Megara watched as Hercules approached the Olympic gates, surrounded by those of his kin— his gold skin glowing in that inexplicable manner, matching the glimmering auras of the gods around him. She sighed and turned away. In a perfect world he would run back to her, join her, his immortal, glimmering hands entwining with her mortal ones. In her mind he would look to his father, the God of all gods and ask to join the fragile human kind, leave his home, lose his immortality. This wasn't the reality of the matter, however. She turned away. Even if he were to live as a mortal, she knew that they wouldn't have worked out. His naivety was extreme; he fell in love too quickly and her mind, twisted by the pains of her life so far, had almost tricked her into experiencing any real love towards the boy. Her false hope, from the beginning, was all conjured by the darkness in her very own thoughts. She left before he had the chance. She was damaged, and belonged with the likes of Hades.
Hades, after removing himself from the river of Styx, naturally, was beyond enraged. His skin remained alit with flame, incapable of diffusing with time as he played the scenes of his failed battle and the despised Hercules in his head. Stiff in his throne of dust and stone, he glared blankly at the darkness of the hall. The echoes of the hushed whimpering of all three heads of Cerberus and the steady drips of stale cave-water were all that could be heard in the damp kingdom of the underworld. Pain and Panic were nowhere to be found.
"Hercules," he finally sneered to himself, "that glowing, empty-headed, hero cannot bring a mortal bitch like Megara into his little mountain home, now can he?" he asked the shadows.
"So, the decision of whether to exchange little, mortal meggy-poo for his life-long desire of being with his true kind and family will be…quite difficult.." he sneered at this thought. "Either way, he loses…but especially if he choses the mortal spice-ling over his cloud-palace if I- no- when I discover where…" A voice interjected,
"What if the spice-ling decided to stay in this hell-hole? A girl like me making her own big-girls decisions..."
Megara knew that Hade's state of anger would be dangerously high at this point and with her head tilted down ever-the-slightest, walked in front of the throne, causing such surprise to the God, the raging, orange flames from his skin ceased to burn and calmed back to blue.
"Well, well, if it isn't my little Megara back to hell, coming for more. Can you handle it after become so soft and weak? I really should have killed you ages ago, my sweet." He paused in speculation, "Although late is better than never, am I right, lovebird?"
He appeared in front of her immediately, his hand around her neck, slightly squeezing her airway. She flinched once, and regained her spark as she looked into the yellow eyes of his sadistically grinning face.
She found what little voice was available through the clenching of his bony fingers, "I have come back to serve you, oh oneness!" Her sarcasm managed to leak through the hand wrapped around her neck.
"Oh?" He tightened his hand.
"Please." She managed to cough out with more seriousness. She clawed at his grip with both hands.
He dropped her. "What's in it for me, nutmeg?" He grinned evilly at her fallen form at his feet.