The day started like any other—peaceful by Underworld standards. I was attending to the myriad petitions and disputes that came with ruling both the dead and Olympus. Then Hermes burst into the throne room, throwing the peace of the day out the window.
The young god—if he could even be called that yet—strode in with an air of confidence so unearned it bordered on reckless. His winged sandals clattered against the marble floor as he stopped dead center, a grin plastered on his youthful face.
"I am Hermes, son of Maia!" he declared, puffing out his chest. "And I have come to claim the hand of the radiant Apolla in marriage!"
The throne room fell into stunned silence.
From my place on the grand black marble throne, I leaned forward, rubbing my temples. "You what?"
"Marry me, Apolla!" Hermes turned, looking at my adopted daughter with a boyish grin. She sat beside Melinoe, who stared at him as though he were a particularly curious pest. Apolla's face burned red, but whether from embarrassment or rage, I couldn't yet tell.
"Hermes, is it?" I said, my voice deceptively calm.
He turned to me, still grinning like a fool. "Yes, King Hades. I know I'm not officially on the council, but I—"
I stood, letting my shadow stretch across the throne room. Hermes stopped mid-sentence, his grin faltering.
"Let me make something very clear," I said, my voice echoing with the weight of the Underworld. "No one walks into my throne room and makes demands of my family. Least of all a godling who has yet to earn his place among us."
After I had Hermes scraped off the floor (courtesy of a thoroughly annoyed Ares), the council convened to decide what to do with him.
"I'll give him this," Hephaestus said, adjusting his forge apron as he leaned against his throne. "The boy's got guts. No brains, but guts."
Poseidon stroked his beard. "I'm inclined to send him back to Maia with a note that says 'try again in a century.'"
"Why waste time?" Hera said, her icy tone cutting through the room. "He walked into Hades' throne room and insulted us all. The punishment should be swift and severe."
Apolla crossed her arms, still fuming as he flipped her blonde hair. "I don't want anything to do with that boy."
Yet, despite the overwhelming disdain, there was something about Hermes. He had potential, even if it was buried under layers of arrogance and naivety. After some deliberation, the council agreed to put him through a series of tests—a secret trial to determine if he was worthy of a place among us.
As Hermes stumbled his way through the trials, another disruption arrived in the form of a mortal named Dionysus. Wherever this man went, chaos followed. He had an uncanny knack for fermenting grapes, creating a drink he called wine. Mortals flocked to him in droves, intoxicated by his charisma and the effects of his inventions. I mean... I honestly didn't care as I had a vault of different alcholic beverages. Sure nectar was great but since I could drink wiith no problem of course I would use my knowledge to recreate something from my old life.
Anyways he stumbled into Olympus one evening, drunk and radiant, declaring himself "the God of Parties" and demanding recognition.
The council was less than amused.
"I have never seen someone so unfit for godhood," Hera muttered as Dionysus tipped an imaginary hat at her.
"But he has brought something new to the mortals," Hestia said thoughtfully. "Wine has brought them joy, for better or worse."
After much debate, Dionysus was granted minor godhood, named the God of Wine and Alcohol, with the caveat that Hebe would train him. His exuberance made him a constant thorn in everyone's side, but even I had to admit there was something endearing about his relentless optimism.
Something was bugging me though, Atlas was marble and yet several of his childrens were just showing up out of nowhere. I had Artemis bring me some of their blood and in mere minutes I was in my lab studying their blood and taking the sliver of soul in it to see the truth. I did also take my younger childrens blood and Athenas as well.
And let me tell you that after a while, I was not even surprised with the results.. well there was one surprise.
In the case of Artemis, Apolla, Hermes, and Dionysus... Zeus was the father.
In the case of Athena, Atlas was the father.
"Zeus," I said, the name falling from my lips like a curse. "Of course that idiot is going around playing with the females, the problem is I wonder where that fool has even went to.
<-------------->
The results of the tests for Hermes and Dionysus played out exactly as I had anticipated, though the paths they took couldn't have been more different.
Hermes excelled in every trial, surprising even the harsher members of the council. He demonstrated remarkable ingenuity, quick thinking, and a charisma that was both infuriating and endearing. By the end, it was clear he deserved a seat on the council. He was formally named the God of Travelers, Merchants, Thieves, Boundaries, Language, and Messages—a multifaceted role befitting his sly, ambitious nature.
I had to admit, watching him constantly vie for Apolla's attention was as amusing as it was annoying.
It turned out Hermes had been enamored with Apolla long before his dramatic entrance into Olympus.
"Do you know," he confessed to the council with an impish grin, "the first thing I ever did as a newborn god was steal cattle? I couldn't even walk properly yet!"
Apolla raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "I'm aware. My cattle, if I recall correctly. The ones gifted to me by Helios."
Hermes winced but pressed on. "Right! About that—I was just a curious kid! I didn't mean to…" He trailed off under her withering glare before adding, "I fixed it! Didn't I fix it?"
"You tried to return them by tying branches to their tails to hide their tracks," Apolla said dryly. "And you still left hoofprints everywhere."
The council laughed, though I could see Apolla struggling to keep a smile from breaking through her irritation. I'd noticed her softening toward Hermes lately. While she claimed he was just "an amusing nuisance," I knew her better than that. There was a flicker of interest, not that it mattered, since I could see her heart was set elsewhere. Someone else on the council had caught her eye, I do belive that everyone but Hermes and her crush already knew it.
Dionysus was a different story altogether. The moment his trials began, it was clear the man was ill-suited for the role he sought. His tests revealed a mind more preoccupied with drinking and being lazy than responsibility.
Despite this, he remained defiant. When the council ultimately voted against granting him a seat among us, he erupted in fury.
"This is an outrage!" he bellowed, wine sloshing from his goblet as he rose to his feet. "I've brought joy to mortals! Innovation! Festivities they've never dreamed of! And you deny me a place among the Olympians?"
"It's not just about what you've brought to mortals," I said, my tone cold. "It's about discipline, responsibility, and the ability to serve the greater good. You have proven incapable of these things."
Dionysus' eyes burned with rage. "Then I'll take what you refuse to give me!" He lunged toward me, drunk on both wine and arrogance.
Before he got within a step, Zagreus and Ares intercepted him, their combined strength pinning him to the ground. Ares looked to me for direction, his grip firm but awaiting orders.
"You've sealed your fate, Dionysus," I said, stepping forward. I crouched beside Dionysus, whose defiance flickered under my shadow. "You will not be part of the council. You will not be an Olympian. And now, you will not even keep the title of godhood. As King of the gods I banish you to live a mortal life. Enjoy the rest of your life, when you die pray that you arn't consumed by my Pythagora."
I leaned on my throne as he screamed, thrashing under Zagreus and Ares, but it was futile. The light in his eyes dimmed as the power drained away, leaving him mortal once more.
I stood and waved to the two dismissivly. "Take him to the mortal realm. He is banished from Olympus."
The throne room of the Underworld was unnervingly quiet that day, a silence so profound it pressed against my senses. It wasn't the soothing kind of quiet; it was the type that felt alive, pulsing with an impending revelation. The flickering torches seemed dimmer than usual, their light casting long, wavering shadows on the obsidian walls. Even the air seemed thicker, laden with an unseen tension.
I leaned back on my throne, fingers absently drumming against its armrest. The Underworld rarely surprised me anymore. After millennia of overseeing the dead, my expectations were tempered by routine. But this—this was different.
Then, the room shifted.
It wasn't a noise or movement, but the weight of an ancient presence entering my domain. My breath stilled as I felt the air around me grow heavy with power older than any of the Olympians. This was no ordinary visitation. This was Ananke, the Primordial of Fate herself.
Her form shimmered into being, not walking but existing, as though she had always been there and I had only just noticed. Her figure was cloaked in flowing strands of golden threads that shimmered like woven starlight, each thread pulsating with the lives of mortals and gods alike. Her eyes—endless wells of knowing—met mine, and I felt the weight of eternity in her gaze.
"Hades," she said, her voice a rich, resonant timbre that seemed to echo through the bones of the Underworld itself. "I bring you a summons."
I rose from my throne and inclined my head. "Ananke," I said carefully, my tone respectful but wary. The Primordial of Fate did not visit without reason. "What does this summons requires of me?"
She extended her hand, and in her grasp was a scroll, its seal bearing the mark of Chaos—the Ouroboros. My heart sank as I recognized it. Whatever this was, it was no small matter.
"Chaos has decreed an event unlike any other," Ananke began, her voice as steady as the flow of time itself. "The Convergence of Kings. It is a gathering of the rulers of every pantheon. A moment to decide the next course for existence, for gods and mortals alike."
The weight of her words settled on me like a boulder. "The Convergence," I murmured, reaching for the scroll. Its texture was cool and firm beneath my fingers, thrumming faintly with power. "Why now?"
Ananke's expression was inscrutable. "The threads of existence fray at their edges. Chaos sees what none other can. The convergence is not a question of if but when. It has chosen now, and you, King of the Underworld, are summoned."
I broke the seal and unfurled the scroll, scanning the divine script etched into its surface.
To the Ruler of the Underworld,
By my will, Chaos, you are summoned to the Convergence of Kings. The realms of existence are at a crossroads, and decisions must be made for the future of gods and mortals alike. Refusal is not an option.
Prepare yourself for what is to come.
—Chaos
My eyes drifted over the list of attendees. It named rulers from pantheons far and wide. The list was extensive, but when I reached the entry for Greece, I stopped cold.
Zeus King of the Greek Pantheon
My brow furrowed, and my grip on the scroll tightened. "Why is Zeus listed as the King of the Greek Pantheon?" I asked, my voice low but sharp.
Ananke's calm gaze flickered briefly with confusion. "Explain."
"I was not informed of this event," I said, my jaw tightening. "Let alone that Zeus claimed my place as ruler of the Greek pantheon."
Ananke tilted her head slightly, a faint hum emanating from her as if consulting the very threads of destiny. "Chaos held a gathering for the kings to sign their names into the records of sovereignty. It appears you did not attend."
"Attend?" I echoed, my voice rising in incredulity. "I wasn't even invited!"
Ananke's expression darkened. "The invitation was delivered to Olympus, ten years after you were crowned King. It seems…" She trailed off, the truth dawning on both of us. "Zeus intercepted it."
Of course, he did. My teeth clenched as I pinched the bridge of my nose. "So, while I distracted doing my best to run not only the Underworld but Olympus, Zeus went to some important event and pretended to be the King of the Pantheon?"
She nodded solemnly. "It would appear so. But the Convergence will expose the truth. You will be able to prove the truth, and fix the mess that Zeus made already, and that cannot be denied in Chaos' presence."
A grim smile tugged at the corner of my lips. "Oh, I'll make sure the truth is known. And I'll enjoy every second of it."
I rolled the scroll back up and set it aside. "Thank you for bringing this to me, Ananke. It seems I have preparations to make."
She inclined her head, a faint smile playing at her lips. "Fate always corrects itself, Hades. Even the lies of gods cannot outlast the truth."
With that, she dissolved into golden threads, fading into the air as if she had never been there.
I leaned back on my throne, a plan already forming in my mind. Zeus had played his games long enough. At the Convergence, there would be no shadows for him to hide in. I would make sure that Zeus never rears his ugly face near my pantheon ever again.
<---------------->
The day had finally arrived. The air of the Underworld seemed heavier as if even my realm knew something momentous was unfolding. I stood before my family, each of them radiating a mix of pride and concern. Hecate, ever the steady presence, placed a hand on my arm. Her eyes, a mirror of the cosmos, locked onto mine.
"Remember, my love," she said, her voice firm but warm, "you are not just the King of the Underworld. You are Hades. Let that carry the weight it deserves."
Zagreus and Melinoe stood just behind her. Zagreus had that glint in his eyes—part admiration, part mischief. "Make them remember who you are, Father," he said, a smirk playing on his lips.
Melinoe, more reserved, gave a small nod. "We'll hold the Underworld in your stead," she said. "And if anyone causes trouble…" Her smile turned wicked. "Well, they'll wish they hadn't."
Even Apollo and Artemis, my adopted children, stood with quiet respect. "Good luck, Father," Artemis said simply, her voice steady. Apollo just grinned and gave me a thumbs-up.
With a final look at my family, I straightened my shoulders. "Keep everything running smoothly while I'm gone," I said. "And no wars while I'm dealing with this." My gaze lingered on Zagreus, who gave a mock innocent expression.
Before anyone could respond, the air shifted. I felt the pull—a summoning unlike any I had felt before. It was vast, ancient, and undeniable. The fabric of reality around me warped, and the familiar sights of the Underworld blurred and faded.
When the world came back into focus, I found myself standing in an immense chamber that defied comprehension. It was vast beyond measure, its ceiling a swirling abyss of stars and galaxies. The floor beneath me seemed like polished obsidian, but when I looked closer, I realized it was a translucent expanse, showing the endless void below.
Before me stretched a colossal coliseum, its design reminiscent of mortal arenas, but on a scale only gods could fathom. Thousands of thrones encircled the space, each one unique, bearing the sigil of the deity it belonged to. The thrones were carved from materials both mundane and mystical—gold, obsidian, ice, flame, and even materials I couldn't name.
The air was electric, buzzing with the energy of countless divine presences. Around me, gods began to materialize, each summoned in a flash of light or a burst of their unique essence.
To my left, a towering figure appeared. He was clad in silver viking styled armor with a fur cloak drapped over his shoulder. A black and white raven sat on each shoulder and he had a patch over his right eye. His expression was cold as he walked to his throne. No doubt that this was, Odin the Allfather of the Norse Pantheon.
To my right, a young Egyptian girl appeared. She was breathtaking, her raven-black hair framed her face in silken strands, and her golden eyes burned with an intensity that seemed to rival the sun itself. She was adorned in intricate golden jewlery and delicate chains that draped across her form like a second skin, she carried an air of power, regal and commanding. She glanced at me, her gaze sharp and assessing, as she turned and headed to one of the thrones and sat down. Right on the throne that was marked for Ra... was not expecting that.
Across the chamber, a jaguar-headed figure emerged, his imposing form draped in vibrant jade and gold. His throne, carved with intricate Mayan glyphs, radiated an aura of ancient wisdom and power. Eyes like burning embers stared out from beneath the jaguar helm. So that must be Itzamna, the ruler of the Maya
Others followed, some humanoid, others monstrous. A giant feathered serpent-coiled into place as it transformed into the body of a young boy as he sat on his throne, he was definetly Quetzalcoatl. Next to him was Huitzilopochtli, looking like some blue alien.
Each god moved with purpose, their eyes scanning the room, some nodding in recognition of familiar faces, others radiating quiet hostility.
And yet, I stood still, watching for the one person I had come to see.
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