You're family, aren't you?

Birthday in the Underworld

Days held little meaning in the Underworld – be it day or night in the upper world, the realm of the dead stayed the same, enveloped in thick shroud of greyish mist. The dead, after all, had no need for telling time. The only real way for the living and the immortals to tell time was to watch out for the slow dissipation or thickening of the mist: the signs Hades was happy with his wife, or sulking without her.

The 18th of August was no different in that regard: the mist was only starting to dissipate in remote places, a sure sign of Persephone’s arrival being not too far away. Hades reclined in his throne, head propped against his arm, which in turn was propped on the armrest, his dark eyes half-mast as he listened to Thanatos’ report. After the immortal was finished – thankfully, his niece had not done anything too damaging to the security, since she went through Charon and only set off one alarm – he dismissed the black-winged lieutenant and closed his eyes completely, praying to Morpheus for peaceful rest for a change.

Despite the Helm allowing him respite from the Tartarus-induced nightmares and waking visions, it did nothing to help him avoid Fates and their little games. While not the sibling most prone to the unsettling, prophetic dreams – the laurels for that went to Poseidon – he had been getting chilling dreams for the last two weeks. He had seen his Father in his full form: the sight no immortal younger than Zeus had seen, and Hades desperately hoped no one would have to, but the news that reached him via his oldest sister Hestia spoke otherwise.

He clenched his hands instinctively, as he recalled that day…

Hades had just signed off on the last file of the deceased that entered the Fields of Punishment – none other than Gabriel Ugliano, and he had to say, he was impressed by the sheer cruelty of the punishment – when the knock sounded through his office.

“Come in,” he called, laying down the gold fountain pen with sapphire inlays at the top and stretching his wrist. Only those he truly considered his family – Hestia, Poseidon, Thanatos, Hecate and Persephone – knew he hated when someone barged in his office and knocked before entering.

Hestia, his dearest sister, slinked through the heavy obsidian doors and closed them before turning to him, sending him a warm smile. “Brother.”

“Sister,” Hades greeted, standing up and opening his arms, a smile of his own playing at the corners of his lips. Hestia grew in front of his eyes, from her twelve-year-old form to the mature twenty-year-old woman, and stepped into the offered hug, bringing the smell of sandalwood and forget-me-nots with her.“I see you still use that little recipe for the shower.”

“Oh, the sandalwood?” Hestia shrugged, still smiling gently, motherly in a way that sent pangs through Hades’ heart and made him wish for Rhea. “Mother sent me as a birthday present, and I loved it. Why change it?”

“True,” Hades nodded and released his sister. “What brings you to my abode, my dear sister?”

Hestia sighed, tucking the stray auburn lock behind her ear. “Nothing good, I am afraid. You should sit for this.”

Hades blinked at the devastated expression on her normally serene and gentle features but complied, not wishing to add to his sister’s sorrow. “You should sit as well, sister.”

“I cannot, brother,” Hestia murmured, shaking her head. “The pain… I cannot sit, not yet. I’m afraid I’ll turn your beautiful furniture into ashes and sludge.”

Hades felt the worry spread from his heart to his limbs. It wasn’t like Hestia to lose control of her powers; you had to severely hurt her, be it physically or emotionally, before she’d feel anywhere close to incinerating objects on touch.

“What ails you, mikri aderphi?” he asked, the old nickname of ‘little sister’ the rest of the children of Kronos came up with during the Titanomachy slipping off his tongue without any conscious thought.

Hestia smiled weakly at the nickname, but grew sad again. “It’s Sephie. She… was betrayed today, by the boy she trusted.” She lifted her head up. “He was the thief.”

Hades inhaled, the pressure in his chest rising. The thief and the betrayal… Sephie’s letter…

“Luke Castellan,” he said, not bothering to hide his shock.

Hestia’s eyes widened, but she didn’t ask how he knew the name. “Yes. He poisoned her and left her to die in the woods of Camp Half-Blood. Thank Fates, the dryads alerted Chiron, and he and Apollo’s children healed her before she sustained any permanent damage. She woke up not long ago, and immediately came to my hearth to cry.”

Hades’ heart constricted for a second, and he found himself sympathizing with his little niece and his favorite sister. He and Hestia knew better than any immortal currently not imprisoned or faded how betrayal felt like: Hades still nursed a grudge against Zeus for killing Maria and betraying his trust, and Hestia remembered their Father’s betrayal when he swallowed her.

“A half-blood, so willing to betray his own blood… It does not bode well for us, sister.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Hestia sighed, playing aimlessly with the lock of her hair. “I know Chiron sent the message to our family on Olympus, but I wanted to make sure you knew immediately. Poseidon will be furious.”

“As long as he doesn’t send too many mortals here,” Hades sighed, already dreading the workload he would have to endure, but honestly not too angry, “I will not begrudge him his fury. I would’ve done the same thing.”

“You immature children,” Hestia scolded half-heartedly, knowing she could not change her brothers’ ways. “Why do the mortals have to suffer your wrath? Can you not focus your anger on the true culprit?”

“Oh believe me sister, I certainly will,” Hades promised, his eyes glinting with mad sparkle that made Hestia flinch slightly. “Between Poseidon and I, Lucas Castellan will not have a single peaceful moment in his life – or afterlife.”

Hestia shook her head but didn’t comment further, glancing at the door. “I have to go, Zeus is issuing a call for an emergency meeting. Let’s hope Hera and I will be able to stop Poseidon from blasting Hermes into pieces.”

“Safe travels, mikri aderphi,” Hades shouted after her, and Hestia giggled before vanishing in a burst of fire.

Thankfully, Poseidon quickly got a hold of himself, and the number of the dead that came in as a result of his temper could only be counted in dozens, not hundreds or thousands. Hermes managed to evade the ‘blasted to pieces’ fate by the hair’s breadth, and Sephie Jackson healed fully from the poisoning. Still, Hades could not feel a little concerned for his niece. She had poured her heart out to Hestia, and Hades knew how good his sister was at lessening the heartache, but he wished he could talk to her as well.

He was the one she had confided in first; it was he who knew about her suspicions about Son of Hermes long before the poisoning, he who knew how much she wished he wasn’t the thief and how afraid she was of the truth. He couldn’t leave the Underworld again – Thanatos would grow suspicious, and if even one immortal got suspicious, soon the whole Olympus would know of it – but he could send the letter. He didn’t dare use Hermes’ services – again, suspicions – but he could will the shadows to deposit the letter on Sephie’s bed or her desk. Also, it would make a nice present – it was her birthday today, wasn’t it?

Just as he decided to go to his office and start the letter, Alecto flew in, her countenance mulish.

“Orpheus’ doors have been opened, my Lord,” she grumbled, not at all happy. “Half-blood came in, carrying the blessing of Persephone.”

Hades blinked, completely taken aback. Why would his wife bless a demigod, and why would the said demigod come through Orpheus’ doors? Moreover, why was Alecto so calm?

“Who is the half-blood?” Hades asked.

“Persephone Jackson, my Lord,” Alecto replied, and Hades instantly understood why wasn’t she raising a bigger fuss. The story of a half-blood daughter of Poseidon who kept her oath and returned the Helm of Darkness to him without asking for anything in return spread like wildfire through the Underworld, and even Nyx, hiding in her House of Night in Tartarus, came up to ask him about it. Not a single immortal could remember a hero who came in the Underworld and left with such little fuss, and all that without demanding the return of the loved one, and they were impressed.

Hades had a feeling had he not had a wife already, he would be dealing with a slew of pointed questions and covert negotiations with his brother behind his back. He shook his head at the thought: his niece was beautiful, yes, and if she lived long enough could give Aphrodite run for her money, but he was not attracted to her. He respected Sephie and couldn’t help but adore her a little bit for her resemblance to Rhea, but nothing else. It was nothing like the all-consuming love he felt for Persephone the moment he saw her and still felt to this day.

“Very well,” Hades finally said when he realized Alecto was waiting for his orders. “Let her through, and make sure she goes around the security this time. I do not wish to recalibrate the scanners again.”

“Yes my Lord.” With that, Alecto flew off to bring Sephie in, and Hades relaxed in his throne, summoning a pomegranate to play with it while he waited.

As he rolled the fruit between his hands, an idea sneaked into his head. Hades blinked, surprised it even came up in the first place, but… It was not a terrible idea, but he’ll have to work on it before he implemented it. Maybe the next time Sephie visits…

In that moment, he didn’t even question the fact there would be a next visit; he simply took it for granted his niece would visit him again, sooner or later.

“Uncle?” Sephie’s voice tore him out of his thoughts, and he refocused on the girl, only to blink again.

“Persephone, what are you wearing?” was the first thing that came out of his mouth, and he could care less how rude it sounded.

“A dress?” It was Sephie’s turn to blink, completely befuddled by the question. “And it’s Sephie, Uncle!”

It was not just a dress, though: it was a pure white peplos with blue stitched waves at the bottom hem, held up by intricately decorated shell-shaped clasps and outrageously beautiful yet delicate silver belt Hades remembered as the part of three-piece set of belts Hephaestus gave Poseidon for his daughter Rhode’s wedding. One went to Rhode, the other to Kympoleia, but the third was never worn by Queen Amphitrite, so Hades had assumed it was either lost or re-forged into a weapon. Apparently, Poseidon kept it hidden, hoping to give it to his third daughter.

In short, Sephie could’ve passed for a Grecian woman from the times long gone, with the added claim of her father showing everywhere, from the stitching to the clasps. She even had a pearl-incrusted hairpin keeping the stray locks from her face.

“Why are you wearing it, though?”

“It’s a birthday present from Dad,” Sephie shrugged, tracing the lines of the peplos curiously. “And it looks pretty – when you ignore the fact your entire side is left exposed.”

Hades closed his eyes and counted to three in his head. He’d just tried to forget that little fact. “Of course he’d send you that. Chiton would’ve been less revealing,” not to mention favored by Athenian women, “but peplos is more adaptable to the life of a warrior woman – Spartan women wore it all the time.”

Sephie smirked. “Thanks for the compliment, Uncle Hades. But,” here she pulled a basket from behind her back, “enough about my clothes. I have a present for you! Well, Lady Persephone has the present, my mum and I just provided the food.”

Persephone sent him a gift?

Hades inched closer to the covered basket, insanely curious. What would his wife send him, and use Sephie as the messenger? He tried to lift the cover, but Sephie pulled the basket away.

“Ah-ah, not here! Dear gods Uncle, I heard from Auntie Hestia you don’t really communicate with living, but everyone knows not to peek into the surprise basket before it is handed to you!”

“Sephie…” Hades warned, but Sephie just laughed.

“I’m serious! You’re not getting the basket until you show me a room where we can sit down and talk like civilized people!”

“My bedroom?” flew out of Hades’ mouth before he could stop himself, and he blushed in embarrassment. Dear Fates, if Poseidon heard him right now…

Sephie’s laughter stopped his imaginings of doom. “You’re funny, Uncle! I’ll have to decline though; wouldn’t want Lady Persephone to get on my case and turn me into a plant! Sitting room, maybe?”

Hades managed to get his blush under control and lead his niece to the sitting room a corridor away from the throne room. It was not his and Persephone’s private sitting room; rather, it was made for his helpers and occasional visitors in mind, with leather couches and armchairs strewn around the low, circular glass table, the room lit in mysterious green by the inlaid torches, courtesy of Hecate.

“Wow,” Sephie craned her head to take in everything in the room. “You have good taste in décor, Uncle.”

“It was mostly Hecate’s and Persephone’s work, to be honest,” Hades shrugged, sinking into the loveseat he usually shared with Persephone. To his surprise, Sephie joined him on the other side, toeing off the sandals and folding her legs under her, and placed the basket between them.

“Then, tell Lady Persephone and Lady Hecate they have good taste,” Sephie tilted her head before pushing the basket to her uncle. “Well?”

Hades pulled the basket to himself, noting daisies and lilies embroidered into the covering cloth, and pulled the cloth off.

“Oh,” he gasped, eyes wide. The handful of forget-me-nots and a purple rose in the middle were tied with a satin white ribbon rested atop a letter and two metal tins with ‘Cookies’ and ‘Drinks’ written in Ancient Greek. “Persephone…”

“I know, right?” Sephie bounced a little on the loveseat, a huge grin on her face. “My mum couldn’t stop cooing over it, and Dad was legit jealous you got such a caring wife.”

“Maybe if he would stop cheating on her,” Hades jabbed playfully, not taking his eyes off the flowers.

“Or maybe not. I hear Amphitrite is a b***h no matter how much my brother tries to please her.”

“Urgh, great. Can’t wait to meet her,” Sephie sassed, reaching for the ‘Cookies’ tin. Hades slapped her hand away. “Hey, it’s my birthday, and I want my blue chocolate-chip cookies!”

“Need I remind you, the basket was for me?” Hades raised his eyebrow, and Sephie pouted.

“But the cookies aren’t,” demigoddess argued, reaching for the tin again. This time, Hades let her grab the tin, but stopped her from opening it.

“Let me read the letter first,” he looked his niece straight in the eyes, and Sephie nodded, releasing the cover of the tin. “And, blue cookies?”

Sephie smirked. “An inside joke. Now hurry up!”

Hades chuckled at the impatience and slowly opened the envelope in retaliation, releasing the smell of jasmines and pomegranates. He skimmed over it, aware of the demigoddess shooting him dirty looks for making her wait, and folded the letter.

“I’ll read it later. Cookies?”

“Cookies!” Sephie yelped, yanking the cover of the tin off, grabbing the round, blue cookie and stuffing into her mouth. Hades shook his head and picked up his own cookie, deciding on the slow nibbling. Once he tasted it, though, he couldn’t stop himself from mimicking his niece: the cookies were almost as good as Hestia’s!

“Amazing,” he praised after swallowing the cookie, only to discover Sephie was finishing up her second and reaching for the third. “Leave me some cookies to me, brat!”

Sephie giggled before snatching her cookie and in no time, niece and uncle were eyeballs-deep in the competition of who-will-eat-more-cookies.

~

Thanatos peeked into the sitting room, curious as to the source of shouts and laughter. He chuckled at the sight of his Lord holding the blue (?) cookie high above the unknown twelve-year-old girl’s head, while she desperately tried to reach it without leaving the tin box out of her hands. The girl, while no immortal, radiated power he only saw in children of three sons of Kronos –

Ah!

The grin on his face widened as he committed the scene to the memory, more than ready to use it as a blackmail. It would explain the sea shell clasps on her – was it peplos?

“C’mon, Uncle!” Persephone Jackson whined, reaching again for the cookie while simultaneously batting away her uncle’s hand from the tin box. “You’re not playing fair!”

“Like you played fair at all, brat,” the joyful tone in Hades’s voice took away the sting of the insult.“Grabbing two at the same time was against the rules!”

“It’s not if you stuff them both in the same time in your mouth!” Daughter of Poseidon argued, before an evil glint appeared in her eyes. “Okay, I’ll give you the box.”

Hades narrowed his eyes, probably able to sense the but in the sentence, just like Thanatos. “But?”

“No buts. I might mention your teasing to someone, though,” and whoever thought Hades was the devious one had to get their heads checked, because the s**t-eating grin Persephone Jackson sported was the pure deviousness.

“Oh no, you’re not pulling a ‘wife’ card on me, dear niece!” Hades barked, but Thanatos could see the bead of sweat on his Lord’s forehead.

“Oh, I’m not going to tell Lady Persephone,” Persephone Jackson drawled. “I’ll tell my Dad.”

Hades did not reply, but Thanatos shook his head and left, not wishing to see the terror he knew appeared on his Lord’s face. Every the most idiotic of the Olympians knew how protective Poseidon was of his children, and he had heard the tale of what really happened to Ares and Apollo. Son of Nyx shuddered at the thought. Having your wrists and ankles twisted a full 180 degrees and your manhood speared through with Poseidon’s Trident was painful. Not that he spoke from experience. He stayed away from the trouble!