buy some fucking groceries?”

Confusion pours onto Jaehyun’s face like a rush of water.  “Bro, no one said anything about doing nice things.  And what do you mean, groceries?”

Lucas’s face falls blank.

“Deadass, no one gives a shit what else you do, they just want you to end that war in Sicily--”

“Fuck, it’s in Sicily now?!”  What the hell?  Last he checked, it was just some minuscule skirmish on Greek turf.  How the fuck did these people make it to Sicily?  What’s happening in Sicily?

“Yeah, dude, it’s like.  It’s big.  Half the Mediterranean is involved now.  Renjun’s up to his shoulders in trying to manage these people, so like-- can we go back to the groceries thing?  Whose groceries are you buying?”

Lucas shakes his head.  “No, no, shit, no.”  How did that happen?  When did that happen?  Wouldn’t he have felt that?  “Shit, no wonder Jungwoo’s furious.”

“Can we take it back, like, six or seven sentences?  Play it back for me in dactylic hexameter.  Nice things.  Groceries.  Did you meet someone?” Jaehyun asks, palms up in defense.  “You’ve never done that before.”

“Shut up, how would you know?” Lucas spits, gaze aflame, issue of the war forgotten.  “You don’t know shit about me.”

A huff.  “I know enough.  You know, people like, talk about you.  Especially since you’ve been gone.  So whatever I haven’t seen, I’ve heard about.  There was a rather disturbing bit about you skinning some Babylonian alive--”

“Definitely not,” Lucas interrupts.  What is this?  “What’s your point, Jae?  You’re testing me.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll back off.  Just curious about my new roommate, that’s all.  I don’t think any of us knew you had a soft spot.”

Lucas rifts the last of the trash and cools his expression.  “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, of course not.”

With the room clean, Lucas regards the space and offers an approving nod.  The worst of the work has been done, and now that Jaehyun’s reluctantly assisting, the rest of the clutter should be tidied up in no time at all.

Cue a timely knock on the front door.

Lucas whips around to face Jaehyun.  “I thought you said people assumed this place was empty.”

“Ha, yeah,” Jaehyun replies with a beam, suddenly sheepish.  “That’s actually for me.  I told Taeyong where I’m hiding when you said it was cool if I stayed.  Do you mind if I take one of the rooms upstairs?  Not yours, obviously, I don’t think I could get hard with all those torture devices pointed in my direction.”

The knock comes again, this time more urgent.

“Just go,” Lucas seethes.  “Before I lose it for real.”

“Cool, thanks, bro.  I’ll check in with you later!”  And then Jaehyun’s off.  The third set of knocks gets interrupted, and suddenly Taeyong’s rare giggles echo throughout the house.  

It’s bad enough for Lucas to third-wheel in the underworld, but it’s another level of tragic when he ends up third-wheeling in his own house.  He would’ve expected this behavior from Ten, but Jaehyun?

Well.  He is the not-god of desire, after all.  (Thanks a lot, Johnny.)

It’s only after one of the bedroom doors upstairs closes that Lucas vacates the fountain chamber.  If the main chamber, the dining room, one andron, the armory, the fountain chamber, and his bedroom are all clean, then that leaves several additional bedrooms, all seven bathrooms, the other minor chamber, the lounge, and literally every other stupid room in his palace.

Luckily, Lucas senses Jisung before he appears.  There's a pop, and a set of distant jingling bells, and suddenly, the winged teen hovers diagonally in front of him, bow at the ready.

“Long time no see, Lucas.  Heard you were lonely.  Want some company?” Jisung, Johnny’s legal son and the god of sexual attraction, asks.  He’s a real cutie and tends to get swarmed by most of the older, less emotionally volatile gods.

But unfortunately for the both of them, Lucas straight up isn’t having a good time.  “No thanks, Jisung.  Not today.”

Besides.  It’s not like there’s anyone Lucas wants, anyway.  Not really.

Chapter Text

Mark stumbles down the stairs the next morning, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He makes a beeline for the kitchen when he catches the smell of the breakfast his Dad has cooked up for him. 

“My favourite!” He exclaims when he spots the pancakes that are piled up on a plate in the middle of the table. “Ooo, there are even chocolate chips! What’s the occasion?” 

“Mark, sweetie” Kai begins as Mark wastes no time digging into his stack. “Me and your Pa have been talking and we really think you should go pay a visit to the doctor. 

Mark pauses and looks between both of his parents, and struggles to swallow the pancake he’s chewing. He feels his panic begin to rise, they know how he feels about the doctors. What has he done for them to feel like this is something that needs to happen? 

“Why?” Mark whimpers, having finally swallowed his food. “Why would you send me back there?” 

“Mark, come on, we’re both just worried about your head.” Kai soothes, looking at Baekhyun meaningfully to nod along with him. “It’s not even the same doctor as before. Didn’t we tell you they have a new one?” 

“Really?” Mark’s ears perk up at this but quickly shakes it off as he refuses to back down. The last time he went to the doctors it was an irate old man who had told 8 year old Mark that his fractured arm was not that but merely a simple bruise. He had proven this by pressing down on the fracture to show that nothing would change. Needless to say that Mark left the doctors not with a lollipop but with a now fully broken arm. 

“No. I don’t need to. We already know that I’m just slightly concussed and there isn’t an infection! Isn’t it just a waste of time?” Mark continues to plead to his case. 

Mark shifts in his seat as his parents share a glance with each other.

“We just need to make sure that there aren't any injuries that we might have missed.” Kai replies, “It’s not worth the risk.”

“But I’m fine!”

“When you walked into the kitchen just now you were stumbling all over the place. Almost walked into the cupboard three times.” Baekhyun comments, “We all know how clumsy you can be Mark, but this is just too much!”

Mark grumbles and picks at his pancakes which are looking far less appetising now. 

“I’ll think about it.” 

*

Mark harshly kicks a pebble off the path as he stomps his way to the doctors. 

It hadn’t taken much to fully convince Mark to go. Especially once his Pa brought out his famous puppy eyes. 

And whilst he was adamant in telling his parents that he’s completely fine. Mark does have to admit that the dull ache in his head is getting old and maybe getting something to help would be nice. 

He just hopes that he doesn’t come out with any broken bones this time round. 

Mark lets himself plod along the peaceful path to the doctor’s house with the sun burning in the sky. Breathing in the fresh air, Mark slips back to the conversation he had with his new friend Chenle yesterday. Whilst at first the young man seemed to be a menace and not much more, when the time came for him to leave Mark was thoroughly enjoying his company. The stories Chenle had to tell of tricks he had played on others, even on the gods , had made Mark roll on the floor. 

That is something Mark hasn’t let himself really think about yet. 

The gods. 

And how Sungchan, that drunken mess, not only is he meant to be some sort of legendary hero but he’s also a demi-god . What a waste, really. 

The others Mark can get his head around, they ooze this sort of mystical aura about them. When Jungwoo appeared the air crackled with sparks at his anger and even Doyoung has some sort of power behind his words. 

And Lucas… well, Mark hasn’t even remotely gotten his head around Lucas yet. He’s not sure how he feels now knowing he’s spent time with the god of war. And one that apparently doesn’t even like war from what Chenle had told him. 

“Hello! Welcome to my lair!” 

Mark jolts at the sudden voice, frightened from his thoughts. Without realising it, Mark must have made it to the doctor’s and now he is faced with his fear head-on. 

“You are Mark Lee correct?” 

“Um, yes, that is me, correct.” Mark stutters out, intimidated by the overly confident man wearing a set of brightly coloured robes to match said confidence. 

“Great. Now my name is Donghyuck and I am going to be your doctor for today.” the man states, gesturing for Mark to come forward. “Come come, speed it up please. I don’t bite.” 

“Well, on second thoughts, I might if you ask me to.” Donghyuck adds with a toothy grin as Mark scuttles past him into the house. 

“Nope, not needed!” Mark quickly states, “Thank you though” He adds as an afterthought, only to go beat red as his brain catches up to what he exactly just thanked Donghyuck for. 

“Well look at you, coming in with manners and all.” Donghyuck laughs, “I’m only teasing. Now sit, sit. Let’s take a look at you.” 

Mark looks around the room he immediately finds himself in as he is pushed down onto a wooden stool. Covering the beams of the low ceiling are bouquets of different herbs and flowers. Probably for all sorts of medicines. At the far end of the room, by the fireplace (which is burning despite it being the middle of a blistering hot summer) are multiple pots boiling away. Before Mark can look around the room anymore, Donghyuck pulls his head back to meet his own dark eyes. 

“Now, let me take a look.” Donghyuck murmurs, leaning in far too close to Mark for comfort. Taking his time, Donghyuck gently feels around Mark’s head taking in any bumps and bruises. “Oh my….” Donghyuck gasps. 

“What? What is it?” Mark asks, getting worried. 

“Now this isn’t good at all….” Donghyuck continues, ignoring Mark’s question.

“How bad is it?” Mark asks again, cringing when Donghyuck’s fingers brush over a particular sore bit. 

“This needs help immediately.” Donghyuck comments and goes to a rack where several ointments are placed. 

Mark fidgets in his seat, panic rapidly rising as he goes through the possibilities of what is wrong with him. All of them end up resulting in death and Mark feels like he is on the verge of tears when Donghyuck reappears in front of him. 

“Now, this may sting a little but it should do the trick.” Donghyuck says, calmly putting some of the salve on his fingers and leaning over Mark’s head to rub it onto the sore spot. 

Mark hisses at the pain that comes from the contact but as soon as the pain comes it leaves. All that is left is a soothing feeling in the place of the dull ache. 

“Is that it? Am I okay now?” Mark hesitantly asks. 

“What?” Donghyuck asks back. 

“You were saying something isn’t good when you were looking before. What was wrong with my head?” Mark questions, wanting to know how close to death he really just was. 

“Oh, that ”. Donghyuck states, “I just couldn’t believe that you have let your hair get to this state! Have you never heard of a haircut?” 

Mark stares at Donghyuck for a second dumbfounded. “I mean I have…”

“Then I really insist you go and get yourself one then! It’s a crime for how long you’ve gone without one!” 

“Well, thanks for the help I guess.” Mark replies, running his hands through his hair in an attempt to now tame it. “But hey, what is this cream you just put on me? It’s taken away the pain completely!” 

Donghyuck puts the small container back on the shelf and turns around. “Magic…” He teases with a shit eating grin, wriggling his fingers towards Mark for effect. 

“Well, magic or not can I take some?” Mark asks, “The gods know me and my dads get into enough accidents that we could really do with some!” 

“I don’t see why not.” Donghyuck shugs, walking over to one of the pots that are boiling away. “I don’t have any ready now but this batch right here will be ready in a couple of hours. And you know what, I’ll give it to you for free since you’ve been such a polite boy.” 

Mark sighs at the odd man’s teasing but graciously accepts the offer with a smile. “Is there anything I can do to help while I wait then?” 

Chapter Text

Apparently, word on the street is Lucas’s supposedly vacant home has company, and now everyone residing in the clouds thinks it’s okay to come barging in.  Lucas could blame Jisung for this, because the kid accidentally let it slip to maybe five different people that “Lucas is lonely, I have to go help him,” but that seems too easy.  So Lucas blames Jaehyun instead.

Not that Jaehyun is around to blame.  The second he and Taeyong scurried off to whatever corner to hump each other undisturbed, he vanished entirely.  No help, no warding people off, no nothing.

Maybe Lucas should hire Jeno for a day.

The first to appear after Jisung is that shit kid Chenle.  He traipses in on his winged heels and makes no bother to be even remotely discreet that--

“Hey, the god of war is back!  I thought Jisung was just pulling my leg, but surprise!” Chenle nearly screams, cackling like Hendery’s blasted dolphins.  “Ha, this is great!  I was actually looking for you, as has everyone else, LOL, and in my pursuits, I did you a favor!  Your boy down there?  Yes, that rather dense one?  I filled him in on us.  You know, the gods.  Gods 101.  Now he knows the most basic gist of who we are and all that.”

Chenle’s words fly out a mile a minute and Lucas gapes, struggling to keep up.  As the messenger god speaks, he pushes his way into the house, arms flailing about.  Jisung, the other notable god who hovers, eagerly waves at his friend.

“Your boy, what’s his name, Mark or Markus or Matthias or whatever, he’s pretty cool, if he were anything but mortal I’d tell you to bring him by some time.  He laughed at all my jokes!  What a guy.  Ten out of ten, I think he’s perfect for ya.  Or whatever.  LMAO.”

Lucas blinks.  “My… my boy?  What?”  Hearing the words strikes something strange deep within him and Lucas shakes the feeling loose.  “Wait, you told Mark?”

“Yep, I told him everything, you’re welcome!  AND it’s even better because I told him to tell me if he found you, but he didn’t, because I found you first.  LOL,” Chenle cackles.  His hands fumble with the satchel at his waist, scrolls upon scrolls of heavenly messages falling free.  “Don’t mind me, got to write a message to Doyoung about this--”

“Bet,” Lucas blurts, snatching the free parchment away.  “You’re in my house.  This is my domain, and you will do no such thing.”

“Boo,” Chenle whines, yanking his papers back.  “Fine, I won’t, but next time I see you in the streets, it’s on sight.”

Lucas opens his mouth to respond, but Chenle’s already lost interest, instead fluttering over to Jisung to rant and ramble about mortal sheep and grass and who even cares.  There’s officially a small crowd of people in Lucas’s house, and now he’s fifth-wheeling, which is somehow even more pathetic.

Cue another set of pounding on the door. 

“Fuck, Chenle, did you tell everyone to come to my house?  Because--”

The door opens before Lucas can answer it, presenting Ten and his oddly scary yet ethereally attractive boyfriend Johnny.  The god of wine and the god of love storm into the house, equipped with jars upon jars of Ten’s famous god wine.

“Oh, wow, Chenle’s here?  Hey Lucas.  I’m surprised you’re throwing a party under the circumstances,” Ten greets, nudging Lucas with a jar of wine.  “Aren’t you supposed to be hiding?”

“Well, yeah, actually--”

Ten barrels right over him.  “It’s cool that you’re finally coming forth, you know?  That war down there’s getting a bit out of hand.  But you and I think alike, right?”  Ten laughs that pretty laugh of his and Johnny beams down at him.  “Celebrate first, deal with shit later, am I right?”

“Lucas, hey, it’s great to see you,” Johnny says, definitely several acceptable beats too late.  Heart eyes can be blinding.  “Thanks for inviting us over, man.”

What the hell is happening?  “Uh, yeah, definitely?”  Lucas didn’t invite a goddamn person over, and yet they’re pouring in like one of Yuta’s bad diseases.  And in pairs!  So not only are there now six unwanted people, Lucas is once again the odd one out!

And it doesn’t stop.  Minor gods and nymphs appear sporadically.  There are at least two separate people hanging from his chandelier.  Lucas gets wedged between clumps of people by the door, which places him in the optimal spot for Yuta to storm in and give him a piece of his mind.

“What the fuck, Lucas?  Why didn’t you invite me?  You know this is my scene.  And there’s not even any music playing!  You’ve gone too long without partying, man.  Here, let me help.”

Lucas grabs Yuta by the bicep, eyes wide.  “I didn’t do this, Yuta.  I didn’t invite these people here.”

“Sure, sure, whatever.  I get it.  I’m here now, that’s what matters.”

“No, listen,” Lucas tries, gripping tighter.  “ No one is supposed to know I’m here. ”

Yuta stares at him for a beat.  Understanding flashes across his gaze, and his mouth cracks into a smile.  “Right!  Wink wink.  You’re definitely not here.  Nope.  Right, Chenle?”

“Oh, yeah, sure, whatever.  No one saw you.  LMAO.”

“That’s not--” Lucas huffs, exasperated.  “Everyone has seen me!”

On the other side of the main chamber, Jaehyun appears, still half-naked like before.  Taeyong is nowhere to be seen.  The archer likely ducked out the window while he had the chance and is safely tucked away in the dark confines of his forest.  Lucky bastard.

“AYO, IT’S JAEHYUN!” Johnny shouts, pointing a finger in the direction of his best friend.  “JAE MONEY!”

“WHAT UP, JOHNNY!”

People are cheering.  People are dancing, yelling, laughing.  People are trashing the house he literally just cleaned.

That internal flame, that inner rage.  It’s back.

“So,” Yuta adds, breaking Lucas from his downward spiral into madness.  “A little birdie told me you’ve got a soft spot for some mortal kid.  Congrats!  You plan on adding him to your collection of favorites?”

“My what now?”

“You know, all those urns and shit.  The heroes.  Is this kid a hero, too?”

“What?” Lucas blurts.  “No?  I don’t-- how do you know about him?”

“Oh, damn, so it’s true.”  Yuta’s eyebrows shoot up in amazement.  “Like I said, there’s been some rumors.  Some of the gods who’ve been to the moral realm recently have spotted you traveling with him, so like--”

“It’s coincidence,” Lucas replies.  For some reason, Yuta’s bringing up Mark irks Lucas in the same way that Jaehyun’s bringing up Mark had, and he looks away from his best friend…

… only to spot Jungwoo himself waltzing in through the front door, wine jar at the ready.

“FUCK!” Lucas pushes away from Yuta, ducking down the nearest hall.  Yuta, amused and a little tipsy, follows.  “Why is he here?”

“Jungwoo?” Yuta asks.  “Are you dumb?  That guy parties just as much as the rest of us.”

Yes, this is true, but it does nothing to soothe Lucas’s frayed nerves.  If Jungwoo is here, it’s only a matter of time before the people who would actually castrate him-- read: Doyoung and Kun-- show up.  And with the way people are treating his house as a playground, Lucas’s infamous rage may become active once again.

“Shit, I’m leaving.”  Lucas pats Yuta on the shoulder once.  Shakes his head.  “Do me a favor.”

“Yeah?”

“I told Jaehyun he could stay here for a bit.  Check on him in two days and tell him that if this place isn’t spotless by the time I come back, I’m chopping him up.”

Yuta barks out a laugh.  “Yeah, okay, I can do that.  See you, space cowboy.”

“What?”

“Nevermind.  Go, I’ll keep watch for you.”

Lucas offers his best friend one last smile before sprinting down the hall in search of a dark corner to rift in, the face of a specific mortal guy on his mind.

Chapter Text

Mark clicks on the lid to the final jar for that magical lotion just as there is a knock on the door. 

“Could you get that for me Mark?” Donghyuck calls from where he is buried deep into a cabinet, rummaging around for some sort of herb he’s sure is in there somewhere. 

Mark places the jar down next to the rest of them and skips over to the door (taking full advantage of his recovered head) and promptly swings it open. 

“Who are you ?” 

Mark blinks, “Well, I’m Mark. Hi.” He sticks out a hand to shake, “If you have an appointment here Donghyuck will be ready in just a second!” 

The man seems a bit dazed but needlessly walks into the house as Mark gestures him in. 

“Um, give me a sec… where did I see it… oh yeah! Here it is!” Mark mumbles out loud as he looks around for Donghyuck’s little book full of appointments. It’s only been about two hours and Donghyuck already has him running about as a receptionist. 

“Name please.” Mark states as he flips the book open, a pencil now hanging from his mouth. 

“Excuse me? Can you just tell me where --”

“Your name please!” Mark continues, tapping his foot. 

“Hendery! But my name won’t be on there because --”

“Yeah you’re not down for an appointment. Well, I’m really sorry but Donghyuck isn’t doing walk-in sessions today. You’ll have to sign up for a time another day.” 

“I know I don’t have an appointment.” Hendery says, pushing his long hair behind his ears. “I’m just here to surprise my…” Hendery trails off as Donghyuck finally makes an appearance. “Oh darling! You wouldn’t believe it! I came here to surprise you and I had to fight my way into here. You really should train your workers so that they know who I am.” 

Hendery finishes off his dramatic statement by sweeping Donghyuck up into a hug. 

Darling? 

Mark hits the book to his face. He’s only gone and done it now. 

“Sorry about that dude.” Mark apologises, “Don’t actually work here, just doing the favour cause Donghyuck has given me his magic cream for free!” 

“Magic lotion? Dong… Ah, I see.” Hendery suddenly switches to an amused grin as Donghyuck lightly slaps him on the arm. “Yes well, my Donghyuck here is just an angel who can’t stop giving.” 

Mark coughs as Hendery starts to snuggle Donghyuck closer to him. Who in turn might as well be purring from how much he is lapping up the attention. 

He was not ready to suddenly become a third-wheel. 

As if saved by grace, another knock comes to the door. Giving Mark a reason to suddenly flee the scene, “I’ve got it!” 

Wasting no time in opening the door, Mark quickly blurts out “Hello! How can I help you?” 

“Well I mean if you’re asking. I’ve been craving for some more of Shotaro’s wine recently so if you could pop off and get that that’ll be great.” Comes the sarcastic reply. 

Mark instantly recognises the voice and looks up, “Lucas?! What are you doing here?” 

Lucas doesn’t answer straight away, his face contorting into something of anger for a split second before the wrinkles smooth out again. 

“Oh you know…” 

“LUCAS my boy!”

Mark jumps out of his skin at the voice that is unnecessarily close to his ear, and would have banged his head (again) on the doorframe if it wasn’t for Lucas steadying him. 

Hendery, undeterred by Mark’s pain, continues. “Have you finally come to see me? It’s about time don’t you think?” 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Lucas mutters with a roll of his eyes, finally letting go of Mark now seeing how he is steady again. 

“Well, no time to waste. Chop, chop!” Hendery firmly states, turning around to give a disheveled Donghyuck a quick peck on the lips. With barely a flick of his wrist, one of those rifts Mark has had the displeasure of experiencing first hand appears and Mark feels the ground give way as he starts to fall. Again. 

*

Mark lands with a thud. This time thankfully on his feet. 

“Well look at you, you’re starting to get the hang of this.” Lucas comments off to the side. 

“Not by choice” Mark mutters bitterly.

The sourness Mark is feeling vanishes however as soon as he looks around him. “Whoa, where are we?” 

“Apparently my dear uncle thought it necessary to bring us both to his home.” Lucas comments as he sidles up alongside Mark. “Or as you may have heard of it as, Atlantis.” 

Now, it is completely fair enough to assume that Mark’s next question would be to ask what Atlantis is considering his track record at the moment. But Atlantis is one of the few stories that intrigued him as a child. A completely magical place, far under the sea, one of the few places no human has ever found. 

“No fucking way” Mark breathes. 

He gasps as sees a school of fishes happily swim past them, “Look! We really are under water! Wait, then how are we breathing? By the gods I’m going to die aren’t I? Why would your uncle bring me here? Is it because I mistook him for a client? I didn’t mean to! I just wanted to help Donghyuck out as a repayment. O my days I didn’t bring the magical lotion with me, I waited two hours for that! Do you think Donghyuck will save some for me?!” 

Lucas snorts and lightly shakes Mark’s shoulders. “Breath. And I mean that quite literally dude. My uncle did his whole snazzy ‘make humans breath under water’ thing long before you landed. And I wouldn’t worry about the cream if I was you, Haechan was just messing with you.”

Mark takes a few more gulps of air to really show his body he can still breath and he feels his heart rate slowing. 

Looking up to Lucas, Mark catches up with what he said. “Wait? Who’s Haechan? And no it’s not fake that cream made my head all better!” 

To prove his point he lightly taps on his head where the bump used to be. 

“Yeah, Haechan.” Lucas shrugs. “Better known as the god of witchcraft considering you know all about that now” Lucas pauses to smirk at Mark at that. “He calls himself Donghyuck in front of mortals so he can hang out with you lot. The lotion is a complete scam he’s been doing for years. Makes bank out of it as well the little shit.” 

Lucas starts to walk away, in the direction of the grand palace Mark had somehow managed to miss till now. But then again, being able to breath underwater had been his main concern up till now. 

The palace towers over them with many turrets erected around the main building. It is a dark sea green that shimmers as the ocean moves around it. At the front is a huge door which is guarded by many soldiers holding swords and tridents, flags wave in the ‘wind’ showing off who exactly is the king of this castle. 

Mark is still trying to wrap his head around the betrayal of Donghyuck when Hendery makes a reappearance as they near the palace steps with his arms spread wide.

“So? Isn’t this like a million times better than Jaemin’s shit hole?” 

“You both have your own advantages” Lucas says. 

Mark thinks back to his conversation with Chenle, remembering that Jaemin is the god of the underworld and the same guy who interrupted Doyoung from continuing to strangle him. Although the underworld sounds like a pretty gruesome place, Mark is convinced it can't be that bad if Lucas happily hid away there for a while. 

“Well here you have more to do than talk to the dead!” Hendery exclaims, throwing up his hands. “Look around you, take some time to explore the both of you!” 

“You do know that I’m really needed back up there in Sicily right?” Lucas deadpans. 

Mark cringes as he too has heard of the stories of how bad the war has been getting recently. Too much of their produce has been asked to go towards the army recently and he can tell it is stressing his parents out. 

“Eh, what’s a couple more days?!” Hendery exclaims with a wink. “I absolutely refuse to let people believe that Jaemin is now the favourite uncle. Atlantis is a magical utopia whilst the underworld is, well, quite literally hell. The mere fact that you didn’t consider to seek me out first honestly hurts me to no ends.” Hendery concludes with a dramatic sniff as he wipes away fake tears. 

“Well I’m, we’re, ” Lucas points to Mark, “here now. So I guess we might as well have some fun and neglect my duties even more huh? What’s a few more thousand dead soldiers anyway?” 

“That’s the spirit!” Hendery cries out, gesturing to the guards to open up the colossal door. 

Dad, Pa. Mark thinks. Looks like I’m about to be away for a couple of days. 

Chapter Text

Despite Hendery’s well wishes and the clear implication that he cares fuck all whether that war gets solved or not, Lucas still feels a bit on edge, as though someone is going to jump from behind a corner and drag him up to the surface to solve his problems.

And being frank, no, Lucas hadn’t considered hiding out with Hendery.  Well, he had, but he hadn’t.  Hendery is known to be a bit on the eccentric side.  Apart from some rare and few interactions on Olympus, Lucas hardly runs into Hendery.  There are no wars in the ocean.  Jaemin, on the other hand, always lurks around while Lucas does his job.  There’s a stronger connection there, between war and the dead.  Also, people are far less inclined to delve into the fiery pits of Tartarus than they are to hang about Hendery’s underwater palace.

Yet now, he’s in a predicament.

Sure, Lucas came down to the mortal realm looking for Mark, but… he didn’t have any plans on what to do after that.  The mortal guy seems to be something of a magnet for unlikely events and so far, it’s been pretty entertaining.  Maybe not nearly as entertaining as some of Yuta and Ten’s drunk stories, but entertaining nonetheless.

Lucas and Mark follow Hendery into the palace, passing by knights and guards and various sea-themed visitors.  Despite being underwater, moving feels no different than it does on land, if only more weightless.  Beside him, Mark gapes at the inner architecture of the castle with awe.

“You guys don’t have to follow me,” Hendery says, waving them off as he struts toward the throne room.  “Make yourselves at home!  Go explore!  Experience all the reasons that my kingdom is better than…” he coughs in distaste, “ Jaemins’.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lucas grumbles, nudging Mark.  “C’mon, let’s go.”

The castle is just as imposing as Lucas remembers.  With intricate mosaic flooring and bioluminescent jellyfish floating overhead, soft light flickering at the sea-green walls, Lucas feels a bit like he’s at the bottom of a pool.

“So,” Mark breaks the quiet, “You’re the god of war.”

Lucas glances down at Mark, amused.  “Uh, yeah.  Chenle told me you finally figured it out.”

“Figured it out?  He told me!” Mark exclaims.  “Better yet, why didn’t you?”

Scoffing, Lucas shakes his head.  “You know, most mortals recognize the gods they worship, or at least when they’re in the presence of one.”  A beat.  “I mean.”  Admittedly, it was… interesting to be in the company of someone who treated him no different than anyone else.  Most gods would find that impious.  Not Lucas.  He chooses not to comment on this, though.  “You’re the freak who doesn’t know the stories.”

“Didn’t!  I do, now!” Mark counters.

“Alright,” Lucas says.  He turns down a branching hallway, where the floor mosaic appears less like waves and more like the weapons of the great godly wars.  The walls, now chiseled, depict reliefs of the Gigantomachy.  It was perhaps the last time that all the gods saw eye to eye.  “Tell me what you see here, then.”

Slowly, Mark takes a few steps forward and turns to face the wall.  He stares at it, eyes flickering over details.  Armor and weapons.  Chariots and beasts.  Giants, once high and mighty, crumbling beneath the feet of the gods. 

“Okay, so, Chenle told me some stuff, but not all,” Mark blurts after several moments of silence.  “I don’t know what I’m looking at.”

Lucas hums.  “Do you recognize anyone?”

Mark blinks.  “Am I supposed to?”

Oh, boy.  Laughing, Lucas nods.  “Yeah, dude.  Here, check it out.  At this far end here we’ve got Chenle, see the shoes?  They’ve got wings.  Look, I’ll say it now, a lot of these are artistic depictions, so they don’t necessarily look like us.  But usually, there are some attributes, or the artist will write our names.”

The longer Mark looks at Chenle, the more it seems to dawn on him.  “Wait, wait, that makes a lot of sense.  Wait, okay, so is this… who is this?”

“Yeah, okay, so this one won’t be as easy.  That’s Ten.  It’s been a while since he’s been involved with a fight, but when you see the leopard skin, you know it’s him.”

“Woah,” Mark comments, awestruck.  “So who’s this, then?”

Lucas snorts.  “This guy?  That’s a giant.  In the relief, he’s facing Ten and Chenle, which means they’re fighting.”

“Wait, a giant?”

Shrugging, Lucas nods at the relief.  “Don’t worry about it.  That’ll be a lesson for another day.  Just… see if you can figure anything else out.”

Mark walks along the length of the relief, pointing out various gods.  When he gets stuck, Lucas supplies a hint.  Eventually, Mark gets to the artistic depiction of Lucas himself and comes to a stop.  

Mark opens his mouth, then closes it.  And Lucas briefly regrets bringing Mark to this relief specifically.

In artwork, Lucas is typically depicted doing cruel things, crueler than the other gods.  After all, he is the god of war, valor, and bloodlust.  He is the violence to Renjun’s strategy.

Thus, the relief depicts Lucas beheading a giant, while Yuta, to his side, spears the titan down from his chariot.  

“Who’s the one in the chariot?” Mark asks.  Lucas can’t read his face.  

“It’s… it’s Yuta.  He’s the… he’s one of my best friends.  And that’s, yeah.  That’s me.”

Mark regards the stone for a moment more.  “Can I be honest with you?”

Lucas blinks.  His godly heart beats a bit faster, and the mortal feeling of anxiety grips him.  He dislikes this feeling, but it steadies whatever dark ire curdles in his heart.  “Yeah, you can.”

The mortal shrugs, and replies, “You’re not what I would’ve expected the god of war to be.”  When Lucas’s expression hardens, Mark adds, “I don’t, like, mean that in a bad way.  I mean, I didn’t really have a preconception as to what a god of war would be like, but like, you’re not so bad.”

For a moment, Lucas feels hollow.  Like Mark scooped out whatever bit of war god Lucas had left, laying it bare for all to see.  Mark’s final words only serve to soothe Lucas’s unease a bit, as he’s right.  Lucas isn’t what he’s supposed to be, who he should be.

But… hearing Mark say that he isn’t “so bad,” whatever that may mean… 

“Yeah, well,” Lucas clears his throat.  “I used to be.”  He steps back.  “Let’s go somewhere else.”

*

Down the relief hallway they traverse, until the Gigantomachy is far behind them, out of sight, out of mind.  Eventually, they end up in a room of Hendery’s war prizes.  Shiny armor and statues deck the large chamber.

“Yo, this is cool!” Mark exclaims as he approaches a set of teal-plated armor.  “Are these… scales?”

Hendery’s ornate set of turquoise inlaid metalwork looms on a life-size statue of himself.  The ridiculous armor was a gift from Taeil, who was bored and wanted to get in Hendery’s good graces after an ordeal between the god of the ocean and Jungwoo.

“Yeah, they are,” Lucas laughs.  “Can’t fight for shit in that, but yeah.”

“That’s dope.”  Mark regards the armor for a moment more, before his attention is caught by a marble statue of a man, surrounded by snakes.  “Who’s this?”

“Laocoon,” Lucas supplies.  “The snakes are a punishment for nearly sabotaging the Greeks.”

“Woah, nearly?  What’d he do?”

This guy has got to be kidding.  Not being aware of the gods is one thing, but a lack of familiarity with the Trojan War?  Instead of answering, Lucas lets slip, “Do you live under a rock?”

Mark wilts, exhausted.  “I told you, I don’t know much about all this!  I--”

“Yeah, I just-- nevermind.”  And so Lucas retells a basic gist of the Trojan War, as summarized as possible, because wow is that not a journey he wants to go down again.  Mark nods along eagerly, asking questions here and there.  

If they spend the rest of the afternoon immersed in tales of times long past, it’s nobody’s business but their own.

Chapter Text

Mark drifts awake the next day, cocooned in the thick duvets that inhabit the king-sized bed Hendery had offered him during his stay here. Not wanting to get out of bed just yet, having no care for the time, Mark yawns as he snuggles deeper. Not letting any of the warmth he had gathered overnight escape from his clutches.  

As he starts to wake up a bit more, Mark cannot help but wonder what it was he dreamt about last night. Remnants of laughter, playfulness, and a high heart rate, topped off with a feeling of safety is all he can remember. 

Maybe… Mark thinks to himself. Maybe I was running around with my old friends from the village. 

The dream starts to slip away from him more as sleep starts to overcome him again, which Mark easily submits to. And he would have fully drifted back off to if it wasn’t for the pounding on the door. 

Leaping out of bed, Mark hurries across the incredibly large bedroom. “I’m coming!” 

Mark opens the door and comes face to face with a bleary-eyed god of war leaning against the doorframe.

“My uncle decided to wake me up as he has had the staff create a huge banquet for breakfast. Apparently, he couldn’t do the same for you and it had to be me so here…” Lucas yawns, scratching at the stubble which has grown overnight.  “Meet me out here in like 10 minutes yeah?” 

Mark doesn’t respond. His mouth seems to have sewn shut all of a sudden as he gets sudden flashbacks to laughter... and playfulness... and high heart rates... 

“Uh? Dude? You alright?” Lucas asks, leaning forward to tap on Mark’s forehead. “Anybody at home in there?” 

Mark blinks, and struggles as he tries to find his words, springing back out of Lucas's reach. “Ye-yeah! All good! So meet out here in 10? Well I better go and get ready if I want to get there in time so okay bye bye now!” 

Mark slams the door shut. He doesn’t even wait for Lucas’s reply. 

Holy shit. Mark thinks, falling onto the bed after he manages to stumble back across the room. 

He had a dream about Lucas. 

*

Mark tries not to be awkward. By the gods he tries. But as someone who is not only a bit awkward and clumsy by nature, he is finding it very hard right now to look at Lucas in the eye. 

The whole of breakfast had gone as well as Mark could have hoped. His technique was to keep shoveling food into his mouth at such a pace that no one (namely Lucas) had the opportunity to strike up a conversation with him.  

And while this was effective enough, forgetting the awful stomach cramps he is sure to experience soon, he doesn’t have the ability to carry an endless supply of food around with him all day. 

Mark has been sitting in one of the lushest androns he has ever encountered for the past ten minutes. Lucas had wandered off saying he needed to sort something out and Mark has since tried, and failed, to come up with a way to stop this madness. 

Mark doesn’t even know what brought up the dream. It’s not like he voluntarily chooses what to dream about. If he could choose he would be dreaming about beaches and leaving behind the sheep for a good month with his parents. Now that’s a good dream. 

Maybe he just needs to conquer his ‘fear’. A lesson his Pa always told him was to face his fears head-on. Perhaps all he needs to do is to suck it up and look at Lucas dead on in the eyes!

Yes, that’s what he’ll do! 

That’ll work!

As Mark is psyching himself up, Lucas reappears through the door. “Oi, Mark. If you want to do something fun follow me.” 

Mark wastes no time in standing up and before Lucas even has time to turn around Mark is looking up to him, face to face. “That sounds great!”

Lucas snorts, “Glad to see you’re back to yourself again.”

Lucas walks ahead of Mark out of the andron so he doesn’t see how Mark turns slightly pale. 

He can’t believe it, he actually feels sick. As soon as he made eye contact with Lucas he felt something deep in his stomach that went straight to his head. 

I’ve never felt sick like this before, maybe it’s the food. 

Mark wipes down his sweaty hands on his trousers as he rushes to catch up with Lucas and tries to put the thoughts and feelings behind him. 

After all, they couldn’t possibly be doing anything today where Mark has to be that close to Lucas. 

*

“Are you sure there’s only one?” Lucas presses the soldier, “My uncle told me that there were plenty free today.” 

“I’m sorry” the intimidated soldier replies, “Your uncle actually just called to have the majority of them taken out for training.” 

“The fucking bastard” Lucas hisses, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration. He turns to Mark to add; “When I next see him I’m so going to tell him that at least Jaemin didn’t forget the promises he made to me.” 

Mark doesn't reply, he can't find it in himself to gather up the words. So he simply stands there in silence as the two ‘talk’ it out. From what he can see they have arrived at some sort of stables which he is actually excited for. Growing up in the country means that being able to ride is second-nature for him and it’s been so long since he’s ridden a horse. 

“Who is it that they’ve left behind?” Lucas asks, pressing a hand to his head as he sighs. 

“One of the oldies.” the soldier comments, gaining some confidence. “He’s actually on the bigger side as well so could fit you both on.” 

Mark laughs to himself, there’s no way that Lucas is going to agree to --

“That’ll have to do then I guess.” Lucas sighs as he takes the saddle and reins from the soldier. 

Mark gapes at Lucas, intimidating the many fish that are swimming around the kingdom. This isn’t what he needed. Not today. Not when he feels sick merely looking at the god. What’s going to happen if they have to... touch ? 

“You coming, Mark?” 

Mark zones back in at Lucas’s voice, “Sure?” He squeaks out, questioning his entire life's existence. 

By the time he catches up to Lucas, the god is already saddling up the horse in the stable. 

“Oh wow” Mark says in astonishment. “That horse is gorgeous." But as he gets a bit closer he sees something glistening. "Wait, are those scales?!” 

“Yeah.” Lucas murmurs, running a hand over its neck. “And he’s actually not a horse you know. He’s a hippocampus”

Mark walks around the open stable door and sees what Lucas is talking about. Whilst he may have his front two hooves, his rear is that of a mermaid. Just like the ones Mark heard about when he was young when the girls would go on about wanting to be one. He's never seen anything quite like it, not even Shotaro or YangYang took his breath away like this. 

“Can I touch him?” Mark asks in wonder. 

“Yeah” Lucas replies, “he’s a gentle one.”

Mark slowly puts his hand on the hippocampus’s neck and starts to pet it back and forth. “What’s his name?” 

“Bella.” 

Mark gasps out a laugh, “Are you serious? Isn’t this hippocampus a dude?” 

“Yeah” Lucas scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, “I actually named him when I was a lot younger. Hippocampuses live for a long time if they don’t die in battle. And it’s not like anybody is going to attack the sea anytime soon.” 

“Well, don’t let this slip” Mark whispers to Bella, “But I think you’re much prettier than both Shotaro and YangYang when it comes to being half horse.”

Mark looks back at Lucas when he hears a burst of deep, rumbling laughter coming from the god. Lucas's head is thrown back as he lets out his peals of laughter and Mark can't bring himself to stop looking, so enraptured by how Lucas looks flushed with joy. He feels drawn to the unfamiliar sound and finds himself wanting to be the cause of it again. But that sicky feeling is back again so Mark forces himself to turn away, ignoring the flush of red making its way up his neck. 

Is this really all because of a dream?

“Well, he’s all saddled up now.” Lucas comments after he has calmed down from his fit and taps the saddle. “Hop on”.

With it not being much different from a normal horse, Mark smoothly places himself on the saddle and leans forward to card his fingers through Bella’s soft mane. He smiles softly as Bella leans into his touch. The bliss is short-lived however when Mark feels Lucas jump up himself and presses forward against Mark. Mark stills as strong arms reach around to grab the reins, brushing lightly against Mark's torso as they moved. 

“Whoa!” Mark stutters, “What are you doing?” 

Suddenly, Mark is very aware of every inch of his body and what parts are pressed up against Lucas. Unable to help himself, Mark feels his body stiffen like a plank in reaction to the proximity. He isn't used to this sort of touch, the most contact he usually gets is a hug from his parents. But this feels a lot more intimate and a lot more out of Mark's comfort zone. 

“Just grabbing the reins” Lucas responds, his breath hitting Mark’s ear. Mark’s entire body shivers. “Although I’m sure you’ve got experience with horses, hippocampuses can be quite different.” 

The ghostly feeling of Lucas's breath and his touch remains long after Lucas pulls away. Mark isn’t sure if Lucas gave him a warning about taking off, too consumed in the feeling he is currently drenched in. But by the time he is aware of his surroundings again, the wind is hitting his face and the stables are getting smaller. 

“The great thing about these guys is that they aren’t affected by whatever keeps us lot on the ground!” Lucas calls from behind Mark, once again leaning in close. Mark knows that it's so he can hear everything over the roars of the wind, but the goosebumps scattering his skin say otherwise. “Means we can see the whole city from a pretty cool point.” 

Trying his hardest to forget how the slightest touch from Lucas is making him dizzy, Mark looks down and soaks up the views he is presented with. Glistening buildings of all sizes, many the size of small blocks now at their height, the roads connecting the city, and large areas of ‘grass’ are just a few things that Mark is able to pick up. 

The size of Hendery’s palace is also much more notable now at this height. Mark is still able to make out many of the details which just shows what an impressive structure it is. 

Despite the nauseous feeling that is bubbling away deep within him, Mark thinks that he can deal with it for now. It can be a tomorrow problem. That, and weird feelings aside, he has found himself comfortably settled against Lucas. The god of war is a lot softer than he looks and Mark is quite content to listen to the ramblings Lucas has as he points out certain parts of the kingdom. 

Yes, Mark decides as Lucas is telling him about a certain childhood memory, he can sort out this queasiness another day. Maybe Haechan will have a solution or something. But for now, he wants to make the most of this whole experience and the most of being able to witness Lucas go about with a smile planted on his face. 

Chapter Text

Coasting around Atlantis on the back of a hippocampus is no bloodbath, but it sends adrenaline pumping through Lucas’s veins nevertheless.  Halfway into the ride, Lucas gets this weird urge to show off in front of Mark, and he steers Bella into large swoops around the kingdom and the sea-green cities surrounding it.

He thinks nothing of pressing himself against Mark’s back, hands gripping the reins.  He thinks nothing of pointing out landmarks of importance, arms brushing against Mark’s in the process.  He thinks nothing until he does, as he leans forward to tell Mark about a game of hide and go seek he played with Taeyong and Yuta while they were all still young gods, and he catches bright red painting Marks’ features.

The smile on Lucas’s face freezes.  He finishes the story, then leans back as far as he can.  

It’s certainly not the first time a mortal or non-god has caught feelings for the god of war.  However, usually, it’s a burst of lust that blossoms fresh from a battle.  Nymphs impressed with his war prowess or power-hungry heroes looking for release.  Rare are these fleeting feelings actually feelings.  And unless Mark is like, really into riding horses, Lucas doubts that blush is related to lust.

Oh, gods.  What is he supposed to do about this?

Lucas knows better than anyone what happens when gods meddle with non-gods.  Jungwoo’s set the bar pretty low.  Turning young women into heifers, blinding individuals with his traumatizing true form, impregnating the unsuspecting with a golden shower?  It only ends in disaster.  Even Yuta, someone Lucas respects a considerable amount more than his father, has had his run-ins with desire for human flesh.  Poor Daphne.

Simply put, Lucas isn’t interested in torturing mortals in the most immoral of ways, and he certainly isn’t interested in doing something like that to Mark.

Not that Mark isn’t like.  Nevermind.

It has more to do with the fact that Lucas has no mortal friends who are still alive, and he rather likes this unusual bond he has with the farmer boy.  Mark doesn’t expect anything from him.  Rather, Mark admitted he likes the way that Lucas is now.  The fact that he hasn’t gone running and screaming yet is testament enough.

Had Mark been a god, that would’ve been a different story entirely.  Gods mingling with gods is okay.  It’s good.  Half of his siblings have fucked around with each other.  Johnny and Jaehyun had that messy half-relationship before they decided to become best friends, and now they’re both happily in relationships.  And Hendery’s got that thing with Haechan, even though that’s kind of messy, too.  And… Jaemin!  Jaemin…

You know, that’s not a good example, either.

Forget it.  It’s not going to happen.  For both Mark’s sake and his.

*

They arrive back at Hendery’s castle shortly after Lucas’s mini-crisis.  Mark’s stiff as a board but he tries not to seem like it, offering a wide, forced smile.  An awkward lull lingers between the two of them as one of the stablehands takes Bella back to his stall.

“Hey,” Lucas says, causing Mark to jolt.  Guilt makes his gut drop.  How can he handle this?  He’s the god of war, not finesse.  Fucking Jaehyun.  “You doing okay?”

Mark nods, albeit a bit too eagerly.  “Oh, yeah, totally fine, doing great, yeah.  Maybe a little lightheaded from the ride, maybe.  Yeah.  I’m fine.”

Lucas may not be the god of truth, either, but he can sure smell a lie.  “Right.”  He clears his throat.  “Hey, sorry you keep getting dragged into all this.”

When Mark doesn’t respond right away, Lucas barrels forward.

“Here,” he adds.  “How about we drink tonight?  After whatever Hendery’s got planned for dinner.  Then I’ll take you back home in the morning.”

Both relief and disappointment flit across Mark’s face.  The forced smile drops a bit.  “Oh, yeah, okay.  Yeah!  Let’s do that.”

Shit, this is awkward.  Lucas nods.  “Cool, yeah.”

“I’ll see you later, then!” Mark blurts, waving.  Then he’s off, speed-walking toward the castle.  He nearly stumbles into one of the guards on his way in.  Lucas can’t help but laugh.

Mortal or not, it’s hard to deny that Mark is kind of cute.

*

The throne room is just as excessive, if not more so, as the rest of the castle.  Upon Lucas’s entry, Hendery leaps off the chair with a proud grin.

“Nephew!  You’re back from your journey with the hippocamp.  How is dear Bella?  I’ve treated her well for you--”

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

Hendery pouts.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Lucas heaves a sigh, his gaze sharpening into a glare.

“Yes, fine, I did,” Hendery gives in easily, grinning.  “Did you like that?  I sent off all the others under some training excuse.  I know how much you like that boy, so I figured hey, why not do my favorite nephew a favor!”

Literally, who up in Olympus is screwing Lucas over like this?  Which one of those assholes is making things awkward between him and this poor mortal kid?  Lucas scoffs.  “I’m not your favorite nephew, Renjun is.  And your second favorite is Ten, so don’t even try.”

Hendery claps his hands together, completely ignoring Lucas’s words.  “He likes you, you know.  I can see it on his face!  What a cutie.  I think you guys should--”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Lucas insists, both to Hendery and to himself.  “And stop talking about him.  I’m only here to let you know that we’re leaving in the morning.”

Hendery’s smile falls, and he frowns mopily.  “Whaat, no!  It’s only been a few days!  You were down in Tartarus for like four months, that’s no fair.”

“Life isn’t fair, get over it,” Lucas snaps back.  Damn, his bubbling ire is getting out of control.  Deep breath, in and out.  In a much calmer voice, he says, “Thanks for letting us stay here.  Really, though, we need to get going.”

“Of course.”  The smile is back, soft and knowing.  Hendery gives him a thumbs up.  “Always a pleasure to have you here, Lucas.  I’ll have the cooks start preparing dinner.  Enjoy the rest of your stay here, and know that you are always welcome, no matter what.”

“Thanks, Hendery.”

*

With the knowledge that Mark and Lucas are set to leave, Hendery requests yet another massive feast and invites only the greatest storytellers and musicians to entertain them during the meal.  Luckily, the food and good cheer put Mark at ease.  Lucas chooses to let Hendery guide the conversation when the poet isn’t speaking, opting instead to watch Mark’s expressions as he learns about Hendery’s duties as the god of the sea.

Once the feast is over, Hendery bids them adieu, and suggests that they explore the nightlife of Atlantis.  Though no rival to Ten and Yuta’s infamous ragers, Atlantis has plenty to offer when it comes to bars and drinking opportunities.  Lucas leads Mark down the main road, past the particularly congested venues, toward a hole in the wall that Ten discovered a few visits ago.

The inside of the bar shimmers with translucent mosaics and blue orbs of light.  Soft music and the low chatter of patrons greet them as they walk inside.  Lucas walks them straight up to the bar, to which they take a pair of vacant seats.

Within moments, they order their first round of drinks.  Lucas already knows he’s in for a night of disappointment.  Damn Ten and his insanely strong wine.  The taste of this underwater wine hits his tongue a tad too sweet.  It doesn’t stop him from chugging it down.

To his side, and to his surprise, Mark follows suit.

“You know this isn’t a competition, right?” Lucas clarifies, eyes glued to Mark in both awe and concern.  “You can’t beat me.  I’m a god.”

Mark gulps down the last of his drink, then wipes his mouth.  “I-- I know.  I saw you chugging Shotaro’s wine.”

“Yeah, okay, so you can take it slow, Mark.” 

The words are a suggestion that Mark seemingly refuses to take.  The second round of drinks goes down just as fast as the first.  Lucas shakes his head with a laugh.

“So be it,” he remarks before chugging his own.

Funnily enough, Mark makes it halfway into his third drink before essentially giving up and slumping against the counter.  Face aflame, he gazes up at Lucas with an imperceptible expression.

“I have a question,” Mark mumbles out, words starting to slur.

Lucas peers down at his drinking partner, amused.  “Yeah?”

“How… how old are you supposed to be, exactly?  Because, like.  You don’t look that much older than me.  Like, at all.”

To the gods, time is but a manmade concept to comfort mortal souls who rise and fall with Helios.  Time is nothing.  Time is meaningless.  Lucas was born, once, but he could not recall when, or on what mortal day.

“How old are you?” Lucas counters.

Mark hums.  Grumbles out, “Twenty-two?”

Snorting, Lucas asks, “Are you asking me?”

“No?”

“Right.  How old do I look to you?”

Mark hums again.  Shrugs.  “Twenty-two?”

It’s useless, this conversation is so utterly useless, but it doesn’t stop Lucas from grinning.  The spot where his heart is supposed to be flutters with the beating wings of butterflies.  “Okay, so, sure.  I’m twenty-two.  I suppose that fits.  If I’m the god of war, I have to look like a soldier, right?  Young and fit to fight.”

“Yes, young and fit,” Mark groans into his arm.  “Congratulations.”

Unabashed, Lucas lets out a laugh.  “Congratulate yourself.  That’s the prime drafting age.  Get yourself some muscle and I’m sure you’d be a perfect soldier, too.”

“Or a hero.”  Shaking his head, Mark sips at his drink.  He slams his drink down and shakes his head again.  “No, not a hero.  I don’t want to be like Sungchan.  Ugh.”

He’s laughing again.  When has Lucas last laughed this much, and with a mortal no less?

Instead of replying, Lucas finds himself watching Mark.  Mark rests his head against his arm, fingertips tracing patterns into the smooth bar countertop.  His bleary eyes blink slowly.  When he catches Lucas staring at him, he grins. 

Fuck.

Lucas is fucked.

Chapter Text

About a day has passed since Mark returned from his impromptu trip to Atlantis with Lucas. And whilst there haven’t been any dreams filled with a certain god of war at night, during the day Mark’s mind is plagued with the memories of their time together. 

His parents hadn’t been too pressed with how he went missing for a couple of days. Apparently, Donghyuck, or better yet Haechan, had gone out of his way to hand-deliver his ‘magical’ cream and explained that he was going to keep Mark as an apprentice for a short while to be taught the basics. 

A bit of a dodgy excuse. But it worked well enough. 

Well enough to keep Mark out of his dads' bad books but slightly irritating in the sense that they both now expect Mark to be able to cure all their problems. 

Both of his parents are out right now, Mark being left to his own devices until he needs to go and check on the cursed sheep this afternoon. And whilst normally Mark would’ve basked in the glory of a lie-in, taking his sweet time in getting ready for the day, this has only led for that certain someone to be constantly on his mind. 

He’s half tempted to go out early at this point. Anything to get Lucas off his mind. That same sicky feeling right in the pit of his stomach even happens now. And he’s not even near Lucas! 

This can’t be good for his health. 

He needs to forget about this. They literally live in different worlds. So what if just being around Lucas gives him that special giddy feeling all the girls used to talk about when he went to the village school?

Mark hasn’t really had any close friends since then. He’s had to completely throw himself into working with his parents to help them make ends meet at times. He’s never blamed them for not keeping up either, they all have their own lives now. 

But, what if then that’s just how he reacts to people who he gets close to? Is this tingling sensation that thrums through his body the same for all friends? 

If so, Mark doesn’t think he could handle having too many friends. 

But again, Mark managed to have a great chat with Chenle that one time. And lo and behold Mark definitely felt healthy at the end of that. 

What is it about Lucas that makes him different then? 

Unable to battle with his thoughts any longer, Mark marches down the stairs from his room and to the front door, shoving his shoes on. The sheep should give him enough grief that he forgets about this nonsense for at least till the sun begins to set. 

Flinging the door open, Mark is about to stomp out when he is met face to face with a visitor.  

“Lucas?!” Mark exclaims, his heart racing. “What are you going here? Did I take anything from Atlantis by accident?” 

“Uh, hey. No you didn’t.” Lucas replies, looking uncharacteristically awkward and a bit flustered. “I just, you know… thought we could hang for a bit?” 

Oh. 

Mark looks at Lucas, a flush of red creeping up his neck. Lucas complimenting him with the tips of his ears hot.

“Want to come help me out with the sheep then?” 

Well, so much for an afternoon of forgetting then. 

*

It takes them a good twenty minutes to get to the fields where the sheep are being kept and it’s mainly filled with silence and some awkward fillers. 

“So were your parents chill in the end?” 

“Yeah! Haechan covered for me….”

“Neat!”

“Yeah! … Oh! Did you get round to tidying your house up?” 

“Eventually yeah. Guess you could say I got some help from a friend.”

“Dope!...”

“Yeah…” 

You get the picture. 

Luckily, it’s another gorgeous day. So even if they are being slightly weird around each other, eye contact seems to be out of bounds for the time being, Mark is happily lapping up the heat. 

Once they make it to the top of a pretty steep hill, Mark is slightly embarrassed by how much more he is panting than Lucas. Although he guesses it’s alright considering that the man is a literal god. Still, having to bend over to take a couple of heaving breaths when this is his livelihood is not something Mark is proud of. 

“There.” Mark points to where his sheep are once he catches his breath. “So what we’ve got to do is basically count them all and make sure all the fences are secure. There’s no need to take them down into a smaller pen tonight. My Pa said they will be just fine here for the time being.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Lucas says from beside Mark. 

Mark scoffs, “You say that now…” 

“I wage wars for a living.” Lucas smirks, tipping his head down to look at Mark properly for the first time since they left. “This is going to be a piece of cake.” 

“I’ll hold you to that then.” Mark challenges, glancing back up at Lucas. He puts his hands over his eyes so he can get a better look at him over the glaring sun. “I’ve already done a quick count of them all and we’re missing one. The same damned beast that escaped on the day we first met. Let’s go find him and you can bring him in.” 

“Whatever you say.” Lucas shrugs, striding off as if he owns the place. 

They walk around the perimeter together keeping an eye out both for any holes in the fence and for that rogue ball of fluff that is the bane to Mark’s existence. 

It isn’t until they are around the other side does Mark catch a glimpse of the wretched thing. 

Grabbing onto Lucas' wrist he whispers, “There!” 

“Oh yeah.” Lucas quietly replies back. “So what? You just want me to grab him and put him back? That simply?”

“Yep, that’s it.” Mark chuckles. “Off you go then.”

Lucas doesn’t move and Mark looks up at Lucas with a sly grin, not so confident now are we? 

“Ugh, Mark.” Lucas says, the trees suddenly becoming much more interesting. “You’ll have to let go of my wrist if you want me to do this.”

Oh, shit. Right. 

Mark springs back, having completely forgotten he was holding Lucas’ wrist. “Of course! Hahaha! Off you pop then!”

Mark feels himself cringe on the inside. 

Deliberately ignoring Lucas’s laugh, Mark watches on as Lucas slowly approaches the oblivious sheep. 

Well, that’s what Lucas thinks anyway. 

When Lucas is within reaching distance he stops behind the sheep and turns around to give Mark a smug grin of victory.

Mark somehow manages to keep a straight face until Lucas turns back around and before Lucas even dives for the catch Mark is snorting. 

He full-blown laughs when Lucas crashes onto the ground, arms empty. 

If it had been the autumn, Lucas would have come up with a face full of mud. Mark saves that idea for later and settles for the dust that has settled all over Lucas instead. 

“You need any help?” Mark cackles from where he is by the fence. 

Lucas waves him off with a frown, trying to wipe the dry dirt off him. His focus still on the sheep, he quickly finds where it has now settled, calming chewing on some of the grass. 

Trying to sneak attack again, Lucas gets as far as last time before swan diving... straight into the ground. 

And Lucas keeps missing, again, and again. 

It’s been about ten minutes of failure on Lucas’ end and Mark should help him, he really should. But right now he is trying to stop an onslaught of tears from laughing so hard as he watches Lucas just chase after the damn beast around the outskirts of the enclosed field. 

Even the other sheep have started to watch the spectacle, their beady eyes following the pair around. 

As he wipes away the tears and tries to calm the stitches in his stomachs, Mark makes his way over to where Lucas and the sheep are currently battling it out. 

Fuck getting over whatever this is. Mark thinks as he finally gets close enough to join in chasing the sheep with Lucas, both of them trying to corner it. He’ll show Lucas the real trick of how to catch the brat later (it’s food). But here, in this moment, he wants to bask in the pure enjoyment he is feeling. Especially when he sees Lucas start to laugh along with him as well, his eyes crinkling and his smile dazzling in the sun. 

Maybe this sicky feeling is something kind of good if this is going to be the result of it every time. 

Chapter Text

Two weeks have passed since Lucas started “hanging out” with Mark.

He shouldn’t be doing this, and he knows it.  He sees the way Mark looks at him when he does something stupid, or when he laughs, or simply breathes.  And Lucas knows, deep down, that he’s probably looking back at Mark the same way.  Like Mark is something special and sacred.  

Somehow, Lucas has deluded himself into thinking that this can go on.  That he can keep appearing in Mark’s life to cheer the mortal up, or to bask in his presence.  He tries to shove those thoughts down, convince himself he’s only going to pester Mark for so much longer.

However, he must be doing an absolutely horrid job at keeping it together, because his new roommate and pending bane of existence Jaehyun catches on the second he comes back to Olympus.

Lucas brushes it off at first.  Or he threatens to tell someone about Taeyong, which leads to Jaehyun promptly shutting up.  Then they sneak over to Ten’s house to get drunk, or Lucas disappears to the mortal realm and Taeyong casually comes over while he’s gone.  There’s a routine here.  It’s a little annoying at times, but it works, sort of.

So it shouldn’t come at all as a surprise when Lucas snaps at Jaehyun for bringing up Mark again while Lucas polishes off one of the great weapons of the Trojan War.  A spear that once belonged to Achilles, thrumming with power.  He’s taken up weapon-tending when he’s not with Mark, as Jaehyun did clean his house while he was gone, and there’s literally nothing else to do within the confines of the palace.

“What’s he look like?  That Markus guy.  I’ve only heard about him.  Is he cool?”

Lucas shoots Jaehyun a familiar glare.  Luckily, his anger remains in check.  Jaehyun pulls this shit too often for it to be a surprise anymore.  “Mark,” Lucas corrects.  “Yes, he’s cool.”

“Kun said he was a farmhand, but I’ve also heard Haechan hired him.  What’s up with that?”

“They’re called jobs,” Lucas replies, firm.  “As a mortal, I would’ve expected you to know what those are.”

Jaehyun scoffs.  “Okay, I was a mortal, but I’m not anymore.  And yeah, I know what jobs are.  I’m pretty sure everyone does.  It’s a service for a good, typically some sort of currency.”

Slowly, Lucas sets the spear down and stares at Jaehyun.  “You really want to test me right now?”

“Shit, nevermind then.  Just wanted to give you a place to talk about your boy.  You seem like you really like him--”

Lucas bangs a palm on the table, rattling the spear.  Jaehyun freezes.  

“If I wanted to talk about him, I would bring him up myself,” Lucas seethes.  “But, shockingly, I don’t!  So back off, okay?”

“It’s not a crime to be into someone, Lucas,” Jaehyun tries to reassure him, but Lucas isn’t hearing it.  “You know better than everyone that we’ve all had our bouts with mortals, so--”

Lucas rifts before Jaehyun can finish.  He drops himself in the field outside Mark's house and sucks in a breath.  Before he can stop himself, Lucas finds himself walking forward.  All the sheep are in the pen today, and the air feels oddly still.  Bright sunlight beams overhead.

No Jaehyun, no Hendery, no meddling gods.  Just Lucas, Mark’s quaint cottage up ahead, and total silence.  Pep in his step, Lucas approaches Mark’s house with little caution.  He knocks on the door three times and waits.

Instead of flinging it open, Mark shouts, “It’s open!” 

Slightly confused, Lucas opens the door and finds himself enveloped by a sweet aroma.  He can’t quite place it, but again, Lucas is no mortal culinary expert.  

Apparently, neither is Mark.  He stands at the table in the kitchen, a stretch of parchment laid out in front of him, flour coating his hands.  A round lump of dough sits in the middle.  When Lucas enters, he glances up, sheepish.

“I’m trying to bake,” Mark announces, gesturing with his flour-covered hands.

“And how’s that going for you?”

Mark shrugs.  “Not bad, actually.  Want to help?”

And oh golly if the gods could see him now.  Over the past several visits, Lucas has been voluntarily aiding Mark with daily tasks.  Rounding up sheep, tidying up around the house, tending to weeds.  A year ago, Lucas wouldn’t be caught dead doing any of this, and yet here he is, obeying this mortal’s whims like a happily-fed dog.

This isn’t just any mortal, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Jaehyun pipes up from the back of his mind.  This is Mark.

Lucas shakes the thought loose and smiles at Mark.  “Yeah, sure.  What do you want me to do?”

*

“Mark, look, I know you’re trying to be supportive and all that, but this really isn’t working.”

Across the table, Mark grimaces at the mess of flour and eggshells that Lucas has amassed around him.  There’s flour reaching all the way up Lucas’s arms.  A lump sits in front of him, but it looks nothing like the round dough Mark showed him.

“No, no it’s fine, really.  Did you add everything?” Mark asks, inching around the table to stand beside him.  

“I think so?”

“That’s not very reassuring,” Mark comments with a laugh.  “Here, just… set this one aside, and… help me instead?”

“Yeah, okay,” Lucas agrees.

Truly, Lucas attempts to help.  But every move he makes sends something flying.  Eggshells crumble to the floor and clouds of flour spit into the air.  A trail of sugar leads from one end of the kitchen to the other.  It’s a proper disaster.  Eventually, Mark gives Lucas a tight smile. 

“Hey, I have an idea.  How about you try working on your dough again?  Maybe add some more flour or something.”

Lucas glances forlornly at the mound of dull-looking dough.  He’s aware of the hazard he’s become, but it irks him that he can’t be more helpful to Mark. 

Mark, having noticed his wilting exterior, perks up.  “Hey, so, tell me about what life is like up there.”

It takes Lucas a moment to answer.  He debates the best way to describe Olympus and its sprawling palaces of galore.  Though many mortals have tried to paint pictures of the kingdom in the sky, the reality is fundamentally unfathomable to the mortal imagination.  It is greater than anything anyone can ever imagine.  It is a pocket of a world yet more than any world could ever be.  Floating waterfalls and soft pink clouds and gradient skies.  Free of danger and mortal toil.

“Olympus is beautiful,” Lucas admits, lost in thought.  “It’s almost like this world, but grander.  The people suck.”

Mark chokes on air.  “What?”

“You’ve had your fair share of run-ins with the gods.  I’m sure you can figure that part out for yourself.  Every day is a soap opera.  It’s exhausting.”

Hands coming to a halt in kneading dough, Mark looks up at Lucas.  “That’s your family, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, they’re low-key unbearable.  Some of them are cool, but not all,” Lucas answers.  As if to prove a point, he counts off the few people he can stand on one hand.  “Ten, Yuta, Johnny on a good day, Taeyong when he’s being nice.  Jaehyun’s on thin fucking ice.”

“Who’s Jaehyun, again?”

“Don’t even get me started,” Lucas huffs.  With the lump of “dough” abandoned, he begins to pace around the small kitchen.  “He recently moved in with me because of something messy, which was cool at first, but he’s constantly on my ass and for no reason.  Like, dude, if you’re that bored, go back to Taeyong’s forest and fuck around, or hang out with your best friend like you used to.  I don’t know why my life is everyone’s--”

A small clump of dough hits him in the back.  Lucas comes to a halt and whirls around.

“That--” Mark begins, eyes wide.  “Was an accident.  I swear that was an accident.”

Lucas blinks.  The flames of anger die down and he relaxes.  Plucks off a piece of dough from his own pile and flicks it at Mark.

“Hey!” Mark exclaims.  “Mine was an accident!”

“Sure, sure,” Lucas teases with a knowing grin.  “Pick a food fight with the god of war, why don’t you.  You’re going down, Mark Lee.”

Swiftly, Mark chucks a wad of flour at him, sending white powder everywhere.  Lucas retaliates with a handful of sugar, and thus, the food fight commences.  Around the kitchen they go, food flinging this way and that.  Lucas ends up chasing Mark around the table until Mark flings a wad of dough at his face.  

This feeling…

Mark, victorious, suddenly changes direction.  Lucas is faster.  He catches Mark at the other end of the table and corners him against the wall.  The two laugh, catching their breath as they come off their childish high.  White powder covers the kitchen like snow.

“I win,” Lucas proclaims with a satisfactory smile.

Instead of replying, Mark returns the smile.  His gaze drops to Lucas’s mouth.  Lucas subconsciously leans in.

Maybe, just this once…

“This seems a bit domestic for you, Lucas,” a voice rings out from the other side of the kitchen.  Lucas jerks back and finds Winwin with his arms crossed, smiling prettily in amusement.  

Winwin, the god of the hearth and the home.  

Lucas glances back at Mark, who stares at Winwin in bewilderment.  When Mark meets Lucas’s eye, Lucas mouths “ Sorry” and walks backwards into a rift, heart beating faster than he ever thought possible.

Chapter Text

Mark gapes at the spot Lucas was standing in seconds ago and he can’t believe what had almost just happened. He can still feel the warmth of where Lucas had pressed against him as he was backed into the wall. Of how all other senses had shut off and all Mark could wonder at that moment was whether Lucas’ lips would feel as soft as they looked. 

But he’s gone. And with that, the realisation of what they were about to do comes crashing down on Mark. 

What was he thinking? 

Lucas is a god. The god of war at that. And now he’s going to know that Mark has feelings for him much more than a friend should do. Can Mark even confidently say that they're friends? Sure they’ve been hanging out a lot recently but how does he know that this isn't just something Lucas does with mortals whenever he's bored? 

Even forgetting about mortals and gods, Mark doesn’t have enough experience with this whole friendship deal, let alone about potentially something more. 

The possibility of Lucas not coming back once he figures this all out weighs heavy on Mark’s heart. He wishes Lucas was here now so that he could tell him that he wants to be friends. Just friends if it means they can keep hanging out. Mark already knows that although in reality it's only been a few weeks since they met, there would be a gaping hole in his daily life if Lucas was to stop turning up at his door. 

Maybe he could try to find Chenle?.... 

Mark shakes off the thought, pushing it to the back of his mind for later and turns to the task at hand. 

His now bomb-site of a kitchen. 

Sighing, Mark shakes his head as he takes in the carnage that is left from the impromptu food fight. If his parents weren’t coming back soon then he’d leave for an hour or two to take a shower or something. 

He shakes some flour out of his hair at that thought. 

Mark reaches for a broom which is propped in the corner of the kitchen and starts to sweep up the mixture of ingredients into a pile on the floor. 

“Hey, you need any help?” 

Mark nearly falls over in shock, “Holy shit dude, I thought you’d left.”

“Nope. Still here. Thought I’d give you a sec to calm down after that scandalous sight I walked in on. I’m Winwin by the way. Word on the street is that you don’t know us gods too well.” 

“Well I do now!” Mark exclaims, “See, listen to this! That means you are the god of the home and hearth.”

“Yes, very good.” Winwin smiles. “Really though, can I help at all? I feel bad that you’ve been left to do this all yourself.” 

Mark looks at Winwin for a second, before agreeing.  “Sure. How about you take this broom and finish up the floor whilst I get going on wiping down the walls.” 

“Great!” Winwin says enthusiastically, grabbing the broom from Mark. “I always believe that a tidy home is a happy home.” 

“Well if you believe it then it must be true.” Mark jokes from the sink where he is dampening a cloth, “I’m going to trust the god of homes over anyone.” 

Winwin laughs at Mark’s reply and they both work with a comfortable silence between them. It isn’t until Mark has managed to wipe down over half of the mess is it that he isn’t quite sure not only why Winwin is still here but why he was here at all. 

Mark voices his questions to Winwin who is finishing up putting his swept pile into a bin. “Hey, dude, not to be rude but why are you still here? I mean, I kinda assumed you were one of those gods looking for Lucas with how he left so suddenly. But then you didn’t follow him.”

Winwin doesn’t reply straight away, finishing up his task. He then takes a moment to sit down on one of the chairs. Stretching out his arms, which pop when they reach a certain point.

“Ugh, that feels good.” Winwin groans, stretching for another couple of seconds before leaning them against the table. “To answer your question you’re not wrong actually. I was looking for Lucas. I was also going to tell you to stop meeting up with him. You’re a mortal and he’s a god. That’s never a good mix long term.” 

Mark shifts under Winwin’s gaze, not sure how feels about that information. His gut twists at the thought of others not letting them see each other anymore.

“But--” Winwin continues, “I quickly changed my mind when I saw him with you. It has been too many years since I’ve seen him smile like that. The only reason why I called him out was because I doubted you’d want to show that much affection with an audience. I didn’t expect him to get so flustered and flee.” Winwin smirks at Mark before adding, “There must be something pretty special about you if you can turn the most arrogant and hot headed being I know into a bubbling mess.”

Mark flushes red at Winwin’s words, his grip tightening on the damp cloth as he feels his nerves rise. Taking a couple of steps, he joins Winwin at the table and sits down opposite him. 

“I mean, I wouldn’t say I’m special .” Mark mutters, “But does this mean you’re not going to do anything about it? About…” Mark leans forwards and whispers, as if he’s sharing a crime, “What you saw ?” 

Winwin chuckles at Mark’s words, his eyes bright. “Nah, I’m a sucker for people being happy. I can also see why Lucas likes you. You’re just so cute.” 

Mark feels his face turn to a shade of dark red. 

Before anything else can be said, there’s a loud knock on the door. 

Mark's thoughts go straight to Lucas . No one else would come to his house at this point during the week. Apart from Lucas they hardly get any guests being that bit extra far out from the town. 

Mark looks to Winwin who shrugs, so he gets up and heads to the door. His hopes of finding Lucas on the other side dwindles immediately when he sees a young messenger boy holding a letter. 

“Important letter for Mark Lee.” The boy says, holding out the letter. 

“Yes, that’s me…” Mark states, reaching forward and taking the letter from the boy’s hand. “Thank you.” 

“No problem, and good luck!”

Good luck? 

The boy doesn’t say anymore though and bounds away before Mark can ask why he needs good luck. Shaking his head in confusion, Mark closes the door shut and makes his way back into the kitchen where Winwin is still sitting. 

“So no Lucas then?” 

“No, just this letter.” Mark comments, sitting down. “Apparently it’s important and that I need ‘good luck’?” 

“Hmmmm, you may want to open it then” Winwin states, curiously looking at the letter. 

Mark opens up the contents and starts to scan the writing. His heart plummets the more he continues to read. 

His face must have dropped too because Winwin leans over and pats Mark’s arm. “Hey, what is it? You’ve gone really pale…”

“Ummm…” Mark lets out a shaky breath, the words stuck in his throat. “Uh, yeah. You know that war? Of course you do, everyone does. Um, I…” Mark closes his eyes not only to stop looking at the damn letter, but to also keep his tears at bay. 

“...I’m being deployed.” 

Chapter Text

“I think it’s time we have an intervention.”

There’s a mural on the ceiling that Lucas swears looks different than what he originally requested, but he can’t for the life of him figure out how.  When Yuta speaks, Lucas lifts his head from his couch only to scoff.

“If this is about the fucking war, I’m kicking you out.”

Yuta looks between Jaehyun and Ten, who flank him like bodyguards.  Fuck, when did Jaehyun slide himself into Lucas’s friend group?  When did everyone get so close?

“It’s not about the war,” Yuta replies quickly.  “You know we don’t give a shit about that.  It’s about Mark.”

Somehow, this is worse.  Lucas pushes himself up from his position of moping and glares at the trio.  “He’s not any of your business.  Leave him the fuck alone.”

“Holy shit, Lucas, can we say our piece?” Ten exclaims, stomping forward just to push Lucas back down to the couch.  “Look, you’ve been awfully standoffish about him lately, and it’s obvious you like him.  But for some reason, you keep hurting yourself by pushing your feelings away!  What good is that supposed to do, huh?”

Lucas jolts upright and pushes Ten back.  “How the fuck do you know about this?  Is Jaehyun running around spreading all my business?”  He flings an arm in the direction of Jaehyun, who throws up his hands in defense.

“I wouldn’t play you like that, Lucas--” Jaehyun tries to say, but Ten cuts him off.

“Oh, my gods!  This!  This right here!  No one even needs to say anything!”  Ten steps back, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.  “For the record, I am your best friend.  I keep an eye on you.  And, hello?  Johnny is the fucking god of love.  No one can read feelings better than him.”

“Do not say it,” Lucas pleads, suddenly desperate.  “Please don’t say it.”

“We’re going to say it,” Yuta pipes up.  “You like Mark.”

A beat.

“And that’s okay,” Yuta continues, staring Lucas dead in the eye.  “It’s okay, Lucas.  You’re allowed to feel something other than anger.”

“That’s not it.”  That’s not it at all.  “You don’t get it.”  Of course, they do.  Lucas has heard the stories.  “Mark’s a mortal.”

Ten shakes his head, expression soft with understanding.  “That’s okay, Lucas.  Live in the moment!  Be with him while you can.”

Ugh, and there it is again.  That feeling, that sick reminder that Lucas and Mark are not the same, will never be the same.  Lucas is destined to live while Mark is destined to die.  There will always be a power dynamic between them, no matter how little, no matter how much Lucas tries to push it deep down under the rest of his bottled feelings.

“I can’t treat him like gods treat mortals,” Lucas tosses out, near frantic.  “I can’t do that to him.  He’s not--”

“Lucas,” Yuta interrupts.  “No one said you had to.  Just because some gods--”

“It’s okay, you can say Jungwoo,” Ten snorts.

“--take advantage of the power we have over mortals, that doesn’t mean you need to, too.  Besides, you’re not like that, Lucas.  Have more faith in yourself.”

The words soothe some of his burning anxiety and Lucas shifts in place.  Drops his gaze to the ground.  “It feels odd.  I don’t want to force something if he doesn’t want it.”

It’s Jaehyun who gives him the deadpan, though both Ten and Yuta mirror similar expressions.  “Lucas.  Bro.  You’re kidding, right.  Even you know he’s head over heels for you.  Reminder, I live with you.  I saw that episode you had when you came home a couple of days ago.”

If Lucas had a beating mortal heart, it would’ve stopped at that very moment.  He gapes at Jaehyun, suddenly flush with embarrassment.  “Fuck, no.”

It’s been a few days since the incident, as Lucas has so affectionately begun referring to it.  And like, okay, yeah, as soon as he got back to his house, he took several laps trying to walk off his flustered nerves.  Because holy shit, he almost kissed Mark, and holy shit, he really wished that he did.  He’s been so embarrassed about Winwin walking in that Lucas hasn’t found it in himself to go back down to the mortal realm lest he make another almost mistake.

“Fuck, yes,” Jaehyun corrects.  “And dude.  I’ve never seen you look happier.  Apart from all the pissy attitudes and shit, obviously.”

Face aflame, Lucas tumbles back onto the couch and hides behind his hands.

“I’ve never felt like this before,” Lucas finally admits.  “I don’t-- I don’t really know what to do.”

“Do what feels right.”  Somebody crouches down beside him, and when Lucas peeks out from between his fingers, he finds Ten smiling at him.  “Everybody deserves a person.  Maybe Mark is yours.”

Suddenly, Lucas recalls Chenle calling Mark “his boy,” and Hendery trying to send them off together alone, and the way that Mark makes him feel.  The way Mark looks at him, smiling or blushing or laughing or all of the above.  His stomach flutters with butterflies.

My person?

He’s never had one of those.

“I should-- I should say something,” Lucas blurts, sitting upright so abruptly that he nearly knocks into Ten in the process.  “I should tell him.  Should I tell him?”

“Yes, you should tell him, so go!  Get your boy!” Yuta cheers him on.  Jaehyun, still standing there in all his not-god glory, claps in support.  

Lucas bounds off the couch, Ten’s hands pushing into his back.  “You got this, Lucas.”

“Yeah, I think I do,” Lucas says, nodding to himself.  He can do this.  He can do it, he really can.  He’s going to go down there, knock on Mark’s door, and confess.  Easy.  Simple.  And if he’s lucky, Mark won’t be afraid to date a god, and then--

No, he won’t think about the future now.  One step at a time.  Thrumming with excitement, Lucas offers his trio of friends a wave before rifting to the place that has become something of a second home.

*

So, uh.  Slight mishap.

“Please take a seat!” A man named Baekhyun tells him, gesturing to a seat at the dining table.  Instead of Mark, Lucas happened upon Baekhyun and Kai, who he vaguely registers to be Mark’s parents.  He’s never met the couple, and he wishes Mark was here to introduce them.

Where is Mark, anyway?  Probably on some errand, if both parents are here.  Lucas tries to think nothing of it as he takes the proffered seat with a polite nod.

“Our Mark has told us so much about you,” Baekhyun rambles on, bustling around the kitchen as he prepares something for them to drink.  “I don’t think he realizes how much he talks about you and what you’ve done to help him out.  Thank you for being such a great friend to him.”

Great friend.  Well, Lucas has certainly been something with the way he’s been lurking around the cottage as of late.  Instead of dwelling on it, he instead takes the comment in stride and smiles.

“Yeah, it’s been no problem--”

“So tell us about yourself,” Kai interjects, taking the seat directly across from Lucas.  Baekhyun finishes up his kitchen task and joins them a moment later, sliding ceramic cups around the table.  “You must not be from around here.”

Lucas can’t help but blink.  Forget impiety!  Had these people been anyone other than Mark’s parents, he may have taken the interruption as a slight against him.  Yet how is it that everyone in this family is ignorant of the energy he exudes?  Obviously, Mark hasn’t told them about Lucas being the same Lucas as the god of war.  

“Oh, uh,” Lucas fumbles, struggling to come up with a reasonable, plausible answer.  “I’m not from around here.  I happened to meet Mark by accident… in the market one day.”

Not a whole lie, but not a whole truth, either.  Both parents seem to buy it, though, so he figures it's good enough.

“Where is he, by the way?” Lucas asks. 

Baekhyun waves a hand dismissively.  “Oh, you know.  What do you do for a living?”

This… feels oddly like an interrogation.  Or a courting ritual.  Or both.  That fact alone has Lucas feeling a certain type of way, but the swarm of warm flutters he gets isn’t enough to distract him from Baekhyun’s blatant lack of an answer.

“I’m a soldier,” Lucas supplies.  It’s the first thing he thinks of and the only mortal job he can remotely relate to.  Yet it garners an odd reaction from the two adults at the table.

“What a tragedy, that war in Sicily.  We were trying to avoid talking about it, you understand, but… our poor Mark got deployed.”

No.

Baekhyun offers a small, forced smile.  “It’s such a shame, really.  Mark is such a good boy…”  

Their voices fade away as the world twists and turns and churns under Lucas’s feet.

No.

That warm, fluttery feeling coils into tight, hot lava, and it burns at him.  Crawls up his throat and into his lungs.  Makes it hard for him to breathe.  Guilt.  Panic.  

“... left a few days ago… seemed really down… reluctant to go…”

No.  No, no, no, no, no.

Abruptly, Lucas gets up.  Opens his mouth, but can’t find the words to convey what it is he’s feeling.  Desperately looks between Kai and Baekhyun, as though the answers lie between.  

“Oh, honey.  It’s alright!  He’s a strong boy, I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Baekhyun tries to reassure him, but his words fall on deaf ears.

“I’m sorry, I-- I have to go.”  The chair scrapes against the floor crassly as Lucas rises to his feet.  “I--”

He rifts without thinking, vanishing before the couples’ eyes, heart pounding with hurt.

I fucked up.

Chapter Text

Mark shifts uncomfortably on the wooden bench he is crammed on with the other men who have been deployed, his bag with the few of his belongings he was allowed to bring at his feet. 

Showing his dads the letter that fateful day had been rough. And that’s putting it lightly. He had only had just over a day to get everything ready. To make sure that his dads had the extra help that was needed in his absence. To get the equipment needed to actually stand a chance out on the battlefield, since the army provides the bare minimum for them. 

He had heard someone scoff about earlier; “why would they waste resources on us? We’re just being used as human shields so that the fuckers who started this damn war don’t keep dying…” 

That had shaken Mark to his core, yet it was the truth. 

As farmers, they are not trained for war. Their role is to continue providing for the military and the communities. It is unheard of the generals deciding to take those from so far into the countryside. But here he is. Yesterday was the first time he had held a sword. By tomorrow he will be expected to end lives with that same weapon. 

Mark starts to feel sick again. The boat rocking from the choppy sea isn’t helping either. 

He had managed to keep a brave face in front of his parents. He’s not sure if they bought it but he did his best to keep both himself and them smiling in their final hours together. He didn’t let them see his tears, only letting them out the night once he was sure that they had both gone to bed themselves. 

He had cried into his pillow wishing for something to change. For someone to tell him that it’ll be alright. 

Someone like Lucas. 

Lucas. 

He never showed. 

The day he had received the letter and after he had found out he still held onto some hope. Hope that if Lucas came back, like he always did, that he’d be able to help. As the god of war surely he’d be able to do something, anything. Even if it’s just being by Mark’s side to keep him safe. 

And Mark knows that’s selfish. He thinks so especially when looking around at all the other young boys, many terrified just as much as him. But he’s not ready for it to end yet. Nowhere near ready. And Lucas has a lot to do with that. 

The fact that Lucas didn’t come back hurt. A lot. 

Even if he doesn’t like Mark the way he likes him Mark just wanted a moment, a measly second to tell Lucas how he feels. 

Because Mark does. He really likes Lucas. Actually teetering past like at this point to something more. It had clicked when he realised that instead of paying attention to his parents, his focus was on watching the front of his house from the kitchen window. From where he had seen Lucas pop up so many times over the past few weeks. 

He found it difficult to move from the spot, hoping for just a glimpse of Lucas. Maybe he’d be able to catch him if Lucas tried to come unnoticed. It obviously never happened. 

Bright and early this morning, Mark’s Dad had prepared a magnificent feast for him. And whilst it looked and smelt incredible, Mark found it hard to get anything down him. As a family, they didn’t spend too long on goodbyes, knowing it would just make it harder for all of them. Instead, it was more of a ‘see you later’. A promise of return. 

Thinking about all this, Mark wipes his nose as he begins to sniffle. Tears pooling in his eyes. Hoping that the others around are too busy in their own self-pity, Mark lets his head fall into his hands and tries to keep his body from shaking as he cries over everything he’s been forced to leave behind. 

*

“Alright men!” 

Mark looks up at the man standing on a platform in front of them. Probably a general or something. Clutching his bag that hangs around his shoulder, Mark tries not to stumble as he doesn’t quite have his land legs back yet. 

“This is going to be quick and simple! You have all been assigned tents which you are to go to immediately. From there do as you like till dinner. I advise you maybe join in on some training--” 

“Not sure how much use training is going to be the night before they send us to our deaths” a man just behind Mark grumbles. 

Mark can’t help but silently agree. 

“--as you’ll be on the front line tomorrow. The only rules are no fighting outside the training area and no desertion. You do that, and you won’t even make it to see the battle tomorrow. Am I understood?”

“Yes sir!” Comes the echoing reply from all the men. Mark only manages to find his voice enough to whisper the response. 

Mark quickly gets put into a group of about 15 men and they are shown where their assigned tent is. It’s hardly big enough to fit them inside but then again by tomorrow evening they’ll probably be plenty of space for whoever's left. 

As he steps into the tent, he stumbles, tripping over some rope. This comes as no shock to Mark who is very aware of his own clumsiness but it brings some laughter up from the group. 

A man who looks about the same age as Mark jokes at him, “Remind me not to be next to you tomorrow on the field dude.” 

Mark forces out a laugh, a bit sour. From the kind face of the other man Mark’s sure that it’s some harmless banter. An attempt to lighten up the dire situation they are in. But with everything and Mark’s current state of mind, it feels like a dagger to his heart. 

Containing his emotions, Mark plops down next to his bag. His space is right in the corner of the tent but he’s not complaining. The sides to the tent give him a sense of security at least. 

“Ugh, look at that guy. Is he seriously crying? I bet he’ll be the first to be finished off tomorrow.” 

“Doesn’t look strong either. Bet he hasn’t done any heavy lifting in his life.” 

Mark quickly raises his head, worried that they’re talking about him, but calms down when he realises that the harsh words aren’t aimed at him. Instead, it’s aimed at a young man, better yet a boy, probably barely the legal age for joining the military. He’s huddled in another corner and can’t seem to stop the tears from flowing as his body wracks with sobs. 

Normally, Mark would be one of the first to jump in to defend the poor young man. But he’s on the brink of tears himself. Thinking about anything at all could start him and Mark will just have to make it up if they both live to see another day tomorrow. 

Standing back up, Mark spontaneously decides that he’s going to head to the training area that was mentioned briefly. He’s going to take any chance he can get to help raise the odds of him making it back home. 

“Oi, where you going?” 

Mark looks at the same man who was taunting the poor boy a few seconds ago. “I’m going to try out the training place.” He eventually says, wary of stepping out of line. 

The man snorts. “What’s the use? We’re all just lambs for slaughter.”

Mark shrugs, trying not to let the words affect him. “Maybe.” And as an afterthought adds, 

“But I have people to go home to.” 

Chapter Text

The rift opens to almost the exact situation that Lucas abandoned.  Ten, Jaehyun, and Yuta all stand in a clump, chatting in low tones, before they realize that he’s reappeared.  They fall quiet, smiling in anticipation, awaiting the delivery of good news.

It hurts.  Everything hurts.  Because Mark got deployed to the war that Lucas caused, and it’s all his fault.  

He has to work fast.

Self-directed rage pumps through his veins.  Had he gotten his shit together and solved the war right away, none of them would be here.  Mark would still be minding his peaceful life, out of harm’s way.  And Lucas…

May have never actually met Mark, had he not gone down to Jaemin’s realm with the intent to hide.  After all, it was because of Jaemin that Lucas even stumbled across Mark in the first place.

“Lucas?” Ten dares to ask. 

He shakes his head.  “Can’t talk.”

Yuta steps forward.  It seems they had planned for this.  “Listen, you shot your… shot.  You tried.  It’s okay.  At least he knows, now.” 

Lucas halts mid-step solely to jerk his head in their direction.  “Mark wasn’t there.”

“Oh?” Ten pipes in.  “That’s alright!  Don’t, uh, get discouraged.  There’s always tomorrow.”

That’s the thing.  “Mark was deployed.”

Silence.

“To the war,” Lucas adds, monotone.  “That I started.”

Jaehyun whistles an “Oooh boy” and claps a hand on Yuta’s shoulder.

“And never resolved,” Lucas finishes.  Instantly, he’s back in motion, rushing toward his armory.  Damn it, he’s going to fix this.  He has to fix this.  He has to save Mark.  

Throwing open the doors open to the armory, Lucas frantically begins scanning the room for useful armor and weapons.  He’d only managed to get through a chunk of the metal before being whisked away to Atlantis, and the time after that he spent loitering around Mark’s home.  The only thing really worth any of its original power is the spear of Achilles.  He grabs it.

“Hey, woah, where are you going?” Jaehyun asks once Lucas reemerges.  The trio lurks in the main chamber, now, watching his every move with wide eyes as if anticipating an explosive reaction.

It’s a moment before Lucas responds.  And when he does, it’s with a grave tone, expression set.

“Taeil’s.  I’m going to finish what I started.”

*

Taeil’s forge sits on an isolated peak beyond Lucas’s palace, high up in smoky clouds.  Instead of taking the winding path that claws its way up the side of the steep mountain, Lucas rifts straight from his foyer to the cobbled chamber where a pool of lava flows perpetually.

For someone with such an intimidating residence, many expect Taeil to hold the same presence.  Brooding, standoffish, harsh features.  A man of power and silence.

Taeil is certainly a man of power, but that’s about all that expectations and reality share in common.  Upon his entrance, Lucas receives a warm welcome from the god of fire and metalwork.

“Howdy neighbor, long time no see!  Need something sharp and pointy to stab with?” 

“No,” Lucas replies.  Taeil abandons his current project to approach Lucas, hands on his hips.  “How fast do you think you can get me a set of armor?”

Taeil hums, pensive features morphing into a smile.  “For you, Lucas?  Very fast.  Nearly no time at all.  Going down to tend to that war, I presume?”

“Something like that.”

As Taeil begins preparing for the new forgery, Lucas busies himself with thought.  

That pesky war between the crafty Greeks and the Persians has somehow spread to Sicily.  Unless it has sprouted a new growth that no one has informed him of, Lucas is willing to bet his money that Sicily is where Mark is headed.  This is both very helpful, and not at all.

Because Mark is just one mortal among thousands, and finding him will be like locating a needle in a haystack.  And although Lucas has already decided upon putting an end to this war for good, his selfish priority is Mark, and as a result, he has to find Mark first.  

Lucas doesn’t even want to fathom what might happen if Mark were to get hurt because of something Lucas himself caused.  So he doesn’t.

A sudden whooshing behind him alerts him to the arrival of a new presence.  He turns and finds not only the trio that he left behind at his house but Jungwoo, too.  Jungwoo takes no time at all in rushing toward an unused table in Taeil’s forge, shoving aside abandoned tools and rusted metal.  Swiftly, he lays down an extensive parchment map.  The mortal world reveals itself as he does so.

“I heard down the grapevine that you’re finally taking care of your responsibilities, and I thought hey, what better way to give my son some encouragement than pushing him in the right direction!” Jungwoo beams at Lucas.  Lucas blinks back.  Things are happening so fast.

Before Lucas can even say anything, Jungwoo points a finger down at a smudged image of Sicily.  The region expands under his touch.  Several bright red, blue, and yellow speckles light up across the map.

“Blue are the Greeks, red are the Persians, yellow is for the Italians.  Romans.  Sicilians.  Whatever, you get what I mean.  These are current camps.  Since we’re Greek, and only care about the Greeks, our wins are marked with laurels, losses with x’s.  As you can see, there are more x’s than laurels,” Jungwoo explains.  

And like.  What the fuck is this?!  Lucas has never seen a map like this before in his entire life, and yet here this is, all neatly organized with keys and color-coding.  

So he asks.  “What the fuck is this?”

“It’s a map,” Jungwoo replies, deadpan.  “Mapping out your war.  Because you gave up on it, I started keeping track--”

“Yeah, whatever, I don’t care.  What bothers me is the fact that it looks like you’ve done this before.”

Yuta coughs.  Several paces away, Taeil pours raw metal into a mold.  Metal clashes against metal.  Heat roars.

“Well, that’s because I have,” Jungwoo admits.  “Because, dear son, you can be a bit messy. ”

“And there isn’t nearly enough time to unpack all of that,” Ten quickly interjects, pushing his way forward.  “The important thing is that we have several ideas as to where Mark could be, and since the forefront of the battle seems to be here--” He reaches down to push Jungwoo’s finger over.  “-- it’s most likely that that’s where Mark is.  At one of these three camps.”

Instinctively, Lucas knows which camp Mark is at.  There’s a burning in his gut, something drawing him to the uppermost camp.  It’s closest to the line of fire.  And at this point in a war, when the heat is at its thickest, all the drafted members will be sent there as cannon fodder.

The idea makes Lucas sick.  And then, he makes himself even more nauseous, because typically, he laughs in the face of cannon fodder.  Of men too weak and cowardly to fight.  Of those who lack the strength to survive in the face of war.

He thinks of Mark.  Mark is not weak nor cowardly.  Mark does not deserve to be cannon fodder.  Mark deserves…

So much more.  More than Lucas could probably ever give him, if he’s being honest.

But this isn’t the time for that.  Lucas nods in response to the knowledge.  Glances over his shoulder at Taeil, who moves at godly speed, hammering away at kinks in metal.

“Okay,” Lucas breathes, nodding to himself.  It’s high time that he end this war.  “Okay, I’m going to do this.”

“Good!” Jungwoo says.  He faces Lucas and grips him by the shoulders.  “Don’t be stupid down there.”  Then, he rifts away.  Lucas turns to the remaining trio, who all shrug in response.

“We didn’t invite him here,” Jaehyun tries to explain.  “He just sort of showed up.”

“It’s fine.”  Sparing one last glance at the map, Lucas rolls it up and crumples it into a ball.  He tosses it into the lava as he approaches Taeil.  “How much longer?”

“Not long at all.  Just a few finishing touches-- there!”

Golden bronze armor glints under the glow of lava.  Fine lines and smooth curves allude to his power.  A chest plate, gauntlets, shield, shin guards.  The works.  All accented with the dark blood red of the enemy, thrumming with energy and ire.

“Great.  Thanks, Taeil.  I owe you one.”

“Anytime,” Taeil shoots back, offering two thumbs up.

With great haste, Lucas dons the armor, preparing for battle.

Chapter Text

The camp is full of movement and noise early the next morning. A blaring horn had woken them all just as the sun was peeking over the horizon and they had been rushed to get food whilst it was still there. 

The training Mark decided to put himself through yesterday was a success. Well, he thought it was one till he got up. His body ached from the physical strain he put himself through to the point that he didn’t want to move an inch. 

Luckily, however, once Mark had started moving the tension started to ease off. Hence why he is doing little jiggles on the spot as they are listening to instructions from the same general as before. 

Mark doesn’t listen in too closely, especially after hearing that all the new recruits will be ‘moving out’ in less than an hour. 

The mere thought of what is to come makes Mark want to throw his whole breakfast back up. He didn’t even manage to stomach a lot. It had suddenly hit him that this could be his last meal. Surrounded by strangers in an alien environment. That had been enough for him to put his utensils down. 

Realising that everyone around him is moving, Mark follows the crowd and quickly catches on that they're going back to their tents. 

Before he can move far though, there’s a cry behind him. 

“Mark! My dude! Fancy bumping into you again.” 

Mark recognises the voice and his eyes widen in shock when he turns around. “Sungchan?!” 

“Yo!” Sungchan goes for a fist bump. He waits for a beat and when Mark doesn’t move he huffs and drops it. “I didn’t peg you out to be a fighter. You should have said something last time we met! We could have spared!” 

Mark still struggles to find his voice. Torn between being so undyingly thankful that he’s run into a familiar figure and wanting to sock Sungchan in the face for being so tactless. 

He isn’t given a chance to reply as Sungchan plows on, “Of course I was called as soon as things were going to shit over here. They were dying, quite literally might I add, for a brave hero like me on the scene! Where’s your tent though man? I’ll have to come by some time.” 

Speaking for the first time, Mark manages to get out “Over there.” As he points to where the rest of the recruits he came with are still going to their tents. 

Sungchan’s smile falls off his face seeing where Mark is stationed. It’s obvious he’s worked it out then. He tries to put the smile back on again, but it’s strained now. “Hey! Well I’m going to be out there as well. And of course I’ll be up front so I’ll watch out for you alright!” Sungchan leans into Mark at this, beckoning him forward. Intrigued, Mark complies and brings his ear right to Sungchan’s mouth. “I’ve also got Renjun helping me out. Since Lucas has fucked off, Renjun has been stepping up. Which is great! Who wouldn’t want the god of battle strategy on their side?!” 

Mark feels a sense of relief rush through him. Renjun is here. Although he’s never met the god before, Mark feels like he’s quite infamous now so maybe Renjun would show a bit of favouritism towards him. 

“That’s good to hear Sungchan! I’ll see you out there then?” 

“Yeah dude!” Sungchan gives Mark a thumbs up. “And I’ve got to go now, so see you!” 

The crowd is a lot thinner now after his conversation with Sungchan. His tent is one of the furthest away so by the time he’s close there are only a few people dotted around. Before he makes it there though he feels a pull on his sleeve. 

“Was the training worth it yesterday?” 

Mark looks to the voice and sees the same youth from his tent who had been struggling. His eyes are wide and full of fear and maybe regret. Mark’s heart pulls as the true age of the boy stands out even more now. This is no place for him. 

So with that, Mark gently pats the hand which is still holding onto his sleeve with a smile. “Not really. The trainers just used me as a punching bag.” 

“Oh, I see.” The boy nods, looking a bit more relaxed now. “Glad I didn’t miss out on much then.” 

Mark does his best to laugh and nod, rubbing the boy’s head affectionately. Yet his insides are twisting. The boy doesn’t have to know they actually spent a couple of hours showing Mark all the basics and defensive tactics. 

*

This can’t be real. 

Mark pinches himself with his spare hand in a desperate hope that this is in fact some sick dream and he’ll wake up in his warm bed. 

The scene before him doesn’t change. 

Dead bodies litter the huge field. Mark isn’t able to make out anything apart from the cries and screams of pain. 

The past hour, Mark has been using the defensive skills that trainer had taught him to the max. Drenched in sweat, his legs on the verge of collapse, Mark isn’t sure how much more he’s got in him. 

Despite his own life being in dangerous peril, Mark can’t bring himself to kill anyone. So he’s been doing his best to avoid and block as the battle has continued. Maybe Renjun or someone has been helping but it’s worked. As of now, he’s coming away with a couple of deep cuts but nothing fatal. 

If he doesn’t collapse he could actually make it. 

Running through a throng of people, Mark spots a few of the recruits from his tent fighting in a group together. 

As he nears he sees a Persian charge at the back of the young boy, who is clutching his sword with both of his hands outstretched. Blissfully unaware of the danger so close. 

“Watch out!”

Mark lunges, hoping to save the boy. The one out of all of them who has lived so little. 

He doesn’t make it in time. 

The boy, eyes wide in pain, looks down at the spear that has been shoved through his torso and then looks up, m eeting Mark’s eyes. Blood starts to dribble down his chin as he coughs and tears stream down his face as his face twists in agony. 

Mark doesn’t even think twice before he slams his sword into the Persian. 

He looks to the dickhead who had teased the boy yesterday, pale himself. He nods to Mark and stays on the defense as Mark drops to the fall and holds the boy’s head in his hands. 

“Hey!” Mark pants, struggling to catch his breath. “You did good kid.”

“It hurts…” The boy sobs. Mark’s hands now soaked in blood and tears. 

“Yeah, I know.” Mark chokes, refusing to cry himself. “But you can rest now.” 

Another few seconds pass and the boy falls slack in Mark’s arms. Mark then gently lays him on the ground. On the ground where he’s most likely about to get trampled on. He’ll have to come back with the others after the battle to make sure his body is collected and bury him himself. 

Mark looks down at his sword, stained with blood, and it all catches up to him. 

He throws up. 

*

Another thirty minutes later and Mark isn’t sure how he’s still standing. He’s been separated from that group again and has gained another few cuts from one too many near misses. 

Hearing a cry from his left, Mark looks and sees Sungchan blasting through a whole line of Persians. Mark has to admit that even if he’s a bit of a drunkard and an idiot for a hero, he’s a damn good fighter. 

Sungchan continues to cut his way through to Mark, a sinister grin of glee as the enemy continues to fall at his feet. 

And Mark’s hope soars. This is it. With Sungchan by his side, he’ll live to see another day. 

Until he spots the archer, its bow pointed at Sungchan's back as the hero nears him, a cocky grin on his face. 

“Hey, Mark! I never doubted you! Look at you still here and fighting!” 

The archer releases. 

No. 

Not again. 

Especially not someone he knows. 

“Mark? What are you? --” 

Mark shoves Sungchan to the side and feels something pierce him deeply. Pain spreads out like wildfire and Mark’s legs finally collapse. Landing on the ground with a heavy thud, Mark trembles as he looks down at his chest. Finding it hard to breathe, Mark’s fingers shake as he puts them around the arrow. 

“Don’t pull it out, idiot! You’ll just bleed even more if you do.” Mark hears Sungchan. He looks up through his tears and sees Sungchan crouching right in front of him.

If he’s so close then why does he sound so far away? And when did he start to cry?

“Are you okay?” Mark asks, grimacing as he feels blood start to trickle out of his mouth. Oh, how the tables have turned from such a short time ago. 

“You’re asking me if--” Sungchan scoffs in disbelief. “I told you I had Renjun helping me! None of them can touch me right now! And you still go ahead and… and…” Sungchan falls quiet and shakes his head. 

Mark isn’t able to take in much of what Sungchan is saying. He feels himself slowly disconnect from the pain and his mind begins to clear. 

That’s nice, maybe if he just continues to do this then it will all stop. 

“Mark! Hey! Open your eyes! Stay with me here!” 

Mark hears the whispers of Sungchan but isn’t able to respond. He’s tired. Why won’t he let him just rest? 

“You need to fight this Mark! Come on! What about Lucas huh? Your parents? You can’t just give up like this.” 

Lucas? His parents?

He doesn’t want to leave them. He’s not ready. By the gods does he have so much he wants to do still. So much he wants, no needs , to tell Lucas. But the darkness enveloping him is too powerful, he doesn’t have the strength to escape it anymore. 

Before he falls into the deep abyss, the words fall off Mark’s tongue. 

“Tell them... I’m sorry…” 

Chapter Text

Lucas steps through the rift right as Mark slumps to the ground in a bloody heap, arrow poking out of his chest.

The world comes to a slow halt.  He barrels forward, pushing mortal soldiers aside, and crashes to his knees at Mark’s side.  Blood seeps onto his hands.  Pain pours into his heart.

Someone says his name, but Lucas tunes it out.  Grappling with Mark, he snaps the arrow in half that pierced the mortal’s chest and pulls him into a hug.  But no heartbeat greets his embrace, and the warmth of Mark’s body falls cold with each passing moment.

He’s too late.  

Fire roars in his veins.  Tunnel vision drags his focus to the archers, where Mark’s killer awaits.

A roar rips out from his lungs, shaking the ground underneath them, and he charges forward, spear ready.  Soldiers scramble out of his way, cursing, fumbling over their feet, clawing at one another to get away.  Cracks form under each of his steps.  Godly powers crackle at his fingertips.

The archers shoot at him foolishly, ignorant of his presence.  In retaliation, Lucas launches his spear through them, pushing it through flesh and ripping at bone.  Flesh melts like putty under the heat of his power.  

Mark is dead.

When there are no archers left to kill, Lucas shifts his attention toward the frontline.  Greeks, Persians, and Italians alike all swarm in a bloody mass of blades and glory.

Mark is dead, and you killed him.

The spear flings back into his palm, and he thrusts it once again into the masses.  Mortal bones crunch.  Screams and cries of pain and terror.  It’s not enough.

Lucas lets out yet another roar of agony.  Above him, Jungwoo’s thunder shatters across the dark grey sky.  Yuta’s glowing arrows of plague rain down from above.  The spear of Achilles tears through flesh like a hot knife into butter.  Bodies drop at his feet.  

Flashes of moments between Mark and Lucas pass across his mind, fueling his rage and sorrow.

Their first meeting.  That awkward encounter between Mark and the trio of answer-seeking gods.  Doyoung strangling Mark for an answer.  Lucas’s lack of interest, before he vanished to the depths without a thought.

A stab, a splash of red.  Blood coats his armor like warpaint.

Running into one another in the forest.  Lucas, covered with wine dregs, stumbling with the last fleeting feelings of a hangover.  Mark, lost, following Shotaro under the guise of a short adventure.  The brief trip Lucas took to the market to pick up Mark’s groceries, if only to be nice for once.

Hands claw at his arms.  His vision turns red, blurry at the edges.

Accidentally rifting with Mark tumbling into his legs, bringing the both of them to Lucas’s palace in the sky.  Panic raging at his core before he sent Mark back to the mortal realm.  

Heat burns.  His vision stings.  He can’t be burdened with the mortal urge to cry.  Mark must be avenged; there is no time yet to mourn.

Coming back down to the mortal realm and getting whisked away to Atlantis, where everything seemed to change.  The moment that Lucas realized that Mark felt something more, and the shock he felt at the realization that he, too, felt the same.  

It will never be enough.  

Lucas may be the fiery-hearted god of war, but he functions on anger for a reason.  He suffers under mortal emotions and he feels them to their fullest.  And it is for this reason that Lucas refrains from getting attached to the race of man, because he as a god cannot afford to hurt this much.

But he gave in for Mark, who is more than just a mortal, and always will be. 

Ripping the spear from a fallen soldier, Lucas rises to the air, dripping with guts and gore.  Above the ground, he lets out one last roar of anguish before stomping back down, annihilating the straggling soldiers on the battlefield.  No living soul remains.  Even the grass under his feet is pale and dry with death.

Shadows from Jaemin’s realm begin to form at the edges of the war zone.  Lucas, thrumming with emotion, turns his attention back to where Mark lays.

Mark’s body is gone.

Panic surges in his system.  He rips off his helmet and charges forward as if doing so will bring Mark’s body back to where it is supposed to be.  Yet the clearing remains completely empty and splattered with Mark’s blood.

Lucas falls to his knees.  His palms meet the ground, spear forgotten at his side.

“Where…” Lucas huffs out, fingers digging into the ground.  Mark-- he should still be here, he can’t be--

“Sungchan took him away.”

Lucas doesn’t have to look up to know who the figure beside him is.  Instead, he remains still, jaw clenched.

“I told him to,” Renjun clarifies.  A hand lands on Lucas’s shoulder, cold and comforting. 

No.

“Where is he?” 

“Lucas,” Renjun offers sadly.  “He’s gone.”

“No,” Lucas counters.  Mark can’t be, he can’t-- “Where did he take him?  Where--”

“ Lucas.  He’s gone.”

For some strange reason, Lucas can’t breathe.  Something strange bubbles up in his throat.  His vision blurs.

“I told Sungchan not to bury him yet,” Renjun continues after a beat.  “Just to get his body out of the fray.  But that doesn’t mean--”

“I need to go to him,” Lucas interjects, frantic.  As he stumbles over his words, Renjun’s expression softens.  The god of battle strategy crouches down beside him.  “I need to… I have to…”

He pushes himself off the ground.  Renjun moves in front of him, blocking his path.  There’s no sign of Sungchan.  No sign of anyone, really, since everyone is dead.

“He’s dead, Lucas,” Renjun reiterates.  “He’s not here anymore.”

“I know that,” Lucas seethes.  “But I--”

“There’s not enough time.”  Renjun steps in front of him again.  “Go to him.”

“I’m trying--”

“In the Underworld, idiot!  Go, before he vanishes amongst the shades in Elysium!”  The god of battle strategy pushes him back, eyes soft but expression hard.  “We’ll take care of his body up here.”

Lucas doesn’t bother to wipe off the blood and tears.  Frantically, he rifts to the place he briefly called home, heart yearning for Mark.

Chapter Text

Mark looks around the expanse of darkness. 

How did he get here? Wasn’t he just fighting in the war?

Stumbling his way forward, Mark heads toward a patch of light he sees up ahead. Maybe this is his way out. Tripping over loose stones, scrambling over large boulders, Mark works his way forward. He keeps his arms outstretched because the darkness is so thick that he can’t see past his own hands. 

As soon as he passes the threshold, both Mark’s eyes and ears hurt. 

Eyes from the sudden change in light. Although still pretty dimmed in reality, anything would beat the pitch black he just experienced. And ears from the screams. The screams of agony coming from all those wandering around the rocky area. 

Mark looks around with wide eyes. 

Was he caught by the enemy? Is this some sort of prison camp? 

Hugging his arms around his torso in an effort to feel safer, Mark slowly makes his way through everyone in the hopes to find some comfort. After making eye contact with one man, whose face is completely disfigured and is missing an arm, Mark firmly keeps his eyes on the ground. 

Is that Mark’s fate if he stays at this camp any longer? 

When he is further into the rocky terrain, Mark starts to make out a voice. 

“Alright, everyone! I can only pass you on if you have coins. No money, no trip!” 

It is then that Mark feels two obols in his palm. Weird. Since when was he holding them? 

Nearing closer, Mark decides to push through the crowd of people. If he has coins, then maybe this is his way out? Cries of anguish burst through his ears and he holds his hands tight to his chest as he feels people clawing at him in the hopes of nabbing his money. 

This place must be horrendous for these people to be so desperate. 

It isn’t till he’s nearing the front does he recognise the voice. 

Chenle? 

Mark’s heart soars. Surely Chenle will recognise him. With this money as well, Mark should be out of this wretched prison camp in no time. 

“Chenle! Chenle! It’s me! Mark!” Mark cries out, hoping he will be heard over the chaos. 

Chenle’s head whips to Mark hearing his shout and his face drops. 

Why does he look so upset? Surely this is a good thing? Mark is about to get out! 

“Mark…” Chenle calls out, reaching forward and pulling Mark forward. Others try to latch onto Mark to be brought forward as well but he manages to shake them off. 

“What is this place?” Mark huffs out. “Even for the Persians isn’t this pretty cruel to do to us?” 

“Oh Mark, this isn’t a prison camp like that…” Chenle states, “Look around you. Like really look around you.” 

And Mark does. He doesn’t see it at first but then he starts to notice things. Like how one man is somehow still moving with his head hanging on by a thread. Or how another is able to drag himself forward by the arms, his legs completely missing. 

“Wha...What is this place?” Mark stutters, his breathing starting to pick up. “Chenle? Where am I?” 

“Mark, I’m sorry… Just look...” 

Mark hesitantly looks to where Chenle is pointing at his chest and gasps in horror at what he sees, his vision blurring. Right through his heart is a gaping wound that is jagged around the edges. Dried blood is splattered across his shirt as evidence of the attack that took place. 

It all comes back to Mark at once. The battle. That young kid dying. The one second feeling safe seeing Sungchan, then pushing him away the next. Pain. So much pain. 

Mark’s dead …

Mark looks back at Chenle through unshed tears and feels like he could collapse. “This is a joke right? I can’t be dead. Not yet.”

“See those coins?” Chenle gently asks, putting a hand on Mark’s shoulder. Mark sniffs and nods in response. “Those are from someone who placed them on you for a safe passage. They wanted to make sure you’d have a great afterlife.”

Mark can’t hold back the tears anymore, so overcome with emotion over everything that is now lost. His parents are now without a son. And he failed to tell Lucas everything he wanted to. Does he even know he’s dead? Does he even care? 

“But.” Chenle starts again, pulling Mark out of his thoughts. “It’s my duty to pass on souls to Taemin who are able to continue to Elysium. And you, Mark Lee, are not allowed to move from this spot just yet. There’s someone I need to get quickly.” 

With a wink, Chenle zooms off, leaving Mark alone again in the screams and the darkness. He takes a couple steps away from the mob and falls to the ground. Shakily looking down at his chest again, it really sinks in how much he fucked up. But, before he can break down into a storm of tears Chenle is speeding back. And he’s back with someone else, who's accompanied by a freakishly, terrifyingly huge dog. 

The man steps onto the rocky ground in all his glory, the dog snarling at anyone that gets too close. All the souls who are penniless scatter in a haste. The deafening screams turn to silence. Even darkness seems to cower away in fear. 

He leisurely makes his way over to Mark and Chenle. The hound makes the ground shake as he follows behind his master. 

“Ah, I see what you are saying Chenle.” The man comments, his eyes lighting up in recognition. “This just won’t do. I can take it from here. Why don’t you get back to work?” 

Mark looks between the two as Chenle nods. But before leaving he leans down to give Mark a gentle pat on the shoulder and whispers, “No need to be scared of him Mark by the way. It’s all an act to cover up how much of a doofus he really is.” 

Mark looks at him and back to the man and the beastly dog. Funnily enough, he’s inclined to not believe him till he’s seen that for himself. 

Chenle whisks to a clear area across the terrain, closer to the water now where Mark can make out a gloomy figure in a cloak standing on a boat. That must be Taemin then. Ready to take those who can make it to the afterlife. 

“You know…” The man starts, looking at where Chenle is dealing with the masses of souls as well. “Once you get onto the boat there’s no going back. That’s it. Not even I could bring you back if I wanted to.” 

Mark wipes his eyes. The tears have mostly dried up at this point, but they are now all red and itchy. “Why are you telling me this? And who are you?”  

The man looks at Mark with an amused grin. “You really live up to your reputation huh? I’m a bit hurt though, we have met before. Even if it was just briefly.” Mark widens his eyes in realisation as he’s taken back to that fateful day that changed his life forever. “I’m Jaemin, god of this whole fucking place.” 

“I remember… sorry I forgot.” Mark mutters. “Maybe it’s to do with me being, you know, dead.” 

“No hard feelings.” Jaemin waves it off. He then looks at Mark with a smirk. “But in regards to your other question. Well, let’s just wait a little bit longer before I say anything.” 

Chapter Text

The Underworld palace is just as fiery and intimidating as Lucas remembers.  Screams of the damned welcome him as he spawns just outside of the main chamber where Jaemin likely awaits.

With heavy steps, Lucas takes no time at all to break into a sprint, booking it toward the grand archway and skidding in on the marble floor.  Ironically, Jaemin must’ve sensed him, for the god of the dead collides with him right in the entryway.  Jaemin stumbles back and Lucas grabs his arms in a death grip.

“Where is he?” Lucas pants out, eyes wide.  Jaemin collects himself and nods. 

“He’s over by Jeno, here,” Jaemin shoots back.  He grabs Lucas’s arm and tugs him into the massive chamber.  Fire licks at the large windows beyond the throne.  Gaunt figures soar past, eternally stuck in perpetual winds.  By the hearth, Jeno relaxes in his dog form on his couch with Mark perched by his side, hand stroking the black fur.  

For a moment, Lucas can’t find any words.

Mark, poor Mark, with the pallor of his skin and the blood at his center, looks devastated.  Red rimmed eyes and sniffles allude to a previous bout of tears, and Lucas wants to stab himself for ever making Mark feel this way.

But he’s still Mark, adorable, responsible, kind Mark, and somehow, for some reason, he’s here, and not lost amidst the suffering souls of the damned.

Jaemin steps back and Lucas breaks the silence.

“Mark.”

Mark’s head jerks up at the sound of Lucas’s voice and his eyes widen.  Clumsily, he rises to his feet.  But Lucas takes no time in waiting.  He rushes forward and pulls Mark into a tight hug, heart pounding with relief and guilt.

“Lucas,” Mark breathes, and Lucas breaks.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.  You don’t deserve this.  It’s all my fault.  I-- I didn’t stop the war earlier, and I-- I should’ve been there for you, and you-- I’m so sorry.”

That strange watery feeling is back.  Heat burns at his eyes.  

Mark’s arms wind around Lucas and squeeze.  He presses his face into Lucas’s chest, only to pull back at the cold armor that meets his skin.  Instead, he gazes up at Lucas with a soft, sad smile.  

“It’s okay,” Mark says.  “You’re here now.”

“It’s not okay,” Lucas replies.  Why can’t he see?  He blinks, hoping for the blur to go away, but it only causes streams of hot tears to drip down his face.  “It’s not okay!  We-- I’m going to fix this for you, Mark, I have to, this isn’t fair--”

“Lucas, you’re crying.”  Mark’s voice is soft, uncertain.  

“Fuck.”  Wiping at his eyes, Lucas starts pacing, yanking at the pieces of his armor that remain and throwing them onto the floor.  Jeno yelps and hurries out of the way.  “Fuck, this is all my fault.”

Mark waits until Lucas has no armor left to chuck before approaching him again, this time initiating the embrace.  There’s no cold metal to separate them, now.  When Mark speaks next, his icy dying breath hits the edge of Lucas’s arm. 

“It’s not your fault.”

But it is.  It is, and Lucas fucked up, and now Mark is dead.  

“I’m a mortal,” Mark continues.  “We all die at some point, right?  I mean, even if it wasn’t in a war, it could’ve been a different battle, or like, disease, or old age.  So it’s okay.”

Lucas shakes his head.  “I’m going to fix it.”

“I… I don’t think you can,” Mark replies, soft.  “But thanks.  Really.  For everything.”

Why do these sound like Mark’s last words?  Lucas tightens his hold as if that will make a difference.  As if he can pump life back into Mark’s heart and heal the massive wound.

“I was pretty upset that I didn’t have a chance to tell you everything, but now I do, so.  Here goes.”  There’s a beat.  Mark clears his throat.  “You kind of changed my life.  In a good way!  But you did, and… I think I have a better understanding of myself now.  My life had been so plain and boring before you all showed up, and yeah, maybe it took me an embarrassing amount of time to figure out that gods are real, but I’m so glad I did.  I’m so glad I met you, Lucas.  You have no idea.”

“I think I do,” Lucas mumbles into Mark’s hair.  The words go unheard as Mark continues.

“You’re probably the most interesting person I’ve ever met, and I don’t just mean because you’re a god.  I mean, it’s part of it, but… you’ve got a really special soul, I think.  There isn’t a thing about you that I don’t like, and I like you more than I should.  Like, it’s… I love you, Lucas.  So.  Thank you for being a part of my life.  I know you’re a god, and that’s a lot, and I’m dead now, but… I really enjoyed the time we shared together.  Those were probably some of my happiest days, and I’m so glad you were there with me.”

If Lucas didn’t think he was crying, he definitely was now.  Never before in his godly life had he ever felt the mortal urge to sob, and here he is, clutching Mark like a lifeline, as though he’s the one who died.  As though this is their last moment together.

“I’m--” Lucas begins, fumbling for words.  “We’re going to fix this, okay?”  

Why is he so afraid?

“You’re not going to die, not like this.  You’re not going to leave me.”

Why does everything hurt so bad?  Why does his heart feel like it's been wrenched from his chest?  Why does he feel like his world is ending?  

“Please don’t leave me-- I-- I--”

Oh.

Maybe he hadn’t quite understood before, but he certainly knows now.  

“I love you,” Lucas blurts, definitely not nearly as composed as Mark had.  Emotion wracks his voice into a sob.  “I love you, and I hurt you, and I’m going to fix this, and it’s going to be okay, okay?”

Mark doesn’t reply, instead nodding against his chest.  The two remain like that, eyes red with tears and hearts hurting.  

Eventually, they slump to the ground, glued together.  Crackling from the hearth breaks the quiet.  Neither Jaemin nor Jeno are in sight.

It will be okay.  Lucas-- he’ll figure something out, he has to.  This isn’t the first time a mortal has died when they weren’t supposed to, right?  Surely, some other god will have an answer or an idea?  Because the idea of Mark fading away and getting lost among the souls of Elysium is only remotely more comforting than him turning into a soul of the damned, but it still sickens Lucas.  As the god of war, the realm of Elysium is not necessarily open to him.  Mark will be dragged away from Lucas forever, and Lucas, like all other gods before him, will be forced to move on, and likely take his anger out on some poor unsuspecting mortal, and maybe he’ll turn them into a tree or some shit or--

No.  If it means moving back in with Jaemin, and losing his throne, his house, his position of power, Lucas will do it.  Lucas will do anything to stay with Mark.  Anything.

Two sets of footsteps echo from the entryway.  Lucas has no idea how long they’ve been sitting here.

“Fucking hell, Lucas, what’d you do up there?  Perform a goddamn massacre?  I’ve only got so many guys, and now the line’s all backed up, and Taemin is getting an attitude-- oh, we’re still doing this,” Jaemin drawls, disinterested.  

Lucas raises a hand to flip Jaemin off but doesn’t bother to look up.

“It’s not the end of the world,” Jeno says, startling all three people for several reasons.

“I mean,” Jaemin begins, raising an eyebrow.  “It sort of is.”

“Fuck you,” Lucas spits, glaring at the dog-man.  

Mark, on the other hand, seems to be having a mini-crisis.  “Wait, who are you?  And what happened to that dog?”

Jeno blinks, glancing between the three of them.  “What about Jaehyun?”

“What about Jaehyun?” Lucas is not having it.  He’s trying to enjoy his last moments with Mark, thank you very much, and thinking about his annoying roommate is not going to fly. 

“Well, he was mortal once, right?  And Johnny got him deified, so he didn’t die,” Jeno explains.  “I don’t know the specifics, since I wasn’t there, but…”

Wait.  Holy shit.  How could Lucas forget?  He literally bashes Jaehyun all the time for being a not-god.  Abruptly, Lucas springs up.  “Wait, no, you’re right.  Was he… was he dead, though?”  He glances toward Mark apologetically, but Mark doesn’t seem too perturbed.

Jeno shrugs.  “I don’t know.”

“He definitely was,” Jaemin says, suddenly remembering.  He lifts a finger, dwelling on a thought.  “He definitely died.  I remember, it was a big deal.”

“How’d Johnny do it, then?  What’d he do?” Lucas asks.

Jaemin shrugs, too.  “I don’t know, I don’t leave this place.  I can’t remember the last time I was in Olympus.  It’s so bright up there, I don’t know how you can stand it--”

“ Jaemin.”

“Right, sorry,” Jaemin says, sheepish.  “You could ask him, or you could just take Mark with you to Olympus.  Jungwoo’s the only one with the power to do that.  Just be careful, if you lose Mark he’ll be lost forever--”

“I’m not going to lose him,” Lucas insists.  “I can’t.  Not again.”

Frantically, he grabs Mark’s wrist and tugs him to his feet.  Lucas opens a rift, but before he steps through it, he looks toward Mark.

“Are you okay with this?” he asks.

Mark nods, slowly.  “I’ve been wondering what Olympus looks like.”

“Okay,” Lucas says.  The issue lies with Jungwoo, now, and Lucas can only hope that his father is feeling generous.  “Okay.”  He sucks in a breath, then turns to Jaemin and flashes a smile.  “Thanks, Jaemin.”

“Best of luck, Lucas.”  The god of the dead and his pet dog both offer waves.  Lucas grabs Mark’s hand and pulls him through the rift, heart beating with hope.

Chapter Text

Lucas loves him?

Ever since hearing those words fall from Lucas’s mouth, Mark has been in a state of shock. His initial reaction was to ping off the walls buzzing with excitement, but that was quickly replaced with a crushing fear. All he wanted to do was make sure Lucas knew how he felt. To pass on leaving behind no regrets. But now he has to leave knowing that Lucas feels exactly the same way. What did he do in his past life to deserve such a tragic ending to this one? 

Mark looks up at Lucas, who is dragging him down an ornately decorated corridor. His mouth set in a straight line with determination and Mark’s heart once again skips a beat with dangerous hope.

Mark wasn’t able to take in the majority of the last conversation they had in the underworld. He was too preoccupied not only with still getting his head around the whole Lucas loves him thing and how the dog he was petting the one minute was the next a dude. 

All he knows is that Lucas has some sort of plan, and it involved coming to Olympus. 

As they near a set of insanely large doors Lucas slows down slightly and looks back to Mark, clutching his hand even tighter. 

“Do you trust me?” 

Mark doesn’t even hesitate. “Of course.” 

Giving Mark’s hand another squeeze, Lucas used his spare hand to throw the doors wide open and storm through them. A huge crash resounds and if anyone didn’t know of their presence before, they definitely did now. 

The room they have just marched into makes Mark feel like a tiny ant. Huge seats sit high up from the floor on platforms. Columns rise all the way up to the ceiling, so big Mark would have to take a small walk around them if he wanted to get a 360 view. Up on the ceiling seems to be a mural of the gods and Mark takes a moment to be proud of himself when not only does he realise it’s them fighting the titans but he is able to pick out Lucas straight away. Gold isn’t sparsely used as the whole room glitters with it, the light bouncing off any surface it touches. 

Mark is brought back to the matter at hand at Lucas’s cry, “Father! Please, you must listen to my request.” 

Mark then spots Jungwoo, seated in the far centre of the room. He leans back, placing his arms on the side of the chair before stating “Go on.” 

“I know I have been neglecting my duties and I am responsible for so much bloodshed.” Lucas starts. Mark can feel Lucas’s hand shaking which is still firmly in his grasp. 

“Hm, yes. Not only for the lives you left alone all these months, but for all the Persians and Greeks alike you massacred today. How do you intend to prove yourself if you can’t contain your anger?” 

What? Mark brings his eyes to Lucas who has gone a bit slack himself. It didn’t come up in their short reunion just a while ago, but did Lucas make it to the battle? 

What did he do? 

“You’re right. I wasn’t in control.” Lucas states. “Punish me however you want. But just please if you only listen to one thing, listen to this. My whole existence has been nothing but violence, bloodshed, and getting piss drunk on my days off. I am sorry, I really am, but I had just lost the one person who… who…” Lucas takes a jagged breath and looks to Mark, his eyes brimming with tears. “Made me feel something other than all that anger and pain. And it was my fault that it all happened. Please, I’m begging you, do what you want but please bring him back to me.”

Tears start to stream down Lucas’ face yet he still holds it high, showing no sign of backing down. Mark inches forward enough so that he can clasp his other hand around the hand Lucas is still holding him with. Unable to find any words, Mark buries his face into Lucas’s side. If Lucas isn’t able to convince them then Mark is going to savour this physical contact as much as he can. 

“And” Jungwoo begins, looking at them sternly. “How do you expect me to be able to do that? We should never mess with the fates you know.” 

“Well what if this is his fate!” Lucas yells. “Deify him, Jungwoo. I know you have the power to.”

Deify him? Mark’s face turns to one of shock, but no one sees as he’s still firmly tucked away against Lucas. Does Lucas really think Mark has what it takes to be a god of sorts? He’s clumsy, messy, and until a couple of months ago, he knew fuck all about them. 

Jungwoo doesn’t look convinced. “And you think just because you have feelings for this mortal is good enough reason to take such drastic measures?” 

“Fuck yes!” Is Lucas’s desperate reply. Mark leans back to look at Lucas as the god of war lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Hell, if Johnny was allowed to have Jaehyun deified just because he thought he was too much of a good lay to not have anymore, then I think my plea is more than a good enough reason.”

Mark looks at Jungwoo with wide eyes. Surely… Surely that means there’s hope then? It can happen? He doesn’t know the first thing about being a god. But if he’s given the chance to keep living, have a life with Lucas, then he’ll spend the rest of his time proving that it was the right choice to do this. 

He feels Lucas’s hand on his cheek and swivels to look at him who is looking at him like Mark just gifted him the moon. 

“What?” Mark whispers. 

Lucas laughs, his eyes shining, and whispers back. “You just said that all out loud”. 

Well, shit. 

Mark smiles hesitantly and looks back to Jungwoo who is looking at them with an odd expression on his face. It’s at this point too that Mark takes in all the others that are present. Many of whom he’s actually already met. He meets fond eyes, some even tearing up themselves. Such as Haechan who is dabbing his eyes with a tissue, babbling to Hendery at how he is so proud of his little protege. 

Then Jungwoo’s booming voice cuts through the tender atmosphere. “How far are you willing to go for this?” 

Lucas stands up tall next to Mark and looks at his father dead in the eye. “Anything. I’ll take whatever you wish to give me. Even if that means giving Jaehyun my seat.” 

Shocked murmurs ripple through the room at his statement. Even Jungwoo seems taken aback. Mark isn’t sure what ‘giving up his seat’ implies but from the reaction it doesn’t sound like anything good. 

“I see.” Jungwoo states after some thought. “Well if that’s what you’re willing to do then --”

“Oh shut the fuck up Jungwoo!” Doyoung cries out from his seat. “Don’t you think you’ve put our son through enough of this nonsense?” 

Mark looks at the irate god with his mouth wide open. Lucas having a similar reaction as well. 

“Doyoung, love, I just wanted to make sure --” 

“Bullshit!” Doyoung screams, “If you don’t tell Lucas and Mark right now what we had already discussed. You will be in the spare room for 2 weeks!” 

If Mark wasn’t so confused at the turn of events, he’d be in a fit of laughter from how pale Jungwoo goes from the threat. 

“Okay! Okay!” Jungwoo scrambles out, getting out of his chair to calm down his pissed off husband himself. 

When Doyoung is breathing more calmly again and has regained enough composure to sit down, Jungwoo turns back to the pair. Lucas having moved to stand behind Mark, caging him in with his arms. He’s that much taller than Mark that he also props his head on top of Mark’s. 

Mark has no complaints. 

“Chenle had already filled us in.” Jungwoo admits from his high up position. “And we had already come to the decision before you walked in.” 

Mark feels his palms begin to sweat, his heart rate rising. He wants to look at Lucas but he finds himself unable to tear his eyes away from Jungwoo. This is it. The decision is entirely out of his hands and lays right in the palm of the king of the gods. The rest of eternity in Elysium or as a god. 

A peaceful afterlife or an unpredictable life with Lucas. 

There’s no competition in Mark’s eyes. 

Even if the tides go against him, he’ll continue to love the god of war past the grave.

It will always be Lucas. Whether it’s joyful, crazy, sad, or vengeful. Always him. 

“I’m going to deify him. Right now.” 

Chapter Text

The deification ceremony is a very private thing, according to tradition, mostly due to the fact that deifying the soul means purging it of its mortality.  Since Mark is already dead, this process won’t be nearly as painful as it could be, but it certainly won’t be pretty.

Even still, Lucas pushes his way through, demanding to accompany Mark through it all.  Haechan, Doyoung, Kun, and Jungwoo all seem very reluctant at first, but after all falling victim to Mark’s puppy eyes, they permit the violation of tradition.  

And it is painful.  Flashing lights and agonizing screams as Mark’s body must rebuild itself, this time in the form of a god.  Lucas looks away, heart aching with empathy, but he refuses to leave.

When the process ends, the other gods vacate the room, leaving Lucas alone with the freshly deified Mark.  Slowly but surely, the color returns to his face, and the lingering signs of death and pain fade away.  He gazes up at Lucas with amazement.

“I feel… weightless,” is the first thing Mark says.  He glances down at his hands, clenching his fingers.  “Like I can do anything.”

Mark glows with godly radiance, eyes bright.  Lucas beams at him.  “You can.”

“Weird,” Mark replies.  His smile grows as his curiosity builds.  “So, like.  Can I fly?”

Lucas blinks at him, amused.  “Have you ever seen me fly?”

“Well, no, but you do that portal thing.  How do you do that?”

Shaking his head, Lucas offers his hand.  “I’ll teach you, maybe some other day.  Come on, there’s something I want to show you.”

While Mark underwent the deification process, several of the other gods, led by Taeil, offered the help of their minions to construct Mark’s place of residence.  As they are gods and mortal toils pertain not to them, the house took literally no time at all to build.  And better yet, it’s only a short trek from Lucas’s Crimson Palace, making them neighbors.

The two of them take time to stroll along Olympus’s winding roads, passing by minor deities and mythical creatures.  Cloudy pink skies and floating waterfalls of turquoise loom overhead.  The air smells sweeter up here, the stars shine brighter.  And Mark takes it all in like a sponge, awe coating his features.

They pass by Lucas’s home only to stop at the top of a hill.  The path slopes downwards from here, toward rolling plains and milling creatures.  Toward the center of the clearing sits a cobblestone cottage with a thatched roof.  Although a bit larger in size, the building itself strongly resembles Mark’s home in the mortal realm.  

“That’s your new home,” Lucas says, gesturing toward the quaint cottage.  “Think it fits the new god of adventure?”

Mark, speechless, turns to Lucas.  “Wait, for real?  That’s-- that’s for me?”

“Yeah.  Want to go check it out?”

Enthusiastically, Mark nods, and the two of them scramble down the hill.

*

The proceeding days pass by in a blur.

Since Lucas’s house is currently not solely his own and is painted from the ceiling to the floor in grotesque murals, he spends most of his time over at Mark’s whenever the new god will have him.  However, since everyone on Olympus has suddenly gained an affinity for the ex-mortal, this usually means that by the time Lucas shows up, some other random deity is rambling to Mark about their day or godly annoyances.  But Mark takes it all in stride, happy to be surrounded by Lucas’s disastrous family.

On one particular day, Lucas wakes up to Ten looming in his face.  The god of war jolts upright, nearly knocking into his grinning godly brother.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Ten greets.  “Rise and shine.  You’ve got a big day ahead of you.”

“What?” Lucas blurts, half awake.  Maybe sleep isn’t necessary for the gods, but since Mark is still adapting to a non-mortal schedule and still bothers to sleep and eat regular meals, Lucas figures hey, he might as well, too.  It’s not like there’s an active war going on or anything, anymore.

“That’s right!” Yuta cheers, lurking over in Lucas’s closet, yanking at random fabrics and whatnot.  “We haven’t gotten to meet your boy yet, so you’re taking us with you and introducing us.”

Things are happening so fast.  Jaehyun appears in the doorway, Johnny at his side.  The two are joking about something that Lucas couldn’t be bothered to figure out.  Instead, he resists the urge to slump back in his bed and throw an arm over his head.

“Up, up!” Ten urges, yanking at Lucas’s arm.  “We’ve all been on our best behavior, but it’s been like a week, and you still haven’t let us meet your boyfriend, so let’s go!”

Lucas scoffs.  “Do you ever think that there might, I don’t know, be a reason why?”

“No, not at all,” Ten quickly counters.  “Because we’re definitely the worst of the bunch.  It’s not like Chenle’s trying to become Mark’s new best friend, or Haechan's attempting to hire him, or Hendery keeps inviting him back to Atlantis or anything.  And here we are, horrible, respecting your space.  I can’t believe it.”

“Oh, fuck off.  Fine.  Give me a minute.”

As Lucas shrugs off his covers, Ten waves his arms, pushing everyone out of the room.  “Clear out everyone, he’s moving!  Let’s give him space to get sexy!”

Oh, fuck, now his face is burning.  “I’m not--”

Yuta wolf whistles.  “Wear some black and red, it’s a good combo for you.”

“Oh, yeah, do that,” Jaehyun agrees. 

“Can you guys fuck off?”  He’s burning for real now.  

“We’ll meet you downstairs,” Ten says with a wink, pushing the crowd into the hallway.  Lucas flips him off and quickly dons some clothes (ignoring the fact that they happen to be red and black), then meets his horde of obnoxious friends downstairs.

After several rounds of teasing and thinly veiled threats, the group of five appear at Mark’s doorstep.  Lucas can’t help the smile that blossoms on his face.  Jaehyun and Yuta whisper excitedly behind him as he lifts a fist to knock.

Within mere seconds, Mark flings open the door, grinning wide.  From what Lucas can tell, no other god has come knocking today.  

“Hey,” Mark greets, opening his mouth to continue.  Then his eyes land on the four smiling gods behind Lucas, and he pauses.  Blinks.  “I don’t think I’ve met some of you before?”

“You can blame Lucas for that,” Ten says, pushing his way forward and taking Mark’s hand in an unexpected handshake.  “Hi, I’m Ten, the god of wine and partying and all that.  So great to finally meet you!”  He keeps shaking Mark’s hand as he turns to Lucas, a knowing glint in his eye.  “Wow, Xuxi, you really know how to pick them.  He is cute.”

Lucas gapes at Ten, heat rushing to his face.  Before Ten can embarrass him further, Yuta steps forward and takes Mark’s recently freed hand.

“I’m Yuta!  God of music, poetry, healing, plague, yada yada.  Who cares.  I’d like to personally thank you for making Lucas less of a prick because he was sort of unbearable at times in the past, so like--”

“Hey!” Lucas exclaims, pushing at Yuta.  

Johnny takes this opportunity to introduce himself.  “Johnny.  God of love and desire.  You’re welcome.”

Now, Mark too is blushing, eyes wide.  “Wait, for what?”

“For blessing you with my presence, obviously--”

“Get the fuck out,” Lucas interrupts Johnny.  Ten snorts with laughter, tugging his boyfriend aside just to slap his arm repeatedly.  Yuta shakes his head in amused disappointment.  

Last but not least, Jaehyun steps up.  He offers Mark a sheepish smile.

“Hey,” he says.  “I’m Jaehyun.  Um.  I don’t know if you know this, but, well.  I was like you, once.  Mortal, I mean.  So if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m uh… here.  It’s been a while, but--”

“No, yeah, that’s cool.  Thanks, I appreciate it.”  Mark beams at the other ex-mortal, then his brows pull together.  “Wait, aren’t you Lucas’s roommate?”

“Oh, ha, yeah, about that…” Jaehyun trails off. 

“Don’t worry, when you and Xuxi want to get married, Jaehyun can come live with me,” Yuta consoles, patting Mark’s shoulder.  “Just say the word!”

Fuck, now they’re both burning.  Lucas knew this sort of shit would happen.  He wishes he could have warned Mark to some capacity. 

But to Lucas’s surprise, Mark just rolls with it.  “Yeah, alright.  I’ll keep that in mind.  You guys want to come in?”

“Sure, thanks!” Ten replied, slipping in.  The other three uninvited guests pushed in and made themselves at home, leaving Lucas at the door to stare at Mark.

“Did you just--” Lucas starts, then shakes his head, making a mental note to think about Mark’s interest in living together later.  “Nevermind.  Sorry.  They kind of just showed up.”

“No, it’s good, I’m glad,” Mark says in reply, bashfully.  “I… like that I can be part of your life like this.  It’s nice.”

Lucas thinks he’s going to die.  His heart pounds and he suddenly doesn’t know what to say.

All he can offer is a shy, “Yeah, okay,” before grabbing Mark’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

*

Time flies.

Jungwoo, of course, makes a whole fuss about Lucas returning and getting back into the swing of his job.  The king of the gods complains one time too many about the significant lack of Jaehyun in the massive chamber, to which Doyoung smacks Jungwoo up the head and tells Lucas to take his seat.

For a little while, all talks of war come to a stop.  Due to the massive-- and mysterious-- massacre, Greeks, Persians, and Italians alike avoid any talk of entering another war, instead choosing to deal with their issues in a diplomatic fashion.  This permits Lucas a bit of earned vacation time, and he uses it to help Mark get used to his new lifestyle as a god.

Mark’s role as the god of adventure is a loose but fascinating title.  With his new responsibilities, he is oddly intuitive to the journeys of mortals below.  He can either aid or hinder the travels of heroes and merchants alike.  In addition, this role means that Mark has the rest of eternity to travel the world.

The first place he decides to travel is his old home.

On one of the quiet days, when neither Mark nor Lucas has anything to do, Mark asks Lucas for a favor.

“Look, I know Jaehyun said going back to places you went as a mortal might fuck you up, but I… I really want to see my parents.  Just so I can let them know that I’m okay.  And I need you to come with me.  Sort of because I haven’t figured out that rifting thing you do, but also… I don’t want to do this alone.”

Lucas nods in understanding.  Mark hasn’t mentioned his parents once since arriving in Olympus, but Lucas figured this part of the transition was inevitable.  Despite only having met Kai and Baekhyun once, Lucas knows how close Mark had been with his parents.

“Yeah, of course.  Want to go now?”

Mark nods.  “If that’s okay with you.”

With only a moment’s hesitation, Lucas opens a rift in the space between them.  Mark takes his hand, and they walk through together, reappearing on the ground a few yards away from where Mark’s old cottage awaits.

Gray skies and low-hanging clouds cast the world in a somber glow.  The grass beneath them crunches with each step.  A thin plume of smoke rises from the chimney.  Sheep bleat across the pasture.

“Go ahead,” Lucas says.  “I’m right behind you.”

Mark doesn’t move at first, eyes glued to the cottage where his parents await.  Then he nods, glances at Lucas one last time, and begins his trek toward the house.

Outside the door, Mark hesitates.  He raises a hand to knock.  There’s no response right away until a sorrowful Kai opens the door.  Although Lucas is close enough to eavesdrop, he chooses not to.  Whatever Mark says results in Kai throwing his arms around his lost son.  Baekhyun appears in the doorway behind him, and instantly the three huddle in an emotional embrace.

Mark’s parents pull him inside for a proper reunion.  He glances over his shoulder at Lucas, who offers a soft smile and a wave.

“He’s a good one,” Jungwoo’s voice breaks the quiet, startling Lucas out of his train of thought.  “You’ve done well, son.”

Lucas stares at Jungwoo for a beat before he turns his attention back to the house in front of them.  “Yeah, he really is.”

Jungwoo pats his back.  Gazes up at the sky.  “Dear heavens, this weather is horrendous.”

“That’s all on you,” Lucas shoots back.  

“Only partially.  You know, now that everything is said and done, we can finally turn back to the problem at hand.”

Lucas whirls around once again to stare at him, but this time, in bewilderment.  “What the fuck do you mean, ‘the problem at hand?’  I thought the war was the problem?”

“Eh, sort of.  Definitely part of it.  The real issue is the fact that Xiaojun’s still missing.”

“You’re kidding me,” Lucas blurts.  “That’s not my problem.  Go bother Chenle or someone else.”  A pause, then, “He’s not even missing?”

Jungwoo waves a hand in dismissal.  “Yeah, Kun’s still on my ass about it.  I figure we’ll have to sort some deal out.  There’s that prophecy that says Xiaojun’s destined to stay down there for some indeterminate amount of time, or whatever, so… that probably has something to do with it.”

“I literally do not care,” Lucas replies, tone rising.  He wishes Jungwoo would just fuck off and let him have his moment, but the king of the gods can’t catch a hint.  

“I can catch a hint,” Jungwoo retorts.  “I’m just choosing to ignore it.  Since my favorite loser son is back, now I’ve got all the opportunity to properly harass you.”

This conversation must have been going on longer than Lucas thought, for when he glances back toward Mark’s cottage, he finds the door opening.  Mark hugs his parents one more time before stepping back with a tiny wave.  

“Go the fuck away,” Lucas seethes at Jungwoo.  “Harass me later.”

“Jeez, so salty,” Jungwoo teases, vanishing in a cloudy rift.  Thunder rumbles overhead.  The scent of rain hangs heavy on the air.

Mark hurries over with red-rimmed eyes and sniffles.  He smiles at Lucas shyly.

“How was it?” 

Shrugging, Mark tries to play off the reunion.  “Good.  Yeah.  I really miss them.”

“You can always come back and visit,” Lucas reminds him.

“Yeah, I know.”  He shifts his weight from foot to foot.  Then he steps into Lucas’s space and plants a kiss right on his mouth.  Quick and chaste, but it sends them both into blushing messes.  Lucas blinks at Mark as he steps back.  

“Hey, wait,” Lucas says.  He closes the distance between them and kisses Mark again.  Mark sighs into it, and Lucas wraps his arms around him.  

At the first drop of rain, they break apart with giggles and flushed faces.  

Mark clears his throat.  Bites his lip.  Then says, “Thank you.”

This makes Lucas blush even more.  “For-- for the kiss?  Mark, we can--”

“No, you dolt,” Mark quickly replies, face aflame.  “Well yeah, it was nice, but-- no, I mean.  Thank you for everything.”

Mark’s already said it, multiple times, but hearing the sentiment again sends Lucas’s heart racing.  

He would do anything for Mark, and he’d gladly do it all again.