MCYT ONESHOTS

-Son-

TW: death, gore
This is not edited whatsoever and probably has like a billion plot holes. Enjoy tho!!
(I just finished The Song of Achilles and I am in love)

  "What have you done?"

  Phil opened an eye, taking in his visitor. With an unamused sigh, he let himself relax again. "You will have to be more specific, dear. I have done lots of things."

  "We agreed our children would be mortal, and nothing more. They would live out mortal lives."

  "There was an agreement that Wilbur would be mortal."

  "You have doomed our child! Do not you understand that?" Her voice was filled with rage, and a type of determination to get into the head of her husband.

  "I have not doomed him."

  "Then you do not understand."

  Phil's eyes opened once more, coming out of his relaxed meditation pose. His once crossed legs were now out, his feet touching the marble ground inside his palace. His fingers unattached and positioned themselves by his sides. He stood to face his wife.

  "We were trusted to have children of our own because we trusted to give them good lives. You—"

  "How can we ensure our children good lives when we cannot raise them ourselves?" Phil asked.

  "Philza."

  "Kristen."

  "Our boy will live out a reckless life because of you. Those dwelling on the ground are meant to live mortally for they become reckless. Children are reckless." She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. "I suppose nothing can be done now. The last one will be mortal." She opened her eyes again, facing the man she had married. "Before he is to come, I want you to watch the son you have cursed. See what you have done."

  Phil's eyelids dropped. "You do not trust me as you used to."

  "Neither do you. Your communication is dreadful." She turned, leaving the palace with no sound to her step. That was expected of the Goddess of Shadows.

  However, the God of Death turned to watch his son. He would listen to her, but only to prove her wrong.

—

  "Good morning, a lovely day, isn't it?"

  Puffy looked up from the laundry she was folding. A smile painted her face as she turned away from her daily chores. "Good morning, Mr. Creep. A good day, it is. Anything I can do for you?"

  Puffy hadn't noticed the boy in his arms until he lifted the bundle of blankets. Puffy took a step forward, head leaning over to take in the child.

  She was shocked. The child was sleeping peacefully in Sam's arms, and had to be just a few months old. That was not the shocking thing, but only the color of his hair could shock Puffy. His hair was pink, just light enough that it might pass as blond to those who are not looking hard enough. Puffy saw it clear, however. Pink studs of hair sprouted from his scalp, of natural hair.

  "You did not dye it, did you?"

  "No, of course not. Pink is not a color I can dye." Sam said. "He is not mine, another child I found in my garden. Perhaps he and Wilbur are similar. What shall you name him?"

  Wilbur was another boy that was found in the man's garden three years prior.

  "I do not know. He does not seem like he is worthy of a normal name. A gift from the gods, perhaps?" Puffy asked.