starbeast (starbeast) wrote in olympian_rewind, @ 2011-07-01 17:05:00 |
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Entry tags: | atlas, dante lot, hades, natal maltose, npc |
Who: Atlas/Natal Maltose, Hades/Dante Lot, Freyra/Janelle Delmar
What: Negotiations
Where: Atlas’ truck/house, mostly
When: Recently
Warnings: None.
Freyra sat in the front seat of her company vehicle on a secluded Miami side street. She rarely drove herself but today... Today she knew she had to be the one driving. Her heart raced in her chest, but that was because she wasn’t alone in the car and she tried not toward the Greek Lord of Death beside her. There was a war soon.
His very presences made it real for her more than any strategy meeting did and its ramifications for her and her clan for immense.
When Ragnarok did occur once more, when their fifth age fell into the grips of Surtur’s fire, this war would secure them a place to wait for Baulder to emerge and remake their lives. While her memories of the Ragnarok of the fourth age and being in Hell were vague, she knew she’d rather not do that again.
Not when her kin could be part of the conquering a part of Hell and securing it from all challengers.
As she pulled out her phone, she took a deep breath to try to ease her ever-present excitement about everything, but even the very air felt crisper in her lungs.
One thing at a time. There was another battle about to begin possibly, but it wasn’t hers. She was just going to bring the contenders together.
Now was the time to call Atlas.
Ring Ring.
A tinny ringing stabbed into Atlas’ ears from... somewhere. He didn’t feel like opening his eyes to find out where. The camera man he had killed had had more than pretty whores at his disposal. The man had also had numerous stacks of the paper slips the humans used as money. Freyra, or one of her cronies, took care of the money that fueled his truck/house and little phone, so Atlas had been keen to see what he could do with the funny green bills. A little over a month later, the money was gone, and all Atlas had to show for it were empty glasses and alcohol-clouded memories.
The ringing continued, and Atlas screwed his eyes shut. Maybe if he ignored it, it would go away. However, trying to ignore it only magnified the annoying sound, and soon Atlas was reaching for his phone. He straightened up in his seat, apparently having fallen asleep slouched over the bar. A chair that had been set on his head clattered to the floor as he moved, and Atlas winced at the sharp clattering. Having finally fished his phone out of his pocket, he flipped it open.
“What?”
Anything beyond four rings in the modern age felt like an eternity but Freyra was normally prepared for Atlas to be leisurely about actually answering his phone. However, today she was not. She tapped her steering wheel impatiently with each and every ring.
"Took you long enough, Maltose," she replied to his 'What?' His greeting, she was still prepared for, "What are you doing at the moment?"
“Sleeping,” Atlas growled out. The elf witch’s voice kicked his mind into gear. He needed his wits about him if he was going to speak with her. “Not that I expect that to stop you from saying what you want to say.” Atlas moved to wipe his face with his hand, but he found his palm had numbers scrawled upon it. It took him a moment to realize they were the digits of what the humans called “phone numbers”. He committed the number to memory, then wiped his face vigorously.
"Good. Then your schedule is clear," she said as she glanced once more to the Greek Death Lord sitting silently beside her. It was times like this she wished she knew a secret language to speak with Atlas in. But even if she spoke Greek, that wouldn't work and she knew that Norse wouldn't either even if Atlas was passable in it. The Death Lord beside her was fluent.
She closed her eyes and gathered her thoughts. She had heard about what Atlas had said and done at the funeral for Zeus, how he had put his hatred behind him in the death of his despised foe... she wondered how it would look to Atlas when she revealed she wanted to bring Hades, effectively the new patriarch of the Greeks in Miami, to meet with him.
She supposed she would know soon enough, "Someone wants to meet with you for a negotiation."
Atlas’ brow furrowed in wordless confusion. Who would want to negotiate with him? who would even know who he was? Atlas’ still-awakening mind latched onto the first sensible answer.
“More soldiers?” Atlas asked. “I only train them, I don’t ‘negotiate’ with them.” Atlas grunted out a sigh. He wasn’t ready to end his vacation and train more hapless mortals, but the timing seemed right for Freyra to foist the responsibility on him once more.
"No. Not more soldiers to train," she replied and then shrugged. This was Atlas. Why was she trying to use tact or brace him for her words? The importance of this war for her blood/bond-related kin and the fact they didn't actually have say in their involvement had twisted her thoughts and apparently made her forget whom she was dealing with. This was Atlas. It was time to be blunt. "Hades wants to speak with you."
Atlas froze for a moment, unsure if he had heard the elf goddess correctly over the tiny device in his hand. However, there was no mistaking what she had said. A feral smile pulled at Atlas’ lips.
“Really?” he drawled out sardonically. “My cousin wishes to speak to me? What an unexpected honor.” Atlas chuckled low in his throat at the absurdity of it all. “Is he there with you now? Give him the phone.” Atlas could not wait to hear what Hades needed to “negotiate” with him.
Hades wasn’t sure if the Norse goddess had turned up the volume on her phone for his benefit or if it was always loud enough for a passenger to overhear the conversation or perhaps it was just Atlas’ voice, but he could clearly make out both the Titan’s tone and his words. The fact that his tone was so clear to his ears made him much more willing to have this conversation over the phone. “That’s fine,” he said to her as he opened his hand to take the phone.
“No, it’s not fine,” Freyra was quick to reply to the Greek Death Lord and continued her words, while directed to Atlas, meant for both of them now, “Yes, your cousin wants to speak with you and yes he is here but you two aren’t talking over my cell phone while I sit waiting for my phone back. Where are you, Maltose? I’ll bring him to you.” Negotiate over her cell phone... Something in the Elf-Witch’s mind just couldn’t handle the concept.
“A closed bar,” Atlas deadpanned. “but my truck/house is near, if you prefer. It will be exciting to have my cousin in my dwelling while I am actually awake.” Atlas jibed at Hades, who could apparently hear him over the phone, but his mind raced with possibilities of just what could bring Hades out into the open to speak with him. Freyra’s nervous tone, indeed her very involvement, only compounded the mystery. The most tantalizing aspect, however, was that the meeting was framed as a negotiation, meaning that he had some power, some say, in whatever was happening. Atlas found he liked that idea very much.
Hades couldn't help but smirk at the comment. He knew that as the centuries eventually passed, the temporal distortion of his memories returning after his amnesia would feel less strange, but at the moment, he didn't mind the distortion as he looked away and out the window. Sneaking through the Titan camp while they all slumbered and breaking their weapons was one of his favorite memories of all time -- he was fine with it feeling like less than a year ago.
"Since you seem to enjoy the idea of meeting at your house, I'll bring him there. Just go there, I'll use the GPS in your phone to find my way," Freyra said into the phone and then hung it up, only to reach over to the GPS unit installed in the mid-sized company sedan. She typed a series of complex number codes onto its touch screen and then typed Atlas' phone number into it.
She then glanced over toward the Death Lord, "As soon as he begins to move, I'll move."
"You think he'll go straight there?" Hades asked, watching her in the reflection of the glass.
"If he knows what's good for him. I'm not in the mood for a goose chase," was her soft reply as she returned to watching the GPS dot that represented Atlas.
Atlas stared at his now-silent phone, an amused smile on his face. He would have told her the address of his truck/house if she had just waited. He considered throwing his phone as far as he could and sending Freyra to fetch it, but his desire to see Freyra as out of sorts as she sounded was too great to indulge in such shenanigans. Instead, he simply stuffed the phone in his pocket and slipped out the back door of the bar.
His truck/house was less than two blocks from the bar. Atlas had simply stopped when he found a spot for the large vehicle and dropped into the first bar he could find. Things then got a bit hazy, but the money Atlas had flashed had earned him the respect of the men and the admiration of the women in the bar. After that, Atlas had had no reason to leave. Rounding a corner onto a side street, Atlas saw that his truck/house was still there. He considered waiting inside for his guests, but the early morning sun was too tempting. Atlas climbed to the roof and stretched out under the warming rays of the sun.
The Miami early morning had another benefit beyond the warming rays of the sun, traffic was incredibly light and Freyra took advantage of it by speeding along through the streets, following the robotic voice of the GPS that was leading her to Atlas. She drove in silence.
And Hades made no effort to break that silence. He simply watched as the streets passed by as she drove them. He knew his very presence stirred up the the excitement of the coming war, but also the spectre of Ragnarok. But she had insisted on being the one to bring him to Atlas. He also knew how her eyes darted over to him if he when he gave the impression of beginning to speak, so he may sure his lips remained still. Let her focus on the road.
The truck/house came into view and Freyra quickly parked the sedan. "we're here," she said.
Hades merely nodded and got out of the car and approached the truck/house. He could see the Titan atop it. Part of him, almost whimsically, wondered if Atlas had fallen asleep in the wait. "Natal Maltose," he said to get his attention.
“That is my name,” Atlas said, sitting up. His legs dangled over the side of the truck/house as he looked down on his dark cousin. “But I never expected to hear it come from you, cousin.”
Atlas scoured his memory, but he did not know what Hades called himself amongst the humans. Damien? Dante? Daniel? Atlas had heard it in passing while at Ridgekeep, but he had not committed it to memory. The costume Hades wore for the benefit of the humans was none of his concern.
"Neither did I, but I have been doing many things I never thought I would lately." Which was entirely true. Ever since the Devil had taken over his realm, this had never been a reality he could have guessed would come true. To prepare to storm and reclaim at least his palace and his subjects.
But as he stood looking up at the Titan, he put his hands in his pockets, "Am prepared to do one more thing I never thought I would, assuming you agree to do something you never expected to do as well."
Freyra stepped out of the car, locking it behind her before she leaned against it. She felt pent up in the car behind the wheel with a seat belt on. Besides, she hoped they would eventually have this conversation inside the truck/house and she would follow in and not have it on the street... quiet street or not.
“I grow tired of being spoken to in riddles,” Atlas said tersely. He leapt down from the roof of his truck/house, landing lightly on his feet before Hades. He took a long moment sizing Hades up. He compared the illusion before him to what he remembered of his cousin, but the two images refused to reconcile. Looking over to Freyra, Atlas suppressed a laugh at how demure she was acting. The tension and anxiety playing over her face were as amusing as he had imagined.
“Come,” Atlas said at last. He turned from Hades and strode over to the door to his home. He unlocked the door and unfolded the stepladder below it. “Enter. We shall talk more plainly inside.” He gestured to the door to usher Hades and Freyra inside.
Hades saw little point trying to reconcile the glamour he was looking out with the memory of his cousin from the Titanomachy. He knew they wouldn't reconcile but the Titan's true form was also entirely unimportant at the moment. This was the form he was in now and this was the form he would try to read. He followed into the truck/house.
Freyra ignored the stepladder and leapt up once Hades was inside. She only momentarily glanced at Atlas before sitting down in the first available place.
Hades turned to Atlas. As much as he spoke in riddles and cryptic statements, he didn't especially care for them at the moment either. He wanted to cut to the chase, "No more riddles then. With Zeus dead, I'm willing to reconsider the judgment of the Titans."
Atlas had barely closed the door before Hades made his stunning pronouncement. He turned and faced Hades, once again considering the other god in silence.
“Really?” Atlas asked at last, his tone skeptical. “And I suppose you’ll be doing this out of the goodness of your heart. The poor Titans have been denied justice, and magnanimous Hades will deliver it to them. Is that it?” Atlas crossed his arms over his chest, a sneer fixed on his face.
Hades held his expression neutral and resisted the urge to correct him. He hadn't come to argue that the Titans were neither poor innocents or been denied justice. Victor's justice was cruel, but it was the only justice of the time, and they had done little to appease him as the centuries passed to quench the flames of his hatred toward them.
But then again, this whole war was his own attempt to work around the victor's justice he and his subjects had been made to endure.
"Yes, but not for those reasons," Hades kept his black eyes locked on the Titan, despite the sneer. That he had expected, considering his actions at the funeral, "The enemy of my enemy would be my friend, as the saying goes. If they were to agree to fight against my foes in the Underworld, I'd agree to release them from their bonds to do so."
Hades had either missed or outright ignored Atlas’ sarcasm, but he answered Atlas’ implied question: What did Hades want in exchange for his reversal of judgment? Atlas barked a laugh as Hades laid bare his intentions.
“No wonder you came to me first,” Atlas said, still chuckling. “I doubt telling my imprisoned kin that you were conscripting them into whatever private war you’re fighting would have made you any more popular with them.” Atlas’ face hardened, and the mirth left his voice. “But now you have to explain to me why I should convince my family to risk their lives for not only their jailer, but their usurper. Will you grant them their freedom? I doubt it. Why, I am only free because the prison Zeus designed for me proved far less eternal than the one you built for my family. I doubt he ever predicted that he would lose his grip on the cosmos.”
Atlas’ sneer returned, but in truth, he held back the harsher words he could feel on his tongue. Not only had he said that his hatred for Zeus had died with the late King of the Olympians, but he also could not bring himself to alienate Hades, and thus crush what may be his family’s one chance at freedom. No matter how many good ways Atlas could think about to vent his spleen on Hades, it was in his best interest to keep them to himself. Not that he felt any need to be pleasant, of course.
If Atlas had been pleasant, Hades would have been very confused. But his restraint gave Hades the impression that perhaps this negotiation would be possible... he had prepared for both. Ironically, Atlas being entirely hostile had been easier to prepare for for. He could have just walked away then and lost nothing but a possibility. With Atlas' restraint, he had to continue to respond with his own. Even with Atlas' hardened words and demands for an explanation from him, they wouldn't have been spoken at all if the possibility of putting the past aside and having an alliance was out of the question.
And if the Titans could put aside the defeat and centuries locked in Tartarus, then Hades could put aside the misery, resentment and losses his guarding them had brought him.
Hades had been willing to give up his life for his subjects once, the least he could do was give up his hate now to better secure their safety.
"Depends on your definition of freedom, Cousin," Hades began in reply, "Would I release them to the surface? No. Some of them would likely be a threat to some of the more vulnerable of the later generations, unable to resist the temptation. But even if that wasn't the case, this world is very different than the ones they once walked. At least you saw the world change around you. This world would be confusing at best and a nightmare at worst for them. Not especially a liberating existence. The freedom I offer them is to assist in being guardians of the refuge I am setting up for the souls that are my responsibility. They would have the gardens when they bloom to relax in, never need to worry about where their food would come from as they could pluck it from the trees at will and all the Ogres and other monsters they desire to fight for their entertainment. Effectively, I would give them their freedom in a world very similar to the one they were banished from, only Kronus wouldn't be leading them to disaster."
A wicked grin crossed Hades' face as he spoke his father's name and his father's failures. The memory and the vicious glee of shoving his father into the depth of the darkness of Tartarus might as well have shown in his black eyes as it flashed for him in his mind. "Of course," he added, "My dear father would not be released in any way. The others, they were merely on the wrong side of the war. That's what condemned them. He, on the hand, was not just a combatant who happened to lose."
Freyra had been watching the exchanging with utmost attention to begin with but with Hades saying that the Titans would assist in guarding the Underworld territory, she made a point to pay even greater attention somehow. Now this affected her and her plannings. Securing the realm would be her responsibility and every detail was important to her. Her blue-green eyes turned to Atlas to wait his response.
“Let us not mince words, cousin,” Atlas responded, his jaw set stubbornly. “You are not protecting my family by keeping them in the Underworld, and we are not talking about their freedom. Do not mistake me for my foolhardy brother. I will not be beguiled by your words.” Atlas was willing, however reluctantly, to listen to Hades’ offer, but he would not tolerate being tricked or lied to or treated as a fool.
“What you are offering is a better cage for my family to live in, and that is not freedom,” Atlas’ uncrossed his arms and began to gesticulate as he spoke. “In exchange for this better cage, my family will be charged with guarding your domain and fighting your enemies. I have no reason to doubt that this will prove a dangerous, potentially deadly assignment, as you are foisting it on your worst enemies.” Atlas paused considering Hades once more. He then sat down on one of the chairs inside his truck/house.
“Tell me what this guard duty would entail,” Atlas said. His words were terse, but his posture was once more relaxed. “If you wish me to consider this further, do not leave out any details.” His family’s prison was a terrible one, but they were unassailable within it. Atlas did not want to sign them up for a gilded cage they would not live to see. Atlas also noted that Hades wanted to keep Kronus in his hole. This was fine with Atlas, but he kept that to himself. It was a chip he could play later.
"Never claimed I was protecting your family by keeping them in the Underworld, but even though I want the best I can provide for my subjects below after all this time, I still have to think of my family here. But it isn't a death sentence either. They would not be alone. There would also be a thousand robotic sentries." The fact that the hellbots could also report to him if the Titans were planning some sort of ambush, Hades didn't add but he also felt he didn't need to add it. It was rather obvious with just a little thought.
Hades remained standing as Atlas sat. This wasn't his home. He wasn't here to be comfortable. "Their duty would be to keep the Ogres, the demons and the other monsters away from the shades and preferably on the other side of the bronze walls that will surround the area. But it shouldn't be constant battles and constant danger. Even though I may be reclaiming my palace and the lands around it surrounded by hostility on all sides, the fortifications should keep most of it out most of the time. Freyra assured me of that."
He then glanced over to the Elf-Witch and she was quick to nod, turning her attention toward Atlas as she explained, "I am helping to build to the fortifications and I don't plan for them to be breached very often."
Atlas took a moment to digest what Hades had told him. He didn’t like that Hades was constantly lying and omitting truths, but Hades seemed, at least, to be telling him the truth about his intentions for the Titans. However, constantly arguing with the North Men had taught Atlas about the importance of words. He would not assent to any of Hades’ demands until he was satisfied.
“So, my kin will watch the walls while the robots watch them,” Atlas drawled. He could guess where the robots were coming from. “But it is the walls, designed by Freyra, that are to be the first line of defense, not my kin?” Atlas quirked an eyebrow questioningly as he sought confirmation from Hades.
"Lines one through five actually," Freyra said even before realizing she had said a word. The sound of her own words in her ears gave her pause but then she merely shrugged. It was true and in this particular company, there was no harm revealing she was planning five lines of fortifications before a living being was called to serve.
Hades glanced over to her briefly but nodded in response to Atlas, "Exactly."
Atlas, too, glanced over at Freyra. He trusted her more than Hades, so, for now, he was willing to believe the Titans would not be the meat shield sacrificed for Hades’ sake. He suppressed a smile as he realized it was not her he trusted, but her pride. A breach in that wall would be a breach in her pride, and Atlas knew she would do everything within her power to prevent that.
“And the shifts they will serve upon these walls will not be endless,” he said, turning back to Hades. “There will be time for them to enjoy the meagre rewards of their better cage?”
"They are living beings, not tireless robots. Don't expect the impossible from them, just diligence in their task. As I said, when the gardens bloom, they will have them to relax in. There's enough of them to have shifts, to balance between work and leisure." Hades' own words brought up a wave of resentment that he made sure was hidden behind his continued emotionless mask. He had heard himself offer to the Titans a similar duty of warden that he had had over them but with all the benefits he had longed for... to be with his family, to trust that he could rest and know someone else was watching.
That resentment just tasted so bitter in his mouth, but he directed it away from the Titans they negotiated about. They had made his life below thankless when they were contained, brutal on the rare occasions when one got loose of his bonds and nerved whackingly dangerous when he had chosen to just put them all to sleep but had to check again and again that they weren't faking. They had acted like prisoners, so he couldn't especially blame them for it. He'd blame his father for causing the situation and then his deceased brother for making it intolerable.
Speaking about the Titans and being bitter at Cronus and Zeus seemed appropriate. And Hades was appeased in his resentment a little knowing both had paid for it.
"Cousin, I'm not a thoughtless man and I don't do things recklessly or pointlessly. It makes me wonder if I'm actually a son of Cronus and a brother to Zeus and Poseidon sometimes. Continuing hostilities from a war long over and from a victory where even the benefits from it are gone merely for spite is pointless. To go to war and then hold territory in hostile lands without trying to obtain every resource and allie possible is just stupid. But, it's just as stupid for me to release a group of powerful beings who have good reasons to hate me without some sort of guarantee that I won't find myself in the middle of a circle of them ready to try to tear me apart or some other plan to get payback on me." Hades paused to actually force the next sentence passed his lips. Despite intellectually being ready and willing to put aside the past, something more primitive in him wasn't as obliging. But listening to his more primitive instincts had almost always been the wrong idea so he told them to grow up and deal with moving on. "If you can guarantee their loyality, I can guarantee an improvement to their liberties and to treat them with the respect they'll deserve for guarding my realm."
Atlas spent a long time considering Hades’ words. However, while he considered, he looked to Freyra, not his cousin. Though it had been fun to watch the minute flickers of emotion flashing across Hades’ face as he spoke, they had stopped when he fell silent. No, he looked toward Freyra. She had set up this meeting and accompanied Hades, but she had remained oddly silent as Atlas and Hades went back and forth. Atlas knew not why Freyra was even there, nor what, if anything, bound her to Hades’ cause. Her presence there, however, was a tacit sign that she was vouching for Hades. Atlas trusted she understood that, whether or not she had actually intended it.
“It is because you are not thoughtless and reckless that I do not trust you with vagaries, cousin” Atlas said at last. “However, I will take your offer to my kin. If they react favorably, we shall speak again, but know this. You are not the only one with demands.” Atlas held up a hand with one finger raised. “There will be a formal contract for any deals struck.” He lifted another finger. “I am not part of this. I will not watch your walls. I will not be beholden to you. I am beyond your reach, now and forever.” A third finger, this time accompanied by a cocky grin. “And, if you are dead set on choosing one of my kin to keep buried in the pits of Tartarus, I will get to choose one to bring to the surface.” Atlas retracted his hand and sat back, his smile still in place.
When Atlas had looked to her, Freyra made a point to meet his eyes and not look away. Something very innate and instinctual disallowed her from looking away. She had kept silent because she felt torn between being absolutely incongruous to the conversation between two Greeks about their ancient feuds and yet entirely uncomfortable as she found herself bond to the the Greek Death Lord through the cycles of Ragnarok and yet understanding Atlas and his concerns. The human mortals had cast both his Titan-kin and her Vanir people as the wildness that had to be contained for the sake of civilization and while she didn't believe the Vanir would have lost their particular war... Without the truce, her adopted kin would have paid the consequences of defeat.
But she showed a hint of a smile when she realized... or at least guessed why Atlas was watching her. Her vouching for Hades made her feel much less incongruous to the discussion.
Hades paid no attention to the Norse goddess in her silence at the moment. He smirked as well when Atlas did. "Think you misunderstand, Cousin, without Kronus remaining bound, no one is released in any way. He is not a negotiating point at all. He is not a trading point for one of your kin to be more fully released." But he shrugged a little, "But negotiations do have a bit of give and take. Tell me which one."
Atlas believed he understood just fine. Hades was acting as if he was negotiating directly with the imprisoned Titans. They had nowhere to go and nothing to barter with. All they had was what Hades gave them, and Hades knew it. What Hades did not understand is that he was not negotiating parole terms with Atlas’ imprisoned kin. Instead, he was asking for Atlas’ help so that those negotiations could even begin. Hades had to make his offer palatable to Atlas, or he could bring his offer to the Titans himself. Atlas had to be willing to walk away from the table. As the only Titan able to do so, he owed it to his powerless kin.
Atlas, however, saw no reason to explain any of this to Hades. He continued on, ignoring, for the moment, that Hades had ignored two of his three demands in his haughtiness.
“Menoetius,” Atlas answered, “my brother, rendered lame by your brother.” Atlas spread his hands, indicating his surroundings. “Surely I can protect my brother from this nightmarish surface existence.” Atlas made sure to add extra emphasis to the last three words to draw out their ludicrous nature.
Hades knew exactly what he was negotiating, he merely didn't enjoy a single moment of it. But Hades was wrong about one thing. He had misjudged himself and how much he could actually subdue the viseral responses of his pysche with sheer rationality. Especially when part of his rational mind turned against everything he was saying. To release Menoetius would be to release the most violent of the Titans, crippled or not.
Willing to risk your family on the surface for those below? Hades heard his own thoughts churn but he refused to answer the question. To say yes and accept Atlas' third condition was just a lie. But to say simply no and dismiss it outright and possibly just walk away now wasn't something he could do either. The souls who cried out for him needed him and now that he could help them, he had to to the best of his ability.
He had said there was give and take, but there was only so much he would give. Especially when he had already given the Titans better conditions than he had given himself doing a similar duty with less protection and support. Still, one more step. "I'd release him but not without conditions. Being lame isn't the handicap it used to be." Now Hades began to count on his ow hand, "My conditions are first, at the times I would release him to the surface he would be released directly to you and he'd remain with you. Second, he's to be 100 miles away from Miami and other places I know my family has settled, which would be in the formal contract. Third, if you two hear someone speaking ancient Greek, he doesn't approach them. And fourth, I'll only release him for a third of the year. The other two-thirds he has to be below."
Freyra watched and listened very carefully. She wondered if at some point the barely restraned hate would solidify into actually weapons so they could do something more decisive with it. As intrguing as that would be to actually watch, The Elf-Witch didn't especially want to see it right now. Not when she now could feel her sympathies toward both sides -- both trying to do as much as they could for their families and those dependant on them; she knew that feeling well, especially since technically the family Hades was trying to protect was her own by marriage in an extended way. And she also finally had a use for her incongruous presence beyond vouching for Hades -- she wasn't consumed with hate.
So, the Elf-Witch stood up to draw the attention to herself, "As someone who has actually been through a heated truce, I feel it's best to pause and actually review what is being said. As I understand it, and disagree if I'm wrong because I actually don't especially know all the details of this feud..." Honestly, she was more surprised they were speaking in English so she could understand any of it at all. "Maltose wants his kin to not be mere prisoner meat shields, but to actually have protection and leisure... lives, for lack of a better term, beyond just guarding the walls and being prisoners below. Also, he wants this all in writing, not to be subject himself and the release of his brother."
Freyra took a breath, "While currently--" But then she paused as the beginning of a distinctly Norse sounding word flew past her lips but was silenced at the first syllable. No, no. Bantering around the title the Council called Hades in general conversation wasn't what she was going to do right now. "Mr. Lot has said he is willing to offer them respect in addition to leisure and duty, which sounds, at least to my ears, of a higher status than prisoner, since what prisoner is given responsibility or respect?" Not a Vanir one, that she knew. "They'll benefit from the fortifications I'm going to be building and from a small army of robots... And Menoetius," She was absolutely certain she had butchered that name even though she just heard it, "is apparently allowed a four month vacation from his duties protecting his new homeland as long as he remains with his brother and is pretty much one hundred miles away from any Greeks... Which is not so bad as that means he can just stay at Ridgekeep. Half the men are maimed in some way anyway so he'll fit right in."
And as the words left her mouth she sighed. If that did actually happen maybe she would just visit her own brother in Miami and not deal with Atlas and his brother being together. She'd couldn't imagine them being good influences on each other. At all.
Atlas had opened his mouth to speak, but closed it when Freyra had leapt into the thick of the negotiations. A small frown sat upon his lips, not because he was angry at Freyra’s interruption, but because she was stealing his thunder. Hades had finally made a concession, tacitly admitting that this was a negotiation and not simply a list of demands. Atlas, after making a similar request that Ridgekeep be a designated Menotius zone, had planned to accept Hades’ terms and bring his offer before his kin. He had wanted to look like the bigger man, but now he simply looked like he needed Freyra to explain the situation to him.
Oh, well.
“If that is truly what has been said,” Atlas said, standing once more, “and this is where the negotiations truly stand, then I will take your offer to my kin.” Atlas stuck out his hand, inviting Hades to take it.
Perhaps uncharacteristically for the proud Elf-Witch, when Atlas began to speak again, she sat back down as if fading back into the background of the conversation. But her eyes turned to Hades. Atlas was offering his hand. It was one thing to state an offer, it was an entirely different and more difficult to actually accept it.
Part of Hades was eased that his own conditions had been accepted. If Menostius stayed with Atlas then it would contain him to some degree -- the Norse would try to keep both out of too much trouble as they seemed to have adopted Atlas into their fold. All the better with an explicit promise that he could stay at with them in DC. He was more than content to allow one alliance to take care of the conditions of another. Finally, some legacy of Zeus didn't just stymie him at every turn.
But he brought his full attention to Atlas as he offered his hand. In the 1980s, he had decided he would live his life on his own terms and turn his back on living the way people had expected of him. He had thought it was to cease to be Hades, which he had been more than content to shed as an identity for a fresh start. The Devil had ingrained in his mind that he was no longer a king.
But here he was now, making choices against his own preferences for the sake of his family, especially the children who would one day die, and his fallen subjects... He certainly felt like a king.
And as he nodded and took Atlas's hand, he certainly felt like he was doing it on his own terms. The past and the burdens his deceased brother had placed upon him weren't going to stand in the way. It almost felt liberating to come to the agreement. "When the agreement is written, I'll take you below. Unless you would rather not wait."
Atlas gripped Hades’ hand firmly, but restrained himself from engaging in a test of strength. This handshake was about sealing a mutually beneficial deal, not establishing dominance.
“Why wait, Hades?” Atlas asked with the closest to genuine smile he had ever shown to an Olympian. “A family reunion is joyful thing.” He released Hades’ hand and stepped back. “I’d just like a little time to get ready. I want to get something to eat before I travel.” This was especially important as he would not be eating anything while in Hades’ own domain.
While the Eternal Judge of the Greeks had been caught momentarily surprised by the smile, he chose to return the civil gesture with his own attempt at non-hostilities. "That's fine. I won't go far but I doubt you especially want me to watch you eat. When you're ready, just text me and I'll come back but you don't have to worry about me tricking you with food later, you’re not my type."
Freyra was already texting Hades' number to Atlas when he turned to her, "Thank you, Miss Delmar, for arranging this. You don't have to wait for me. I'll get myself home when we're done.”
"You're welcome, Mr. Lot," Freyra replied but then smirked, "And as soon as this go to the Underworld part came up, I wasn't going to wait. You were on your own."
Atlas threw his head back in laughter at Hades’ witticism, but he still started moving toward the small kitchenette in his truck/house. He opened a cabinet and prepared a breakfast of smoked meat and only smoked meat. As he tore off a strip of meat with his teeth, he watched as Hades left the truck/house. As the door swung shut, Atlas looked to Freyra.
“Stay,” he commanded flatly, trying to keep his booming voice somewhat quiet.
Freyra had just begun to move as Hades left, her shoulders shifting toward to begin to rise from her chair but at the singular word, she reversed the movement. She leaned back in the chair, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Yeah?"
Atlas frowned at Freyra’s exasperated tone. After what she had just put him through, he would not be dismissed.
“There’s something I don’t understand. Why are you here?” Atlas asked bluntly. Atlas couldn’t quite put his confusion into words. Freyra’s presence wasn’t wholly incongruous, but some of her actions during Atlas and Hades’ negotiations were.
If he hadn't caught her in mid-movement, she probably would have been less exasperated. But some of it was due to her knowing that was going to be his response to her own question. A request of why she was here.... "Who else would you expect to bring your cousin to speak to you, all things considered?"
“Hephaestus,” Atlas answered without hesitation, “or no one. There’s no way I can be in this city without them knowing.” Atlas’ eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “But say I accept that Hades is exploiting our relationship to get what he wants. That doesn’t explain why you’re building walls for his domain. Hephaestus could do that just as easily. It also doesn’t explain why you sat timid as a mouse while we spoke. I have never seen you so quiet!”
Atlas was growing frustrated, and that was not what he wanted. Something about the way Hades had approached him with Freyra in tow aggravated him. He wanted to get to the root of the matter for his own peace of mind. His eyes unconsciously darted over to the sapling, still sitting merrily on the table, that symbolized their bond.
“I don’t trust Hades,” Atlas admitted needlessly, “and calling what he’s offering my family ‘freedom’ didn’t help. But I must do what is best for my family, even if the result is just a better cage, and I wonder if he has you in the same position.” Atlas let out a breath. Being subtle had been harder for him than he expected.
Maybe just as easily, but only a building war would determine whether Hephaestus could build them as well... Freyra thought to herself but let the proud, silent speech fade away in her own mind as her own eyes darted over to the young sapling after his had. "You know the Isle of Heroes from your own kin's tales?" She paused but not enough to actually let him respond. The answer she had wanted was yes and waiting for a reply would have allowed the possibility of not getting it. Instead, Freyra brought her gaze back to Atlas, "The Greeks can claim whatever origins for that island all they want, but I know the truth. Greek heroes may have eventually gone there but it wasn't made for them initially... It was made for my kin and I've been there three times..."
Not that she especially remembered those three times in great detail, but days of battle and feasting often blended together for the Norse anyhow, and being dead doesn't help that. "It was created when he and Hela forged a covenant after the cycles of Ragnarok were prophesized for us when we died. I've died four times, Maltose, and I'm always last..." Her eyes narrowed as her mind couldn't help but compare the vague memories of the first three deaths with her last one. Even the last being vague didn't make her dislike it any less. "When all my kin die ahead of me again, I am going to know they're safe behind the bronze walls I build and not tossed along the chaos of Hell until we return to our sixth age."
Atlas was overwhelmed by the information Freyra shared with him. He was aware that Freyra and her kin were a morbid bunch because they had died several times, but he had only the vaguest sense what that meant. He had never died. His family imprisoned in the land of death were not dead. He had never even visited the Underworld. His trip there with Hades would be his first. As such, he had no real notions about what death was like nor the world that lay beyond. Whatever death was like, it was apparently a daily concern for Freyra.
“Well,” Atlas began with a smile as he stood to follow Hades out the door, “when your kin die in the next ‘Ragnarok’, they will find themselves protected by mine, and when you are the last, you will no longer be alone.”
No longer alone... Freyra smiled lightly as she took his words to the next logical and comforting step, changing the tableau of her death for the first time in centuries as she imagined it. Her limp body didn't just limp to the dusty ground in whatever heap it fell in to remain as such until the world's renewal. It was good to not die alone. As she rose to her feet, she nodded to Atlas.
Only after that did she begin to speak again. "Well, I'm not going to be alone in your house either," she commented in a light-hearted jest as she moved to the door and then made sure to meet his eyes, "And I wasn't being timid. I was being respectfully quiet. It's different."
Atlas wanted to roll his eyes, but he didn’t want to break eye contact with Freyra, so he settled for a shrug. Daring Atlas was never timid, and he was only now learning how showing respect and being timid were different.
Whatever, he thought.
“Good,” he said. “I knew you had more steel in your spine than to be cowed by Hades.” Atlas followed Freyra out the door. His attitude was much improved from when he had finished speaking with Hades. His dark cousin may be king in the land of the dead, but it would be the Titans and, eventually, the North Men who were its power. It was an arrangement Atlas found very agreeable.
Summary: Atlas and Hades negotiate over the limited release of the Titans to guard Hades. This, of course, means lot of shouting. Luckily, Freyra is there to help cooler heads prevail. Shockingly, she succeeds.