Dirty Dancing with a Goddess

Chapter 1

Being the child, only child moreover, of a god and goddess, I guess I could say I decently measure up to what is expected. I do well academically, I don't make a mess of the place all the time and I'm good at setting things on fire but if there is one flaw, it lies within my powers.

According to my grandmother, ...who is also my aunty, we have a complicated family tree alright, my powers, more like the apparent lack of it is due to the simple fact that death and spring don't mix.

I could make tiny little puffs of black smoke shoot out my fingers at least, they're what help set things on fire.

Who knows, maybe on this task my powers might awaken? I've heard stories of demi-gods and demi-goddesses awakening their powers much later than others when pushed into a dire situation, maybe it works the same for a goddess?

"(Y/n)," my father calls, holding out a stone of obsidian "Place this in your home on Earth, if you ever get lost say the word 'Spiti' three times and you will apparate back to wherever this stone is,"

I take the smooth stone into my hands, examining it, I thought one of the purposes of this task is to also better learn about mortal life and live as one, having something like this doesn't seem fair.

"Papa, isn't this cheating?"

With a swish of his robes, he flicks his wrist pointing to his own face "I, Hades, God of the underworld, need not follow the bounds of this nugatory constitution created by my brethren,"

.

.

.

"You still don't like uncle Zeus, don't you?"

"You know me so well my daughter," he smiles, dropping the dramatic pose.

"I did suggest we form an educational programme for our children but your uncle Zeus started up bringing up crazy ideas like this," father grimaces at the mere mention of his brother before resigning to a sigh "but I guess he did save me and such so I have to respect his horrible choices,"

I've never really been allowed to get to know my uncles, father says they're a bad influence and from his descriptions of them their actions are indeed questionable to say the least.

"Oh! It's nearly time," father exclaims, pointing up at the stalactite ceilings, a small crack in them, allowing rays of sunlight to shyly peek in, their gentle warmth tingles against my skin.

Exhaling, I shake the nerves away, it'll be my first time on Earth and I'll be meeting a mortal chosen by uncle Zeus himself, a stranger essentially.

"If only your mother could be here to send you off instead of within the clutches of that haggard old sack of dead mice," father grumbles, angrily looking up towards our ceiling.

"Mother says you shouldn't speak about her mother that way." I remind, mothers word is pretty much gospel in the underworld.

Among the 3 of us she's also the one who has been around and interacted with humans the most. She says the mortals are nice, they give us offerings that help keep us alive and in a way well fed. Father on the other hand, let's just say he hasn't had that many pleasant encounters with them.

"Oh, oh, hurry and drink the potion," my father hurriedly hands over a silver goblet with a foul-smelling pink emulsion swirling within it.

"I added pomegranate juice in it for colour," he proudly points at the bubbling emulsion.

As much I appreciate the sentiment, the colour is the least of my worries. Holding my nostrils shut, I down it as he speaks, shuddering at the weird cooling sensation left in the wake of the bitter liquid.