Nightmares were not new to Melinoe. She had, quite literally, grown up with them, as you do when one is Underworld nobility. She adored Phobetor and the rest of his many siblings and the adoration seemed to be mutual, but there was a key difference in knowing nightmares and having one herself.

( Melinoe was having a nightmare. )

It wasn't like Hades to call on Zeus for anything.

It wasn't unexpected for Zeus -being King of the heavens... of Olympus, considered himself a fair and just king, as well as one whose accomplishments warranted the occasional request for advice. But even given his accomplishments, it still wasn't like his older brother to call on him. Zeus didn't have the sort of relationship with Hades that Hera did. Which was something he just brushed off as having not experienced what they did by not having been in the belly of the beast -the beast being their father, and therefore not bonded together the same way that Hera, Demeter, Hestia, Poseidon and Hades were.

He loved his siblings, though, and that was something that should have been taken into consideration more often. If he didn't, he would have long since told his brother exactly what he thought of the kingdom of the Underworld and the residents within. Hades was far too... lax with his people. This was how things went awry. ( If given the opportunity, Zeus would have loved to give ruling advice to his brother on how those miscreant descendants of Erebos and Nxy should be handled.  )

Change was never easy. It should be, Friendship reflected. Because it was one of those things that was a constant in life. Nothing ever stayed the same, so a body should get used to things changing, but whenever it happened, it always seemed there were those that had a hard time dealing with it. And not just with the unhappy changes, which were inevitable too, but even with the normal or joyful changes. Some people just didn't want things to be different.

( But they were now... )

Hades should have known that when Veles chose Fyodor Dostoyevsky as his plus one, it meant trouble. No one brought a depressing dead Russian novelist to a social gathering without an agenda. But Hades had a strong opinion about Crime and Punishment, which he supposed in the scholarly world made him a fan, and had thought that while Veles had trickery as a patronage, Dostoyevsky would not share that same duplicitous nature. ( It had not occurred to Hades that this was also the author of The Brothers Karamazov. )

When Hades had been summoned by Makaria to deal with a problem, he had not expected that problem to be a sobbing goddess with a dead snake. The dead snake was supposed to be taken immediately to the Elysian Fields due to its exemplary mortal life before it apparently offended the wrong person. This wasn't surprising. Even if it were only an ordinary snake, you can't judge someone with no legs too harshly. Unfortunately, you also can't take a dead snake to the Elysian Fields with a living goddess attached to it.

Now the snake wasn't in the field where it belonged, and the goddess wasn't on Olympus where she belonged, and they were all on the banks of the River Styx where they did not belong a little ways off from the improperly buried that did. The girl was a goddess in mourning, and most likely a relative. This gave her the right to his audience when she had demanded it. But one thing was already certain, no matter what she said, or how she chose to try and appeal, Hades would not yield. The snake was moving on. The goddess was going back. ( If he caved on this, he'd never hear the end of it. )

"I don't think I should be here."

Hel had heard the argument countless times. People always thought that, dying in battle or not, they should have gone to Valhalla, or at the very least, Folkvangr. In this case, however, it was quite possible the girl was right.

( Hel supposed she should have realized this would happen sooner or later. )

The French Renaissance was nothing pretty to begin with. It started with plague which she spent a lot of time dealing with, then wars. France was always at war, or dealing with war in one way or another. But as it progressed and changed the movements of the country was wonderful as a whole. Art, dance, and the various people in France came together and it was a beautiful wondrous time for many. Makaria couldn't help but feel caught up in the life of this small country. She couldn't help but want them to be happy and not war torn. Plague was bad enough, war was bad enough, this just needed to be a time of peace and happiness for everyone.

Especially for Lord Benoît. He was a young Lord. His father taken by sickness a decade ago. He had only been 10 then, and named Lord. While his mother ruled over their lands, he grew and became a man. A very pretty man at that. Even his name seemed special to Makaria. It meant Blessed. He was blessed. She had watched him for so long. Attended parties at his estate without revealing herself to him. But she had watched him from afar and her heart had fluttered and her breath had caught at the sight of him. But she couldn't do anything, could she? He was a mortal. He would die.

( But she still loved him. )

Hades parked his chariot by the temple. It was one of the very few dedicated to him. The building was small and not well maintained. Slowly, he climbed the steps up to the altar. He didn't remember the last time he'd been there. People didn't usually summon Hades, and even when they did, Hades didn't usually come. Hades was not a malicious god, but the living that summoned him almost always had malicious intentions. Hades usually found most of their requests unfair, unrealistic, or even borderline psychotic.


He did not generally mind. It would be nice to be more appreciated by the regular population that lived on earth, sure, but Hades also felt that the living weren't really his subjects. They were his future subjects. The time for them to pay tribute to him would come later, and last longer than their time on the earthly plain. He took great comfort and pleasure in this fact.
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