You're family, aren't you?

Birthday cookies time!

Days held little meaning in the Underworld – be it day or night in the upper world, the realm of the dead stayed the same, enveloped in thick shroud of greyish mist. The dead, after all, had no need for telling time. The only real way for the living and the immortals to tell time was to watch out for the slow dissipation or thickening of the mist: the signs Hades was happy with his wife, or sulking without her.

The 18th of August was no different in that regard: the mist was only starting to dissipate in remote places, a sure sign of Persephone's arrival being not too far away. Hades reclined in his throne, head propped against his arm, which in turn was propped on the armrest, his dark eyes half-mast as he listened to Thanatos' report. After the immortal was finished – thankfully, his niece had not done anything too damaging to the security, since she went through Charon and only set off one alarm – he dismissed the black-winged lieutenant and closed his eyes completely, praying to Morpheus for peaceful rest for a change.

Despite the Helm allowing him respite from the Tartarus-induced nightmares and waking visions, it did nothing to help him avoid Fates and their little games. While not the sibling most prone to the unsettling, prophetic dreams – the laurels for that went to Poseidon – he had been getting chilling dreams for the last two weeks. He had seen his Father in his full form: the sight no immortal younger than Zeus had seen, and Hades desperately hoped no one would have to, but the news that reached him via his oldest sister Hestia spoke otherwise.

He clenched his hands instinctively, as he recalled that day...

Hades had just signed off on the last file of the deceased that entered the Fields of Punishment – none other than Gabriel Ugliano, and he had to say, he was impressed by the sheer cruelty of the punishment – when the knock sounded through his office.

"Come in," he called, laying down the gold fountain pen with sapphire inlays at the top and stretching his wrist. Only those he truly considered his family – Hestia, Poseidon, Thanatos, Hecate and Persephone – knew he hated when someone barged in his office and knocked before entering.

Hestia, his dearest sister, slinked through the heavy obsidian doors and closed them before turning to him, sending him a warm smile. "Brother."

"Sister," Hades greeted, standing up and opening his arms, a smile of his own playing at the corners of his lips. Hestia grew in front of his eyes, from her twelve-year-old form to the mature twenty-year-old woman, and stepped into the offered hug, bringing the smell of sandalwood and forget-me-nots with her. "I see you still use that little recipe for the shower."

"Oh, the sandalwood?" Hestia shrugged, still smiling gently, motherly in a way that sent pangs through Hades' heart and made him wish for Rhea. "Mother sent me as a birthday present, and I loved it. Why change it?"

"True," Hades nodded and released his sister. "What brings you to my abode, my dear sister?"

Hestia sighed, tucking the stray auburn lock behind her ear. "Nothing good, I am afraid. You should sit for this."

Hades blinked at the devastated expression on her normally serene and gentle features but complied, not wishing to add to his sister's sorrow. "You should sit as well, sister."

"I cannot, brother," Hestia murmured, shaking her head. "The pain... I cannot sit, not yet. I'm afraid I'll turn your beautiful furniture into ashes and sludge."

Hades felt the worry spread from his heart to his limbs. It wasn't like Hestia to lose control of her powers; you had to severely hurt her, be it physically or emotionally, before she'd feel anywhere close to incinerating objects on touch.