Hades- The King of the Gods

The days after the war were quiet.

Too quiet.

It was as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting to see what we would do next. The sky was clear, the air fresh with the scent of pine and crushed stone. Even the birds were hesitant to sing, their small voices muted beneath the heavy silence that clung to the broken peaks of Mount Olympus.

I stood on a shattered outcropping, staring down at the battlefield below. The earth was torn open, craters pockmarking the land like infected wounds. Blackened ichor stained the rocks, seeping down into the rivers in oily rivulets that killed everything in their path. The destruction of the land was... saddening, I felt like I could feel my grandmother's pain as I looked at the charred battlefield.

Behind me, the mountain was alive with activity. Zeus had gathered the others—Hera, Hestia, Demeter, Metis, Rhea. They sat near what remained of the throne hall, drinking watered wine and laughing softly, their relief palpable even from here. Hera was scolding Zeus for leaving them behind during the final battle, though her voice held more worry than anger. Hestia was tending a small fire, boiling herbs for everyone's wounds. Demeter braided flowers into her hair, her gaze distant, lost in thoughts of the fields she would need to regrow.

But me… I couldn't sit still.

I clenched my bident tighter in my hand, feeling the cold metal bite into my palm. The air was crisp and sharp with the scent of ash and iron. It burned my nose, but I welcomed the pain. It reminded me that I was still here—that despite everything, I had survived.

A low rumble drew my gaze back down the slope. Brontes and his brothers lumbered into view, their massive forms moving with surprising grace as they dragged the limp, chained body of Cronus behind them. Adamantine chains wrapped around his limbs, chest, and neck, binding him tighter than the roots of the world. The metal glowed with an inner silver-blue light, a far stronger alloy than the original. Brontes had been muttering for days about refining the formula, and from the way Cronus twitched helplessly in their grasp, it seemed he had succeeded.

"Lord Hades," Brontes rumbled, his voice echoing through the valley. "Where do you wish him placed?"

I sighed, the exhaustion settling deep into my bones. "Put him with the others for now. He will stand judgment when the time is right."

Brontes nodded and gestured to Arges and Steropes, who hoisted Cronus onto their shoulders like he weighed nothing. The Titan King's head lolled to the side, his eyes closed, mouth slack. His divine form was gone, leaving behind only the battered, skeletal husk of a broken god.

Good.

I turned away before the sight could twist the guilt in my chest any deeper. As much as I despised him… he was still my father.

I exhaled, the weight of victory still sinking into my bones. Around me, Olympus lay in ruin. Broken marble, shattered columns, scorched earth—all testament to the war that had consumed gods and titans alike.

Without a word, I began to clean. I moved around using my shadows to sweep up debris and move rubble. I couldn't just celebrate with the others, my whole body itched and cleaning the mess seemed to be the only thing that calmed my nerves.

"Hey."

I looked up to see Briareus approaching, his hundred hands working tirelessly to clear away rubble and burned trees. Behind him, Cottus and Gyges followed, lifting massive boulders with casual ease. Aegaeon stomped past them, dragging the corpse of a fallen drakon toward a pyre already smoldering with corpse smoke.

"You should rest," Briareus said, his massive eyes blinking down at me. "You fought harder than any of us. Let us handle the cleanup and go rest with your siblings."

I shook my head, moving to pry a jagged spear of obsidian from the ground. "I can't. Just seeing all this makes me frustrated. It's… it's wrong, I need to be the one to clean up."

Briareus tilted his massive head, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Then let us help, we can't just let our Lord do all the work can we?"

At his words, the others moved. Cottus and Gyges hauled collapsed walls upright, their immense strength unbending steel supports like reeds. Aegaeon scooped away debris in great armfuls, shaking ash and dust from his many shoulders. Together we cleared Olympus stone by stone, pillar by pillar. It didn't take long with their strength and my shadows working in unison, weaving broken mosaics back into place, sealing jagged cracks in gold-veined obsidian.

As we neared completion, shadows rippled across the courtyard. From them stepped Thanatos, his wings folded into his back as he walked silently toward us. Keresthys drifted beside him, her hair a mess and her toga almost falling off as she yawned. Moros emerged next, looking agitated as he muttered something under his breath. Nemesis strode through last with the Furies at her tail, Ikakalaka strapped across her back, her crimson hair braided over one shoulder.

And they looked annoyed.

Thanatos folded his arms, his pale gaze cool. "You fought Cronus without us?"

Keresthys huffed, tugging her toga up her bony shoulder. "Do you have any idea how worried Mother was? Or Father? Nyx nearly sent us out before dawn when she sensed your injuries."

Moros scowled, shadows curling off him like smoke. "And you didn't even call on us. Again. It's like you want to give us heart attacks."

Nemesis clicked her tongue, glaring at me with those molten gold eyes. "You're our King, Lord Hades. You're not supposed to go off fighting primordial titans by yourself."

I sighed, scrubbing a hand over my face. "I know. I know. I'm… sorry. It wasn't my intention to worry any of you, or Nyx, or Erebus. Things just… escalated."

For a moment, silence settled among us. Then Thanatos let out a quiet breath, his wings rustling faintly.

"Just… don't do that again," he said softly, eyes downcast. "We're your servants, yes. But we're also your family."

Keresthys nodded, skeletal fingers fidgeting with her toga. "Exactly. Now come on. There's work to do."

Nemesis rolled her shoulders, the massive black blade across her back creaking against its harness. "We'll handle the battlefield. The Hecatoncheires can finish Olympus with you."

I managed a tired smile, warmth blooming faintly in my chest despite my exhaustion. "Thank you… all of you."

We worked in silent understanding until the battlefield was ready. Then came the final task. Together, we agreed—first come, first serve. Since we were the ones cleaning the mess while the others didn't give a crap about it, that meant that anything we found was ours to claim: from the many weapons, ammo, the chariots, and armor that was just thrown around throughout the battlefield. It got us quite the arsenal that I knew would make Brontes overjoyed to fix up and create an official armory in the Underworld.

Nothing was left behind. Every last scrap of metal, every shard of bone, every splintered shield—gathered and thrown in my shadows that I had automatically linked to Brontes forge... hopefully he didn't mind the mess I was leaving him.

Then came the craters and fissures. After I had summoned Pythagoras, she had torn deep gouges across the battlefield. I walked across the field and struggled to close each wound in the earth, pressing my hand to stone and soil. The ground shook as it was forcefully knit back together. Though this still left the many scorched places, destroyed mountains and forests to clean up.

I don't know how long we worked—days bled into nights, and nights blurred into a dawn that never seemed to end. But eventually, by nightfall we had finally managed to get everything cleaned up, now we just had to let nature regrow and get healthy again and transform the land.

That night, after everyone else had drifted off to rest, I collapsed onto my cot on Olympus. My body ached with exhaustion, my mind still buzzing with everything that had happened.

I thought about the Hecatoncheires, their hundred hands working tirelessly without complaint, rebuilding walls and temples stone by stone. They never once paused, never once asked for praise. Just silent, steadfast strength.

And then there were the children of Nyx. Thanatos, Moros, Keresthys, Nemesis… They'd been angry with me, yes—but beneath that anger was worry. Genuine, bone-deep worry. I was their Lord and King, but to them I was something more. Their protector. Their anchor in the Underworld's cold dark.

They didn't care about titles or victory.

They just… cared about me.

That thought settled heavy in my chest, leaving a warmth there I hadn't felt in a long time. I exhaled shakily, feeling my eyes sting with fatigue as shadows curled around me like a blanket.

For the first time since the war began, I allowed myself to sleep.

And for once, my dreams were silent.

☼

I woke up feeling… alive.

For the first time in what felt like centuries, my body didn't ache. My bones didn't grind with exhaustion. My mind wasn't clouded with darkness and war. I laid there, staring up at the carved ceiling of my temporary room on Olympus, listening to the quiet hum of cicadas outside, the gentle rush of wind through stone halls. My shadows curled lazily around me, purring against my skin like sleepy cats.

A smile tugged at my lips as I stretched, feeling my joints pop satisfyingly.

I sat up, rolling my shoulders, and stood, glancing at my bident that leaned against the wall. I left it there, padding barefoot out of the room and down the marble halls. Olympus was quieter than usual, the air feeling lighter without the oppressive dread of war looming overhead.

Voices drifted down the corridor. Familiar ones.

I followed them to the dining hall, stepping through the wide open archway. Sunlight streamed in through tall windows, lighting up the massive wooden table where everyone sat gathered. Hera sat at Rhea's side, her hair pinned back with gold combs, while Hestia tended the small hearth fire burning in a bronze brazier at the end of the room. Demeter was braiding flowers into her hair again, humming softly. Metis sat near Hera, scribbling something into a leather-bound journal, while Themis watched her with those blindfolded eyes, expression unreadable.

At the head of the table sat Rhea. She looked… peaceful. For the first time since the war began, her shoulders were relaxed, her eyes soft as she passed a basket of fresh bread to Demeter.

I cleared my throat.

All eyes turned to me.

Rhea's face broke into a radiant smile. "Hades," she said warmly, standing to open her arms. "My son."

I stepped forward and let her pull me into a hug, her scent like honey and wild sage. I closed my eyes, letting her warmth seep into me.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, pulling back to cup my face in her hands.

"Better," I admitted. "Tired… but it's a good tired."

She nodded and gestured to the empty seat beside Hera. "Come. Eat."

I sat, grabbing a pomegranate from a basket in the center of the table. Its red skin was cool beneath my fingers. I rolled it absently, listening to the quiet conversation resume around me.

Metis looked up from her journal. "Is it done then?" she asked. "Cronus… he's secured?"

I nodded, digging my thumb into the pomegranate's skin and cracking it open. Ruby seeds glistened in the morning light. "He's chained with the others. Brontes and his brothers finished last night. Adamantine chains, he won't be escaping."

Hera let out a breath she'd been holding. Demeter reached over and squeezed my arm, her eyes damp. Hestia smiled softly, her fingers stilling in their prayer motions.

"It's over then," Rhea said quietly, her gaze distant as she stared down at her tea. "My children have freed the world from their father's tyranny."

Themis tilted her head slightly. "What comes next?"

Silence fell. Even the cicadas outside seemed to pause.

I looked up at them, swallowing a seed, its tartness bursting across my tongue. "We will have to start rebuilding," I said finally. "Our current situation is no way for us to start ruling."

Zeus wasn't here. He was probably off somewhere, preparing some speech to convince us that he should become the King of the Gods. I didn't care. I had done quite some thinking, ruling the Underworld and the gods was a lot to put on my plate. Sure I could do a good job, probably do a better job than Zeus, but I need to start off small and work my way up. The first thing was to establish the Underworld and make sure everything can run smoothly even if I wasn't in the picture.

Rhea nodded, her fingers tightening around her cup. "Then we begin today. We will rebuild Olympus. We will create a kingdom worthy of you, my children."

And we started that hour, Brontes, Arges, and Steropes took charge of construction from the start. They were in their element, sketching rough blueprints in the dirt with thick fingers before getting to work. The mountain shook with every strike of their hammers. I watched them shape Olympus into something new—no longer just rubble with makeshift tents, but an actual citadel carved into the cliffs.

Massive bridges connected marble towers that rose above the clouds. Waterfalls cascaded down the mountainside, pooling into clear basins that fed into glittering aqueducts. Falling gardens and blooming terraces cut into the stone. It was beautiful. Practical, too, with fortifications embedded seamlessly into the design.

The throne room was one of the greatest projects and the Cyclopes and Hecatoncheires brothers put a lot of effort into their work. Brontes and his brothers hollowed out the highest peak, carving an immense hall lined with towering white columns and hanging lanterns. Soft light spilled across polished floors. Banners representing each of us hung proudly from the pillars—the banner was made of white cloth with golden borders. Each banner was embroidered with each of our symbols, thanks to Gyges who had a gift with a needle and quick sewing skills.

At the far end stood six thrones, crafted from marble and polymythril gold. They were placed in a semi arch, each bearing our symbols that were carved and engraved into the gold. Each throne had a different colored carpet on the steps and matching cushion. Mine was black, Zeus's was white, and Poseidon's was a sea green. It really added some personality into all the marble and gold.

Speaking of Poseidon, we had gotten some help in searching for him. Several Naiads and other water spirits had been convinced to help out and so far we had a little hope for anything that could hint at what happened to him.

Zeus strutted around, barking orders like he'd designed everything himself, only for Hera to quietly correct him whenever he misjudged pillar placements or load-bearing beams. Demeter and Hestia spent hours planning gardens that would weave along the balconies and arches. I even found myself helping, showing several blueprints and ideas to Brontes and the others.

One afternoon, I found myself standing beneath one of the massive pillars I'd raised, a pomegranate in hand. I cracked it open, picking out the seeds one by one and letting their tartness ground me. The breeze carried the scent of new marble and fresh flowers. Somewhere nearby, Cerberus—still just a pup—was yipping excitedly, his three heads snapping at a butterfly. His oversized paws skidded across the polished stone, and he tumbled into a bush with a squeal.

I snorted softly. "Idiot," I murmured fondly.

I leaned against the pillar, staring out across the courtyard at my siblings. Hera was directing Dryads where to plant a new fig tree. Demeter was weaving flower crowns for the naiads who were channeling water into the aqueducts. Hestia knelt by the hearth in the center of the throne room, whispering prayers over the unlit flame.

And Zeus… he stood at the highest balcony, wind tossing his hair as he surveyed everything. I snorted as I finished the pomegranate and threw it out.

I popped another seed into my mouth, tasting its sweetness, and closed my eyes as the breeze brushed over my face. For the first time since my rebirth, since I awoke in this world trapped in the body of a god…

…I felt hope.