𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐋 ━ x f!reader.

Thirteen

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

In the realm of dreams, Cupid finds solace. His mind takes flight, unencumbered by the earthly woes that have befallen him. Visions of love and compassion dance before him, flickering like ethereal flames in the darkness. A bittersweet smile graces his lips as memories of his past triumphs fill his slumbering consciousness.

But even in this moment of reprieve, the underworld's haunting presence lingers on the fringes of Cupid's dreams. A distant echo of tormented souls and the mournful cries of lost love seep into his subconscious, reminding him of the challenges that lie ahead. He winced at the sound.

As Cupid lies there, his body curled against the harsh ground, his spirit replenishes itself in the sanctuary of sleep. This respite, however fleeting, allows him to gather the strength and determination needed to face the trials that await him. In this slumber, Cupid's essence rejuvenates, preparing to rise once again from the ashes of his banishment and reclaim his place among the gods.

Eventually, Cupid stirs awake. His face is nearly drained of color and sweaty. A relentless pain spreads through his back, causing him to let out a small groan. He musters the strength to sit up, his knees sinking into the unforgiving ground. "Ow..." As Cupid glances to the side, his tear-filled eyes land upon his discarded wings.

The realization of his current state hits him like a thunderbolt. His once magnificent wings, a symbol of his divine essence and freedom, lie broken and lifeless. He had almost forgotten about that little detail. Now, he could hardly recognize himself. Like a child who has lost his favorite toy, Cupid's tears flow freely, his body shaking with sobs as he hugs himself tightly.

"I hate you, father!" He looked up to the Heavens above, his voice hoarse as he shouted this. "How could you do this to me? Your own son?!" He bowed his head which caused his beautiful hair to cover his saddened eyes.

After a while, amidst the sobs, a flicker of remembrance enters Cupid's distraught mind. He wipes away his tears, sniffles, and slowly gathers himself. "Hades... t-this is Hades' realm." He whispered, his voice still shaky.

Cupid's eyes widen with the realization. He remembers the trial, the moment before he was banished here, but the image of his uncle's face remains a blur. Come to think of it — the god of love wonders if his uncle had been present, or if he too had turned away from him... or perhaps he couldn't care enough to even attend. What type of uncle would do that to their nephew?

Sniffling, Cupid musters his resolve. He gets up, stumbling slightly, and walks toward his discarded wings. He picks them up gently, cradling them close to his chest as if trying to hold on to the last remnants of his lost freedom and love.

Despite this being his first official visit to the underworld, he wasn't completely hopeless. He has overheard stories from the humans of earth, mainly the Greeks since they were always the most engrossed about the gods and goddesses' culture. He'll have the son of Erebus and Nyx, whose duty it was to ferry over the Rivers Styx and Acheron those souls of the deceased who had received the rites of burial. Charon.

But where could he find him in a place as endless as this realm? It was going to be a difficult task, given the heat and the fact that Cupid cannot fly across the hellish landscape.

After what felt like an eternity of wandering aimlessly in this dreaded realm, he finally spotted the dim glow of torches that marked the presence of the ferryman's boat. Cupid pushed himself forward, driven by the thought of reuniting with his uncle, Hades, the god of the underworld, in the hope that he might offer some salvation.

"Charon!" Cupid called out weakly as he approached the old boatman.

Charon, a tall and stooped figure, turned his ghostly pale face toward the wingless god. "Who dares seek passage across the River Styx?" His voice echoed with a haunting resonance.

"It is I, Cupid," he replied, trying to mask the exhaustion in his voice. "I must reach the house of Hades." He finally stopped when he was on the edge of the terrain, staring desperately at the ferryman for some sort of assistance. He will not be able to make this journey on his own.

Charon raised an ethereal eyebrow, observing the sorry state of the once-proud deity before him. "Payment is the toll to cross," he said, holding out his hand expectantly.

Summoning all the strength he had left, Cupid managed to produce a small obulus from the folds of his tattered clothing. He placed it in Charon's hand, hoping it would suffice for the journey.

The ferryman examined the coin, nodding in acceptance. "Step aboard then, and hold fast to your emotions, for the River Styx is treacherous, especially for one in your weakened state."

Cupid nodded gratefully and climbed aboard the rickety boat. As Charon began to steer, the chilling sound of a distant roar echoed through the underworld. It was Cerberus, the three-headed hound guarding the gates of the underworld, a creature as fearsome as the realm itself. The god of love couldn't help but be grateful that he wasn't dropped at the entrance of the underworld or else he would have to come face to face with the creature.

While he did not know what Cerberus looked like, he has heard a range of physical descriptions. For example, he knew for a fact that the Greeks described him as a monstrous three-headed dog, or "hell hound" with a serpent's tail, a mane of snakes, and a lion's claws.

'Guess I'll never know...' Cupid thought as the boat glided slowly across the murky waters, the river's surface reflecting the souls of the damned.

Finally, they reached the ominous structure that was the house of Hades. It loomed like a shadowy fortress, with dark spires and twisting corridors leading into its depths. It is made of glittering black obsidian, with a black marble portico, and from what Cupid has heard the entry hall had a polished bronze floor.

"Thank you, Charon," Cupid said meekly, peering over his shoulder as he disembarked.

The ferryman simply nodded, offering no words of encouragement or sympathy. This was the realm of the dead, and emotions were scarce commodities.

All Cupid could pray is that his uncle had mercy on his pitiful soul.

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my friend, breakingcal, made this meme and i figured that you all would like to see it since i thought it was hilarious:
— also, go read her books! they're all of the best quality and *chef's kiss*.