Chapter Text
The grand throne room of Mount Olympus glimmered with divine majesty, its freshly constructed splendor a testament to the gods’ triumph. Towering columns of polished marble stretched upward, their surfaces alive with swirling veins of gold and silver, catching the ethereal light that bathed the room. It would have truly been a sight to behold if not for the heated argument occurring at the very center of the room.
Because beneath the lofty arches and glistening marble stood three of the most powerful beings: Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades.
Zeus was an image of power incarnate, his golden hair falling in loose waves around a strong, angular face. His piercing blue eyes sparked with the fire of a brewing storm, and his white tunic, embroidered with gold, seemed to shimmer with his barely contained energy. Tall and unyielding, his voice echoed with the authority of a king.
Poseidon, equally commanding, radiated the wild strength of the sea. With long, wild hair that cascaded in shades of dark ocean blue, donning an aquamarine tunic that rippled like water, gripping the trident that pulsed faintly with divine power. His sea-green eyes were dark with frustration, locked in a glare that met Zeus’s thunderous gaze without flinching.
“I will not back down, Zeus,” Poseidon growled, his voice the crash of waves against an unyielding shore. “You claim the skies, but the earth belongs to neither of us alone. The oceans cradle the land, they shape it, consume it when they see fit. Do you truly believe you can hold dominion over a world that is fed by my tides?"
Zeus’s answering laugh was sharp as the crackle of a storm forming in the distance. "And yet it is I who wield the thunderbolt—the weapon that won us this war! The heavens are boundless, eternal, the source of all storms that command even your waves. The skies are mine, and if the earth stands between them and your wretched domain, then it too will answer to me." His voice, laced with authority, rumbled with the distant growl of thunder. "You would be nothing without the tempests I call forth. Your waters would stagnate, weak and formless. The heavens breathe life into this world, and I am their ruler. Why should I yield when it was my hand that struck down our father?"
From behind them, Hades watches in silence, her expression unreadable, her pale silver eyes cool and calculating as they flicker between her warring brothers. Her beauty is haunting—an eerie, spectral thing that lingers in the periphery like a half-forgotten dream. Moonlight pales in comparison to the soft glow of her skin, its radiance only sharpened by the inky darkness of her hair, flowing like liquid night, shifting with an unseen current. The gown she wears is unlike the resplendent silks of Olympus or the opulent armor of war. It is darkness woven into form, an ethereal fabric that moves of its own accord, shadows curling at its edges like living things.
She does not interfere, nor does she attempt to soothe the tension crackling between them. Instead, she sits unmoving, with her arms crossed, her face showing an exasperated and resigned expression.
Their voices grow louder, each word a clash of wills, as the ground beneath them trembles with the promise of their fury. Zeus’s hand twitches, ready to unleash a bolt of lightning, while Poseidon’s trident pulsed with the raw force of the sea itself.
The room seems to hold its breath, waiting for one of them to strike, but neither is willing to yield. The gods’ argument spiraled towards a deadly crescendo, each brother unwilling to back down.
Hades inhales deeply, with a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh. Then, in a swift movement, she steps forward, her voice cutting through the chaos like the stillness of the grave. "Enough." her voice calm yet commanding, silencing both brothers in an instant.
Hades’s gaze swept over them with cool disdain, her tone dry as she continued. “If the two of you are determined to squabble like children, then allow me to settle this for you. Zeus, you take the skies. Poseidon, the seas are yours. The earth will remain neutral ground, shared by all.”
Zeus frowns, his lips pressing together, pulling downward at the corners. “And what of you, sister? Do you truly intend to take nothing for yourself?”
Hades smiles faintly, a flicker of amusement crossing her otherwise stoic features. “On the contrary,” she replied. “I want the Underworld.”
Both brothers stare at her in disbelief, their divine energies momentarily stilled. Poseidon was the first to speak, his voice tinged with incredulity. “The Underworld? Why in the name of our father would you want such a dreary, desolate place? It is a prison for the dead, Hades. Surely, you deserve more.”
Zeus’s confusion mirrored Poseidon’s. “Sister, you could rule by my side in the heavens. Why isolate yourself in such a dismal realm?”
Hades met their incredulous gazes with unwavering calm. “The Underworld is far removed from Olympus and its inevitable... chaos,” she says, her tone measured. “Its solitude suits me. And, most importantly, it resolves this tiresome argument. You both get what you want, and I will have what I desire.”
What she did not say, what she would never admit, was the deeper reason for her choice.
Zeus and Poseidon exchanged a glance, their pride struggling against their soft spot for their sister. In the end, it was Zeus who relented first, his expression softening as he stood before her.
“Very well, sister. If that is your wish, so be it,” he declares, his voice carrying a rare gentleness. He reached for her hands, taking them in his own. Hades tenses slightly, her silver eyes flicking up to meet his, but she does not pull away as her brother presses a lingering kiss to the back of her hands.
“Know that you will always have a place here,” he said softly, though his gaze lingered a moment too long. “Even if you choose the shadows.”
Hades said nothing, her expression unreadable as she gently withdrew her hands from his grasp. Poseidon, though still reluctant, nodded his agreement. “I hope you do not come to regret this, sister.”
Without another word, Hades leaves the throne room, shadows gathering around her like a protective shroud.
The halls of Olympus thrummed with the sound of celebration. Golden light streamed from every corner, bathing the opulent chamber in a warm, divine glow. The scent of ambrosia and nectar hung heavy in the air, mingling with the music of lyres and the laughter of gods and Titans alike. Zeus sat atop his newly crowned throne, radiant in his divine splendor.
Beside him, his bride Metis shone just as brightly, her laughter soft and melodic as she basked in the joy of the occasion. She wore a crown of silver and gold, a symbol of wisdom and power, and the warmth of her expression was a balm to all who looked upon her.
It was a coronation fit for a king of gods, and the festivities were grand enough to silence any doubts about Zeus’s supremacy. Yet amidst the revelry, one figure remained detached, a shadow amidst the brilliance of Olympus.
Hades stood near one of the grand marble columns, her black gown a stark contrast to the golden hues of the hall. Garnets glinted faintly at her wrists and throat, the only color on her otherwise austere figure. She sipped from a goblet of nectar, her expression unreadable as she observed the scene. Around her, the gods celebrated with abandon.
She felt the presence before she saw it, a shift in the air that carried with it an aura of sharpness and pride. Turning her head slightly, she found herself face-to-face with Hera.
Hera was resplendent, her gown shimmering in hues of peacock blue and emerald green, embroidered with golden feathers that caught the light with every movement. Her face was a mask of regal beauty, her emerald eyes gleaming with a sharpness that could cut through steel. She held herself with the poise of a queen, though her lips curved into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Sister,” Hera croons, her voice honeyed but with an edge that couldn’t be ignored. “You’ve been far too quiet tonight. One might think you disapprove of our dear brother’s coronation.”
Hades tilts her head, the faintest smile playing at the corners of her lips. “On the contrary, I find it quite... fitting. Zeus does love a grand display.”
Hera giggles, though the sound was more mocking than warm. “He does, doesn’t he? But then, what king doesn’t? It’s his right, after all. And now, with Metis as his queen, Olympus has its foundation.”
Hades raises a brow, her silver eyes cool. “Metis is a wise choice,” taking another sip from her goblet before continuing. “She’ll need that wisdom in the days to come.”
Hera’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn’t comment on the remark. Instead, she stepped closer, her tone shifting as she began to circle her sister. “Still, I must admit, I find myself... perplexed, Hades. Watching you stand here, alone, while the rest of us celebrate, I can’t help but wonder: why?”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific.”
Hera stopped in front of her, her expression sharpening. “Why would you give up the chance to rule beside Zeus? It’s no secret he adores you—he always has. You could have been queen, Hades. Queen of Olympus. And yet, here you are instead. Do you not see the foolishness of your decision?”
Silence permeates between them as Hades studies her sister, her silver eyes gleaming with something unreadable.
Then, to Hera’s surprise, a small laugh escapes her sister’s lips, the sound low and knowing.
“From your perspective, I suppose it must seem foolish,” Hades agrees, a hint of amusement in her voice. “To walk away from power, from prestige, from... affection. But some choices are... not as logical as they appear.”
Hera’s eyes narrow further, suspicion flickering in her gaze. “You speak in riddles, sister. If you have something to say, then say it plainly.”
“Very well, then. Tell me, Hera—what do you think becomes of those who stand too close to Zeus’s flame? Do you think it is warmth they feel? Or do they find themselves burned?” she asks, the light-heartedness that accompanied her long gone.
Hera stiffens, her pride bristling at the indirect warning. “I am not a fool, Hades,” she replies sharply. “I know my worth. Unlike you, I would never squander an opportunity to take what is mine. If the chance to become Zeus’s wife were mine, I would have accepted without hesitation.”
For a moment something akin to worry flashes through Hades face as she gazes at her older sister. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished. “You are ambitious, Hera. I’ll give that to you. But ambition alone does not shield a heart from pain. Should you choose to reach for that crown, I only hope you are ready for the cost it demands.”
A sneer appears on Hera’s lips ruining her pretty visage. “You may think yourself so smart, little sister. But mark my words, Hades—when I take my place as queen, it’ll be you who regrets it.”
With that, Hera turns on her heel and strides away, her gown swirling around her like the tail of a peacock. Her expression was a thundercloud, her sharp features set in a glare that could have felled a lesser god. As she storms off, she brushes against Poseidon, who is making his way toward them with his usual unhurried confidence. The force of her shoulder bump nearly made him spill the nectar in his goblet.
“Watch it, Hera!” Poseidon calls after her, half-amused and half-irritated but Hera doesn’t even look back, her head held high as she disappears into the throng of gods and titans. Poseidon shakes his head, muttering, “Always so dramatic,” before turning his attention to the quiet figure in the shadows.
Watching the entire exchange, Hades silver eyes spark with faint mirth as Poseidon approaches her, already smirking, with that easy, roguish grin that makes more than one person swoon. The tunic he decided to wear for the celebrations loose and open at the chest, revealing his sun-kissed skin.
“Well,” he drawls, coming to a stop beside her and leaning casually against the same column. “I take it Hera wasn’t singing your praises just now?”
“You could say that,” she answers dryly. “She disapproves of my choices and felt compelled to make her thoughts known.”
“Ah, yes. Our ever-opinionated older sister.” He mocks. “And what crime, pray tell, did you commit this time?”
Hades gestures vaguely toward the center of the hall, where Zeus and Metis sat upon their golden thrones. “She believes I’ve squandered my chance at power—and at Zeus.”
Poseidon lets out a low whistle, his grin widening. “So that’s what has her in a fit. Let me guess—she told you she’d have taken the offer in a heartbeat?”
“She did,” Hades replies, her tone even. “And she made sure I knew how foolish she thinks I am.”
Poseidon moves even closer, his hand coming to rest lightly on the small of her back, his thumb grazing the fabric of her gown. “Between you and me, sister, that was the best decision you’ve ever made.”
Hades shoots him a pointed look, though there is a faint trace of amusement in her expression. “She sees it differently. To her, I’ve squandered an opportunity she would have taken without hesitation.”
Poseidon laughs, his deep voice carrying a hint of mockery. “Of course, she would. Hera’s always had a taste for crowns—and for trouble.” His hand drifts lower, his fingers tracing a light, teasing path along her hips almost but not quite touching her ass. “But you? You’ve always been different. Smarter.”
Hades sighs, a hint of exasperation creeping into her tone. “Must you always be like this, Poseidon?”
He grins, unabashed. “What can I say? It’s in my nature. And besides, I can’t help myself when it comes to you.” His hand squeezes her hips, bordering on inappropriate territory.
Hades gives him a look that is equal parts amusement and warning. “Careful, brother. You’re treading dangerous waters.”
His hand falls back to his side, though the warmth of his touch seems to linger. “Danger is my specialty. But I’ll behave... for now.” He leans back casually beside her, though his presence is anything but casual, his body angled just enough to keep her within reach, as if afraid she might slip away like the tide.
They continue to talk about safer topics as the festivities swell around them. Poseidon, with his effortless charm and easy grin, more than once makes her laugh—a rare sound, one only he and her siblings have ever managed to coax out of her.
They gossip, their voices low but amused. About how Hera has taken it upon herself to ensure no one diverts attention from Hestia. Not out of malice, but out of an almost fierce protectiveness, subtly directing conversations away whenever the flame-haired goddess is drawn into them. About how Demeter, determined as ever, is already setting her sights on a future husband, carefully weighing her options even as she smiles politely at suitors. And, of course, about Zeus—about how his ego, already towering, will only swell further after today’s grand display.
When Poseidon downs yet another cup of nectar, laughing heartily at something she said, Hades finds herself watching him more closely. Watching all of them, really—their bickering, their indulgence, their fleeting moments of joy.
They stay in companionable silence for a couple of minutes. Poseidon turns to look at her.
“You know... I can’t say I understand why you did it. Giving up power, giving up Zeus. It doesn’t make sense to me.” His expression changes to something more dark. More possessive. “But I can’t say I’m not relieved. Even though I can’t have you... at least it means Zeus can’t have you either.”
Hades’s eyes softened, though her voice remained steady. “This isn’t about you or Zeus. My choices were never about either of you.”
“So you say. But that doesn’t stop me from wishing things were different.” Poseidon says, with a hint of bitterness behind it.
Before she could respond, he leaned in again, now both of his hands returning to her hips as he spoke, his voice low and intimate. “You know, if things were different, you’d have made the perfect consort. The depths would have suited you.”
And with that, he leaves.
And as the festivities continue unabated, Hades stays in the same column, her silver eyes scanning the crowd without truly seeing it. She sips from her goblet, the cool liquid offering little comfort for the swirling thoughts in her mind. Her fingers absently traced the rim, her gaze distant as her mind drifted back to a time before she had become a goddess.
She wasn’t quite sure when she’d stopped feeling human. The memories of her mortal life, of who she had been before all of this, still remain within her, but they felt as though they belonged to someone else. The human world, with its fleeting joys and pains, seemed so far away—an ancient echo now, disconnected from the life she leads now as a goddess.
And yet, her mortal life had shaped her. Being born a girl had made her brothers more protective of her as with her sisters, so the choice to not be in the frontlines was something her male counterpart was not given. But even then she decided to step forward.
Zeus and Poseidon had been ready to fight the Kronos on their own, but she hadn’t been content to stay behind. She had argued fiercely, insisting on standing beside them.
Because she had known then what she knew now, that even though she was a god the same as them, with the same power and immortality, the world of gods was no more charitable to goddesses than the mortal world had been to women. So she fought for her place, only then would she be able to protect herself.
Her brothers had reluctantly agreed, and together they led the 10 year war against the Titans. She had earned her right to stand among them. But just as her powers grew so did her brothers’ affection for her. Gods who she couldn't easily fight if push came to shove.
She knew what kind of men Zeus and Poseidon would become—and what kind of men her brothers were. She didn’t want to marry Zeus. She had seen what it did to Hera—what it had done to her. The bitterness, the scorn, the constant tension. No, Hades didn’t want to be the object of Zeus’s affection, only to be abandoned when his eye wandered to the next beautiful face.
And that knowledge had led her to her next great decision.
Deciding to not leave it to chance she claimed the Underworld to herself.
The Underworld, dark and remote, had always appealed to her. While others saw it as dreary or miserable, Hades had seen it as a sanctuary. There was something undeniably alluring about the solitude it offered, and she knew that by claiming it as her domain, she would have the space to think, breathe, and, perhaps most importantly, escape the chaos that would inevitably come from living so closely with her family.
She loved her family deeply, of course—what sibling didn’t?—but even love had its limits. Constant proximity made even the closest bonds difficult. And the gods, for all their grandeur, were no different.
The Underworld would give her what she needed: distance, power, and a bit of freedom. She could avoid the constant drama, be away from the ever-competing affections of her brothers, and remain far enough removed to be untouchable.
Yes, the Underworld suited her. It was hers to shape, to govern, and to keep at a distance from the conflicts of the living. And perhaps that was the greatest gift she could give herself. No obligations. No expectations. Just the quiet reign of a goddess who had carved her place in a world that had been built by war and power.
She glanced around the festivities once more, her thoughts momentarily disrupted by the noise of the gods laughing and toasting around her. She smiles to herself before turning to retreat into the shadows. Let them have their celebrations. She would take her peace elsewhere, in the depths of her realm, where the world outside would never quite reach her.