The Crowns of the Gods.

Hades

 He saw his mother through red-colored eyes, the hue of his rage staining his vision. Hatred burned within him, a seething inferno aimed at both her and his father. They were the same, driven by an insatiable thirst for power, always trying to outdo each other in their evil ways.

Rhea stood before him, the epitome of ethereal beauty. Her presence was captivating, an allure that transcended both the mortal and immortal realms. As a Goddess and a succubus, she radiated an otherworldly charm, her skin glowing with a soft, seductive light. Her eyes, deep and mesmerizing, seemed to hold secrets of ancient worlds and forbidden desires. She fed off the sexual chi of others, drawing strength from their most intimate energies. The very air around her seemed to hum with an electric intensity, a testament to her formidable power.

She was the first of her kind, the original succubus, and therefore the most dangerous. Her powers were unmeasured and unknown, a dark ocean of potential that kept even the bravest at bay. No one knew the extent of her abilities, no one except Hades. He had been his mother's practice, her testing ground for the depths of her dark arts.

Memories of those harrowing sessions flooded his mind. He remembered the way her touch could freeze his blood or set his skin ablaze, the cruel experiments cloaked as maternal affection. Each encounter left him more scarred, both in body and spirit, shaping him into a vessel of bitterness and resentment. Her laughter, melodic yet chilling, echoed in his ears as he stood before her now, a twisted reminder of the torment he endured.

Hades clenched his fists, feeling the familiar sting of his nails digging into his palms. The hatred coursed through his veins like venom, fueling his resolve. He would not be her pawn any longer. He would rise above the shadows of his past, determined to reclaim his own destiny from the grasp of the beautiful, monstrous creature that was his mother.

She used her powers on him, discovering new ones each time. Each session left him feeling more violated, more trapped. While he was grateful she hid him from his father's wrath, he resented being her personal plaything. The constant experimentation turned him dark long before he became the God of the Underworld. Hades had been a painfully awkward child, his hormones perpetually in overdrive due to his mother's abuse of her powers. He never had the chance to be a normal kid or even a normal god, and for that, he hated her with every fiber of his being.

In high school, he was popular not because of his charm or kindness but because he instinctively knew what women wanted and gave it to them. Hades played the field, chasing girls with a cold precision. When he got what he wanted, he let them return to their normal lives, untouched by any real emotion. He didn't love them, and they didn't love him, and he was okay with that. Love was a foreign concept to him, a distant, unreachable star. He believed he would never find love, no matter how many human women he had trapped in the Underworld.

Some of these women worked in his house, tending to the dark, echoing halls of his realm. From time to time, they tried to seduce him, hoping to gain favor or perhaps a sliver of affection. Usually, it worked, their advances distracting him from his perpetual loneliness—unless he was severely depressed. In those dark times, he walked around the Underworld looking like his favorite creature, the Kraken. This monstrous form mirrored his inner turmoil, a physical manifestation of his despair. He used the Kraken whenever Poseidon, his overbearing brother, pissed him off with his smug tales of Atlantis, the city built on a cliff overlooking the sea.

The Kraken's shadow would loom over the waves, a terror to sailors and a silent message to Poseidon. The sea god's boasts about Atlantis, a city that worshipped him, only fueled Hades' resentment. The Underworld, cold and devoid of light, was a stark contrast to the sunlit splendor of Poseidon's domain. It was a reminder of the chasm between them, a gulf filled with envy and bitterness.