HIS CONFESSIONS

Hades awoke with a jolt. As he opened his eyes, the warm, dense air struck him, filled with the scent of smoke and the familiar aroma of freshly made stew. The dim light was illuminated only by the crackling flames of a rustic fireplace, and as his gaze travelled over the rough stone walls, he knew exactly where he was. The cave of his childhood.

"What am I doing here?" he murmured in a hoarse voice, his mind still clouded with confusion.

The place was identical to how he remembered it. Every corner, every stone worn down by the years, and every shadow cast by the fire. It was his home, the only one he had before his world changed forever. However, what truly paralyzed him was her.

Sitting by the fire with a serenity that seemed unreal, was Rhea, his mother. Her hands moved with precision, intertwining threads in a loom. The firelight illuminated her delicate face, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

"Aidoneus!" The sweet, melodic voice called him by his old name, the one no one else used. "Good morning, dear! You're always up so early. Will you help me with some chores?"

Hades' heart nearly stopped. His mother looked at him with that unparalleled tenderness, the kind only she had ever given him in his entire existence. Was he dreaming? Was this some cruel illusion? His mother had been gone for millennia. No, it didn't matter. The tremor in his hands vanished instantly. If this was a dream, he didn't want to wake up.

"Yes, Mother… Of course." His voice was broken, trembling, almost childlike.

Hades stepped forward and, without thinking, began helping her with the chores. Cooking. Cleaning. Carrying firewood. The young god did everything with diligence. Every movement, every breath was a silent plea for this moment never to end. The closeness of his mother filled him with a peace he had forgotten existed, but also with a deep, piercing pain—the sorrow of knowing this couldn't be real.

As he helped her, he heard soft murmurs and small footsteps. His brothers. Poseidon entered first, still small, his hair tousled, sleepiness in his eyes. Then came Zeus, still crawling, laughing with childish mischief. The sight completely bewildered him. But… they are already grown… Hades thought, perplexed.

Yet, everything fit into the impossible perfection of this place. His brothers were still children, innocent, free from the ambition and conflicts that would one day divide them. He turned toward the water jug in the center of the cave, and when he looked at his reflection, his breath caught in his throat.

The child staring back at him from the water was not the Hades he knew. It was a small blond boy with large amber eyes full of life. His pale, luminous skin bore no trace of the grayish tone it would later take on, nor were his teeth sharp fangs. It was him, but innocent, before the world hardened him, before he became the feared and solitary god of the Underworld.

"Am I dreaming?" he asked himself again, unable to look away from that reflection. Everything seemed so real: the warmth of the fire, the scent of freshly baked bread, his brothers' laughter. And yet, something was missing. A pang pierced his chest when he realized what it was.

Erianthe.

She wasn't here. Of course not. This time was eons before her birth, but the emptiness of not seeing her there and of knowing she did not yet exist was unbearable.

"Aidoneus, would you mind bringing me some water?" Rhea's gentle voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"Yes, Mother," he replied automatically, grabbing a pitcher.

His mother's voice, so loving, echoed in his mind like a lost melody. He glanced at her as she prepared food for his brothers as she wove. She did everything with love, a love he had carried with him even after losing her.

Hades couldn't grasp what Rhea saw in Cronus, his father. A cold, distant Titan, incapable of affection. He barely spent time with them, and when he did, his gaze was full of disdain. However, Rhea had always been there: strong, unwavering, and devoted. She had been Hades' only refuge in his darkest days.

"Brother, will you come play?" Poseidon's voice made him turn. The boy smiled at him, waving a branch as if it were a sword. Zeus laughed beside him, still clumsy in his movements.

Hades watched them, feeling a strange mixture of warmth and melancholy. It was true: there had been a time when they were a family. A time when everything seemed right. When they were just children, under the loving care of their mother.

"Aidoneus, my son," Rhea called him again, and as he turned toward her, he noticed she was looking at him with a special intensity. "Do not forget who you are. Do not forget what truly makes you happy."

Her voice, though soft, carried a weight that pressed on his chest. Suddenly, everything began to change. The fire started to fade, the cave walls blurred, and his mother's face became hazy.

"No! Mother, wait!" Hades reached out, trying to grasp that world, that moment slipping through his fingers like smoke.

The last thing he saw was Rhea's smile and the echo of her voice.

"What truly makes you happy…"

Hades jolted awake, covered in a cold sweat. His chest rose and fell rapidly, as if he had just run a marathon. Mentally, he chuckled at the absurd thought—he hadn't considered running a marathon in over a thousand years. He ran a hand over his face and closed his eyes, trying to steady himself.

"It was just a dream," he told himself, but his voice trembled. His entire body felt numb. The first thing he noticed was the warm glow of a lit torch, faintly illuminating the room. His room. He recognized the scent of damp stone, sulfur, oak, and incense. But what truly surprised him was the subtle floral fragrance that had become so familiar—the scent of Erianthe.

He turned his head slightly, trying to gather his bearings. Pain immediately shot through his side, forcing him to inhale carefully. His torso was wrapped in clean bandages, and he realized he wasn't wearing his chiton or his tunic—just his undergarments and the bindings. Hades frowned, confused, until a slight movement caught his attention.

She was there.

Sitting in a chair beside the bed, with her head resting on her folded arms atop the mattress, Erianthe was fast asleep. Her breathing was soft, her hair falling in gentle, tousled waves, and her relaxed expression radiated serenity. The sight left him speechless. Why is she here? The god wondered, feeling a strange pressure in his chest.

Suddenly, the memories rushed back like an uncontrollable flood. Echidna. The escape from the monsters. The chariot overturned when they reached the forest. Hades remembered how Erianthe had been thrown from it. Instinctively, he had jumped to protect her, knowing she wouldn't survive such an impact. He had used the last of his strength to shield her. The blow had pierced through him like a spear, but at least she had been safe.

"So I lost consciousness after that. What a nuisance," the god of the dead muttered to himself, annoyed and frustrated by his current situation. If this had happened when I was at full power seventeen years ago, things would have been different.

For starters, he wouldn't have needed to visit Echidna. And even if that had come to pass, there was no doubt in his mind that he would have had enough strength to face all the monsters at that wretched gathering without breaking a sweat. They would have learned the true power of the god of the dead. The mere thought of those monsters filled Hades with fury.

Agitated, the god tried to move, but even the slightest shift made the mattress creak beneath him. Erianthe stirred slightly, murmuring something unintelligible in her sleep. Hades held his breath, watching her carefully to avoid waking her. He didn't want to break this moment.

For an instant, he just observed her. It fascinated him how peaceful she looked while sleeping—so different from the determined and stubborn young woman who would stand up to anyone, even slavers and monsters. She wasn't afraid to be in the Underworld; in fact, she seemed comfortable here. The torch's soft glow highlighted the tiny freckles on her face and the natural flush of her cheeks. She's so brave, the lord of the dead thought.

The word echoed in his mind. That memory—Erianthe facing the gorgon, risking her life to protect the other gorgon—was seared into his soul. He also recalled the first time he met her, when she had defied the manticore without hesitation. But the memory that burned the deepest was the moment she had risked her life to keep him from falling into the vortex of souls.

And then, without meaning to, Hades smiled. He felt, little by little, that this girl was melting the heart he had long believed to be frozen—or rather, dead. How is it possible that this tiny human has such strength? He wondered.

He knew that she had endured hardships and traumas that would have shattered anyone else her age. But not Erianthe. She was unique, and every small gesture, every glance, and every smile moved him more than any other being had in millennia.

Hades reached out to her cautiously, almost without thinking. His fingers nearly brushed her hair, but he stopped himself. Something within him feared breaking the distance that still existed between them—a barrier he couldn't quite understand.

Suddenly, Erianthe murmured something clearer, her voice soft and drowsy.

"Hades, don't go," she whispered, and a shiver ran through the god.

"Eri," he murmured under his breath, startled. But she did not wake.

Hades sank back against the pillow, his gaze fixed on the sleeping girl beside him. Could she be dreaming about me? The thought unsettled him. No one dreams of the god of the underworld. No one wants to dream of me. Except, maybe… her?

"This girl is so strange," Hades thought.

He closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled slowly, trying to steady the erratic beat of his heart. She's driving me insane.

Lying back against the pillow, he tried to ignore the dull pain in his side. For a while, he focused on slowing his breathing and controlling the burning sensation from his wounds. He knew he was healing, but it had been millennia since he had taken a hit like this—probably not since the war against the Titans.

Once he had regained control over the pain, his thoughts drifted back to the girl resting beside him. His gaze returned to Erianthe, still asleep, unaware of everything. For a long moment, he simply watched her and remembered the first time he had seen her—how, at first, he had only wanted to make her suffer. But that feeling had slowly faded, day by day, as he spent time with her.

Now, he couldn't imagine letting anything or anyone harm her.

He couldn't look away. She brought him peace. And like a moth drawn to a flame, his hand reached for her again.

He hesitated, mere inches away, torn between reason and instinct.

But for the first time, he let instinct win.

Gently, with the utmost care, his fingers brushed against Erianthe's hair.

It wasn't the first time he had touched had embraced before, held hands, and he had even carried her. Not to mention that night at the lake when he had to revive her. But this touch was different—this time, he was doing it consciously because he wanted to feel her warmth beneath his fingers.

What the lord of the dead hadn't expected was for such a simple gesture to make his heart pound harder against his chest—something he was not accustomed to.

Slowly, he brushed his fingers over one of the loose waves in her hair. It was soft and silky. He lowered his hand just slightly, grazing her cheek. When did I become tender or gentle with anyone?He wondered.

Because she is your weakness. Don't deny it, whispered that irritating voice inside him.

"Hades…?"

Her voice was soft and slightly hoarse from sleep. As she stirred, she blinked several times, frowning slightly.

"You're awake?" she asked, a mix of surprise and concern in her tone.

The god quickly pulled his hand back and coughed, trying to regain his composure.

"I suppose—unless I've developed the habit of sleeping with my eyes open," he teased.

Erianthe sat up, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. When she looked at him, her eyes widened a bit more.

"You're awake! How do you feel?" she asked urgently, immediately reaching for a pitcher and a cup on the bedside table. As she turned, she noticed how pale he was and hurried. "Here, drink this."

Without waiting for a response, she brought the cup to his lips. Hades raised an eyebrow, slightly amused by her protective nature.

"Erianthe, I am a god. I won't dehydrate like a mortal," he said with a hint of humor.

"I don't care that you're a god. Drink. I don't want anything to happen to you," she replied firmly, her eyes locked onto his.

Hades, surprised by her determination, didn't argue and drank the water she offered. But his surprise only grew when, immediately after, Erianthe placed a careful hand on his chest—a touch so light it was almost a caress.

He nearly choked.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his muscles tensing instantly.

"I wanted to check if your bandages needed changing," she answered matter-of-factly, pressing gently over the bandages with her fingers.

The warmth of her hand against his bare skin sent a shiver through his entire body. For a moment, he forgot to breathe.

Why does this brat always have to be so disconcerting? He thought. I can't deny that she's truly… adorable.

He couldn't help but stare at her. Despite her serious, focused expression, there was something in the delicacy of her movements that he found irresistible.

For the first time, he realized that Erianthe was not just his subordinate or a loyal ally—she was his friend.

She cared about him, looked out for his well-being, and he enjoyed the time they spent together.

Is this what it feels like to have friends? He wondered. But something deep inside told him it was more than that. Something deeper. Something he couldn't quite name.

"Why…" Hades began, his voice quieter than usual. "Why did you come looking for me? Why did you risk so much to save me? You could have gotten hurt…"

Erianthe lifted her gaze, her cheeks flushing slightly when she realized how close she was to him. She tried to mask her reaction, slowly removing her hand from his chest, but her heart was pounding.

"I… I did it because I wanted to, Hades. You're my friend, and I don't regret it. I would sneak into that monster's lair over and over again to get you out of there."

Her voice was soft but firm.

Deep down, Erianthe knew she had already crossed the barrier of friendship with Hades. She didn't feel the same way about him as she did with any of her other friends—but she wasn't sure what it was exactly.

Did she just say I'm her friend?

A warmth spread through his chest. And yet, he also felt a strange tightness, his pulse quickening.

Hades gazed at her intently.

How had this little human become someone so special to me?

Still, something else caught his attention—there was a faint greenish tint left on Erianthe's cheek, a remnant of her disguise as an Empusa.

"You still have some green pigment," he murmured, trying not to smirk as he gently took her face in his hands.

Erianthe blinked, surprised by the sudden contact. Her pulse quickened, and the blush on her cheeks deepened.

"What…" was all she could manage before Hades started wiping the pigment away with his thumb, his dark eyes locked onto hers.

The world seemed to stop.

Hades stroked her cheek with such care, as if he feared she might break.

At that moment, he understood just how irrevocably drawn he was to breathing slowed, deepened, and instinctively, their faces moved closer.

Erianthe swallowed hard, unable to look away.

The warmth in her chest was overwhelming—but in a way she neverwanted to end.

"Erianthe…" Hades whispered, his voice hoarse, laden with emotions he himself could not understand.

"Hades…" Eri murmured, her voice barely a sigh.

They were so close that he could feel her breath against his lips. One more centimeter, and—

"Erianthe! It's time for dinner!" the imps called out from outside the room.

The sound hit them like a cold wave. Both of them pulled away abruptly, their cheeks flushed, their breathing uneven.

"Those damned imps…" Hades muttered through gritted teeth, closing his eyes in frustration.

Erianthe, still blushing, quickly stood up, searching for any excuse to leave.

"R-right… You should rest! I'll go prepare dinner!" she said, her voice nervous as she rushed toward the door. Then, with a teasing smile, she added, "By the way, I'll tell Giles to make you those worms you love so much."

Hades frowned at her comment and immediately interrupted.

"Absolutely not," he stated firmly, though his expression softened right after. "I'd rather you prepare my dinner."

Erianthe blinked. She was used to cooking for him, but it was the first time he insisted that she would be the one to do it. A radiant smile spread across her face, brightening everything around her. For a moment, she forgot her nervousness and the lingering warmth in her cheeks.

"What would you like me to make?" she asked, visibly happy.

Hades gave a small smile; there was an unfamiliar warmth in his dark eyes. Seeing her smile like that stirred something in his chest—something very close to joy.

"Your stew, no question. It's one of your best dishes," the lord of the dead replied.

Erianthe let out a soft laugh and nodded enthusiastically.

"Alright! I'll make the stew and something special to go with it. I hope you like it."

"I'm sure I will," Hades murmured, more to himself than to her.

Erianthe lingered for a moment, looking at him. She truly enjoyed cooking—especially when it was for him. Something about his words made her heart beat a little faster. But just as she turned to leave, Hades spoke again.

"Erianthe…"

She turned back, curious. "Yes?"

"Would you like to meet later? In the baths."

Erianthe felt her face instantly heat up again. The baths… Her mind immediately recalled the time Hades had caught her exactly as she had come into the world—how awkward and embarrassing that had been. But there was something different in his tone this time, a softness that made it impossible for her to refuse.

"The baths?" she repeated, trying to keep calm.

Hades nodded, his gaze steady on hers.

"Yes. I need… to relax a little after everything we've been through. And I think it would do you some good, too," he added with a small smile, one that barely concealed a hint of mischief.

Erianthe swallowed and quickly nodded, unable to suppress a nervous smile.

"Alright… I'll see you there," she replied, giving him one last glance before hurrying out and closing the door behind her.

Hades let out a deep sigh, leaning back against the bed. His smile lingered.

"What are you doing to me, brat?" he murmured to himself, his voice soft, almost affectionate.

He closed his eyes, and once again, his mother's words echoed in his mind: "What truly makes you happy…" Images of a brave, cheerful girl with mesmerizing eyes filled his thoughts.

Meanwhile, in the cafeterium, Erianthe was preparing dinner with a bright smile, thinking about a certain god of the dead. The imps watched her confused—she looked so happy that she was even humming a tune.

When she finished cooking, she told the imps to bring the meal to Hades.

"Here you go. Oh! I almost forgot—this too," she said, placing a small note on the tray.

Hades was seated in one of the armchairs in his room when the imps entered with the tray.

"Your dinner, boss!" Panic announced, placing the tray on the small table near the bed.

"It's made with lots of love," Pain added with a sly grin before both imps scurried away, giggling under their breath.

Hades raised an eyebrow, slightly puzzled, but when he looked at the tray, he found a delicious meal—stew that smelled so good it could probably bring a dead person back to life. Alongside it was warm pita bread stuffed with feta cheese, still steaming. Just the scent made his stomach growl, reminding him that, god or not, he needed to regain his strength.

That was when he noticed something else—a small, folded note.

He carefully opened it and immediately recognized Erianthe's handwriting.

"I hope you enjoy this and that it helps you regain some energy. I made it with a lot of care, so you'd better eat everything. —Eri."

Hades couldn't help but smile.

But what truly made his heart skip a beat was the tiny heart she had drawn at the end of the note. It was small, barely noticeable, as if she had hesitated before adding it—but it was there.

"Eri…" he murmured, rubbing his forehead with a deep sigh—though he couldn't erase the smile from his lips.

She's adorable, he thought.

And for a moment, it felt as if all the coldness and weight of millennia had melted away, replaced by something warm and unfamiliar—something only she could make him feel.

He took a bite of the pita bread, closing his eyes as he savored the melted, salty cheese. It was delicious, as always. Everything she made was. And that made him feel even more vulnerable.

That night, after finishing his meal, the god of the underworld made his way to the baths with an unhurried stride. He wore a lightweight black , all the while, the image of that tiny heart on the note lingered in his mind.

After washing off the grime and sweat from his visit to the monsters' lair, Hades made his way to the pool and put on his swimwear. Ever since that incident, he no longer wanted to swim naked in his pool.

He noticed that Hercules' daughter wasn't there and quickly realized she must have gone to the employee pool. Sure enough, that's where he found her.

The girl was submerged up to her shoulders in the water, her orange hair tied in a high bun, leaving her neck exposed. Her cheeks were lightly flushed from the heat of the water, and she appeared utterly relaxed, her eyes closed and a serene smile on her face. Around her, the reflection of the Underworld's glow created an almost ethereal image.

Hades watched her from his pool without saying a word; he couldn't tear his eyes away. "Hades, what are you doing? You look like a pervert," he scolded himself, though his inner voice retorted.You're mesmerized by her.

Shaking his head, the god swam to the edge of his pool. At that moment, Erianthe turned and smiled when she saw him. The Lord of the Underworld couldn't help but smile back. Why is she smiling at me? Is she happy to see me?

Hades leaned against the edge of his pool, his gaze fixed on Erianthe in the other pool. His posture seemed relaxed, but in reality, his mind was completely focused on her. The steam from the water swirled between them, and the contrast of her orange hair against the somber backdrop of the Underworld was almost hypnotic.

"Tell me something, Erianthe," Hades said finally, his voice deep yet soft. "Why didn't you come to my bath? Why are you in the employee pool?"

Erianthe blinked, surprised, then chuckled softly, as if his question were absurd.

"Your bath? Hades, in case you've forgotten, I'm still your subordinate, and that's your private bath. It's supposed to be for the lord of the dead only."

The mention of the word subordinate made Hades frown. His gaze grew intense, as though he were considering something.

"From now on, you'll use my baths," he declared without thinking. He knew she was right to use the employee baths since she was technically one of them. But deep down, he didn't want to share her with anyone else. "Why can't I bear to be apart from her?"

Before she could respond, Hades raised a hand, extending it toward her. His arm transformed into a swirling cloud of dark smoke, which elegantly stretched across the distance to the edge of the employee pool.

Erianthe's eyes widened in surprise as the smoke wrapped gently around her waist.

"Hades! What are you doing?" she exclaimed nervously, feeling herself being pulled toward him with a firm yet gentle force that left her no choice.

"Bringing you closer. This way, we can talk more easily," Hades replied with a sly smile.

In a matter of seconds, Erianthe was lifted from the water and transported to the god of the underworld's pool. The dark smoke dissipated as her feet touched the warm water, and she let out a soft sigh.

"You could've just asked me to come over, you know?" she protested, pouting slightly.

"And where's the fun in that?" he replied, clearly amused, as he leaned back against the edge of the pool, looking at her with a mix of playfulness and something harder to define.

Erianthe crossed her arms, though she couldn't stop herself from smiling and letting out a laugh. The Lord of the Dead never ceased to surprise her. He wasn't at all what she had imagined.

She had always thought of him as a cruel, twisted, grumpy, and selfish god. But little by little, she was discovering there was more to him.

He was funny, sarcastic, intelligent, and cultured—and occasionally, he showed a protective side, caring about the few things that mattered to him. Granted, those things were rare and often self-serving, but still, it was something. And, much to her disbelief, she was starting to realize that deep down, very deep down, he had a tender and affectionate side.

"Oh, gods… Am I seriously associating 'tender' and 'affectionate' with Hades?" Erianthe thought, almost in disbelief.

"Are you sure you want to share your bath? I don't want to hear any complaints later," she teased, her tone playful.

Hades smiled, his eyes still fixed on her.

Erianthe was wearing a simple black swimsuit—the one Pain and Panic had given her. While it wasn't revealing, its snug design accentuated her natural curves. Too well, Hades thought, glancing away for a moment before his thoughts spiraled out of control.

But it was futile. The memory of Erianthe in the baths that one time—naked and unguarded—flashed back into his mind unbidden. Her wet, pale skin glistening in the steam, her fiery orange hair cascading like flames, and that blend of innocence and sensuality he hadn't been able to shake from his thoughts since.

He couldn't help but recall how captivating and dangerous she had looked when disguised as an Empusa, with that defiant gaze and the voice that had utterly entranced him. It was ironic—this mortal stirred emotions in him that no goddess or nymph had managed to evoke in centuries.

"Hades?"

Erianthe's voice pulled him from his thoughts. She was watching him with a raised eyebrow and a hint of amusement in her smile.

"Don't tell me you're regretting sharing your bath."

Hades cleared his throat, suddenly feeling absurdly exposed at that moment.

"I was… thinking," he replied, trying to sound nonchalant as he shifted his gaze toward the horizon of the underworld.

Erianthe studied him for a moment, a spark of curiosity in her eyes. Then, unexpectedly, she leaned back and submerged herself in the water with a graceful, playful movement, sending a light splash in Hades' direction.

"Hey!" Hades grumbled, startled.

"You deserved it," Erianthe laughed, surfacing again, water cascading down her face and shoulders. "You always seem lost in another world. What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing that concerns you, brat," he replied, though his tone lacked any real severity. The sight of water droplets gliding down her skin made him clench his fists slightly beneath the surface. It was frustrating, but at the same time, fascinating.

"I was just thinking that I'll have to ask Ajax to stock more soaps for you and set up a place where you can change comfortably, nothing more."

Erianthe gave him a small, warm smile.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. Why would I lie to you? More importantly, why do I have to explain myself to you?"

"I'm just worried about you…"

Hades let out a low chuckle.

"Really?" He was secretly pleased that she cared.

Erianthe simply shrugged and turned away momentarily, gazing at the distant lights of the Underworld. The reflection of the infernal flames danced on the water, blending with the ethereal glow of the souls drifting through the river.

"Of course, you idiot," she murmured softly.

Hades stared at her, his expression unreadable. What's wrong with her? Why did she suddenly get so serious?

There was something about her presence that made him completely vulnerable, and that irritated him. Every time she was near, he felt something inside him soften, little by little.

As the steam from the water swirled around them, Hades realized that, for the first time in his existence, he felt at peace—and that peace came solely from being near Erianthe.

Erianthe was still watching the horizon. Hades followed her gaze, his eyes taking in the vast landscape of the Underworld. That was when she glanced at him from the corner of her eye, noticing the faint dark circles under his eyes. He looked tired.

For a brief moment, she stopped seeing him as the imposing god of the underworld and instead saw him as a man. A normal man.

"Hades…" she said gently, tilting her head slightly as she observed him. "Are you okay? You look… exhausted."

Hades strained for a moment, his gaze locking onto hers as if debating whether or not to answer.

"I'm fine, brat," he replied with his usual indifferent tone, though there was little conviction behind his words.

"No, you're not."

Erianthe moved closer in the water, narrowing the space between them.

"I can see it in your eyes. And… you have dark circles."

Hades scoffed lightly, though not in annoyance—more in resignation. He wasn't used to people noticing things about him… or worrying.

"Since when do you care so much about how I look?" he teased, but she didn't laugh.

Instead, she looked at him with that soft, genuine expression that sometimes completely disarmed him.

"You know," she began, her voice careful, as if she were afraid of hurting him, "while you were unconscious, you kept calling for someone."

Hades' frown deepened slightly, and he turned to face her, staring intently.

"Calling for someone?" he murmured, almost incredulously.

"Yes."

Erianthe nodded, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You said 'Mother'… multiple times."

A heavy silence settled between them, as if the surrounding air had suddenly ' features hardened slightly, but not in anger—in pain.He averted his gaze, avoiding looking at her directly.

Erianthe didn't press him. She wanted him to speak in his that vulnerability in him… she had never seen it before.

After a few moments, Hades' voice finally broke the silence.

"It's been a long time since I thought about her."His voice was low, deeper than usual.

"My mother, Rhea, was the only being whoever truly loved me. She was kind, patient, and protective."

Erianthe remained still as she listened intently. Hades continued:

"Back then, my mother hid us in a cave, keeping us safe from Cronus, our father. He feared that one of his children would overthrow him, so… he devoured us. One by one."

Erianthe brought a hand to her mouth, horrified by what she was hearing.

Hades wasn't looking at her. His eyes were fixed on some distant point, lost in his memories.

"One day, everything changed." His voice wavered, almost imperceptibly. "My mother gave birth to Zeus, and desperate to protect him, she asked me to help her buy time. I was the eldest, the strongest at the time. I sacrificed myself so she, Poseidon, and Zeus could escape."

Hades closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if forcing himself to speak the next words was more difficult than it should have been.

"Cronus… devoured Poseidon. And me as well."

A shiver ran down Erianthe's spine at the revelation.

"You cannot imagine what it is like to be trapped inside your father's stomach. It wasn't just darkness and silence… It was a void that consumed your soul. I could feel life slipping away, but I never truly died."

Erianthe stared at him, a mix of compassion and anguish in her eyes. She had no idea how to respond to such a confession. She couldn't begin to fathom the terror and loneliness he must have felt.

Hades took a deep breath before continuing.

"When Zeus became strong and cunning enough, he freed us all. But something had changed."

He ran a hand through the water, watching as his fingers disturbed the surface.

"When I emerged, I was no longer the same. Something inside me—in all of us—had changed forever. My skin turned grey, my hair became blue flames, my teeth."

He gave a faint, humorless smile, just enough to reveal his sharp, pointed teeth.

"My divine light had disappeared. Poseidon, though his appearance changed as well, still retained his light."

"Is that why Zeus still looks human?" Erianthe asked in a quiet voice.

"Yes. He was never devoured. He never experienced that."

Hades turned his gaze back to her, softer now, though tinged with melancholy.

"But I… I emerged from Cronus' stomach looking exactly as I was meant to be—someone to be feared."

Erianthe felt a lump form in her throat.

Without thinking, she moved even closer to Hades, placing a hand on his arm. A small gesture, yet filled with comfort.

"That must have been horrible," she murmured. "I can't imagine what you went through, Hades."

He looked at her in surprise, as if he hadn't expected compassion from anyone.

The warmth of her touch and the honesty in her voice made him feel more vulnerable than ever. And yet, at the same time, he felt… relieved.

"It was," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Somehow, I survived."

For a moment, they simply looked at each other in silence.

Erianthe's gaze held a mix of admiration and tenderness.

Hades, feeling exposed before the daughter of Hercules, found himself struggling with an unfamiliar sensation. Yet, when he saw her expression, he felt something sting in his chest.

"You are not what happened to you," she finally said, her voice filled with conviction.

"You are so much more than that. You are strong and brave, Hades. You tried to protect your family, and you did—you helped your mother and Zeus escape."

The god of the underworld didn't respond immediately, but there was something in his eyes—something indescribable.

A silent gratitude.

As if her words had lifted a weight from his shoulders. As if, after millennia, he could finally breathe.

"Thank you, Erianthe," he murmured at last, his tone softer and more sincere than she had ever heard before.

Erianthe smiled at him, her hand still resting on his in that instant, Hades realized just how important this mortal was to could feel his heart beating, all because she was there with him.

She didn't fear his appearance. She touched him without hesitation. Not only that, but she looked at him with kindness and concern, never with that warmth in her gesture…

Now he understood why Erianthe brought him so much was the light that pulled him from his darkness.

She was his light.

Hades fell silent for a averted his gaze from the girl, focusing instead on the water, where gentle ripples spread from the movement of his arm. The air around them felt heavier, and he realized it was his breathing—growing labored as he braced himself for what was to come. What followed was far worse than being devoured by his father.

Erianthe did not look away, patiently waiting for him to continue his story. She knew how difficult it was to keep painful memories buried and to carry burdens alone. That's why she wouldn't leave him to bear it by himself.

"It didn't end when we were freed," Hades finally said, his voice deep and measured. "That was only the beginning of something far worse: the Titan War."

Erianthe nodded slightly. She knew parts of the story, but something about the way Hades spoke—as if he were reliving it—made the weight of each word sink deeper.

"Zeus, Poseidon, and I rose against our father and the Titans who followed him. That war…"

Hades paused for a moment, his gaze drifting into the distance as if he could see the memories playing out before him.

"It lasted for years. Years in which the world was consumed by chaos. There was no rest, only death and destruction."

Erianthe swallowed hard. She couldn't even begin to imagine what it must have been like to stand in the midst of such a battle between gods and Titans.

"You fought too?" she asked softly, though the answer was obvious.

Hades turned to her, offering a humorless smile.

"Of course. We fought on different fronts—Zeus in the skies, wielding his lightning, and Poseidon with his trident, perfect for commanding the seas. And I…" His voice dropped a tone, his eyes hardening. "I had my Helm of Invisibility. With it, I moved unseen through the shadows and darkness. It allowed me to capture many creatures and Titans, to trap them in Tartarus."

"Tartarus…" Erianthe repeated with a shudder.

"Yes," Hades confirmed, his voice carrying a trace of exhaustion. "While Zeus battled Cronus in the heavens, I fought in the depths of Tartarus—where the Titans were strongest."

Erianthe felt a tightness in her chest at the thought of the god of the underworld, fighting not only against immortal creatures but in an abyss where even the strongest beings feared to tread. No wonder he was feared—his achievements alone were beyond anything she could comprehend.

"It was there that we finally chained Cronus," Hades continued. "With the help of my brothers and several allies, we managed to banish him to Tartarus, along with many of his followers. There were some Titans who were imprisoned by Zeus on the surface."

"The ones you freed seventeen years ago?" Erianthe asked.

"The ones I freed seventeen years ago to take Olympus," Hades replied, a hint of frustration in his voice as he recalled his failed conquest. But he pushed the thought aside. If I had won and ruled everything, would I have ever met this brat?

He glanced at her, and for the first time, he couldn't imagine a day without spending time with her. That realization mingled with another feeling—one that had been lodged deep within him for eons…

"But victory came at a cost," Hades continued, his tone darkening. "One that I still pay to this day."

"Your mother?" Erianthe asked gently.

Hades looked at her, surprised at how quickly she had understood. But he nodded.

"Yes."

His voice lowered to a whisper, thick with sorrow.

"My mother, Rhea… she sacrificed herself to protect us all. While we fought, she stood between us and Cronus one last time. I don't know how she did it, but she stopped his advance… and paid the price."

"What happened to her?" Erianthe asked, her voice trembling.

"She became trapped in an eternal state," Hades explained. "She is neither alive nor dead. She sleeps somewhere in the cosmos, beyond our reach and our power. Zeus says we must not seek her, that she cannot be awakened, and yet, I…" His voice faltered. "I miss her. Every day."

For the first time, Erianthe saw the depth of pain in the god of the dead's eyes. His gaze was glassy, though he shed no tears.

"You know," Hades continued, his voice quieter now, "the tapestry in my chambers… the one you've probably seen… it's an image of her. I had it woven long ago, when I began to forget what her face looked like."

At that moment, Erianthe couldn't hold threw her arms around him, wrapping him in a firm, unwavering embrace.

Hades stiffened in surprise but allowed himself to be enveloped in her warmth. He buried his face in her hair, his body instinctively relaxing.

He was getting used to her hugs. If it had been anyone else, they would have been incinerated on the spot. But not her…

Who would have thought—the cold, cruel god of the dead was softening. He had always hated sentimentality, and yet… this situation was new and uncomfortable for him.

Luckily, no one else was there. Just the two of them.

"You're afraid," Erianthe murmured, as if she could read his thoughts, "afraid that one day you'll wake up and won't remember her voice, or the color of her eyes… something."

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her gaze filled with quiet understanding.

"But even if you forget some details, you'll never stop remembering her."

Hades looked at her in surprise, as if he hadn't expected those words.A small, bittersweet smile touched his lips.

"No… I suppose I won't."

Hades rested his cheek against the top of her head, his eyes drifting back to the Underworld's horizon, weighing his next words carefully.

"She was the only one who ever loved me for who I was—before and after."

Silence settled over them once more.

Erianthe didn't know what to say. She felt that no words would ever be enough to fill the void that Hades carried inside where she was, she could hear his heartbeat. And she caught the scent she had first noticed that night when he carried her after saving her from the slave traders—the scent that was uniquely him.

Despite the overpowering presence of sulfur, she could still make out the rich, earthy tones and the faint trace of incense.

"You know," she said, her voice sincere, "I think your mother would be proud of everything you've accomplished."

Hades looked at her, startled by the statement.

"You've built and maintained all of this on your own," she continued. "I see how much effort you put into keeping everything in order. I know it's not an easy job."

Hades looked at girl—this mortal—truly saw him. Beyond the god of the underworld, beyond everything she had heard about him, beyond his appearance. Erianthe had the purest and most honest heart he had ever encountered. It surprised him, considering she was Meg's daughter. He knew his former subordinate well, and in no way did she resemble her.

"You never cease to surprise me, brat," he murmured, and a genuine smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Erianthe smiled as well upon seeing the Lord of the Dead's rare expression.

For the first time in a long time, Hades felt like he wasn't alone. Like, finally, there was someone in the entire cosmos he could talk to—someone who understood him, who genuinely cared about him.

And that person was right there, in his arms. The daughter of his nemesis. The very person he had once wanted to destroy.

How ironic.

Now, he didn't want to let her go.

"I think you must be the only person who doesn't fear me, so I'll assume you're insane," he said teasingly, just to provoke her.

"Hahaha, maybe. My friends in Thebes always told me I was a little crazy," Erianthe played along, laughing.

She glanced at the god. Though he was smiling and joking, she could still see the sadness lingering in his eyes, as if there were still things haunting him.

"I never imagined this side of Hades," she thought.

"Since that day—since I escaped from my father's insides—everyone has feared me because of my appearance. My mother was the only one who never cared about how I looked. She was the only one who called me by my name until the very end," Hades said bitterly.

"Your name? I thought your name was Hades," Erianthe asked, frowning confused.

"Hahaha, no, brat. My name is Aidoneus. Hades is the name of this place—the other name for the Underworld."

"Then, why did they stop calling you by your real name? I don't get it." Erianthe replied, clearly upset.

Hades closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a weary sigh, as if what he was about to say was a burden he had carried for centuries without speaking of it.

"When we distributed the three realms—the cosmos, the seas, and the Underworld—I saw it. I saw how Poseidon and Zeus cheated so that I would end up with the Underworld while they took the sea and Olympus."

That memory made Hades furious and frustrated.

"Zeus said he deserved to rule over all. Poseidon wanted Olympus as well, but eventually, he settled for the seas. He preferred that over rotting away in the realm of the dead. So they left it to me…To me—the one who had tried to protect them when we were young. The one who had fought in Tartarus against the worst filth this world had to offer."

"Hades…" Erianthe whispered, unable to find another word.

"No one wanted someone like me up there. Everyone feared me," Hades murmured, his eyes distant.

That memory had been burned into his mind for eternity. The way the gods had laughed at his "bad luck" when he was given the realm of the dead. How Zeus had simply told him that he was the most suited for the job.

"From then on, the gods forgot my name and called me Hades instead," he said, his voice laced with resentment.

That day, he had felt exiled.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Erianthe didn't know what to say, but she could feel the pain and anger in his words.

A slow burn of rage started to stir within her.

"That's not fair. Why? Why were they so cruel?" Erianthe had pulled away from Hades now, her expression a mixture of empathy and anger.

She was furious—furious at the selfishness of the Olympian gods. Of her grandfather.

"How could they do that to you? After everything you did for them?" Her voice trembled with barely restrained fury.

Hades looked at her in astonishment, almost incredulous at her reaction.

"It doesn't matter," he replied indifferently, though her words had clearly struck something deep within him.

"The Underworld became my home. But for a very long time… I was alone."

That word—alone—hung in the air like the toll of a bell.

For the first time, Erianthe truly understood the depth of Hades' his power, despite his title, he had been rejected by those he considered his family.

"You are strong," she said softly. "Not just anyone could endure something like that. But you did."

"Strong?" Hades let out a dry chuckle. "I had no other choice."

Erianthe shook her head and hugged him again.

"Maybe you didn't. But everyone deserves to have someone by their side. No one deserves to be alone. Not even a god."

For a moment, Hades didn't know how to respond.

The warmth of Erianthe's embrace seeped into his gray skin, melting away some of the barriers he had built over looked at him, her eyes full of compassion, understanding, and—above all—empathy.

"You're really irritating, brat," he muttered, his tone softer than usual.

Erianthe didn't answer immediately, only smiling against his chest.

"And you're ridiculously proud, Lord of the Dead," she teased.

Then she looked up at him.

"You're not alone, Aidoneus."

Hades' eyes widened.

It was the first time in eons that someone had called him by his true name.

"If you want… and if you let me… I'd like to call you by your real name," she said, her voice gentle, her cheeks tinged with the faintest blush. As if this simple request were something incredibly intimate.

Hades let out a quiet chuckle, something rare and genuine.

"Only when we're alone," he said with a smirk.

"Deal."

"Thank you, Erianthe."

At that moment, Hades wrapped his arms around the mortal girl once again.

"This girl will be my downfall," he thought.

He had just shared one of the most vulnerable moments of his life with the daughter of Hercules.

And though he had never done so before—and honestly never thought he would—with her, it was easy to talk. Easy to speak without fear of judgment, without feeling weak or foolish.

The moment hung between them, suspended in time, as if even the Underworld itself dared not interrupt.

Hades knew he had found something in he thought he had lost long god of the dead had found in her the warmth he had been missing for same warmth his mother had once given him.

The god and the mortal stayed like that for a long while, saying nothing.

But nothing needed to be said.

The silence that surrounded them wasn't uncomfortable—it was comforting.

After some time, the two of them left the baths. It was late, so they both headed to their respective just before Erianthe could leave, Hades spoke.

"Erianthe, I hope you won't tell anyone what happened at the pool. You know, dear, I do have a reputation to maintain," the god said.

"Relax, my lips are sealed. I swear," Erianthe reassured him.

"You'd better, brat. Or I swear I'll torment you for all eternity."

"Don't worry, Aidoneus. I won't say a word. It'll be our secret—just like the one I told you. What do you say?"

She raised her pinky.

"What are you doing?" Hades asked, confused.

"This is a promise, idiot. We hook our pinkies together to seal it."

"That's ridiculous," Hades scoffed.

"Come on, it's what friends do."

At that word, Hades hesitated—then, reluctantly, hooked his pinky around hers.

"See? Not so hard," she said, beaming.

"Goodnight, Aidoneus."

"Goodnight, Erianthe."

As he closed his eyes, the words of his mother echoed once more.

"What truly makes you happy…"

And all he could see was a girl with orange hair and a smile that illuminated even the darkest places—even his heart.

Finally!Apologies for the wait—I wasn't able to update earlier.

Here's a very late Christmas gift for you all!

This chapter wasn't easy to write, as I've always found Hades to be a very interesting villain. Many of his actions stem from how the Olympian gods treated him, how he was forced to take charge of the Underworld against his will (even though we know that's not exactly how it happened in mythology). So, I imagined that his past and those experiences shaped and molded his darkness.

But now… it seems he's found something that makes him happy—or rather, someone.

I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I hope I've done justice to Hades' character. And as you can see, these two are slowly growing even closer!

Also, sorry for not translating this chapter sooner; I had this chapter written two weeks ago. But I didn't have time.

As always, feel free to leave a review to share your thoughts on the story, or give it a like or follow if you're enjoying it!