Chapter Text
In the morning WingDings sets out again, noting the farmers harvesting their food in the fields he passes. The nights have been growing longer, and while the days are hot the nights are cool. It’s just a guess, but it’s probably late September or October. While WingDings tries to calculate the date, based on the position of the sun, the recent new moon and his location on the planet, an owl of all things flies past him.
Thinking it a little strange seeing an owl during the day, WingDings watches the elegant bird as it swoops past him and perches itself on one of the field posts marking one property from the other. WingDings watches the bird as he passes, but stops in front of him when the owl doesn’t move and just stares at him. Since it’s a beautiful bird and a rather picturesque view behind the animal with the miles of ripe fields and beautiful blue sky, WingDings whips out his phone and takes a picture.
The bird is kind enough not to move, posing for the picture without blinking.
Glad to have another picture added to his collection, WingDings returns his phone to his rib cage and continues on his way. As soon as he’s a yard away though, the owl takes off again and with impressive strength snatches at WingDings cloak. In a cry of surprise, WingDings raises his hands to try and scare the bird, but it only yanks harder, loosening the clasp and allowing the bird to fly away with his outer covering.
“I am not losing another cloak!” WingDings cries at the bird, giving chase as the owl takes off past the fields towards a shed. “Come back!” There are a few farmers who glance up to see the strange sight, but none of them do anything to help, shaking their heads and silently wishing better luck to the boy as he chases the crazy bird.
When the owl reaches the shed, it lands on a small opening at the top and waddles through, entering the shed.
Glaring at the animal, WingDings summons a golden bone, grabbing hold of the top and lifting himself a short distance to the little alcove at the top. Either this is a smart bird or another god is messing with him, probably the latter. With no fear, WingDings crawls through the opening and enters the shed filled with sacks of seeds and large jars. The gaps in the planks of wood are wide enough to keep darkness away, but WingDings still hesitates, his bravery faltering at the prospect of entering a space with only one exit.
Determined to get his cloak back, WingDings grits his teeth and shimmies inside, using a hand to land lightly on the floor. He finds his cloak dangling from a hook and quickly takes it down. Now that he isn’t chasing after the bird he is beginning to realize just how stupid this is.
But this realization comes a minute too late, when a spear pokes him in the spine. Fearing that Undyne has found him, WingDings summons a barrage of bones without turning around, but his attack is cut short when something cold and heavy snaps around his neck. Instantly his infinite magic is cut off and WingDings feels his limbs grow cold. When the spear disappears, WingDings spins around reaching up to feel the mysterious metal that has robbed him of his magic.
His fingertips graze a tight gold chain clasped around his neck, revealing an elegant necklace, embedded with jewels. He tries to lift the necklace up and over his skull, but the chain is too small to reach around his jaw. “What is this!” WingDings demands, looking up at a tall figure with soft features, short hair and hidden eyes.
The figure bears an uncanny resemblance to the statue of Athena WingDings saw in Athens nearly two weeks ago.
“A powerful ward crafted by Hephaestus,” Athena answers in a voice that is both deep and light. Despite their soft cadence there is power in their words, confidence and authority. “I can’t have you using magic to fight me.”
“I don’t want to fight you,” WingDings tells the god.
“Then I won’t have you running away,” Athena’s thin lips tip in a grin. Reaching past WingDings they remove the cloak from the peg and return it to the boy's shoulders. After that Athena disappears into a puff of feathers, before revealing the form of an owl. With great precision, Athena the owl lands on WingDings shoulder. “It’s time to leave.”
WingDings is extremely confused by Athena’s choices. Aren’t they here to take him away? How did they do that as an owl perched calmly on his shoulder. “Aren’t you capturing me?”
“I have,” Athena hoots beside him.
“I don’t have to do what you say,” WingDings says as he moves to the shed door. To his relief it has a latch and it swings open easily. He really should have used the door to begin with, he feels so stupid now. Fixing the hood atop his head, the boy walks out into the open and closes the door behind him. No one is paying him any mind, so he makes for the main road so he can continue on with his journey.
“You will obey me if you want your magic back,” Athena answers. “Only I or Hephaestus can remove the chain.”
“What do you want?” WingDings asks, trying not to feel intimidated by the tiny owl perched on him so naturally. It’s as if the owl were a part of his outfit.
“I want to spare the people of this curse,” Athena answers, a whistle of a hoot lingering at the end of every word. “But I also want to know my family’s agendas.”
“And that requires you being an owl on my shoulder?” WingDings asks.
“Yes,” Athena confirms.
Is this god really a god of war? WingDings isn’t so sure.
“Where are you headed, god of the dead,” Athena asks when they have been traveling a while in this manner.
“I’m traveling north west,” WingDings tells them, seeing no point in hiding this since it's pretty obvious what direction he is traveling in.
“Why are you traveling in this direction?” Athena asks. “Are you perhaps taking a journey to Cichyrus, the gateway to the underworld?”
“Something like that,” WingDings answers.
“There are faster ways to get to Cichyrus,” Athena informs their perch. Really he’s doing all the work here, Athena just gets to hitch a ride.
“I’m not exactly sure that’s where I’m headed,” WingDings sighs.
“How can you not know where you are going?” Athena’s word choice suggests that they are disappointed, but it is hard to tell without the fluctuation in their voice.
“Look it’s complicated,” WingDings grinds out, sagging his shoulders and forcing the owl to regain their balance by flapping their wings, thus whacking the skeleton boy in the skull several times. “Thanks.”
“Don’t sag your shoulders,” is Athena’s advice.
“Then don’t sit on my shoulders,” WingDings growls.
In reply Athena hops off his shoulder and with a few gentle flaps lands on his skull, making this their new perch. WingDings glares straight ahead grumbling under his breath about gods being a huge pain in the neck.
“Have you met other members of my family,” Athena asks at length.
“Yes,” WingDings answers, but since he still feels sore over the god using his head as a perch the young skeleton god doesn’t elaborate.
“I request you tell me which ones,” Athena says.
Since WingDings doesn’t want Grillby or Fuku to get in trouble he decides to focus on the others. “I met Hermes, she tried to capture me by surrounding me with bandits,” WingDings begins. “Then there was Adrestia and Ares who used me to fight their foes in Argos. I also met Phobos just the other day when traveling through Panormos and a goddess of Crete named Brit, I think? Pretty sure Ares is the main one after me right now for her own agenda.”
“It is difficult to fight a war when no one can die,” Athena explains. “And Ares only knows war, there is no honor in a battle that has no clear victor.”
“Well I wish she would stop,” WingDings mumbles.
“What name do you go by?” Athena asks next.
“Aster,” he answers simply.
“Do you have any other titles besides god of the dead?” the owl asks, settling comfortably on his skull.
“Flower of the Grave and Star of the Underworld,” WingDings answers.
“Aster flowers are often used to honor the graves of fallen heroes,” Athena informs him.
“Hermes mentioned that,” WingDings says softly.
“Is it true that Apollo and Artemis have saved you,” Athena asks next.
“It is,” WingDings answers simply, hoping he hasn’t accidentally betrayed them in some way. Best way to avoid answering another question would be to ask a question himself. “Can you tell me about Zeus?”
This question catches Athena off guard and they lean forward to try and look into the boy’s large dark eye sockets. “You have not met the king of the gods?” Athena asks instead.
WingDings gently shakes his head as to not dislodge his bird companion. “I have not,” WingDings answers.
“Then who are you? Where did you come from? Who sired you?” Athena rattles off, their owl eyes flashing red momentarily as their curiosity is piqued.
All of the gods and goddess have impressive, if not sometimes disturbing back-stories, but WingDings feels that his is rather dull in comparison. “I come from another world,” he answers truthfully. “I was made . . . born out of three different people and am looking for the pieces of my soul.”
These answers make Athena very quiet, with the bird gazing down at him in silent thought, before directing their attention forward again. “I was born from my fathers head,” they reveal. “Fully formed and armed. It isn’t surprising to me that you were made from three.”
“Thanks, I guess,” WingDings says with no small amount of uncertainty, not bothering to hide his hesitancy with the god.
“Would you like to hear the story of how Hephaestus was born?” Athena asks.
“Yes, I would like that,” WingDings says, finding that he likes having someone to talk to. Sure they took away his magic and are riding on his head, but at least they make good company. Although WingDings has to wonder where Grillby is. Surely he’s noticed the owl on top of his head, so why hasn’t he shown himself?
Is it still dangerous?
“So how was Hephaestus born,” WingDings asks, encouraging Athena to tell all.
“Hera was upset at my father for giving birth to me without her and so gave birth to Hephaestus to spite him,” Athena hoots in humor at their own story, although to be quite honest, WingDings finds it a little disturbing. Who is he to judge though, having been born out of a test tube with no clear mother or father.
“What is Hephaestus the god of?” WingDings asks.
“The god of fire, metalworking, stone masonry, forges, the art of sculpture, technology and blacksmiths,” Athena lists.
“Must be busy,” WingDings replies, trying to figure out which of his family and friends could possibly be the god. So far he’s been able to pick out who is who despite their human forms, aside from the bird atop his head right now.
Just who could Athena be?
“She’s almost as busy as Apollo,” Athena speculates.
“What’s Apollo’s story?” WingDings asks, thinking this is the perfect chance to learn more about Grillby since the man avoided it last time he asked.
“Apollo and Artemis were born of my father Zeus and Leto,” Athena replies. “Apollo committed murder while protecting his mother and was expelled from Olympus for nine years. I helped him a little during this time. He was able to regain his place in Olympus and a throne beside our father Zeus. Sometime after that he assisted Hera in overthrowing Zeus and was banished with Poseidon for his crimes. He made up for it during the Trojan war and has since been aiding young hero’s and participating in trivial contests.”
Athena tells WingDings many stories about Grillby and Fuku, that is Apollo and Artemis, all the way till dusk. WingDings appreciates that Athena keeps to the facts for the most part, although there are plenty of times by word choice alone that the story weaver places dislike or judgment on certain aspects of Grillby’s illustrious career.
As WingDings walks in the cool of night with Athena still upon his head, he asks a question he probably should have started with. “Can you tell me about Hades?” he asks.
“He eloped with my sister Persephone and made her queen of the underworld,” Athena answers simply, leaving WingDings feeling quite disappointed after the elaborate stories they told him about Apollo and Artemis. Although it is interesting to learn that Hades actually has a wife. How is she handling her husband's disappearance?
“Anything else?” he prods.
“There isn’t much to say about him,” Athena coos. “He kept to himself and worked extremely hard to make the underworld a decent home for mortals. He was also rather bitter toward my father for being tricked to be the god of the underworld. . .” the god pauses in their short narration and adds a bit of their own opinion to the end. “I fear we all might have neglected him and took his work for granted.”
When WingDings doesn’t add any of his thoughts to the conversation Athena continues. “It is a mistake none of us will make again.” The air grows silent around them after this, with only the whistle of wind and occasional cricket disturbing the cool night.
It’s only when Athena’s talons bite through the heavy cloth of his cloak that WingDings senses something amiss.
“You are being hunted, Lord Aster,” Fuku whispers in his ear. “It is Ares.”
As WingDings squares his shoulders, Athena hops off his head and transforms into their human form, only this time they have their helmet covering their head and a spear already in hand.
There is the rumble of a chariot and a cloud of dust rolling towards them, covering the stars and moon as it moves towards them like a slow bellowing wave. The chariot comes to a stop a meter away, appearing so quickly, WingDings need only blink once to see it.
“God of death come with me!” a familiar rough voice barks from the chariot.
Athena moves to place themselves in front of WingDings, planting the spear in front of him. “He is not yours to have,” Athena states firmly. “The god of death cannot be claimed by anyone, mortal or god.”
“He isn’t yours either, Athena!” Undye shouts. “And I didn’t say he was mine, I’m asking him to come with me. Death belongs in war! Therefore he should come with me.”
Out of the dust cloud, Ares’s attendants appear. WingDings recognizes Mad Mew Mew and Phobos, but he does not recognize the other three. One appears nearly identical to Phobos, with long violet hair and gleaming yellow eyes. This one must be Deimos.
But there is also a woman with brown hair and flashing red eyes, dressed all in black. WingDings immediately thinks of the fallen child Chara, with that sharp smile cutting her face nearly in half and dark tears streaming from her eyes.
“Death belongs in the underworld,” Athena answers.
“I don’t see you taking him there,” Undyne spits. “You just want him for yourself, oh favored one!”
When Athena doesn’t supply an immediate answer WingDings feels betrayed. They’ve had a nice day together and he thought maybe they weren’t that bad, but Undyne is making a good point. After all, what good is a god of war when there is no death.
“That’s what I thought,” Undyne sneers. “Don’t worry Lord Aster, I will treat you well. We will be an unstoppable force! FUHUHUHUHU!!!”
“I’m not going with you,” WingDings says. “You stabbed me and knocked me from the sky.”
“How else was I supposed to get at you!” Undyne turns her anger onto him. “You can’t die, so what’s the big deal?”
“It was extremely painful, that’s what,” WingDings shouts at her.
Growling fiercely the god glares her flaming eyes down at WingDings, leaping from her chariot and landing inches from Athena’s face. “Talking is pointless anyway, FIGHT ME!” Undyne screams, giving Athena only a second to block the war god’s attack.
As Athena and Undyne fight, WingDings is snatched up in Phobos, or perhaps it is Deimos, bulging arm. He tries to attack, but to his horror he realizes with the jolt of frost up his bones that he has no magic. “ATHENA!” WingDings shouts in outrage as he’s thrown onto the large woman’s back before she bolts away.
When they exit the cloud of dust and WingDings see’s the moon, an arrow glistens past his head and strikes true into Deimos’ shoulder, he knows it’s Deimos from the purple hair. Grunting in pain, the strong goddess continues to pound forward, forced to stop only after being pinned with several more arrows. He’s picked up again, this time by Phobos, who is actually able to deflect some of the arrows she’s pelted with.
Scared and overwhelmed, WingDings claws at Phobos back, tearing at her as his mind tries to latch at a coherent thought and means to defend himself. It’s around this time when he is snatched up again, only this time it’s by a smaller form. When WingDings looks up he is met with the crafty grin of Muffet, as she slips through the tall brush and towards the river.
Unsure if this sudden turn in events is a good thing or a bad thing, WingDings pushes her side. “I can run on my own,” he buzzes, squirming in her hold even as the earth passes by so fast he can’t even track it with his eye lights.
“You couldn’t keep up,” she giggles, moving swiftly to another road.
She shows no signs of slowing down until a wall of glistening bones, breaks the earth and blocks her path.
Tonight is going to be a long night.
Planting her feet firmly, Muffet stops, sliding close to the ground to keep herself from running into the magic wall of thick white bones. “Hermes, it is I Hecate,” a large form appears at the top of the bones, before elegantly jumping down and landing beside him. The god is dressed in an elegant black toga, laced in gold with a spiked crown upon his brow. “I must insist you drop the lord of the dead.”
It’s Papyrus. He’d know that proud skull anywhere! And he’s still a skeleton! Finally! He isn’t the only one!
“Sorry deary, but I’ve got my own agenda, Ahuhuhuhu,” Muffet laughs and with renewed vigor, picks up her feet and races around the wall and off down another road.
“Wait who was that!?” WingDings asks, trying to look around behind her, but finding that the whole world has become a blur.
“That was Hecate deary,” she answers pleasantly, no hint of exhaustion in her pretty smelling breath despite how fast she is traveling. It must be magic of some kind, because it almost feels as if she is flying. “He is the god of magic, crossroads, ghosts, and necromancy.”
“Aren’t you a god of crossroads?” WingDings asks.
“We both are, Ahuhuhu,” Muffet acknowledges. “We’ve met each other on the roads countless times.”
As she races through the night, Hermes actually hoists WingDings up, placing him on her shoulders and thus making it easier to run. With her charge more comfortably placed on her body, she goes even faster, flying along the road as if she were attached to a zip line. “Uh, this should have been my first question, but where are you taking me?” WingDings asks as he holds onto her head and looks up at the sky. At least the stars don’t move as quickly as the rest of the world, making it easier to regain his bearings.
“To the shores of the Ambracian Gulf,” she explains.
“How did you know?” WingDings asks.
“Apollo has been watching you all day, but didn’t want to intervene with Athena, since they are on good terms,” Muffet explains. “He waited for Ares to attack so I could snatch you away without anyone knowing Ahuhuhu.”
“Right . . .” WingDings bites his lip and glares down at the woman. “I still don’t like you.”
“You will be seeing more of me,” she giggles in delight. When they reach the choppy shores of the gulf she comes to a stop, looking up at the boy as he looks down at her with a healthy amount of suspicion. “After all, I'm the guide to the underworld.” Without any explanation the strong and beautiful woman throws him into the water even as another wall of bones comes to surround the goddess.
Sputtering out of the water, WingDings fights to remain afloat. “Idiot, I don’t have any magic, power, whatever you call it!” he screams at her. How is he supposed to swim without magic? Simple answer, he can’t! He’ll just sink.
“Bye deary,” Muffet calls to him, waving pleasantly as a freaking out Papyrus stomps as far as he dares into the water. Poor man looks horrified.
As WingDings dips beneath the surface, he is overwhelmed by the darkness, panicking as the glow of the water's surface rises farther and farther away from his fingers. It comes as a cold shock of relief when Aaron appears, taking his wrist and guiding him closer to the water's surface, while remaining underwater to avoid being seen. In any other circumstance WingDings would still be freaking out, but at the moment he is thrilled and overcome with relief.
Although the flexing muscles the god is sending his way is completely unnecessary and disturbing.
“Why can’t you swim Lord Aster?” the god asks as he guides the small god through the dark waters.
“Athena gave me this necklace,” WingDings explains, pushing back his hood and revealing the glittering piece of jewelry clasped around his neck. “It negates all of my magical abilities.”
“This won’t do!” Aaron stops dead in the water and attempts to break the chain. He tries with all his might, muscles bulging, pectorals shaking, veins nearly popping, but the chain refuses to break. Instead WingDings is given a renewed headache as Aaron whips him around, this way and that, to get a better grip on the tiny chain.
“Only Athena or Hephaestus can remove it,” WingDings shouts, fearing the bulging god will hurt him at this rate.
To his horror something worse happens.
Not to be out done by this tiny trinket, Aaron refuses to give up, his pride and pectoral muscles demand he not be outdone by Athena and their tricks. In a horribly good idea, Aaron puts his massive hand over WingDings skull and pops it off.
Screaming at the top of his nonexistent lungs, WingDings reaches up frantically for his head, while Poseidon easily removes the necklace and just as easily snaps the screaming skull’s head back on. With his magic restored, his head shifts back into place without any strain or pain. In fact the entire action didn’t hurt at all, he didn’t feel anything, but the shock of having his head taken off is enough to make WingDings feel sick.
With a vice grip, WingDings clings to Aaron’s arm, rattling like a baby toy as his eye lights vanish from his sockets.
Realizing he’s done something traumatic to the boy, Aaron doesn’t remove the skeleton, instead sheepishly patting his back as bubble tears skim along the rim of WingDings eye sockets.
“I’m sorry Aster,” Aaron apologizes. “Removing the head of a god isn’t unusual.”
“You could have at least told me before you did it,” WingDings screeches at the god, wincing at the loudness of his own voice and the way it vibrates through the dense water.
“I’m deeply sorry,” Aaron says again, before looking from WingDings to the pretty piece of jewelry. “Can I have it?”
WingDings is appalled and snatches the necklace. “No!” he snaps. “Athena gave it to me, therefore I get to keep it.” It’s the least he can get after experiencing his head being popped off like the cap of a soda bottle.
“Very well,” Aaron sighs, but he doesn’t fight the young god as they continue on their way.
When they reach the far shore, Grillby is there waiting for them. “Are you all right, Aster,” he asks. WingDings removes his cloak and tries to wring it out as best he can. It’s a chilly morning, made all the colder with the wet clothing clinging to his bones.
“I’m okay,” WingDings sighs, looking up at Grillby and the rising sun behind him. “Where are we?”
“Poseidon has brought you to the shores of Cichyrus,” Grillby explains. “Is this where you wanted to go?”
As Grillby asks, WingDings looks in the direction of the city and notes the pull on his soul. It’s close. This has to be the place he has been heading for all along. And to think he had the idea of coming here at the very beginning three weeks ago. While it was for different reasons, namely to help the mortals, this reason works too. Now he can do both.
Although the prospect of going to the underworld is a little intimidating.
“We don’t have a lot of time,” WingDings says, walking towards the city with determined steps. Until he remembers that he should thank Aaron for his help, except the man did pull off his head. Still feeling sore about that, he thanks the god of the sea without turning to look at him.
“Did something happen,” Grillby asks, easily catching up to WingDings, his form changing to his human disguise as they near the settlement.
“While I was with Hermes, the god Hecate showed up trying to stop her,” WingDings explains, not even touching the issue of Aaron pulling off his head. “I assume he wants to take me to the underworld. He seemed rather distraught actually when he saw me floundering in the water.”
“I imagine he would,” Grillby replies. “He’s loyal and dutiful to the underworld. Since mortals have been dying he’s actually been very busy handling things while Persephone is away.”
WingDings almost stops walking, finding this news very interesting. “Persephone? Athena mentioned her,” he says, hoping Grillby will elaborate.
“She is the dread queen, but only lives in the underworld part of year,” Grillby explains. “I believe she just recently returned to the underworld, now that the harvest has begun. It would explain why Hecate has only just appeared to try and find you. I’m sure he has a lot of questions.”
“I’ll be meeting with him soon, I’m sure,” WingDings says, walking up the hills and past the port towards a stone structure, determined to find what is his before more gods try to stop him.