NOTE: Hi y'all! I know, I KNOW, I have other WIPs too. But this one is very fun and easy to write, and shouldn't take very long. MAX 30,000 words, but it'll prbly be more like 15K. Anyway, I will be posting as fast as I can, but for now, enjoy!

Please note: this is entirely self-indulgent. I just thought it would be a fun idea— it won't be completely depending on either myth or book. What it will be, is cute :) Leave a review if you like! They really make my day 💕

~ Vinny

It is a truth anciently acknowledged that a god in possession of power, wealth, and immortality, must be in want of a wife that is his equal in every way. That is what the oracles have been saying for years— for anyone smart enough to listen. Unfortunately, nowadays, the gods have gotten all these newfangled ideas about polygamy and intercourse: nobody even gets married beforehand! At least, no immortals do.

That was the problem, he decided. He, meaning Darci, that is. The problem was all these no-good gods and goddesses, always scampering about under the feet of IMPORTANT deities.

The Lord of the Dead considered himself to be very important indeed.

His true name— one only known by other immortals— was Lord Darci Hades. His given name, Darci, had no meaning, other than a color. His name meant a shade, a shadow of a hue, one as black as midnight and as blinding as the stars. Dark.

The dark suited him well; from the tips of his ebony and iron-tipped sandals, to the glittering gems of his eyes— ones that never closed, if he could help it. His skin also was a dark, tanned olive color, sickly in the wrong light, and even his hair was rebelliously black. His robes were the color of ink stains, and his bracelets were woven with the souls of the damned.

However, most mortals ignored this wicked-cool name, and simply called him by the name THEY had given him: Hades. The one that meant 'Unseen'.

Now, it is all well and good to pray to Immortals by the names you give them, but it is quite another to address them—in person— by a nickname like that. If you wanted to keep your neck attached to your spine, you would call him Darci.

There was only one thing wrong with that.

Being 'unseen' suited the great Lord almost as much as the darkness did.

Philosophers and fools might speculate that this is because it was inherent to his nature, that death comes quickly and goes unnoticed by many. They would probably write some great essay or a play about how the power a god wields shapes their personality, and how their personality molds their power.

Truthfully? Darci just hated social activities. And people, he hated people too.

So, he really didn't know what he was doing on Olympus that day, besides skulking in a corner and picking at the lint on his toga.

All around him, the sounds of boisterous gods and demigods raged, and flashing lights abounded. The clouds were permeated by spectral strobe lights, and wind nymphs tore through the air. It was so loud Darci could hardly hear himself think.

"ARE YOU HAVING FUN?!"

Darci winced, and patted his ear consolingly. "Not really, if I'm honest."

His brother wheezed in irritating laughter. "Oh, you're never having fun, Darci old boy! C'mon, LIVE A LITTLE!"

"I have all eternity for that, thank you," he replied stiffly. "No need to force me into the fray this time, Wikaam."

His older brother, the sinful god of the Heavens, Lord Wikaam Zeus, grinned at him. "Oh ho ho, but you know I do, brother!"

Darci pointedly ignored him, as he had been doing for centuries. He and Wikaam had grown up together— that didn't mean they were close. Or respected each other. Case in point, how Wikaam was speaking to him right now.

"Looklooklook," he drawled, running a hand through his corn silk hair, "You gotta meet some of the new goddesses. Fresh out the clay! They are fiiiine: ambrosia babes, every last one of them."

Darci made a face. "Gods, Wikaam, you know how I feel about speaking to women like that."

"But we're not speaking TO them, just ABOUT them!" He argued jovially, "And they're not women; they're goddesses. Lush, succulent goddesses with CURVES EVERYWHERE HUMMINAH HUMMINAH—"

"ALRIGHT, I GET IT!" Darci shouted. His olive skin was beginning to flush— more so when two of the muses passed them giggling (having obviously heard the conversation). Darci covered his face while his brother winked at them.

Once the muses passed, Darci peeked through his fingers, glaring at Wikaam. "Please. Find better company than me tonight. I am in no humor to humor you."

Wikaam laughed. "Ah, I get it!" He stuck a finger in his face, right up to Darci's sharp nose. "You think you're better than us Olympians! Is that it?"

Darci swatted the finger away, scowling. "No, I don't."

"Then prove it!"

He sighed through his nose. "How do you propose I do that?"

Wikaam grinned cheekily. "I dare you…." He paused here, for effect. "To bed a goddess. Right here. Tonight."

"What!?" Darci cried. He looked around, mortified that someone might overhear. He hissed to his brother, "I am NOT doing that."

"Why the hades not?" Wikaam exclaimed. Then paused. "Ah. Um. No offense intended."

"None taken. But seriously, WHY on GAEA would I need to.. to… to do that tonight?"

Wikaam sucker punched him, then laughed as if it was funny. "BECAUSE," he said, taking advantage of Darci's doubling over to put him in a headlock, "you, dear brother ARE A GOD! And to my knowledge, you have not even sired an heir yet! You're no vestal virgin— don't have the hips— so STOP ACTING LIKE ONE!"

"ALRIGHT," he shouted back, shoving his brother away. "I'll find a.. I'll find someone. Happy?"

"Tonight?" Wikaam pressed, grinning.

Darci glared back. "No," he spat out. "Everyone at this party is either off-limits, or the sexual equivalent to the back end of a centaur. And even then, NOT a thoroughbred."

Wikaam guffawed, drawing (to Darci's intense embarrassment) the attention of even more people. "Horribly put, as always, Darci! Whatever. 'S your immortality, I guess."

Darci sniffed. He crossed his arms, and hoped the conversation would end soon.

Apparently, the Lord of the Skies did not feel the same. He slung one arm around his brother, as if they weren't estranged and basically cosmic enemies. He leaned in, smirking, and Darci could smell the stench of ethyl nectar on him.

"Hey, Broody McBroodster. How abouts you and me have a dance-off!"

"Aaaand, that's my cue to leave."

"Wait, Darci, where ya goin'?!"

"Out for a walk," he called over his shoulder, "don't wait up."

Thankfully, Wikaam didn't hear him. He was too busy eyeing two new goddesses who had been hidden behind the punchbowl. Soon though, he moved on, which was really just as well. Had he heard the goddess' conversation, he would have rained spiteful thunderbolts upon them for such an insult. Instead, he just went to find a sea nymph to molest.

"See?" The younger said, "I told you the Elder Gods were trash!"

"Hmm," her companion said into her cup. This goddess wore an owl mask and a discreet silver robe— it contrasted harshly with the younger's bright, technicolor cloak.

"But that was just Zeus," the older eventually retorted, "We already knew he was.. ahm… like that."

The one with the bright cloak sighed, crossing her arms sulkily. "I guess. Still, it proves my point."

"But you have to admit, that other god didn't seem too horrible."

The younger tilted her head at this, considering. She smiled, and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. But I don't think I know him."

"I could introduce you sometime," her friend offered. The younger barked a laugh that caused daisies to spring up in the wall sconces.

"Gods no! Do you know what mother would do to me if she knew I was interested in guys?"

The older goddess shuddered theatrically before chuckling. "Yeah, I guess that's a no then."

"Definitely." The younger turned her head, gazing off the way the handsome stranger had gone. "And yet…."

"UGH, Elisabet!"

The younger's head shot up questioningly, then looked to where her friend was pointing.

"Oh gods, this just gets better and better..," Elisabet sighed.

Her friend, Lady Carlett Athena, put a steadying hand on her shoulder. "I understand. You have to save your nymph before the Big Man in the Sky gets too handsy."

"Yeah," Elisabet sighed, shooting her friend an apologetic smile, "Ioanna is like a sister to me, but.. she is still naive in the ways of the gods."

"I know."

"I have to go. I'm sorry."

"I know this too."

"Then you'll forgive me?"

They both smiled, and a look of understanding passed between the friends. Elisabet's mother restricted her access to other gods; it would be months before the two friends met again.

Carlett nodded, and pulled Elisabet in for a hug. "Of course I'll forgive you. It's out of your control. Until you are out and decide you want suitors, the mortal realm is where you stay."

She winked, her owl mask twitching conspiratorially in the pulsing lights. "Just let me know when you fall in love, Elisa. Then we can finally talk like normal gods again."

Elisabet groaned and laughed, shaking off her friend as she walked to the edge of Olympus. She looked over her shoulder, grinning. "Yeah. Like that's ever gonna happen."

Then she jumped, and the sky shattered into stars below her fingertips. Elisabet Persephone, the goddess of Spring, fell through the night and into her destiny.