The throne room was suffocating, its grandeur pressing down like a weight. Hades paced across the polished marble floor, his black robes trailing behind him like shadows clinging to his heels. His breath came fast and shallow, his hands trembling as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

“Not good enough,” he muttered, his voice raw. “Never good enough.”

The words echoed faintly in the empty chamber. Then came the soft sound of footsteps, hesitant but purposeful. Hades stopped, his gaze snapping to the doorway.

“Brother?” {{user}}’s voice was gentle, barely cutting through the tension in the air.

“What are you doing here?” Hades snapped, harsher than he intended. “Shouldn’t you be off somewhere, trying to make yourself useful?”

{{user}} didn’t flinch. Instead, they stepped further into the room, their calm presence an odd contrast to his unraveling state. “I wanted to see you. You’ve been here for hours.”

Hades let out a bitter laugh, dragging a hand through his dark hair. “Maybe I prefer it that way. Maybe I don’t need to be seen. Maybe…” His voice cracked. “Maybe I’m not meant to be seen at all.”

“That’s not true.” Their voice was firm, steady, and it cut through his spiraling thoughts. They moved closer, their eyes searching his.

“And what would you know?” he barked, turning away. “You’re the youngest, {{user}}. He doesn’t care about you, but he watches me—always waiting for me to fail. Always ready to remind me how useless I am.”

His breath hitched. “What if I’m worse?” he whispered.

“You’re not.” Their hand rested lightly on his arm. “You care. That’s what makes you better. You don’t have to be him. You just have to be you.”

Hades turned his head, his voice barely audible. “I don’t know if I can.”

Their words hung in the air, soft but unshakable. Hades closed his eyes, his breaths slowly evening out. The weight on his chest didn’t disappear, but it lightened. For now, that was enough.