omg hades pov was really fun to write

enjoy. review. thank you.

HADES

Empire State Building. Floor six-hundred. Twelve thrones sat in a semicircle, lavishly adorned and each one occupied by a regal being similarly decorated. Behind the two biggest and ornate thrones was a stone-cold fireplace, char scattering the hearth.

In the lobby, an aging security guard sat behind a desk. He looked up at the man before him, dark-haired and heavy-eyed.

"There are only 103 stories in the Empire State Building, sir, you must be mistaken." The security guard turned back to his desk.

The dark man tapped a finger on the counter. He spoke softly. "If you do not wish this building and everyone in it to enter my realm presently, you will give me a key to Olympus. If you speak with my brother I am sure he will tell you he has been expecting me."

In the ornate room, there entered a thirteenth god. A wave of the long fingers he brought his throne, which had not left the Underworld for millennia.

"You choose your guards well, Zeus. He is good." Hades remarked favorably. "Annoying, but good."

"You are not here to discuss something so trivial." Hera spoke up sharply. She perched delicately on her chair, clad in the shimmering blue of a peacock. Several of the others murmured in agreement.

"I should hope not." Hades bared his teeth in something that may or may not have been a cold mockery of a smile. "I haven't set foot on Olympus since before it relocated. I believe . . . I shall quite enjoy it."

"Is that a threat, Hades?" the rumbling voice of Ares reached him, and the smoldering pits that were his eyes met the deep caverns that were Hades'. "Do you wish to challenge us for your right to live here?"

"Not a threat, young one, merely a compliment. Must you always be so eager for a fight?"

"Only a fool would let his guard down around you, dearest brother." Demeter sniffed, shooting him a glance. She had never forgiven him for Persephone's abduction. But what could he say? The girl was pretty.

Zeus, Hades noticed, had not yet spoken, but remained quietly seated on his throne. His fingertips crackled with lightning. This was not a good sign.

"I assure you that I take good care of your daughter," He began, "She is –"

"ENOUGH!"

Ah, there was the explosion he had been waiting for.

Zeus pointed accusingly at a spot between Hades' eyes. "What have you done with her?!"

"We-e-e-ll." Hades coughed, "Last night we had dinner together. Persephone really is a great cook and –"

"IDIOT!" Zeus roared, still pointing, "Not Persephone! Hestia! You've stolen her!"

For the first time, Hades realized what the cold ashes in the fireplace meant. "I have done no such thing." He was deadly serious.

"Lies!" Aphrodite started forward, anger marring her beauty.

"Why would I steal Hestia?" Hades asked blankly, forgetting to be sly and condescending as he usually was. "I am not a cruel god, Zeus." He raised an eyebrow, "And I am not stupid; I would like to avoid war with the twelve of you, please and thank you. I am merely the god of the Underworld." This was met with silent thought as Hades continued. "For others, they are all one and the same. Ruler of the dead, who does things out of spite. Oh—what's his name?"

"Satan." Ares supplied, then looked embarrassed for knowing such a thing and busied himself with a bit of dirt under his fingernail.

"Yes, thank you." Hades nodded. "I am not the entity Satan. I am Hades."

"I agree with Hades." Athena spoke up after a moment, casting a glance in his direction. "Whoever stole Hestia clearly did not take into account the wrath of the Olympians. And Hades has tangled with it firsthand. I do not think he would be so foolish as to do so again."

Hades suppressed an indignant snort, irked by this jibe.

"But if Hades didn't take her," Hephaestus looked around the room at his fellow Olympians, "Who did?"

Miles away, six hundred stories below, a girl woke in a cold sweat with the realization that something was brewing, both above . . . and below.

REYNA

"Hah!" Reyna shouted, pinning two helpless Greek demigods to the dirt of the training pitch. She had managed to get an Ares child to teach her how to wield two swords simultaneously, and after little practice by anyone's standards, Reyna was now an expert.

"I can't wait till you guys leave." The left Graecus grumbled, cooperatively refraining from squirming. He was a child of Hecate and utterly useless at weaponry of any kind.

"Romans." The Hypnos girl agreed from the right, then yawned widely. "Ah, well. That's enough for today. I think I'll go have a nap."

"But Vera," the boy replied, faintly surprised, "You just got up."

"Oh," Vera mumbled, already beginning to drift off, "Did I?"

Reyna released the two of them wordlessly, sheathing her swords, then exited the scene in search of a more challenging opponent.

What she found instead was a small, red harpy flapping about in the air.

"Reyna. Reyna Reyna!" Ella sang, landing on Reyna's head and shedding feathers all around. "Reyna come with Ella!"

"Good peanut-butter sandwiches this afternoon?" Reyna asked politely.

"With no cheese," Ella assured.

"Tyson does make good sandwiches," Reyna agreed, "But I'll be glad to get back to New Rome. Things here are so . . ." she trailed off, looking round at the sunlit Camp Half-Blood. Things here were so lighthearted. She wanted to say, as if they didn't take anything seriously.

Ella interrupted her thoughts, having taken a different track. "Rome! The harpy squawked, Rome! For Rome, for Greece, for gods, for earth."

"Ella." Reyna stopped abruptly, causing sand to fly into her sandals. "That sounded a bit too much like the beginning of a prophecy." She swallowed, having heard several prophecies in her time.

"For Rome, for Greece, for gods, for earth." Ella repeated, "Beware the dark, avenge the hearth."

"Did you read that in the Sibylline Books?"

"Books!" Ella replied happily, "Books are good for harpies." Then, "Peanut-butter sandwiches are good for harpies. Cheese is not good for harpies. Cheese. American, Asiago, Baby Bell, Blue, Brie, Cheddar . . ."

"Do you know where Frank is?" Reyna asked, wanting to consult her fellow praetor.

"Frank Sinatra." Ella began, "Born: December twelfth, 1915. Died: May fourteenth, 1998. American singer, actor, director and producer . . ."

I love ella she's so cute

-oldsoul