The sound of a quill scratching against parchment filled my study, each stroke deliberate as I reviewed the latest reports from the mortal realm. The weight of my duty as King of the Gods never ceased, even in the quiet moments. The flickering lanterns cast elongated shadows across the chamber, their glow barely illuminating the piles of scrolls stacked upon my desk. I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose before leaning back in my chair.
A low chuckle rumbled from across the room, drawing my attention. There, sprawled across one of my velvet-lined couches, lay Tartarus. His long, wild curls framed his sharp, angular face as he chewed on something with the leisure of a man with all the time in the world. A plate rested haphazardly on his chest, crumbs dotting his dark skin like specks of stardust.
I exhaled sharply. "How long have you been here?"
He smirked, his luminous white irises gleaming against the void of his black sclera. "Hours, I think. Time is a fickle thing, nephew. You should know that by now."
My lips pressed into a thin line. "And the cookies?"
"Hecate brought them." He gestured to the plate with a lazy wave of his clawed hand. "You were distracted, so I did what any self-respecting guest would do. I helped myself."
I shook my head and returned my focus to the parchment before me. If Tartarus had been here for hours, it was clear he had no urgent matters to discuss—he merely sought company, or perhaps a way to amuse himself. My uncle was as ancient as the cosmos itself, and his whims were as unpredictable as the shifting tides.
Yet, my mind refused to settle. My thoughts drifted elsewhere, pulled toward a question I had yet to ask. The room felt heavier with unspoken words, and at last, I leaned forward, setting my quill aside.
"Tartarus."
He hummed in response, not bothering to look up as he broke another piece of cookie between his fingers.
"Gaia," I said, watching him carefully. "How is she?"
That finally got his attention. He sat up slightly, an eyebrow arching. "Gaia? Why the sudden concern?"
I held his gaze, searching for any hint of deception or evasion. "Is she... content with how I am ruling?"
Tartarus tilted his head, considering the question. "You think she'd stir, don't you? That she'd call for another war if she disapproved?" He clicked his tongue. "Relax, nephew. Gaia has only had praise about how you are doing things so I don't understand why you are so worried."
A slow breath escaped me, tension uncoiling from my spine. "Good."
"But why ask now?" Tartarus pressed, his three eyes narrowing slightly. "Has something unsettled you?"
Before I could answer, the room trembled. It was faint at first, a whisper of movement in the air, but then it grew—like a pulse from the very fabric of reality. My muscles tensed, my senses sharpening.
And then I felt it.
An intrusion.
A surge of divine energy erupted from outside my study, raw and unbidden. The lanterns flickered violently before shattering, plunging the room into shadow. The distant echoes of metal clashing against metal rang through the corridors, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of war cries.
Tartarus sat up fully now, eyes gleaming. "Ah. That's new."
I was already moving. I pushed past my desk, my black robes billowing as I strode toward the grand doors of my study. They burst open before I could reach them, revealing one of my guards, his face pale with urgency.
"My King," he gasped. "We are under attack."
I did not need to ask who. The very air tasted foreign—an invasive force had breached my domain, seeking to disrupt the order I had so carefully maintained. Fury coiled in my chest, a slow-burning fire waiting to be unleashed.
"Who dares?" I asked, my voice a quiet storm on the verge of breaking.
The guard swallowed. "A group of unknown deities. They struck the outer sanctum and are making their way toward the throne room."
Tartarus let out a low whistle. "Bold. Very bold."
I turned to him. "Coming?"
He grinned, standing to his full, towering height. "Wouldn't miss it."
<------------>
The skies above the Grecian border churned with ominous clouds as Tartarus and I emerged into the mortal plane. The scent of salt and steel hung heavy in the air, mingling with the distant crackle of flames and the rhythmic pounding of war drums. Before us, an army of warriors clad in hardened leather and gleaming iron stood in formation, their weapons gleaming beneath the dim light.
At the forefront of their ranks, a man stood still as stone. He was clad in silver Viking-style armor, a heavy fur cloak draped over his broad shoulders. A black raven perched on one side, a white one on the other. His face was marked with deep lines of experience, his gaze a piercing glacial blue. A patch covered his right eye, only enhancing the regal and foreboding air about him.
I didn't need to ask who he was. The realization struck me immediately—this was Odin, the Allfather of the Norse pantheon. And standing beside him, a red-haired colossus of a man, a broad grin plastered across his bearded face. He swayed slightly on his feet, a massive hammer strapped to his back, his stance relaxed yet dangerous.
Thor.
Tartarus chuckled beside me, his own three eyes gleaming with interest. "Well, nephew, it seems we have guests."
I stepped forward, my tone even yet laced with authority. "You are trespassing on my land. State your names."
Odin studied me for a moment before speaking, his voice like the weight of a thousand winters. "I am Odin, Allfather of Asgard. This is my son, Thor. We seek an audience with the King of Olympus."
His eye flickered between Tartarus and me, as if attempting to determine which of us held the throne. I exhaled through my nose, irritation curling in my chest.
"You are speaking to him," I answered plainly.
Odin raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "Strange. You do not dress like a king."
A smirk curled at the edge of my lips. "Then allow me to rectify that."
I snapped my fingers, and darkness unfurled like a tidal wave, swallowing every being in its path. The air crackled as the world warped, and when the veil of blackness lifted, we stood no longer on the battlefield but within my throne room in the Underworld.
The grand chamber loomed around us, the walls lined with torches that flickered with eerie blue flames. My throne, carved from the deepest black marble, awaited me. I took my seat, now adorned in regal robes, my crown resting upon my brow, rubies and sapphires glinting in the dim light. Jewels lined my wrists and fingers, each artifact a testament to my rule.
To my right, Hecate sat upon her throne, her eyes glowing with an otherworldly shimmer. Oizys stood solemnly to my left, her presence a shadow of quiet misery that unsettled even the strongest of men. Lining the vast chamber, undead soldiers stood in perfect formation, their black Greco-knight armor glistening under the torchlight, spears poised with unwavering vigilance.
By the entrance, the twin Hekatonkheires, Briareus and Cottus, stood as colossal sentinels, their four arms crossed, their eyes fixated on our guests with eerie amusement.
Odin and Thor took a moment to take in their surroundings, their eyes scanning every detail. The warriors who had accompanied them shifted uneasily, their hands drifting toward their weapons as if expecting treachery.
I leaned forward, resting my chin against my knuckles. "Greetings, Odin. My name is Hades the King of the Olympian gods and ruler of the Underworld and Abyss. Does this setting meet your expectations?"
Odin inclined his head slowly. "It will suffice."
I gestured with a lazy wave of my hand. "Then speak. Why have you come?"
Odin stepped forward, his posture firm, his single eye gleaming with the weight of his words. "I have come to offer you a choice, Hades. Submit to my rule, swear allegiance to me, and I will allow you to retain your position beneath me. Refuse, and the Norse shalt wage war on Olympus, razing it to the ground. We will take what we want, one way or another."
I scoffed, leaning back on my throne. "You have quite the audacity, Allfather. To march into my lands, stand in my halls, and demand my throne? Tell me, have the frost of your lands frozen your wit as well? The Norse and their Vikings—savage raiders who mistake pillaging for conquest—what a laughable notion. You claim to have taken the surrounding lands, but you stand now in my domain. That was your first mistake. Your second was assuming I would ever bend the knee to a fool of a god."
A murmur rippled through the Aesir warriors, their hands gripping their weapons. Thor let out a deep, booming laugh, his grip tightening around Mjolnir. "Finally! Enough talk. I was hoping to bash in some skulls!"
My soldiers reacted immediately, their black spears gleaming as they aimed at the Aesir forces. Briareus drew his four Dadao blades, each shimmering with ethereal energy, while Cottus hefted his Bident scepter, the weapon humming with latent power. The tension in the room was a tangible force, one spark away from igniting into bloodshed.
I raised a hand, and my men halted, their discipline unwavering. Rising from my throne, I descended the steps with slow, deliberate movements, my robes whispering against the polished floor. I stopped just before Odin, my gaze locking onto his with unyielding resolve.
"You want my lands? My kingdom? My people?" I sneered. "Then prepare yourself, Allfather, because if war is what you seek, then war is what you shall have. We will not only defeat you, but we will take everything you have—your lands, your culture, your people. You stand here, threatening Olympus, but you forget... the last time a war was waged against us, the Titans fell. What chance do you have?"
Odin's expression darkened, his jaw clenching tightly. "So be it. Heimdall!"
A pillar of golden energy erupted around Odin and the Aesir warriors, the ground beneath them burning with a Norse rune circle that seared into the fabric of my throne room. With a final glare, they vanished, leaving only the lingering scent of ozone and scorched carpet.
I sighed, rolling my shoulders before turning to Oizys. "Have Arges replace the carpet. I am growing tired of foreign gods leaving their filth in my halls."
Oizys nodded without a word, already moving to carry out my command. I then turned to Briareus and Cottus, my voice as sharp as my blade. "Double the training regimen. The soldiers must be ready. We will soon march for war."
I stormed out of the throne room, my footsteps echoing off the cold stone walls of my palace. The fury in my veins burned like molten iron, and before I realized it, my fist collided with the wall, sending cracks splintering through the black marble. Dust crumbled to the ground, the force of my frustration vibrating through the halls of the Underworld.
Hecate was behind me, her presence familiar, comforting. "Hades," she said gently, placing a hand on my arm, "you need to breathe."
I clenched my jaw. "I thought we would finally have peace. But now? Another war, another bloodbath! Half of the Olympians have never known war, and the other half still bear the scars of the last one. How do we stand against the Norse?" My voice was low, bitter, edged with the weight of centuries of conflict.
From the corridor, a quiet voice chimed in. "You do what you have always done, Hades. You endure."
I exhaled sharply. "No, it isn't. It is fought with knowledge. With preparation."
Hecate smirked. "Then let us be ready for anything." Her violet eyes gleamed with mischief as she stepped beside me. "We need to gather intelligence. If we can anticipate the Norse's movements, we will hold the advantage. I can send spies."
I considered her words, nodding as an idea took form in my mind. The shadows around us trembled at my command, swirling together, coalescing into dark butterflies. They fluttered silently into the air, their very essence tied to my will, ready to slip unseen into enemy lands.
Hecate watched with amusement. "It has been so long since you created them," she mused, reaching out to let one land on her fingertip. "I had nearly forgotten."
"I wish you to stay out of this war," I murmured, my voice softer now. "Let me handle this. You do not need to fight."
Her gaze sharpened, her fingers curling into a fist. "No, Hades. I will fight by your side. I am not some fragile thing to be sheltered. I have stood with you through every trial—we will face this together."
I studied her for a moment, the fierce determination in her eyes, and I knew there would be no convincing her otherwise.