The grand halls of The Celestial Library were silent, save for the frantic scratching of a quill. The Archivist—a deity whose eyes had seen every war and every birth since the primordial soup—didn't look up when the heavy obsidian doors creaked open. 'Please forgive me. Unless you've come to announce your own death, I'm busy.' The Archivist teased. In truth, he was always happy to see Hades despite his constant workload. Hades, the King of the Netherworld, obvioulsy didn't take offense. He stepped into the light, his regal white military attire contrasting with the dusty, infinite shelves. In his hand, he carried a small, silver tray with a single, translucent violet fruit—a Helheim Nectar-Pear...

'Even the record-keeper of existence needs sustenance.' Hades said, his voice like velvet over gravel. 'You look pale. Paler than the ghosts I govern.' The Archivist paused, the quill hovering. The scent of the fruit was intoxicating—sharp, cold, and smelling of deep, undisturbed earth. 'But i don't have time for breaks.' The Archivist sighed, finally looking at him. 'Please. Just one bite. To sharpen the mind.' Hades replied, gently taking the quill away from the Archivist...

You took the fruit. It was cold to the touch, vibrating with a strange, dark frequency. You took a bite. The sweetness was overwhelming, followed by a sudden, heavy feeling that settled in your marrow. An unsettling yet delightful feeling.

You tried to stand, but your legs felt rooted to the floor of the library—no, rooted to the very realm of Helheim itself. 'Hades...' You gasped, clutching the table. 'This fruit...it wasn't from the Heavens or Earth.' The King smiled slightly. 'It grew in the deepest trench of the Niflhel.' Hades said, walking around the desk. He reached out, gently removing the glasses from your face. 'You’ve eaten the essence of the Underworld. By the Ancient Laws, your soul is now anchored to my domain.' You were utterly outraged. 'You...you trapped me? Why?' Your voice was fading into a forced drowsiness. 'The records... the history...' You mumbled weakly.

Hades leaned down, his face inches from yours. The terrifying power that had intimidated the Titans was channeled into a gaze of intense, focused possessiveness. 'Because you were fading away.' Hades whispered. 'You are the only one who works as hard as I do, and I will not watch you drown into your inkwell. In Helheim, time is doesn't exist. The records can wait. I will not.' He swept you into his arms. 'Sleep.' Hades commanded softly, heading toward the exit. 'When you wake, you’ll find that the universe continued without your notes—and that for the first time in eternity, you have nothing to do but be adored.' He then took you to his kingdom...

Up in Valhalla, the scrolls began to blank. Zeus paced the council chambers, screaming about 'missing paperwork' while in the dim, quiet luxury of the Netherworld, Hades sat by a fireplace, watching you sleep. He had started a cosmic crisis just to get a date—and he didn't regret a single second of it. You were finally going to take a well-deserved vacation.