'm so sucky and irresponsible. There are two barely-started fics in the pipeline and here I am, starting a new fic. Um, okay, review if you like. I'll give you cookies if you do!

1.

Hades was not a god that shocked easily; eternity as lord of the underworld prepared you for a multitude of things, most of them rather unpleasant. But still, this was beyond anything he'd ever imagined.

"You're sure?" he whispered, a strange look of shock on his normally expressionless face.

Persephone, his queen and wife, glared at him fiercely. "Of course I'm sure," she snarled darkly. "I've been sure for—oh…" her words trailed off as she doubled over. Hades held her gently, waiting until the spasms passed. "Thank you. Cousin Eileithya told me." Eileithya was the goddess of childbirth. "And she says the baby will be—owwwwwwww—"

Hades stood up, feeling dazed. "This is—Persephone, this is amazing. It's just—"

"It doesn't feel amazing," she grumbled. "I'm really not too sure if the baby even has human form. Even now it kicks like a rabid centaur."

Hades bent down again, a smile brushing the edges of his mouth. "Does your mother know?"

Persephone cast him a scornful look. "Oh, yes," she said dryly. "Of course she knows. That's why she hasn't been down here to visit you, her favorite brother…"

Hades's smile widened as he nodded. "Very well, I take that as a no." The smile disappeared as his brow wrinkled in thought. "Did Eileithya tell you when?"

"No," Persephone sighed. "Just 'soon', whatever 'soon' means."

Hades's cold hand slid over his wife's as he smiled. Two smiles in one day, a record. "This is wonderful," he said quietly. "There are six months, Persephone, six months when the child may be born."

She smiled up at him, smoothing his dark hair back from his forehead. "Yes," she said softly. "Six months."

Her smile became wistful, her eyes unseeing. Hades stepped back with a sigh, a trace of sorrow flitting into his own eyes. Over the years, Persephone had learned to love her distant husband, but still, there was absolutely no doubt that she loved the upper world more, with the brightness and overflowing life. Life, Hades thought tiredly. What is life, truly?

He slipped silently out of the room, leaving Persephone's maids to attend to her. She would come out of her reverie when she felt like it. Until then, well, he had wishes of his own.

Lost deep in thought, he walked with brisk, purposeful strides, stepping nimbly down a long, winding staircase that led directly to the lowest hell, Tartarus. There were other ways to get there, of course, but he wanted the time to think today.

The great iron gates of Tartarus loomed before him. Hades hesitated slightly, then tapped the gates with his finger. They swung open for the Lord of the Underworld, slamming hastily shut behind him. He stood for a moment, observing the prisoners within before setting out towards the west.

The light there grew steadily brighter, shining oppressively. A wide lake came into view, adorned by a single tree. The unnatural tree bore many kinds of fruit—pears, pomegranates, apples, grapes, olives—and below them was a single figure trying valiantly to grasp a fruit, but each time the branches would rise out of reach, while the water below would dip away with each futile attempt to drink. "Tantalus," Hades greeted in a soft voice.

The disgraced son of Zeus looked at him with bloodshot eyes. "Lord," he said, his voice raspy with lack of use. "What brings you here?"

"Curiosity," Hades said, settling himself down comfortably on the bank, running his hands through the water—the water was only cursed for Tantalus. Hades paused, trying to figure out the best way to phrase the question. He settled on, "Did you feel joy when Pelops was born?" Pelops was Tantalus's son, whom Tantalus killed and served as a meal in an effort to fool the divine guests at his banquet. For that sin, he was committed to Tartarus for all eternity.

Tantalus stopped his fruitless groping and sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Yes," he said finally, his voice unreadable.

"Then why did you kill him?" Hades inquired.

Tantalus didn't say anything for the longest time. Finally, he said in a very quiet voice, "Because…because, well, I wished to know."

"Enough to sacrifice your only son?" Hades said skeptically.

Tantalus didn't say anything, shaking his head angrily. "You don't understand," he snapped. "You're a god, you know everything. There—" he stopped, then continued with an effort. "I just—curiosity."

"Ah," Hades said neutrally, as though that explained everything. It didn't; he felt as confused as ever. Finally, he continued, "When your wife was pregnant, though, how did you feel?"

Tantalus hesitated. "Excited. Breathless. I was eager, but also frightened."

Hades rubbed his ear, absorbing this viewpoint. Finally he nodded. "Thank you," he said, standing to go.

"Wait!" Tantalus cried, hands turned pleadingly upwards. "Can you not help me, Lord? The hunger, the thirst, yet I am unable to quench it—"

Hades turned partially, observing the man. Pitiful, to think the wreck had once been one of his brother's favored pets. "No," he said calmly. "I can not help you."

Tantalus let out an anguished cry as he swiped his hands through the branches of the tree, struggling to reach. Hades, with a swirl of his cloak, disappeared into the distance, walking back towards the entrance of the underworld—and his pregnant wife, Persephone.