Hades and Persephone

Hades, God of the Dead

Everyone in Neo-Macedonia knew of the gods. If you did not, you were quite commonly accused of living under some form of rock. The knowledge that gods lived amongst men was as renowned as the fact that water was a necessity of life.

As renowned as the fact that you did not, under any circumstances, mess with a god. Especially one who was in charge of the Underworld.

Which was why Hades was clenching his jaw as he stared at his brothers across the webcam and muttered, "I am hanging up now."

"As if that's a surprise," Zeus said, leant forward on his desk with his fingers threaded together, his eyes narrow. His suit was an exceedingly pale grey. "Always the first to leave a meeting, even when we're discussing something important."

"Because I do not appreciate being insulted by my younger brothers for attempting to do my job," Hades replied, his own eyes narrow.

"Let him be. If he wants to sulk, let him sulk," Poseidon said, arm draped carelessly over the back of his chair. Out of the three brothers, Poseidon was certainly the most carefree and perhaps the most liked too. Not a hard feat to achieve when he never wore a shirt, not even in meetings. Apparently, he did not need a shirt to swim, though he ignored Hades' constant remarks that one did not need trousers to swim either, but Poseidon wore those constantly.

"I am hanging up now," Hades repeated.

"Fine," Zeus huffed, not even twitching as he spoke. "We have a meeting with the Twelve Olympians anyway."

"A meeting without me sounds remarkably pleasant," Hades said. "It is fun to always be excluded."

"Hades, why do you have to be such a kill joy?" Poseidon asked. "You know why you're not one of the Twelve."

"I am hanging up now," Hades said, and before either of his brothers could say another word, he had pressed the button to cancel the call. As the screen flickered black, Hades slumped in his chair with head tipped back and eyes closed, and he sighed. Sighing, it seemed, was one of his most favoured activities.

As he sat back, there was a click, and he opened his eyes to see a white, slender hand had shut his laptop. "You know you should wear your glasses when on video call."

Hades gaze flickered up to the woman stood before him. Almost everything about her was black, from her dead straight hair that fell to her waist, to her three-piece suit, and even the bubble-gum she constantly chewed.

"You know my brothers like to insult me for being unable to see without the aid of human spectacles. Not to mention they revel in calling me stuck up for having an expensive pair." Hades gaze shifted, to the jewel encrusted glasses Hecate dangled in front of him, the jewels and he plucked them from her grasp as he said, "So I shall not wear them on call."

"You'll just make your eyesight worse if you constantly strain it," Hecate said, blowing a black bubble in his face. He sighed, and she sat down on his desk, pulling out her phone and tapping away with her inch long, red nails—the same blood red as her eyes and lips. If one paid attention, they would see the tiny rubies in the shape of a skull on each of her nails. "You look tired. That bad, huh?"

"I can't get tired whilst working in the Underworld."

"Stressed, then. 'That bad' still stands. So, what did they insult you about this time?"

"The usual," Hades said, blowing on his glasses and wiping them down with a cloth—he never used his shirt, unlike some people. "How I am not one of the Twelve and shall be doomed to a life of loneliness."

"Can't be lonely in the Underworld with Nyx and her dozens of kids," Hecate said, without looking up from her phone. "Can't be lonely in the Underworld when I'm here too."