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For refusetofight

Hermes is very tempted to dub this the most exhausting time of his life. And considering how long he's been alive, that's saying something.

He'd pulled off his most daring trick yet. He found the prettiest nymph he could and asked her to loudly tell her river god father that she would touch no man, no mortal nor god. Hermes knows his father well, and his father can never resist something he wants that someone else says he can't have.

Of course Zeus stole away to the surface to have his way with the nymph. And Hermes tipped off Hera without giving himself away--it was easy just by telling a peacock and letting the bird decide on its own that it wanted full credit for discovering the imminent infidelity and telling its mistress. Hera came roaring down from Olympus to find her philandering husband, and with the nymph as bait, Hermes sprung his trap.

The net that Hephaestus made for his wife, golden and impossible to break or escape from, sprung on Zeus and Hera together as they argued on the top of the mountain Hermes lured them to. Hermes spirited the nymph away with greatest gratitude and the sort of boon usually reserved for children of Olympians for her trouble.

That was when Hermes and Athena revealed themselves. The rage of the king and queen of Olympus was legendary. Hermes hadn't expected that Zeus and Hera could still hurt them, but some of the things said got under his skin like a thorn, and clearly did for Athena as well.

But nonetheless, they laid out their demands. Predictably, both Zeus and Hera refused. Hermes settled in to watch over the net and wait them out and Athena went to Olympus to grab control before the other Olympians had a chance to learn of what happened and possibly react negatively.

As Hermes predicted, they had the implicit support of Hephaestus, Hestia, Poseidon, and Dionysus. Ares, Demeter, and Apollo were angry and gearing to challenge Athena's authority, Artemis pulled awkwardly between Apollo and everyone else. Aphrodite cleverly abstained from declaring allegiance to anyone.

Olympus could have gone to war if Athena hadn't sent Apollo to speak to Hermes. With the wrath of their parents as distant background noise, Hermes grimly pointed out that their family had a terrible history of sons violently deposing fathers. As long as Apollo held power, he'd fear his children. Athena would never have children, and was the only hope to end this terrible family tradition.

Apollo didn't quite support Hermes' decision, but at least he laid down thoughts of declaring war on their sister. Hermes could only hope that Hestia would have the same success with Demeter, and Ares would languish without any conflict but his own.

So now, Hermes can only wait. The sky over the mountain is dark and stormy, almost nighttime at noon. The wind is cold and the ground shakes with the rage of two gods held together by netting. Hermes sits out of seeing range, tired of being the subject of verbal abuse for now and happy to let them torture each other with their shrieking.

It'll be worth it, he's sure. The hard part is over. He just has to wait them out, however long it takes.

So now hovers in the air, zipping in circles to burn energy, fighting the ever-present threat of being bored waiting for his father and foster mother to exhaust themselves.

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"Would that you could visit under better circumstances." Maybe this won't go as poorly as Achilles expects; his master may not, in fact, berate him for delivering his estranged sister at the height of a crisis. Maybe she's one Olympian he'd entrust with his son.

Charon is no Hermes, but the boat moves along at a fast clip. He's plied these waters long enough to know where the river hides its fastest currents. The ferryman scarcely moves, but to occasionally shift the angle of his oar in the Styx.

Half-way through Elysium, the sound of distant barking grows louder until a familiar ghost dog appears on the riverbank, bounding back and forth, tongue lolling and tail wagging. Charon silently reaches into a sleeve, pulls out a morsel, and tosses it to Méli. She fails to snap it out of the air and has to hunt for her treat among the rocks and rushes.

Achilles sighs. "Charon, please, she already gets enough scraps from the feasts."

The ferryman shrugs. It's not like a canine shade can get fat and wheezy like a living dog. "Hhhhhhrrrnnnn ...."

Edited 2023-01-10 19:39 (UTC)

Hestia chuckles softly, smiling at the dog. “What a little darling. I always thought the Underworld would be happier if my brother allowed animals in.”

She laughs as the dog fumbles for her treat. Pristine hunting dog, she is not, but Hestia has never been the type enamored with hunting.

As they reach Asphodel and the Phlegethon, her smile fades to a thoughtful frown. “Oh, looks like the fields have flooded. I’m sure Hephaestus could fix that in a moment if my brother cared to ask.” She tsks softly. “Maybe it’s worth offering after this is all over. As recompense for the trouble.”

Hestia knows her brother well enough that he’s too proud to ask for or accept help from those outside his realm. But service offered as apology for Olympian drama affecting the Underworld? That would be easier for him to accept.

"Kindly avoid mentioning this particular animal. A generous smuggler brought her down and the shades have grown attached to her." Hades must know about the dog by now, but bringing her up might break his unspoken lenience.

"Asphodel has been this way for some time now. At least by my mortal's reckoning." The air shimmers with oppressive heat as the boat slides into molten waters. Achilles twists the haft of his spear in his hand as he considers the past decades. "Lord Hades has been processing a long backlog of shades."

Partly thanks to Achilles himself. Little did he know how much work a death creates. "And then there was the unfortunate matter of the other flood, its damage to the Underworld and its mortal casualties ... Followed by this extraordinary matter with Zeus."

He can well understand Hades' sense of pride. It's humbling to ask for help, especially as someone in power—someone who should have everything under control. "Truly, your brother could use some assistance, regardless of whether he's willing to admit it. Or accept it."

Hestia smiles, miming locking her mouth and throwing away the key when asked to be quiet about the dog. She's very familiar with the practice of selectively not bringing up things to keep the peace.

"If I've learned nothing else in life, it's that pride is overrated by far." Hestia sighs through her nose with the air of someone who's tried to say this many times, but has learned that other people won't listen to her about it. "Hopefully, this mess will end with more agreeable relationships across the family."

She won't say much about exactly what's happening in mixed company. The shades of the Underworld don't need the mass panic of knowing that there's a coup going on in the sky. But Hestia, as much as she loves everyone in her family, knows that Zeus' brash and self-centered manner is a major source of conflict among them. Maybe if he and Hera aren't instigating so much drama, Hades will actually return their letters again. Maybe he'd even let Zagreus visit for a holiday. Wouldn't that be nice?

Hestia hums softly as she overlooks the scenery, the gloomy but peaceful Underworld. Her smile turns into one of mild amusement. "And maybe I can talk my brother into making this place a little more cozy. But that may take until the next eon."

Achilles simply nods his grim agreement at her stance on pride. It goes without saying that he learned the same lesson and paid dearly for it. But as they pull into the stone dock at the House, Achilles opts to pursue the lighter topic.

"Where it comes to the House, the prince and Lady Persephone have made some progress on that front—as you'll soon see. It's much more comfortable than in years past." He gracefully hops off the prow and Charon throws him a line to wrap around a mooring bollard (carved, of course, to look like a leering skull). Achilles continues as he reels in the vessel: "The queen has even managed a thriving garden. A testament to her power, given how hostile this realm is to any kind of life."

He extends a hand to help the other passengers off the boat, and once everyone has piled out, Achilles turns to the psychopomp. "Thank you, Charon. Had I an obol, it would be yours."

"Nnnnrrhhhhhnnnn ..." The ferryman slowly shakes his head and makes a grasping motion for the tow line, ready to be underway again. Achilles smiles and obliges, tossing him the rope back and giving the prow a gentle push away from the dock.

Then his attention turns back to Hestia, beckoning her to follow. "Please. This way, my lady."

Hestia dips her head to Charon, resting her hand on his arm in thanks before stepping off the boat.

“I hope to see the garden before I leave, then. It does my heart well to know that things grow here.”

As she approached the towering door leading to the House of Hades, she shimmers, almost like her aura is fire itself and heat obscures the details of her visage for a moment.

“I hope you don’t mind, Achilles, but it will be easier to speak with my brother at my natural height.”

And then she grows. She grows like fire, sudden and brilliant, and then she’s every bit the great height of Hades. Maybe even a hair greater. She is his elder, and that sort of thing matters with gods.

She smiles apologetically at Achilles. “Please don’t feel you have to meet my eyes to speak. I wouldn’t want you to hurt your neck.”

At her full size, Hestia strikes Achilles as less intimidating and more like a benevolent and watchful adult to his now child-like stature.

Very few things hurt anymore, he's inclined to say, thinking of Zeus' lightning and the moment when Hermes snapped his neck. Instead he says, "It's no trouble."

Past the doors, the antechamber looks like nothing so much as a packed marketplace—wall-to-wall with shades, some newly arrived, others recaptured from an escape to the surface. Achilles uses his best authoritative voice and firm, strategic nudges to part the throng ahead of Hestia. Some shades jostle away in a daze while others cling to the hem of her robes and beg the goddess for mercy, as if she might have it in her power to return them to life.

Beyond, in the main hall, the crowd of shades gives two towering figures wide berth: one of which is Hades himself, the other is a massive giant with innumerable heads and arms. Achilles rarely sees any of the three Hecatoncheires outside of their post; it's vital that what remains of the defeated Titans remains perpetually guarded.

Hades' focus, however, is on a smaller figure. "You've been using Titan Blood to anoint those weapons of yours, boy? Fool. No more. Not while this—"

Hades stops at Hestia's arrival. He harrumphs, entirely unsurprised to see her. There's clear annoyance in his voice, but it sounds different to Achilles' ear. More like a byproduct of stress, and perhaps embarrassment at being seen with his realm in such disarray. "Of all the times to pay a visit, sister. As you can see, I have absolutely no time to quaff wine and chat by the fire."

Zagreus' shock, meanwhile, is palpable. In all this upheaval, he didn't expect to meet a new relative. "Sister? Exactly how many aunts and uncles do I have, father?"

"Quiet, boy. As I said, we've no time for this." Hades shoots Hestia a look, red irises flashing in his black sclera. To the untrained eye, it might look like a threat, but beneath the posturing, there's an underlying plea to it.

Hestia walks through the desperate masses with grace. She lets her hands hang loose at her sides where she can brush her fingertips against the heads of the frightened, not verbally acknowledging their pleas but answering with memories of napping by the fire with their heads in their parents' laps. Calming memories of home, thick enough to wrap around them like a blanket.

Hestia smiles at Hades despite his gruff greeting. "And here I wore my best 'quaffing wine' peplos." Her tone is dry, but not without affection. "I missed you too, brother."

She turns her smile towards Zagreus, taking him in with warm eyes. "So you're Zagreus. I've heard so much about you. You look just like your father when he was your age."

But Hestia knows her brother, and knows that he'll have no patience for small talk, especially in moments like this. She brushes off her skirts, taking in the disorganized masses and scrambling servants attempting to bring order. "I'm here because I'd like to fix both our problems. But I can't do that without the both of you."

Without asking permission--Hades would be grumpy about her offering help anyway--Hestia gestures to the fire roaring in the hall. The quality of the fire changes, turning from a paltry and intimidating source of heat to something warmer, more familiar. The cozy sense of a family hearth radiates from it, filling the crowded antechamber with divine comfort and warmth and turning the intimidating halls of Hades, for the moment, into something cozy. A house full of family, or a community piled in telling stories with the safety of a hearth and shared trust keeping them safe from whatever is outside.

It's hard to stay panicking with Hestia's power permeating a space. It calms the masses, easing the horror and fear and anger of the shades and making it that much simpler for the servants to corral them. For a moment, she thinks she's bought Hades some breathing room to figure out next steps.

"Is there somewhere private we may speak?" she asks her brother, nodding to her nephew and to Achilles. She'd like all four of them in a room away from prying eyes and ears.

Hades puts on a great show of irritation: he heaves a sigh at the jokes and pleasantries, and mumbles something unintelligible about the hearth. Achilles knows his master well enough that this is all a face-saving measure; he doesn't want to look as if he gives in so easily to anyone, much less a sibling.

Zagreus, meanwhile, appears to have mixed feelings about being compared to his father, but smiles anyway. "And ... I'm sorry, but I've heard next to nothing about you."

"Lady Hestia," Achilles finally provides, by way of a proper introduction, offended that his master couldn't be bothered to give one himself. "Goddess of the hearth and eldest daughter of Kronos."

Hades all but bellows over top of the second half of Achilles' words: "Nyx! Please see to Briareus."

The name rings familiar to Achilles' ears—the one giant brother of the three whom his mother called to Zeus' aid during a past uprising. He shoots a glance at the intimidating creature whose topmost heads nearly brush the ceiling. Perhaps there's a question of loyalties? Or maybe the Titans are threatening to rise again? Achilles hopes it's the former rather than the latter.

After a moment, Mother Night sweeps in from an adjacent hall. Hypnos trails behind her, juggling parchments and scribbling notes. She sees Hestia and gives a quiet greeting, blatantly contrary to Hades' grouchy reception. "Welcome, Lady Hestia. It's a pleasure to see you after all this time."

Hypnos lights up at the sight of the visiting goddess. She's clearly one of his favorites. "Oh, Hestia, ma'am! What a nice surprise! It's been too long!"

Nyx rests a hand on her son's shoulder and continues addressing Hades, "Of course. I shall handle matters here while you speak with your sister. The audience chamber has been emptied."

Hades huffs his understanding and wordlessly stalks through the halls to said chamber. At the threshold, though, he stops and turns his gaze on the house guard.

"Achilles, you've already done enough by leading my sister here. Go find a way to make yourself properly useful."

Achilles inclines his head in a show of deference, but he doesn't feel the least bit contrite; he knows his master needs this familial support, and the Olympians in turn need cause to rally.

When Hestia looks at Nyx and Hypnos, her smile reaches her eyes. "Lady Nyx and Hypnos. It's so good to see you! Were that it were under better circumstances."

As she turns to follow her brother, she gives a playful wink to Zagreus. "We'll see if I can talk my brother into extending an invite for a social call after all this is over, hmm?"

Hestia doesn't comment on how rude Hades is to her (that's just in his nature, she knows), but she does gently purse her lips at him with how he talks to Achilles. Rather than the imperious disapproving that Athena can radiate, Hestia looks disappointed in her brother.

(Hestia knows the secrets of hearth-tenders and mothers everywhere--the subtle art of guilt-tripping.)

"Your house guard was very helpful guiding me here, brother," she says gently. "And he has seen more of the surface and its state than either of us have. I would like him to join us, if you would be so kind."

She passes Hades to enter the audience chamber, but she does pause next to her brother to rest her hand on his shoulder. Her skin is just as cozy warm as her aura.

"I really did miss you, brother."

And with that, she removes her hand and walks into the chamber, pushing her own hair back in thought. "We've much to discuss, and little time, I fear."

Achilles watches the surprisingly gentle exchange between siblings. His master's only response to the kindness is a twitch of his mustache—rather like when Persephone shows him affection in mixed company.

And then Hades resumes arguing his case: "Shades shouldn't be rewarded for wandering, least of all those who are sworn to my service."

"And isn't it Achilles' sworn duty to protect your house and this realm?" Zagreus snaps back. "He was acting in our best interests, not only carrying word to Lord Hermes, but bringing Lady Hestia all this way."

Hades seethes for a moment, then grunts, "Fine. He may stay—if it puts an end to this tiresome bickering."

On the one hand, Achilles selfishly hoped for an excuse to return to the mountain, but Hermes will want to know whether Hestia was successful in "borrowing" her nephew or not. No point in returning without information.

So he closes the two heavy doors and assumes his usual posture—standing tall and at the ready—while his master takes a seat with all the weight of a trundling boulder coming to rest. Zagreus is too agitated to sit, and instead leans his forearms on the back of a chair.

"Before you breathe a word, sister, know that I won't be dragged into yet another of the family's messes." Hades settles back in his chair heavy and unmovable. "I swore an oath to Athena and Hermes, and—as ever—I have absolutely no interest in taking sides."

"Father, are we not already involved?" Zagreus chops a hand towards the halls beyond. "Everything that happens on Olympus—on the surface—reaches us eventually."

Hestia is clearly the most relaxed of anyone in the room. She takes a seat, smoothing the skirts of her peplos before folding her hands in her lap.

"It's not about taking sides, brother. As much as it pains me to say it, this has been a long time coming. Zeus and Hera made their beds, and now they must lie in them."

And it does pain her to say it, even as she's unflinching in it. These words would be whispered treason from almost anyone else, but Hestia's the oldest sister and she won't be intimidated out of telling the truth. As much as she loves her siblings, they did this to themselves.

"It's about bringing the family together to manage the crisis while this upheaval happens. With Zeus being usurped, the borders between all realms have weakened, and they'll only get worse the longer there isn't someone taking the mantle of the sky."

She looks to Zagreus, her eyes gentling. "Our nieces and nephews are getting caught in power struggles, and the surface is suffering in the meantime from the breaches in the Underworld. They need someone to rally around and remind them of the people that suffer from their neglect. Someone who makes them want to be better than their worst instincts."

"Who do you—" Zagreus' notes Hestia's clear focus and his brows raise with dawning realization. "Oh. You mean— You mean me?"

"No!" Hades balls a fist and smashes it against the arm of his chair. "Find someone else. My son belongs here."

There's something in his master's tone; this isn't about stubbornly holding onto power or selfishly treating his son like property. As much as Hades outwardly appears to resent his son, he's not like Zeus—there's still a mote of affection at his core, and the fear of loss that comes with it.

Achilles feels a similar apprehension. There's peril in allowing Zagreus and his Olympian kin to become more comfortable. Not all of them are as forgiving as Hermes or Hestia; at some point the prince will make a misstep, or spark jealousy and conflict that could burn for generations.

But Achilles knows there's no growth without risk; Zagreus has accomplished so much good within the bounds of the Underworld, and he's capable of so much more.

"Lord Hades, we all know Prince Zagreus is held in high esteem among your kin. That's a rare and valuable asset at a time like this. The Underworld—and the surface—could be spared significant damage if we make timely use of that." Then, in a lower tone, Achilles adds, "And there are, of course, prisoners of Tartarus whose fetters no one wishes to see weakened."

Invoking the Titans seems to have its desired effect, or at least, it quiets his master for a moment. Hades' fist rises to prop his head. The fingers of his other massive hand drum the armrest.

"Lady Hestia and Achilles are right," Zagreus says with the force of all his pent up need to help. "Focus on keeping Tartarus secure, and leave the rest to me."

Hades' head pivots slightly to regard his son. His tone loses its bite, giving way to something like exhaustion.

"Your naivety is disappointing, but unsurprising, boy. What you mistake for esteem is nothing but your Olympian kin's love for novelty. You're naught but a plaything with no power to change them for the better." His eyes flick to Hestia, as if giving her a reminder. "And the moment you ask for help, they'll find you tiresome, or worse, tally that as debt—debt that will one day come due whether you have means to pay or not."

Hestia doesn't react to Hades' burst of temper. She stays quiet, watching the exchange between all three of them with calm eyes, her hands still folded in her lap. There is, however, I minute tightening in the corner of her mouth at Hades' comment about their family.

"Brother, you left without getting to know our nieces and nephews, especially the younger ones," she says, gentle but growing reproach in her voice. "Athena was still primarily under the tutelage of Triton. Hermes was still a babe. Hephaestus was still gone from the mountain since birth. Dionysus wasn't even born. You're so certain that they're just like their father that you'd dismiss them all as heartless hedonists when you don't even know them."

For the first time since Hermes summoned her, there is something approaching anger in her voice. It's low and controlled, not at all like her brothers' explosive bursts of temper, but it's like a burning ember that's leapt from the fire: small, but potentially dangerous. Her anger heats the room a little too much for it to be cozy any longer.

"They're not their father any more than we are ours. You do them a grave disservice to assume otherwise, and yourself besides." Hestia loves her brother, but she also loves her nieces and nephews, for all their unique foibles. And it makes her angry to hear them so casually dismissed by a brother she sees as too scared to ever give them a chance. "A kinder generation is rising to replace us. You can choose to hide yourself away from them so they can never disappoint you, but don't make that choice for your son. Give him a chance to know his family and decide for himself if it's worth it."

Achilles knows what Hestia says is true; it may well be that he's spent more time with some of the younger Olympians than Hades himself has. He also knows it's true that his master has built up an unfair idea of what Zeus' children must be like—frivolous, lazy, selfish—as they enjoy the adulation of mortals and the pleasures of the surface. But Achilles knows Athena is prudent, Hephaestus is hard-working, Hermes is generous, all in spite of their father. Just as Zagreus is compassionate in spite of his.

Achilles glances at his pupil, noting his furrowed brow. No doubt he's pleased to have Hestia on his side, that she can meet Hades' stubborn anger with such ferocious calm, but it must also be unnerving to see his father's insecurities laid awkwardly bare.

And Hades is utterly still for a long moment. His silence implies that he also knows his sister is in the right, but he's not about to admit it. Certainly not in front of his son and servant.

"Fine, do what you will. If I forbade you, you would only find means to defy me." He waves his hand, dismissive. "Go then! Learn your lessons the hard way, boy, and when you find yourself shackled with regret, know that I warned you."

The lord of the Underworld rises from his chair and lumbers to the double doors, pushing them both wide open before Achilles has a chance to do it for him.

Hestia watches Hades stalk out. She doesn't try to stop him. It's never useful to try to stop him when he's set on storming off. She waits a beat before heaving a soft sigh, the heat in the room returning to a cozier temperature.

"I'm starting to remember what it was like living together," she says wryly, smoothing her skirts before turning to give Zagreus an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry you had to see that. I love all my little brothers and sisters, but we are messy."

Were they under less urgent circumstances, Hestia might do something to soothe Hades' bruised ego. Find him in private, have a chat, dim the lights and warm his room the way she knows he likes but won't admit to--but time is short.

She rises from her seat, now turning to look at Zagreus. "That leaves the question: do you want to accompany me to Olympus, Zagreus? I believe you will be great help, and I believe the affection your cousins have for you will be enough to make them put their problems aside for the moment. But right now, they are fighting over who should lead Olympus, and some are considering raising arms. It's your choice if you want to be present in such conflict."

"Don't apologize." Zagreus sighs, releasing the tension he was holding in his shoulders. "I grew up under his roof—I know just how messy he can be, and how roundly he'll deny it."

"This actually went a bit better than I expected," Achilles quips.

But then the prince considers his aunt's offer, running a hand through his unruly hair. For a moment, his earlier confidence wavers and his eyes find Achilles. Zagreus has only been to the surface briefly—those early visits with his mother, and the wild celebration of Anthesteria. He's always seen his cousins in a good mood (except when they bickered over his favor). No one was ever on the brink of war.

The proposition was exciting at first, but it quickly sinks in that this isn't for fun.

Achilles gives his pupil a reassuring smile, the same he used when the prince was much smaller and hefting a new weapon, or sparring against a much stronger opponent. Arguably, the sort of smile he should have gotten plenty of from his own father. You can do this.

The prince's posture straightens as he turns to the goddess.

"I'll do it. Take me to Olympus, Aunt Hestia." Then he quickly catches himself, "Er, I know we've only just met, but it is alright if I call you 'Aunt'?"

Hestia smiles when Zagreus agrees, more so because it seems he seriously considered the implications beforehand.

"Many of my nieces and nephews call me 'Auntie', actually," she says warmly. "But you can call me what makes you comfortable. I'm very happy I get to finally meet you, my dear nephew."

She turns her smile to Achilles. "Would you be so kind as to guide us to the surface again, Achilles? And if you have the time after, I think that Hermes could use a friend right now."

She doesn't expand on that--her winged nephew is very good at putting on a brave face, but she knows his gentle heart and the last couple months must be crushing him, especially as he endures the unbridled rage of his betrayed parents. Instead of waiting for an answer, she steps out of the audience chamber into the crowded halls of the overwhelmed house. The power of the hearth is still burning, keeping the shades calm, but even calm shades must be organized.

She finds Nyx and rests a warm hand on her arm, murmuring softly, "I wish I could stay, but I must go back to Olympus quickly. Please, if you would, tell my brother that while I respect him too much to invite myself into his realm for a social call, I really would like to see him again in better times?"

"Auntie it is, then," Zagreus says with his own smile. "Maybe you can introduce me to any other relatives my father and mother have been keeping from me."

Hestia's request to Achilles—both of them—receive a quiet nod. He notices a twitch of curiosity in Zagreus' expression and can guess at what he's thinking: Hermes has plenty of friends, surely. Why send the house guard of all people?

But there's no time for him to comment—the two of them have to hustle to catch up with Hestia's tall, long stride. They arrive at her side in time to hear her exchange with Nyx:

"The queen will be disappointed that she's missed you," Mother Night says quietly. "You'll certainly receive an invitation from her, if your brother fails to send one himself."

"I wish the House was always this cozy," Hypnos pouts. "My toes always get so darn cold!"

"You know, they make something called 'socks' on the surface," Zagreus suggests, stooping to pick up a few dropped pieces of parchment and stuff them in the crook of Hypnos' elbow. "I'll bring a pair back for you, mate."

"Let's hurry along. I think Charon has returned," Achilles urges as he steers aunt and nephew back to the dock. Indeed, Charon has just finished his trip downriver. The guard and prince usher another dozen shades out of the ferry to join the crowd, leaving plenty of space to stretch out for the trip upriver.

Hestia pauses only long enough to say her goodbyes to Nyx and Hypnos, and to request that Nyx pass her goodbye along to Hades before she goes. The thought of coming back in better times makes her relax, which makes the cozy air in the House to dig in deeper into the stones. Like instead of an imposing fortress underground, it's really a grandmother's cottage, strewn with cushions and ready for the arrival of children and adults alike.

As she steps out of the House, she shrinks again. All that power and weight condensed, like a fire kept in a smaller and smaller space, until she's Achilles' size once more. She steps onto Charon's boat with a wide smile and a thankful nod before sitting down by the Chthonic god's feet. She pats the seat next to her, looking to Zagreus.

"Come and let me look at you. Ask any questions you wish. And then I want you to tell me all about yourself."

Hestia's aura is a great help in itself. Somewhere, Hades himself is chagrined to find he's more relaxed.

Achilles takes a seat on one of the fore thwarts, giving Hestia and Zagreus space to chat. It fills him with a different kind of warmth to see the prince cared for by family; he wishes it was something the lad could have enjoyed through his childhood, as Achilles had once basked in the attention of his many Nereid aunts, or looked forward to boyhood visits with his cousins, Ajax and Teucer.

That's not to say that Nyx and her children were a poor surrogate family to Zagreus, but Hades cast a long shadow over his realm and those in it; he didn't tolerate his son being coddled. Warm embraces and kind words ended up being clandestine gestures.

Zagreus has a few false starts—clearly full to bursting with questions—before he finally settles on the most pertinent one: "What exactly is happening up there? In Olympus? Will Lord Zeus actually be removed from power? And ... Do you really think my cousins will go to war over this?"

Hestia rests a warm hand on Zagreus' knee, a small affectionate gesture for a young man she already cares for but doesn't want to overwhelm. She sighs through her nose. "That's a very complicated story, one with tangents I don't imagine everyone involved would like me to share. But I want you to understand what you're getting into, so I will tell you everything."

Which also means telling Achilles everything (and Charon, though Charon already knows most of this). But Hestia isn't worried about gossip or maintaining appearances.

"Our family has a terrible legacy of children usurping their fathers. That is what we did to our father, and that is what our father did to his. Zeus heard many prophecies from the fates that a son he had by this or that woman would grow to overthrow him. He never had a son with any of the prophesied women, but it made him very wary of the sons he did have."

She folds her hands in her lap, eyes growing sad. "I love my little brother. But Zeus wasn't always a good father. With his sons especially, he was sensitive to any sign of disloyalty, and cruel if he thought he saw it. He was especially sensitive about Hermes, because Hermes is clever, adored by his siblings, prone to trickery, knowledgeable of all of Zeus' secrets, and happens to be closely related to enemies of Olympus on his mother's side. Of all his children, Hermes was best equipped to perform a coup, though he was the least likely to do it because the boy is loyal and prefers the work he has over leadership."

Hestia shakes her head, turning to look for a moment at the Styx, at its rolling red waters. "That changed, at least in Zeus' mind, when he discovered Hermes was in touch with his mother's side of the family. Knowing him, I expect he just wanted to reconnect with his mother much like you did, Zagreus. But Zeus could only see his cleverest son speaking in secret with his enemies, and he ordered Hermes banished and punished in a cruel way that would disable him from ever speaking to anyone again. The entire family was furious. Hermes somehow escaped without our knowledge--I don't know how--and conspired with Athena to remove Zeus and Hera from the throne and replace them with her instead. In his paranoia and mercilessness, my little brother created the exact scenario he always feared."

Hestia speaks grimly. It's the grim certainty of a woman who's seen this exact thing happen with people she loved, and was powerless as she watched it happen again. One would think that the eldest daughter of Kronos could do something, but no. Her brother didn't listen when she warned him.

"This has taken much of the family by surprise, and it's laid open wounds that were hidden by Zeus' shadow. They might go to war, yes. Some believe that they're more worthy of the throne than Athena, or that Zeus is still the rightful king and Hermes and Athena were wrong to even attempt a coup. Tempers would cool more if Hermes could join them in Olympus, but he is supervising Zeus and Hera, who are at the moment trapped in a net until they swear on the Styx to relinquish all rights to the throne of Olympus."

Achilles can see the cogs turning in Zagreus' head as Hestia explains the bloody family history. Is he worried his own father shares Zeus' paranoia? Maybe it explains Hades' harsh treatment over the years? If those are the prince's thoughts, he doesn't express them.

He does shoot Achilles a look when Hestia mentions Hermes' escape from his punishment. Zagreus saw the heroic rescue—with Hypnos and Nyx and Achilles—as the Underworld looking after its own, but now he's beginning to see it in a new light. Hermes and his mentor are connected by more than a few incidents now.

Achilles worries about his pupil's powers of deduction, but carefully keeps his face neutral. Fortunately, the young god is quickly distracted by anger and frustration.

"That's all so absurd. I mean— Hermes has never struck me as hungry for power. Doesn't Zeus know his own family?" Zagreus rubs a hand over his jaw and shakes his head. "But that explains what happened with Poseidon's son. Poor fellow."

The prince watches Tartarus give way to Asphodel's seething inferno. Even against the Styx's current, it's far easier traversing the realms by boat than on foot. "But you think I can persuade my cousins to set aside thoughts of war simply by showing up and asking for help?"

When said like that, it does strike Achilles as a little simplistic, if not foolhardy. The most power-hungry of the lot—the likes of Apollo and Ares—might ignore the distraction in favor of keeping their eyes firmly on Athena and the throne. Best case, they'll let their siblings and aunts and uncles worry about their baby cousin and the Underworld. Worst case, they might use the situation as a bargaining chip: they'll lend aid if the Underworld backs them as the new lord of Olympus.

Some of these worries are written in the furrow of his brow as Achilles looks to Hestia. She's been around much longer than himself, Zagreus ... even Hermes; who better to know the right way forward?

"Paranoia and fear makes it very easy to misunderstand even your own children," Hestia says. "Thinking of Olympus as a nation to be ruled rather than a family to guide was his downfall."

She hums at his question, looking out at Asphodel. Under her gaze, the churning lava seems to cool.

"I can't guarantee anything," she says. "But I think you can remind them that there is more at stake than their own ambitions and feelings. And I think you make them want to behave like better people. Your opinion matters more to them than you know."

She looks at Zagreus, smiling sadly as she pats his knee. "You won't understand for a while, I expect. But you're reflected differently when you look at yourself through the eyes of a child--and apologies, I know you're a young man, but you're a child to them. They want that reflection to be kind. They're afraid of seeing themselves as you see them, and not liking who they are. Not that they realize that's what they're thinking, of course."

She folds her hands in her lap against once more, gaze gentle. "That's the mixed blessing of being the youngest of the family. I don't expect they'll put thoughts of war aside entirely, but I think that you can convince them to put it aside long enough to help the Underworld. And should Athena prove herself a fair and capable leader, as I expect her to, then most of them will lay down their arms and accept her leadership. Those that do not... well, I don't see them getting too far."

Really, she could only see Ares of all of them not laying down their arms. Apollo may bitterly feel like he is the rightful successor and miss his father, but Hermes is his dearest brother and he can accept the situation knowing his brother is safe and that he doesn't have to deal with the management of Olympus. Ares, on the other hand, may rage forevermore that his mother was usurped. But Ares' siblings know how to deal with him.

There's a passing, kneejerk grimace at being called a child, but Zagreus knows it to be true. Compared to elder gods like Hestia, he's a baby. And his "child" status is made all the worse for how long he's been shut away in the Underworld. There's so little he knows and so much he takes for granted: that gods should use their power to help others, that mortals are to be protected, that mistakes and failure are the necessary steps towards anything worthwhile.

"Shame them into a bit of selflessness? Hah. I suppose I can do that much." Zagreus spots a few more champion shades as they slip into Elysium. "We desperately need their help, as much as my father won't admit it. To be honest, we could have used it even before now."

He frowns deeply and turns back to his aunt. "Has he always been this way? I know there was ... um, all that business with my mother, but ... before that? Or does ruling over a place like this slowly turn you into a grouchy bastard?"

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