A month after Hades was crowned King of the Underworld.
Another long, piercing scream reverberated behind the closed door Clotho stood beside. She was invisible to the inferior beings that populated the halls.
A flower nymph racing toward the door, arms full of linen, stopped. Her bright yellow eyes widened as she glanced around, no doubt expecting Hera to pounce from the shadows.
All the palace staff Clotho had seen had had similar expressions.
She'd been tempted to reassure the servants. Their concern would be warranted if any other female Zeus had seduced was giving birth to one of his bastards right in the God Queen's home, but the now-laboring goddess was as powerful as Hera, if not more so.
As enraged as Demeter's obvious tryst with Zeus made Hera, she wouldn't dare evoke her sister's wrath by interfering with Demeter's current condition.
For the day, only Hera's own attendants would face her malice. Already, the God Queen had killed six. Clotho foresaw at least a dozen more if Hera continued as she had since news of Demeter's laboring had spread.
The flower nymph's worry eased when no attack came. She shook her head and sprinted toward Demeter's birthing chambers.
The nymph didn't bother to knock and shoved her way into the chambers. Clotho glimpsed several nymphs hurrying about as Demeter's nursemaid barked orders before the door was slammed shut.
The Fate cursed herself. Then had been the time to sneak into the room.
Why hadn't she moved?
For her plan to succeed, she had to be as close to Demeter as possible before the goddess gave birth. By the sounds of Demeter's distress, the godling was due any moment.
Though Clotho's heart was set on her plan, her rationale hadn't been fully convinced. Too many shrouded possibilities branched off the decision she'd made because of emotion.
Unlike past choices that had left her and her sisters' paths dark and uncertain, this one was ridiculous and selfish. Were the Fates' existences worth trying to correct a minor injustice in the grand scheme of the cosmos?
This question had plagued Clotho for days, and her answer always wavered. She'd considered seeking counsel from her sisters but feared they wouldn't even hear her out before killing the idea. They'd never approved of Clotho's affection for Hades, and Atropos had warned Clotho from the beginning that she'd regret her attachment.
Another piercing, short-lived shriek echoed and ripped Clotho away from her tangled thoughts. She sighed. What was she going to do?
The air in front of Clotho rippled like a disturbed pond, and two identical, black-clad figures appeared within the ripple. The next moment, the figures stood in the palace and the ripple disappeared.
The figure on the left, Atropos, rolled her gold-ringed, pitch-black eyes. "Of course, you'd be here."
The second figure, Lachesis, snickered.
Clotho bristled at her sister's tone. "I've done nothing."
Lachesis' wide mouth parted into a smile. "Yet."
"Why are you here?" Atropos asked.
Clotho just eyed her sister. They all knew what Clotho planned to do, that's why Atropos and Lachesis had appeared.
The real question was, were her sisters there to help or hinder her?
"We owe him."
Lachesis' humor fled.
Even Atropos' arrogant scolding disappeared.
As much as they both believed they'd picked the outcome that best suited everyone, it bothered them that they'd had to hurt Hades. Even if the god didn't want it, he had the high favor of all the Fates, though only the heart of one.
Atropos sighed and several of the golden veins in her face unraveled like cheap thread only to be rewoven into an unfamiliar pattern a moment later. "There are so many uncertainties with the path you seek."
"There are worse ones if I choose otherwise."
"Not as many," Lachesis chimed in.
"It's a risk I'm willing to take."
Clotho spoke with sudden intense conviction, and she was sure, unless her sisters resorted to violence, she would accomplish her plan.
Atropos shook her head. "We don't have the luxury of selfishness."
"Yet we've indulged."
Atropos sighed again and glanced at Lachesis. An unspoken conversation passed between them, and then Lachesis shrugged.
"Yes, we owe him," Lachesis concluded.
Atropos wouldn't look at Clotho as she said, "Fine. Move quick. Your opportunity is fleeting."
No other servants were heading for the birthing chambers, but Clotho couldn't wait any longer.
She was still invisible (though her sisters hadn't been while they'd debated with her), and she hoped those aiding Demeter wouldn't think twice about the door suddenly opening. Maybe they'd believe it hadn't been fully shut and a gust of wind had pushed against it.
Faster than an eye could blink, Clotho was inside Demeter's birthing chambers.
The chaos Clotho had glimpsed from the hall had increased tenfold, most of which seemed a hindrance to the laboring goddess on the opposite side of the room. The nursemaid had lost control of the nymphs, but she paid them no mind; her sole focus was on the goddess.
Clotho approached Demeter, captivated.
Though the Fates had a hand in every creature born, they avoided the raw reality of birth. None of them would ever experience the life event so many took for granted.
Until a few years ago, Clotho hadn't minded. But then she'd met Hades, and he'd somehow captivated her enough for her to fall in love with him. For the first time, the Fate let herself wonder how different her life would be if she was like other goddesses, if she didn't have her specific Purpose.
Would she find happiness? Would the mundaneness be enough to fulfill her?
Demeter unleashed a scream to shake the palace's foundation, and the nursemaid announced that the godling was on the move.
Clotho snapped out of her daze. She shook her head and took a spot next to Demeter, close to her mountain of a stomach.
With deft hands, Clotho fished the most important piece of her plan from the small pouch hanging off her hip: the spirit of the deceased Daemon Queen. She cupped Kore's small, shimmering spirit in one hand in hopes no one in the room noticed the floating irregularity.
The spirit quivered at her touch and a wrinkle of colors flashed over its surface.
"Make him happy," Clotho whispered before she pressed Kore's spirit into Demeter's lower stomach.
"Push!" the nursemaid shouted.
Demeter grunted in response but complied.
The next instant, the shrill cries of a newborn filled the room.
The nymphs cheered, and Demeter collapsed in relief.
With a soft smile, Clotho left the joyous scene, nervous but certain she'd made the right decision.