The golden halls of Olympus rang with laughter, music, and the clinking of goblets as the gods celebrated the sentence of the traitor, Prometheus.
Wine flowed like rivers, ambrosia piled high in silver bowls, and the sweet scent of nectar perfumed the air.
At the long divine table, Hades sat quietly, picking at his food. Unlike the other gods, his presence did not boast arrogance or flamboyance—rather, it radiated a quiet, undeniable power.
His expression was stoic, indifferent to the roaring festivities around him. That is, until she started to het inside his personal space.
Aphrodite.
Golden-haired, with eyes like melting honey and skin that shimmered like the first blush of dawn, the newly born goddess floated beside Hades, her presence instantly capturing the attention of every god in the hall.
Yet she had eyes for only one.
"Lord Hades, am I correct?" she said sweetly, hovering beside his chair with a radiant smile, "May I ask, what is your favorite food?"
