The weight of responsibility is a heavy thing, pressing on my shoulders like the endless stone Atlas bears. I have spent eons ruling over the dead, ensuring the cycle of life and death flows without disruption. Even when I am not in the underworld, my mind is there, calculating, maintaining, ensuring balance. But today... Today is different.
Hecate and I had left the children with Rhea and Cronos, a decision neither of us had expected to make so easily. But the truth was, we needed this. We needed time away from the screams of restless souls, from the burdens of parenthood, from the expectations that came with being who we are.
I glance at my wife as she walks beside me, her raven hair flowing behind her, eyes alight with the mischief of someone who knows she has just stolen time itself. There's a weightlessness to her movements, a freedom I have not seen in a long time. She catches me looking and smirks.
"What?" she teases. "Not used to seeing me without a thousand spells and a thousand worries on my mind?"
I chuckle, shaking my head. "It's refreshing."
"And you?" She tilts her head. "You don't look as grumpy as usual."
I feign offense. "Grumpy?"
"Yes, dear husband. You wear a perpetual frown as if it were a crown."
"Hades, King of the Underworld, Lord of Shadows, and now… Master of Frowns," I muse. "A truly grand title."
Hecate rolls her eyes, but her laughter is bright, lifting my spirits.
We find ourselves in a small village nestled within the forests of Ogygia. It is a place untouched by time, where mortals do not know gods walk among them. The air smells of honey and firewood, and laughter rings in the streets. There is a festival tonight, a celebration of the moon's cycle, and for once, we are not spectators of mortal life—we are participants.
A vendor calls out to us, offering golden pastries glazed with some kind of spiced honey. Hecate doesn't hesitate, taking one and biting into it with an appreciative hum. "Try it," she says, holding one out to me.
I take it, eyeing the delicate folds of dough before sinking my teeth into it. The flavors explode on my tongue—sweet, warm, with a hint of something floral. I nod in approval. "Not bad."
Hecate grins. "That's high praise from you."
The festival is lively, filled with music and dancing. We move through the crowd, watching as mortals spin and twirl under the lantern-lit sky. It has been centuries since I have danced, but Hecate doesn't give me a choice. She pulls me toward the open square where the music is loudest, her hands clasping mine as she leads me into the rhythm.
"I'm not much of a dancer," I remind her.
She raises a brow. "You have ruled for millennia, commanded armies, tamed beasts of the underworld, but you cannot move your feet to music?"
"I am efficient, not graceful."
She laughs. "Then let me lead."
And so she does. I followed her steps, clumsy at first, but I started to get the hang of it as I moved a little more gracefully as we spun around and danced.
Time loses meaning. For the first time in eons, I do not think of the underworld, of duty, of the weight I carry. I think only of Hecate's laughter, the press of her hand against mine, the way her eyes shine brighter than any firelight.
Hours pass like moments. When we finally step away from the revelry, breathless and exhilarated, we find ourselves by the river's edge. The water glows under the moonlight, reflecting the stars in an endless abyss. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close as we sit on the riverbank.
"This was a good idea," I admit.
She rests her head against my shoulder. "We needed it."
A comfortable silence falls between us, the kind that only comes with deep understanding.
After a while, she speaks again. "Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if we were just… normal, if we were born as mortals? Lived our lives like these people?"
I consider her words. A life where I am not Hades, not a king, not a god—just a man. Where she is not the goddess of witchcraft, but simply the woman I love. "I think we would have found each other, no matter the circumstances. I believe that it didn't matter if we were mortal, gods, or worms. I will always find a way for you."
She smiles, pressing a kiss to my jaw. "I think so too."
The stars shimmer above us, and for once, I let myself believe that this moment can last forever.
<------------------>
The morning light was soft, casting a warm, golden glow over the landscape as I woke to the quiet stillness of our chamber. The air was crisp, carrying with it the promise of another day. Beside me, Hecate lay sprawled, her black hair tangled around her, her eyes half-closed in peaceful slumber. It was rare for us to have mornings like this, quiet and uninterrupted, but it was exactly what I needed today.
I let out a long sigh, stretching my wings with a familiar movement. My four black-feathered wings unfurled from my back, each feather glistening with dark energy. They always felt like an extension of myself, a part of the abyss I ruled. I took a moment to simply enjoy the sensation of the cool morning air rushing between the feathers. I needed this—needed to leave the confines of our dark halls for a while, to soar again.
"Up already?" Hecate's voice broke through the stillness, laced with amusement. She rolled over in the bed, eyes opening to meet mine. She raised an eyebrow as she sat up, her own presence immediately commanding attention. "I see you're in the mood for an early flight."
"You know me too well," I replied, a half-smile tugging at my lips. "The sky calls to me today."
Hecate smirked, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing. "Well, I won't let you have all the fun."
She raised her arms, her fingers moving gracefully as if weaving a spell into the air. I watched, intrigued as always, as her back arched slightly and suddenly, two sleek, bat-like wings sprouted from her shoulder blades. The wings were darker than the shadows themselves, folded tightly against her back at first before unfurling with fluid elegance, their membranous surface shimmering with an ethereal glow.
"What do you think?" she asked, turning to me with a wicked grin. "I had one of my witches tattoo a rune onto my back, you know. A rune I created. It allowed me to summon these." She gestured to the wings, the edges of them curling in on themselves as they folded around her in a protective embrace.
I was taken aback, but it didn't show. Hecate had always been full of surprises, but this... this was something else. Her wings were unlike anything I had ever seen, an elegant fusion of magic and raw power. They radiated an energy I couldn't quite place, but they were undeniably hers, just as much as my own wings were mine.
"They're beautiful," I murmured, stepping closer. My voice dropped to a lower, more intimate register. "Like you, my Vampire Queen."
Her eyes lit up at the words, and she gave a soft laugh, her lips curling in a pleased, almost smug expression. "Vampire Queen, huh? I like the sound of that." She winked and adjusted her wings, looking rather pleased with herself. "You know, I think I'll keep that title."
I kissed her hand lightly, savoring the moment of connection. "As you should. After all, who else could pull off something as magnificent as this?"
She laughed again, her voice like the chime of a bell. "Flattery won't save you, my lord."
I smiled, knowing full well that it wasn't necessary to flatter her. She was more than aware of her own power. But there was something about seeing her so... full of herself, so alive with her own magic, that made it impossible not to indulge her.
I looked out the window, the sun now fully risen. "Shall we take to the skies?"
Hecate nodded, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I thought you'd never ask."
With a powerful thrust of my wings, I lifted into the air, the wind rushing past me as I soared up into the clear morning sky. Hecate followed, her bat wings catching the air with practiced grace. We rose higher and higher, leaving the mortal world below us, the village fading into a mere speck. I laughed, the sound of it carried by the wind as I felt the freedom that only flight could bring. The world below seemed so far away, like a distant memory.
"Race you to the horizon!" Hecate called, her voice teasing as she shot forward, her wings beating rapidly.
I grinned and dove after her, not bothering to hold back. We soared above the land of Greece, the sprawling hills, the rocky cliffs, and the shining seas. The view was breathtaking, the world so vast and beautiful from this height. For a moment, there was nothing else. No wars, no responsibilities—just the joy of flight.
We played in the air for hours, twisting and diving, pushing each other to go faster, higher. The sound of our laughter echoed through the sky as we reveled in the pure freedom of it all. But even as we laughed, there was always a part of me, a whisper in the back of my mind, that was alert. A feeling that would never quite let me go.
It was then that we heard it.
A cry.
At first, it was faint, almost too soft to hear over the rush of wind, but it was there, unmistakable. Someone was calling for help.
We paused, both of us instinctively turning our heads in the direction of the sound. At first, I thought it was just a mortal, a simple cry for assistance. But then... something twisted inside me, deep in my stomach. It was the feeling I had felt once before, this feeling like there was a black hole inside my stomach. The same pulling sensation I had felt when I had caused Perses to fade, the familiar sound of the death knell ringing in my head.
I paled, the air around me growing colder. I felt the ground beneath me shift, my pulse quickening. Something was wrong.
"What is it?" Hecate asked, concerned crossing her face as she hovered beside me, her wings beating gently.
I didn't answer immediately. I was already diving toward the island below, my wings cutting through the air with terrifying speed. I didn't need to say anything. She knew what it was. She always did.
I hit the ground with a tremendous force, the impact creating a crater that cracked the earth beneath me. The ground trembled, and the surrounding nymphs—ever vigilant of the land—rushed forward, startled by the sudden intrusion.
But I wasn't looking at them.
I was looking at her.
Leto.
The sight of her stopped me in my tracks. She lay there on the ground, her pale skin flickering, as if she were caught between two worlds. Her eyes were wide with fear, her hand pressed to her swollen belly as if trying to hold onto life itself. The very air around her seemed to ripple, as though reality itself was struggling to hold her in place.
"Leto..." I whispered, the name slipping from my lips like a prayer.
I knelt beside her, my fingers brushing against her skin, cold to the touch. The flickering, the pale aura surrounding her, it was all too familiar. It was the same sensation I had felt when Perses had faded—like she was being pulled toward the void.
She lifted her weary gaze to mine, and a ghost of a smile touched her lips. "Lord Hades… Lady Hecate… what are you guys doing here?"
"We were flying by when I heard you cry for help." I said as I tried what I could to make her more comfortable forming a bed from shadows causing Leto to sigh as the comfort took her.
The nymphs scrambled to bring water, their faces pale with worry. The air around us was thick with divine energy, the earth itself reacting to the presence of a dying Titan.
Hecate moved swiftly, her hands glowing as she wove enchantments to soothe the pain, to strengthen what little life remained in Leto's failing body. "She's too weak to give birth," she murmured, eyes flashing toward me. "we need-."
I was already ahead of her as I screamed into the heavens for Eileithyia. Instant a gust of wind and she was standing before me.
"Lord Hades, was there-" She started to speak before she saw Leto. "Oh I see, don't worry I got this."
Nodding, I placed my hand over Leto's burning forehead, channeling a fraction of my power to steady her flickering presence. "Stay with us," I urged, my voice low but firm. "Your children are coming."
She was barely holding on. The nymphs hovered anxiously, their hands fluttering like leaves in a storm as they did what little they could to aid her. But we all knew—this was a battle only she could fight.
Hecate knelt beside her, pressing a cool cloth to her sweat-drenched brow. "Leto, focus on your breath," she murmured, her voice gentle yet commanding. "You're not alone."
Eileithyia, the young goddess of childbirth, had finally arrived, a late witness to Leto's agony. Her face was pale, her hands shaking slightly as she pressed her small palms against Leto's swollen belly, summoning her divine influence to ease the pain. She was young, untested in such dire circumstances, but her presence brought a sliver of relief. Leto exhaled a shaky breath, her grip loosening from where she had been clutching the dirt beneath her.
A terrible cry tore from her lips, and then—finally—the first child entered the world.
A girl, wailing as she took her first breath, her tiny hands curled into fists. The nymphs moved quickly, wrapping her in the softest linen they had, but her cries did not waver. Even fresh from the womb, she was fierce, determined, a force of nature.
Leto, weak and barely conscious, still reached for her daughter with trembling fingers. "My… my child," she whispered, her voice cracking.
"There's another," Eileithyia said, urgency lacing her tone. "She must push again."
Leto barely had the strength to nod, her body wracked with exhaustion. But she did not falter. She bore down, and with one final, gasping effort, the second child was born.
A boy, silent at first, his small body struggling to adjust to the world. My heart clenched. He was so still, so quiet—I had seen far too many souls slip away to mistake this for anything but fragility.
But then, as if the dawn itself breathed life into him, he inhaled sharply and let out a small, broken cry.
Golden curls clung to his damp forehead, his skin kissed by the light, so different from his sister's. Where she was wild and untamed, he was radiant, like the rising sun after the longest of nights.
Leto shuddered, her hands reaching for them both. The nymphs lowered the swaddled infants into her arms, and she cradled them close, though her strength was all but gone.
"They are beautiful," Hecate whispered, her eyes soft as she brushed damp strands of hair from Leto's face.
Leto let out a weak, breathy laugh. "They are more than that… they are everything." She looked up at me then, and I saw the truth in her eyes.
She knew she wouldn't last.
Her fingers trembled as she traced the curve of her daughter's cheek, then the golden tufts of her son's hair. "My stars," she murmured. "My moon and my sun."
Her grip on them slackened. I could see it, feel it—the weight of mortality pressing down upon her, the final moments slipping through her grasp like sand in the wind.
"Take them," she whispered, her fading gaze locking onto mine. "Please… protect them. Raise them as your own."
I hesitated. Not because I did not want to honor her, but because I understood the gravity of what she was asking. To take in the children of a Titaness, to shield them from the wrath of Olympus itself—this was no small request.
But before I could answer, Hecate took Leto's hand in her own, gripping it tightly. "We will," she vowed. "They will be loved and protected, as if they were our own flesh and blood."
Relief flooded Leto's expression, though she no longer had the strength to speak. She turned her dimming eyes back to her children and, with what little life remained in her, whispered their names.
"Artemis… Apollo."
She pressed the faintest of kisses to their brows, her lips barely grazing their skin.
"Thank you," she breathed.
And then, like the dying ember of a once-blazing fire, she faded as her body flickered out and vanished from the bed.
The world stilled. The nymphs wept openly, their sorrow a melody of grief in the wind. Even the sky seemed to darken, the mourning of nature itself settling over the island.
I stood there, cradling the newborns in my arms, their warmth a stark contrast to the cold finality of death that lingered over their mother's still body. They did not understand, could not comprehend the loss that had just unfolded before them.
But one day, they would.
Hecate rose beside me, her expression unreadable, though I knew her heart was heavy.
Eileithyia, still kneeling beside Leto's body, clenched her fists in quiet despair. She had tried, done all she could, and yet the weight of failure was written across her young face. "It shouldn't have ended this way," she whispered, her voice thick with guilt.
I placed a hand on her shoulder, steadying her. "Some fates cannot be changed," I said softly. "You gave her peace in the end. That is not a small thing."
She nodded, though the grief remained in her gaze.
Hecate exhaled slowly, her eyes flickering toward the horizon. "We should take them home."
I tightened my grip around the children—our children now. "Yes," I said, my voice steady, unwavering. "They are now part of our family."
As we took to the skies once more, the weight of the two tiny souls pressed against my chest, I knew that nothing would ever be the same.
We had come seeking freedom. Instead, we had found a new purpose, one born of sorrow, but also of hope.
For Leto, and the last wish she had left behind.