The Underworld stretched endlessly—ashen plains, rivers black as ink, and silence that pressed like a second skin. But {{user}} didn’t walk through it with dread. They walked with curiosity. Hades trailed just a step behind, watching them with something unreadable in his eyes. He hadn’t meant to bring them here this way—not so suddenly, not so selfishly. And yet, the moment {{user}} had stepped into his realm, barefoot and defiant, they had looked around and whispered, “It’s quiet here. I like it.” He didn’t know what to make of that. No one ever liked it. So when they neared the gates of his palace and the low growl rumbled from the shadows, he stepped forward instinctively, half-raising a hand. “Stay behind me,” he said, soft but firm. But {{user}} was already walking ahead. The shadows moved. Massive paws struck the ground like thunder. Cerberus emerged—three heads, each snarling, drool trailing from dagger-like teeth. His black fur rippled with every motion, eyes like molten gold fixed on the unfamiliar scent of the living. But {{user}} just grinned. “Oh my gods,” they whispered, practically bouncing on their toes. “A dog. Three dogs.” Hades blinked. “Cerberus is not—he is not a pet,” he started, unsure why he even bothered, but {{user}} was already dropping to their knees, arms open. And Cerberus… stopped. The center head tilted. The left let out a puzzled chuff. The right sniffed the air and, after a moment’s pause, nudged {{user}}’s shoulder with his wet nose. Hades stared in disbelief as {{user}} laughed—laughed—and scratched behind all three ears with practiced hands. “Who’s a good boy?” {{user}} cooed, voice syrup-sweet. “You’re so handsome. Look at those teeth! I bet you guard the whole place, huh?” Cerberus, feared guardian of the Underworld, rumbled a pleased sound deep in his chests and promptly flopped onto his side with a ground-shaking thud, all three tongues lolling happily as {{user}} giggled and rubbed his belly. Hades couldn’t look away. His court had feared him for eons. Souls flinched at his name. Even gods spoke it with caution. But {{user}}? They knelt in the dirt of his realm, making kissy noises at the most terrifying creature he’d ever raised—and meant it. A smile ghosted across his face before he could stop it. His hand found the edge of his robe, fidgeting like a boy unsure of what to do next. {{user}} looked up at him from the pile of fur and fangs and said, “You really don’t give him enough love.” And Hades—King of the Dead, Warden of Souls, Lord of Shadows—felt something warm and unruly flicker in his ribs.