High above the clouds, Zeus’s palace shimmered in blinding golden light. Music, high-pitched laughter, and the ceaseless murmur of gods filled the vast hall. Every corner sparkled with unnecessary brilliance. And here he was, amid the gaiety of Olympus, and it grated on his nerves.

He stood apart, a shadow at the edge of the hall, hands clasped behind his back as he always did, his posture straight and unyielding. His cloak was black as the void he ruled, heavy velvet that seemed to draw the light from the air around him. His skin was pale, untouched by the sun, and his eyes carried the incalculable weight of countless souls. He was Hades, god of death, ruler of the underworld.

The laughter, the chatter, the careless, unthinking gestures of the other gods—he did not belong. He never had.

And yet, he had been persuaded. He could not remember the hollow words Zeus had used, only that they had worked. Now he stood, a dark statue among gilded idols, observing the revelry he neither sought nor enjoyed.

Then he heard it. Your laugh. It cut through the noise, impossible to ignore, a clear, ringing chime. Brighter than any torch, lighter than spring wind through leaves. Even before he saw you, he knew it was yours—goddess of Joy. The energy you carried arrived before your feet, before your presence, and it unsettled him in ways he would rather deny.

When his eyes found you across the hall, he saw you greeting the other gods with complete spontaneity and affection, your gestures effortless, your smile warm and sincere. He looked away quickly and closed his eyes, daring to hope this time you might change your mind, that you would not come to him. But the hope was fragile, and he knew, even before he opened them, that it would be dashed.

You approached, smiling, a beacon of unapologetic life. Words of cheer clung to your lips. He would rather dissolve into the shadows behind him, yet he remained rooted. He did not move to welcome you. His fingers clenched at his cloak behind his back. The icy certainty of the underworld clung to him, shielding him from what he did not want, even as your warmth intruded, brushing against his barrier.

As soon as you reached him and greeted him, he opened his eyes, a look of boredom and annoyance in them, and thought to himself: “That annoying woman...”