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If looks could kill, Hythlodaeus would have been dead many, many times over. As it was, he had become mostly immune to Hades’ ire, the annoyance roiling from the King of the Underworld sliding from him- much as water from the feathers of a duck. Serene lavender met simmering gold with a singular casualness. Around them, the café was full of quiet murmuring, denizens of the realm going about their days with a mundane sort of rhythm. Those closest did their best to pretend that they weren’t watching the trio of gods standing next to the corner booth.
Azem blinked up at the men before her, expression curious more than anything.
“Did you receive an invitation as well?” she asked, directing the question at Hades.
His arms remained folded over his chest, expression tightening further as his eyes flicked to her.
“Of a sort.”
As if on cue- Hythlodaeus, standing between the pair, clasped his hands together with a brilliant, far-too-innocent smile.
“Well, what an amusing predicament! I was supposed to join you both for this delightful little outing, but it seems—ah, what a shame!—urgent matters require my attention elsewhere. Terribly inconvenient, isn’t it?”
Hades’ mouth twisted, as though in response to an unpleasant smell. “You’re lying.”
"Am I?" Hythlodaeus tilted his head, his expression the very picture of unbothered mischief. “You wound me. Regardless, I suppose that means it’ll just be the two of you. Alone. In this lovely café. With no distractions,” he hummed, “What a fascinating scenario.”
Azem, amused, raised an eyebrow and loosely crossed her arms in an unintentional mimicry of Hades’ posture.
“You planned this, didn’t you?”
Hythlodaeus simply beamed, already stepping away. “Do enjoy yourselves! Oh, and Hades—please, try not to be too insufferable, won’t you?”
And with that, he was gone, leaving behind only the faintest sound of laughter. Hades scowled, still staring at the place he’d been a moment earlier.
“Meddling, impudent cretin,” the god grumbled, tension still stiffening his spine.
Azem only laughed, a high, surprisingly girlish sound.
“He certainly has a way about him.”
A scoff served as the only response he gave. For a moment, they remained there, unmoving. Azem watching him as he steadfastly avoided her eyes, choosing instead to shoot wary and sometimes disgusted looks at the gaudy décor. Red and pink heart-shaped ornaments hovered weightlessly, drifting as though enchanted. Gold garlands shimmered under the café's warm light, casting faint flickers across polished tabletops. The air was thick with the scent of sugared fruit and spiced chocolate—cloying, indulgent, and utterly excessive.
“Pretentious,” he muttered before glancing at the door.
Instead of leaving, he paused. One heartbeat. Then another. The door was right there, within reach. And yet.
The silence between them stretched—not tense, not quite awkward, but something else. Something unspoken. Something he did not have the patience to decipher. When it became apparent that Hades did not intend to breach the lull between them, she stepped forward to fill the space left by their erstwhile companion.
“I already ordered dessert. Come and sit a while.”
That sharp gaze slid down to her face, piercing and still simmering.
“I am the god of the Underworld. I do not have time to sit a while.”
Much to his ire, she grinned at that.
“You had time when it was Hythlodaeus who asked,” she mused, “Am I really so bad, Hades? Surely you can stand to spend fifteen minutes with me. After all, even very busy gods of the Underworld need breathing room now and again.”
Refusal danced on his tongue for a moment, she could nearly hear it even as his mouth pressed into a thin line. Then something flashed behind his eyes- there and gone again in a blink- and he sighed with a long-suffering weariness.
“Very well. Fifteen minutes and no more,” Hades allowed.
Azem beamed, as though he had promised her so much more than a small bit of time. Something tugged uncomfortably in his chest and he frowned. The patrons around them were less subtle than before, craning to look as the god took a seat at the booth. His frown turned thunderous as the pressed material of his trousers squeaked against the faux leather of the seat. Azem all but flopped into place across from him, utterly unbothered and still grinning away.
“Most gracious of you,” she said.
He shot her a look that warned her of the consequences of teasing him. To his surprise, there was no mischief in her eyes, only levity.
They had barely settled when a shade arrived, bearing a veritable platter of sweets. Hades’ nose crinkled as he observed the spread. Azem sucked in a breath, eyes widening in delight. The shade bowed, erring on the side of formality in response to the King’s presence. Azem thanked them, earning a brief smile before they glided away. Her eyes remained fixed on the array on the plate, darting from one selection to the next. Sugared fruits and puffy pastries lined one side, heart-shaped cookies and a few cakes sprawled across the other. Without waiting, Azem snatched up a sugared strawberry and popped it into her mouth. A delighted wiggle followed and she hummed in satisfaction.
“So good! Here,” she nudged the plate toward Hades, “Try some!”
The god of the Underworld exhaled, arms crossed, golden eyes flickering over the offerings as though they personally offend him. "I fail to see the appeal," he muttered, "Overly sweet. Indulgent. Mortal nonsense."
His gaze flickered to the decorations again, as though to underline his reluctance.
Azem only grinned, undeterred, "Sometimes, 'mortal nonsense' is fun." She picked up a pastry, turning it between her fingers before offering it to him. "Here, this one won’t be too sweet. Try it."
He sighed through his nose but plucked it from her fingers, watching her carefully as he took a small, measured bite. The flavor—delicate, floral, with just a whisper of citrus—unfurled across his tongue, startling in its subtlety. He stilled, caught between reluctance and reluctant enjoyment. Azem watched, expectant, an almost unbearable light in her eyes.
"Well?" she prompted, leaning forward a bit.
He chewed, swallowed, and finally exhaled. "…Not awful."
Azem laughed, bright and golden, and Hades felt that same unfamiliar tightening in his chest. It was an unwelcome sensation- mostly because he could not identify what it was. Or, rather, he refused to acknowledge what it could be.
"See?" Azem leaned back, selecting another sweet from the plate. "’Mortal nonsense’ isn’t so bad. Mortals have such a short time, so they love sweeter things. They savor them. They don’t think of eternity, like us- they just the moment," her eyes slid to the decorations, “They love this, too. The idea of love. I think it gives them a bit of sweetness in their fleeting lives.”
Hades watched her- watched the way she existed so utterly in the now while he has spent eons dwelling on the past. Reluctantly reminiscing the scars left by the titan wars, and the giants after them. Then the many, many misfortunes that followed- most of them befalling the Celestial realm and leaving him to figure out how to ensure that they didn’t reach the Underworld.
Azem did not carry those burdens, whether because she was a young god or because she chose not to. Instead, she simply glowed with the faint light of immortality, brightened by the well of optimism lurking in her eyes. She didn’t speak of ambition, as so many of their kind did. No, she spoke of love. Love, something that did not seem like it should be discussed with the King of the Underworld. He couldn’t think of anyone else who would so casually discuss the topic with him. Even Hythlodaeus would read too much into such a conversation.
"You speak of love as though it is a fleeting thing itself," he mused.
Azem shrugged, licking a bit of sugar from her thumb. "Not fleeting. Just… different for everyone. Some people love like the sun—bright, constant, impossible to ignore. Others love like the stars—distant but always there. And some…" her fingers toyed with the edge of a napkin, the paper as garishly red as the icing on the cakes. "Some love like this. Quiet, careful, like tasting something new and realizing you want more of it."
A long pause. Hades’ gaze did not waver. "And you?" he asked, voice quieter than before. "How do you love?"
He didn’t know what drove him to ask. Perhaps the novelty of the discussion. He never disliked Azem, not truly. But she was new, a variable he hadn’t accounted for when she crashed into his carefully ordered realm. Still, his burgeoning acceptance was not enough to warrant this.
Azem did not answer immediately. Instead, she reached for another sweet, breaking it in half before holding a piece out to him. "I think I’m still learning," she admitted, “But it’s something I hadn’t thought to consider before.” Again, he was nearly blinded by her smile, “Maybe I’ll find the answer here, in the Underworld.”
A sharp brow rose in response, Hades’ gold eyes heavy lidded in something nearly haughty.
“I am afraid you will find only shades and nymphs- and both are too wary to speak freely with gods.”
He did accept her offering, despite the disheartening words. His touch lingered, just barely. He had never known one who found hope in his realm after viewing it in its entirety. She laughed again, nearly startling him, and he quickly took a bite of the sweet to cover the jolt.
“You’re selling yourself short. There’s you and Hythlodaeus. And Thanatos and a few of the others who work for you. Oh, and the Furies.”
Hades choked, a sharp, undignified sound escaping him as he doubled over the table. Of all the absurdities Azem had uttered, this was the one that nearly killed him?
As if summoned, the shade reappeared and presented them both with water. Azem thanked them again as they bowed away, and Hades grasped the cup, coughing. Quaffing the water was the best relief. By the time he set the empty glass down, he was already gathering his composure again. He glared at Azem, who smiled sheepishly back.
“Sorry,” she winced sympathetically, “Bad joke.”
She slid her own cup across to him in further apology. He eyed it for a moment before relenting.
“You are to stay away from the Furies. They are busy and do not have time to entertain you and your questions about love.”
Azem nodded empathetically, acquiescing without hesitation. It was a quick enough response that he narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
“I promise I will…” The sheepishness gave way to a small measure of mischief, then. Her blue eyes glittered with amusement as she fought to restrain a smile. “But even you have to admit, it would be funny.”
He blinked once, slowly. A sigh followed as he took the offered cup and sipped from it.
“Perhaps,” he conceded at last, sighing. “…I admit, I would be curious to hear what advice Tisiphone might give.”
Again that girlish laughter sounded, and he did not find it startling or grating as he may have before.
The rest of the outing went suspiciously well.
Azem laughed, stole bites of Hades’ dessert, and leaned in a little too close when making some teasing remark. And Hades- gods help him- let it happen, that strange pull in his chest only growing stronger each time.
When the plate was as cleared as it would be in one sitting, the shade produced a box for Azem to fill with the remainder. She eagerly did so, naming those she would like to visit and deliver sweets to. She had produced her wallet from her bag, only for Hades to smoothly tell the wraith to send him the bill. Now, standing at the threshold of their parting, Azem lingered.
"I had fun," she admitted, voice softer than usual. "Maybe you’re not as much of a miserable bastard as you pretend to be."
Hades scoffed, looking away, but even he knew it was half-hearted.
“I shall pretend that was a compliment. And allow that perhaps you are- what was your phrase? ‘Not so bad’?”
Azem grinned in response, that brilliant smile flaring one last time.
“Good. I’ll keep that in mind for the next outing.”
She had the gall to wink—slow, deliberate, like she knew exactly what she was doing—before turning on her heel and slipping through the door, vanishing into the city like a fleeting ember. He followed, mouth opening in retort, but she was gone, disappearing within a few steps of the entrance. His eyes traced the street, despite knowing the futility. Just as he prepared to leave as well, Hythlodaeus materialized at Hades’ side, wearing the most insufferably smug expression imaginable. Hades did not turn to look at him. He did not need to. The weight of that smile was already pressing against his patience like an itch he refused to scratch.
"You know, I do believe that’s the happiest I’ve seen you in centuries," Hythlodaeus mused, tilting his head.
Hades scowled, mood immediately souring. "You are mistaken."
"Oh? How unfortunate." Hythlodaeus sighed, long and exaggerated, and flicked his braid over his shoulder. "After all, I was about to suggest that you do it again sometime."
Hades said nothing, caught by the echo of Azem’s parting words. An invitation, nearly an expectation.
Hythlodaeus chuckled, slipping his hands behind his back as he walked, humming a quiet, knowing tune.
And Hades, left alone, exhaled sharply—because the worst part was, he was beginning to understand. That incessant tug, the way it unsettled him, the way it wrenched at the thought of more time spent basking in that brilliant smile… he knew what it was. He just wasn’t ready to name it. Not yet.
With a final glance at the café, he disappeared into shadow, as if outrunning the realization might delay its inevitability.