Was it all a dream? Hades sat up in bed, shivering even though he was usually used to the cold. That must be it. Ghosts didn't wear shackles. And him, the lord of the dead, being haunted by ghosts? The idea was laughable. He must have read that story more recently than he thought.
But since when did he have dreams? Especially nightmares? He was the one who appeared in people's nightmares.
But then he realised he was not alone in the room. A wispy, bright figure was floating in the distance. In fact, it was so bright Hades had to shield his eyes. He had been spooked upon waking up and by what he had seen that he hadn't even noticed it before.
The figure slowly dimmed until Hades could open his eyes. It was duller now, but still bright. Hades could vaguely make out a face at the top, shifting with the figure's form. It was so vague and malleable he doubted he had even seen it.
"Hello, Hades." It had the voice of a little girl. "I am the ghost of Christmas past."
"What?" Hades demanded.
"You will be haunted by three ghosts," she explained.
"Let me guess," he dared to say. "You're the ghost of Christmas past?" He remembered that about the story.
"I am." It had an innocent, childish voice, like that of a little girl.
"Well, how far in the past will you take me?" Hades asked. "I am millions of years old, after all."
"Really?" she asked. "You don't look a day over thirty."
"Funny," Hades replied, rolling his eyes. "Well, ghost, I order you to leave me and return to your rightful place."
"I cannot," she replied calmly. "I will only leave after I have fulfilled my duties."
Hades remembered what he had heard about these ghosts not following his orders. She didn't look or sound like any other ghost he knew, either. And he knew a fair amount.
The ghost was standing in front of him now, and Hades could see that she was constantly shifting. "Touch my hand, Hades." She lifted the right side of her figure and offered it to him. Hades supposed that counted as her hand.
He hesitated. He could go back to sleep and forget this ever happened. The last thing he needed was a trip down memory lane accompanied by some patronising ghost. He hated thinking about his past as it was.
But he was slightly curious. He had never seen ghosts like this before. Could she really take him into the past? It was worth a try. He could always order her to take him back if he didn't like what he saw.
He reached out his hand, pale and cold, and touched it to the ghost's one. To his surprise, her touch was warm and gentle, even pleasant. He wondered if she could feel his cold hand touching her.
A moment later, he felt himself flying weightlessly through the air, still grasping the ghost's hand. They were flying out of the palace and even the Underworld, but Hades couldn't quite see how. One moment they were there, and the next they were flying through the cold night air. It whipped around Hades, making him feel alive for once. Then he felt himself landing, but as he did, the dark sky changed completely.
Looking around, he saw it was morning. It was as cold as before, but the sky was brighter. There was snow falling everywhere, but the place was crowded with people. They were in a town. People were talking and bustling on the streets in scarves and jackets, some even singing. Hades could hear cheerful, yet elegant music in the distance.
Hades jumped as he saw two boys running towards him, but when they were about to knock him over, they simply ran through him instead, as if he was invisible. He heard one of the boys call something to each other in another language. It was Italian.
"No one can see or hear us," the ghost explained, seeing the shocked look on Hades face. "It is simply a memory of the past."
That wasn't what shocked Hades the most. He heard several more people talking and yelling in Italian. He understood the words, though it was hard to pick up all of them. He even recognised some of the buildings in the place. With a start, he realised where he was. He was in Venice. The city he had met Maria.
Maria... just thinking about her made him ache. He hated Zeus for killing her, far more than anything else his brother had done to him in his lifetime. Which was saying a lot.
Hades walked through the street, taking in the sights and sounds. He hadn't been there for almost a century, but he could remember everything quite well. He had visited whenever he had the opportunity, after all.
"Follow me, Lord Hades," the ghost ordered softly. Hades almost laughed at the idea of listening to someone who sounded like a little girl, but reluctantly followed her. Would she show him Maria? He was half joyful, half terse about the idea. He didn't know if he could bear to see her again, but at the same time, he hoped he could.
They walked away from the loud, bustling town to a quiet street lined with houses. There were only a few people outside. Hades felt a sudden strong connection to the area. He had definitely been there before. The ghost stopped in front of one of the houses near the end, and Hades did too – and he gasped.
It was Maria's house. Well, not really. She had lived in a flat. It was tall and elegant, the snow falling onto the balconies and sparse plants on them. The winter season gave it a chilly appearance. It was painted a caramel color in some areas and rich dark brown in others. Hades could even see a woman outside on her balcony, dressed warmly from the cold. He stared to see if she was Maria, but she wasn't. She went back inside quickly.
The ghost floated forward and disappeared into the building. Hades followed, finding he went right through the front door. It was a welcome relief from the cold. The spirit floated up several stairs, seeming to forget Hades couldn't.
He walked over to the stairs, only for his foot to go through the first step. He tried to touch the railing, only for his hand to go through that as well. The ghost then floated down, offering her hand. He accepted it, and they floated up to the next floor.
He could stand there, and followed her to the front of one of the rooms. She walked right through the door like before, and Hades followed. He felt an intense wave of emotion upon seeing the living room. He had lived here, or at least, visited frequently. But while it was usually neat and plain, it was now brightly decorated. A lit up Christmas tree stood in the corner, fairy lights were strung over the couches and tables, and a radio on the polished coffee table played soft Italian music.
But Hades didn't dwell on the decorations, because there was something else that caught his eye. The people in the room. One was himself, which made him jump out of his skin. It was so strange seeing himself outside of a reflection. But it could be no one else. The same deathly pale skin, jet black hair, and regal composure. The only difference was that he was wearing a black pinstripe suit instead of the black robes he was now. He supposed that kind of clothing was more appropriate to mortals.
He was even more unnerved by the woman next to him on the couch. She was very beautiful. She had dark hair that framed her face, olive skin, and was wearing an elegant black dress and pearly white gloves. His heart ached, with both joy and sadness. He wanted to reach out and touch her, embrace her, kiss her, but stood where he was. His past self would probably do that for him instead. Besides, he remembered, he couldn't touch anyone in the memory.
On the floor, a little boy and girl were playing. The boy was smiling and giggling, trying to catch his sister's attention. It was surprising for Hades to see his son happy. These days, he was always angry and withdrawn.
Hades and Maria were talking to each other in Italian. Hades still understood the language, even though it had been almost a decade since he had needed to speak it to anyone. He sometimes spoke it to himself. It kept Maria's memory alive, in a way.
"I am so happy you could come here today," Maria was saying. "I have always loved this holiday. It is a time for family."
"Then you should spend it with your family," the past Hades suggested.
"I am," she retorted. "Now that you are here, my family is complete."
"But what about your parents?" Hades asked. "And your brother? Surely you'd want to spend the holiday with them."
"They're always too busy for me," she said. "So is my brother. But I don't care about them. Anyway, I could ask the same to you. Why aren't you with your family?"
"Isn't it obvious?" he asked. "They hate me."
"Well, as long as we're together, with the children, we don't need anyone else." Maria draped her arm around Hades.
Hades smiled sadly at the memory. He had loved Maria, more than any mortal before. And then, Zeus had ruined everything...
"She's beautiful," the ghost suddenly said. "And the children are lovely."
Hades watched them. Nico was chatting happily to Bianca, who was busy playing with her dolls. They both had dark hair and olive skin, like their mother. But their eyes were as dark as their father's.
"Two are dead, and the other hates me," he stated bluntly. He could never resist being morbid.
The ghost was taken aback. "I'm sorry to hear that."
Was it true? Did his son hate him? Hades wouldn't blame him. He hadn't been the best father.
Then Nico lost interest in his sister and walked up to his parents. He wrapped his little arms around his father's legs.
"Is he one of the two who died?" the ghost asked. "I'm very sorry to hear it."
"What? No," Hades replied.
The past Hades glanced down at his son, and, after a hesitation, picked him up. Nico giggled in his father's lap.
"He doesn't look like he hates you," the ghost noted.
"Well, not now," Hades said.
Then Bianca came over, obviously feeling left out, and her mother picked her up. Hades felt a pang of sadness at the scene. They had been such a happy family, once. He was happier with them than with his immortal family. And then, it had all been ruined. Well, not all of it. He still had his son left. But he had driven him away as well. He had been a terrible father, cold and demeaning. He hadn't appreciated what he had left. Maria would be so disappointed if she knew how he had treated their son.
"I'm afraid we must go now," the ghost said, offering her transparent hand to Hades again.
Maybe it was best to leave. Hades didn't think he could stand observing the memory for any longer. He accepted the ghost's hand, his gaze still focused on the image, and felt himself flying again. When he landed, he was back in his palace, and jumped when he saw himself again. It was even more unnerving, since he was wearing the same black robes.
He wasn't alone, either. Persephone was there, and she looked rather angry. Hades groaned internally, wondering what his past self had done to upset her.
"I wasn't!" he was saying.
"You were!" she insisted. "You were with that mortal woman, weren't you?"
The present Hades winced. So this was after she had found out about Maria.
"Don't lie to me, Hades!" she shrieked.
"Alright, I was," he admitted. "But–"
"I knew it!" she cried. "You'd rather spend Christmas with her than me."
"I was only with her for a short time," Hades argued. "I can spend the rest of the day with you."
"Oh, that's great," she scoffed. "You can have both of your girlfriends!" She glared at him. "You know what? Forget it. I don't want to spend Christmas with you. You can to back to that woman if you want. I wouldn't want to interrupt your time with her."
"Persephone, wait!" Hades pleaded, but it was too late. It looked like the mortals would be experiencing another unusually warm day in winter.
Hades remembered he hadn't gone back to Maria on that day. He had felt too guilty to. He always called his brother Zeus a terrible husband, but he didn't seem to be much better.
At least he had wanted to spend Christmas with her on that day, though. He had said he was too busy, but it wouldn't take much time to do something together. Even if it was just half an hour together, having dinner or strolling through Elysium. The same could be said about Nico.
"We must go now, Hades," the ghost said. "You will be taken back into the present."
"Already?" Hades asked, both relieved and disappointed.
As he took her hand, he felt himself flying, but instead of landing somewhere, he found himself suddenly lying in his bed again, his eyes wide open.