For the first time in days, he felt confident he’d sleep through the night. 

Time lost all meaning as he let the minerals do their work. They functioned better on Hades more than most because of his Purpose. 

Once, back when he and his brothers had enjoyed each other’s company, they’d gotten drunk, and Zeus and Poseidon had persuaded Hades to pull as many metals, rocks, gems, and minerals from the earth as he could. They’d challenged him to eat all he’d roused to the surface. 

Hades wasn’t proud of it, but he’d completed the task and had downed a whole roasted goat on top of it. 

For days after, Hades had regretted partaking in his brothers’ challenge, but he discovered that he could live off what dwelled within the earth, at least for a little while. He still had to consume nectar and ambrosia like the other gods, but he didn’t need as much if he didn’t want to. It was good to know in case a dire survival situation arose, but, otherwise, Hades didn’t foresee a time when he’d prefer rocks to actual food. 

The thought of how Hades and his brothers had been when they’d first started the war made Hades smile. He’d always had a decent relationship with Poseidon (being the only real father Poseidon had ever known), but their connection had flourished with the hope Zeus had ignited. Never had Hades felt as strong as he had those first few years. 

Though his misgivings about Zeus had existed then, they hadn’t been solid, and Hades had loved his brothers enough to suffer through a thousand unique tortures if it had saved them. 

Now, thanks to all Zeus had done, the brothers struggled to coexist. Since Poseidon had found belonging in the ocean courts, he hardly ever came to the surface. Poseidon told Hades and his sisters it was because the ocean had as many problems as what the land-dwellers faced. 

Hades didn’t doubt that was true, but he also knew Poseidon had even less patience for Zeus. The last time he’d visited, the brothers’ fighting would have destroyed Mount Olympus if not for Hephaestus locking the pair in contraptions until they’d calmed down. 

Hades stayed on Mount Olympus to watch over his sisters, no other reason. Over the years, they’d told him he’d be happier away from Zeus, but Hades had spent all his life protecting them, and he couldn’t abandon them.

They were powerful goddesses, and all could hold their own against the greatest of warriors, but he couldn’t leave them alone with an increasingly unhinged Zeus. Not when two of them had fallen for his charms. 

With his thoughts back on Zeus’ unsavory traits, Hades’ grin fled. What pleasant mood had built since the start of his bath vanished. 

“You should do that more often,” a familiar quiet, rough voice said from Hades’ right. 

He opened his eyes. 

Close by, unclothed and as inviting as she’d ever been, floated Clotho. The middle Fate’s white hair hung like a curtain around her supple body; obscured her nakedness. She brushed a few strands from her round face and allowed Hades a better view of her gold-ringed black eyes. 

Clotho’s dry lips parted in a half-smile. “It suits you, you know.” 

Hades reached for a jar of soap Bances had left by the pool. “Not much to smile about.” 

Clotho wadded closer. She touched his arm with a hand so pale he could see the golden veins under the skin as they twisted into random designs to unravel a few moments later. 

The never-ending process unnerved most, but Hades thought it beautiful. 

“I could change that.” 

The Fate’s scent, a musk of age that transcended time, engulfed Hades as Clotho pressed against him. While he enjoyed much about the Fates that made others despise or fear the trio, Hades couldn’t stand the stench that wafted off them. He’d long learned how to ignore it, but the first few whiffs always churned his stomach.

Hades shook his head. “I don’t think now is the best time.” 

Clotho’s cool hands crawled over his scarred chest (he kept his flesh marred, so he’d never forget those that had marked him). She caressed the line of hair that started high on his chest and continued toward his groin.

“There’s never been a better time.” 

He should stop her. Rumors plagued both him and her. That Hades and one of the Fates were bedfellows didn’t sit well with anyone. 

Also, he didn’t like feeling he was using Clotho. She’d grown fond of him since the gods had rescued the Fates from Cronus’ imprisonment. Hades feared she may love him, and he didn’t care about her on that level. Yes, he enjoyed the Fate’s company, whether they were clothed, but his feelings would never run as deep as hers. 

Hades had informed her of this many a time, for he preferred his lovers to have as few delusions as possible. 

Clotho had assured him she understood the limitations of their relationship. Yet he worried she lied to spare him.

 

With a mind of their own, Hades’ fingers trailed circles over Clotho’s full, heavy breasts. 

Clotho moaned and leaned against him.

“Please. Let me help you.” 

As always, and with little restraint, Hades gave into her plea. 

He dipped her head back and crushed his lips to hers. Clotho wrapped her legs around his waist. Her tongue slid into his mouth, and the taste of old parchment came with it, but Hades didn’t mind (nothing would ever be as awful as dirt-encrusted diamonds).

As their kissing deepened, he placed Clotho on the edge of the pool; only her calves in the water. With slow, deliberate strokes, Hades caressed her legs. 

Clotho moaned again and nibbled on his bottom lip. 

“When we said to get his attention, we didn’t mean that way,” another voice, almost identical to Clotho’s, said from a short distance away. 

Clotho squealed and shoved Hades aside. She dived into the pool. 

Hades chuckled. He lowered himself into the water to cover his arousal and waved at Clotho’s sisters, who stood near the bathing chamber’s entrance. 

Atropos raised an eyebrow, and Lachesis giggled. 

“It worked, though, didn’t it?” Lachesis asked and nudged Atropos. 

Clotho surfaced; her cheeks as red as Hephaestus’ forge.

Atropos smirked. “Oh, I’d say.” She eyed Clotho. “Did you enjoy yourself?” 

Clotho didn’t answer and wouldn’t meet her sisters’ eyes.

Hades took pity on her and offered her a cloth that would cover her. She fled the pool, and Hades avoided looking at her as she made herself decent. As he waited for her, he washed, unfazed if Atropos and Lachesis got more of an eyeful than they’d bargained for. 

“We should... speak with him,” Clotho said as she joined her sisters, her skin still blushed. 

Atropos nodded and glanced at Hades. “Are you finished?” 

Hades hopped out of the pool and shook most of the water off his body and ensured the droplets hit the Fates. Done, he secured a piece of dark, thick wool into a monochiton, and smirked at the sisters.

“Now I am.” 

Clotho had darkened by several more shades, and Lachesis wouldn’t stop laughing. 

A muscle in Atropos’ cheek twitched, whether from restraining merriment or the urge to curse him, Hades didn’t know. Either option was plausible with her. 

Hades bowed. “What do I owe the pleasure, ladies?” 

Atropos grumbled under her breath and sat on the closest bench, and her sisters followed. They took more time than necessary to arrange their garments, and Hades’ patience wore thin, but he didn’t rush them. No one harried the Fates.

Atropos finished. She straightened her back and gazed at Hades. He could read nothing from her expression, from none of the Fates’ faces. 

“The war will end soon,” Atropos announced. 

The news didn’t surprise Hades, but that they were telling him did. The Fates only revealed the future when it suited them, and Clotho had mentioned they tried to do so as little as possible. When the Fates muddied their hands, future likelihoods grew harder to see, especially ones that involved them. 

Apprehension killed the fun Hades had been having. If the Fates were breaking their most sacred rule, what lied ahead wasn’t a simple fallout from the war. 

“The gods don’t win,” he said. 

Lachesis shook her head. 

“All hope isn’t lost, though,” Clotho said, able to look at Hades for the first time since they’d been interrupted. “The gods can be victorious.”

“How?”

They’d exhausted every contact, every favor. No one else existed that Zeus was would work with. Even if Zeus turned to the unsavory practice of threats to garner support, he wouldn’t find much. Either everyone was dead, tired, or swayed by the Titans’ prowess. 

“Is there a weapon we haven’t heard of?” Hades asked. 

“Warriors that were created as such,” Atropos answered. 

“I’ve never heard of warriors like those.” 

“When Gaia wanted to topple Uranus, she bore in secret three last sons. In these sons, the Hecatoncheires, she placed most of her power and made them the mightiest of all her children, but they needed guidance, needed a leader. So, she propositioned your father.” 

“Cronus used his brothers to conquer Uranus,” Lachesis continued for Atropos, as seamless as if she’d been speaking moments before. “But as soon as he got the throne, he had the Hecatoncheires locked away in Tartarus, and kept Gaia from the crown she’s always coveted.”

“Would the Hecatoncheires fight for the gods?” 

A hint of glee sparkled in Clotho’s eyes. “Yes.” 

The news buoyed Hades’ mood. “We must tell Zeus.” 

All three Fates shook their heads. 

Hades frowned. “Why not? This is the upper hand we’ve needed.” 

“We’ve already told him,” Atropos said. 

“He’s refused to act, though we’ve explained this is the only way, now, to defeat Cronus,” Lachesis added. 

“But...”

No, Zeus wouldn’t be so dense. While Hades didn’t agree, he could understand (to an extent) why his brother had turned away the Daemon Queen, but not the Hecatoncheires. The gods and Gaia’s youngest children shared a common enemy, and no doubt the Hecatoncheires had plotted revenge the moment Cronus had jailed them. 

Who better for the gods to ally with? 

“Why?” 

Clotho shrugged. “Even we can’t follow Zeus’ thought process anymore.” 

“Then what—What can be done?” 

If Zeus wouldn’t act, all was lost. The gods should surrender before night settled in. Cronus wouldn’t spare them, but their deaths may be swifter. 

“You can act,” Lachesis said. 

“Me?” A hollow, unamused laugh escaped Hades. “I wouldn’t last a moment alone in the Underworld, let alone Tartarus.” 

Atropos rolled her eyes. “You’ll need a guide.” She smirked again. “Who better than one born of Tartarus?” 

Realization dawned, and Hades laughed harder. “Zeus destroyed any chance of that.” 

Clotho shifted. “Kore will listen to you.” 

“You didn’t see her. She’s done with us gods.” 

Clotho looked at her sisters and stood. She approached Hades and took his hand. “Hades, you must act. No other options remain, and Cronus can’t succeed.”

“I...”

While Hades was the eldest of Cronus’ son, the rightful successor to the throne and the one who should lead the resistance, he didn’t want the role. Before his imprisonment, Hades had watched his father struggle to maintain his power, and part of Cronus’ madness came from the stress of the crown. Before he’d understood much more than his name, Hades had known he’d never covet his father’s position. 

Hades enjoyed hanging in the back; hadn’t offered a syllable of protest when Zeus had declared himself in charge. Yes, he became more active when acting as a general, but all the pressure didn’t rest on his shoulders. The thought of the great responsibility the Fates wanted him to take weakened Hades’ knees. 

“Try Zeus again,” he said. “He should be drunk enough now to heed sense better.” 

Clotho cupped Hades’ cheek, and a touch of compassion softened her intense expression. “It has to be you.” 

“We’re sorry,” Atropos added, and the dip in her tone told Hades she meant her words. 

Hades swallowed hard. 

Did he have many choices? 

If he didn’t act, those he loved would suffer an immeasurable amount of atrocities before their deaths. He had to do whatever he could to keep that from happening. 

“What are my chances?” he asked. 

“If you leave now, you might succeed,” Lachesis answered. 

Hades nodded. “I must gather—” 

Atropos removed a small pouch, no bigger than Hades’ palm, from the folds of her peplos. She tossed it to Clotho, who caught it in one swift movement. 

Clotho passed it to the god. 

Hades glanced at the pouch’s contents. “I’ll need more than Apollo’s healing salve and a little ambrosia.” 

Atropos shook her head. “Kore will provide you with the rest.” 

Hades closed the pouch and tied it around his hips. He couldn’t look at the Fates. “Will you tell Hestia—Ensure she knows I haven’t abandoned her.” 

Clotho stepped on her tiptoes and kissed Hades’ cheek, close to his mouth. As she pulled back, she said, “She’ll never think that, but we will.” 

“You must travel on foot, but you should reach Kore’s camp by morning,” Lachesis said. “She won’t be far from Mount Olympus. Her people can’t travel as quickly as she’d like yet.” 

“Thanks.” 

With a pounding heart, Hades hurried from the chamber.