1.

Hades never grew.

Swallowed as an infant by his father he lay squashed amongst his siblings in the acid of sickle-wielding Cronus’ stomach.

When released, the brutality of the Titanomachy stunted his growth once more, and no one, not even Hestia, came to care for his aching, open wounds.

The Underworld was cold and constricting, though in actuality the seemingly endless realm was as vast as Gaia herself.

Hades never knew love or warmth; the kiss of the sun and the refreshing element of Poseidon’s sea were foreign to him.

And thus fate damned him to be forever young.

2.

War was for his siblings, and for Ares and Athena, but not for Hades.

The Titanomachy was a barrage of horrors and pains that mortals could never know and would never endure to suffer under the reign of the Olympians.

Monsters (his cousins) came at him from all directions, and though he was not completely helpless (he was after all, a god) none of his relatives ever assisted him in battle.

He was weak, he knew. And so did all the others gods, and especially the Cyclopes.

Their gift was out of pity, though he would never allow himself to admit it to be true.

While Poseidon and Zeus both received gifts fit to rule their domain, Hades received the gift that would enable him to run, to hide.

To be invisible, and thus not a target for the worst wounds.

3.

In the darkness that was the Underworld, Hades could not properly see his reflection.

The waters of the Styx and the Lethe, which he bent over, straining to see the beauty that his immortality gave him, distorted his tanned complexion, which the darkness, as a gift to it’s long-suffering king, would not take. The bones which protruded starkly from his cheeks were softened and he would never understand why the women he had would stroke his beardless face with pity in their eyes.

He could see his lanky arms and legs that resembled a chickens’, and through scrupulous glances at his shoulders he could discern that they perhaps were not as broad as Poseidon or Zeus’.

But it was not until Persephone brought her full-length looking glass down to their home did Hades see himself reflected in another’s’ eyes.

And after that, he asked her how he was fearsome.

4.

Leuce had been his first heartbreak.

She used to mock Thanatos and Hypnos at the main entrance to the Underworld, forever teasing them and their powers which were useless against her immortality.

Twirling about, calling the Gorgons various names, her thick, light blonde curls would form a storm around her, bewitching Hades into a silly boy with a stutter.

When all had been said and done and Hades finally deflowered, the veil of naivete that had marred his perceptions finally fell, and he realized what Leuce should be.

Cold, unfeeling, radiant and stolid, he turned her into the white poplar.

5.

Although he got along just fine with Hekate and the other gods of the Underworld, who were all far more intimidating than himself, Hades’ best comrades were Charon, the ferryman, and Cerberus, his beast hound.

When life would flourish above the earth and the dead in the Underworld would continue their routines without disruption, Hades would put aside his duties to listen to the stories that Charon would tell him and to stroke Cerberus’ three heads.

To any who saw him in such a position, Hades appeared like a mortal Greek youth, listening with rapt attention to his grandfather tell tales of old. Any intimidating qualities that he might have had were diminished, and his somber nature dissipated above into the crevices of the cave that acted as a ceiling for his domain.

It was hard to believe that the powerful King of the Dead could appear to be such a non-assuming teenager.

6.

Although Eros’ arrow was largely to blame for his infatuation with Kore, she was also at fault.

It wasn’t Persephone’s vivacious temperament, or her dark beauty (which was strange for one so beloved of the sun) that led to her unintentional seduction of Hades.

It was her youth. It was her fragile figure. It was her unbreakable spirit in her breakable body that caused him to ponder committing his bold crime.

It was the chance to stunt her growth, to have an immortal companion in the darkness which had convoluted him into a paradox, the chance to no longer feel alienated and lonely at the daunting heights and strengths of his fellow Olympians, that caused him to snatch her slender pale arms as she reached down into the earth for a Narcissus.

And though she cried and pleaded and fought and berated, Hades got what he wanted.

Persephone as well would be forever young.

7.

Up to that point in his life, Hades had never before panicked. But when Hermes came for Persephone and the chance to keep her with him, to keep her young and trapped and imprisoned in her developing body faded, Hades panicked.

Taking a last walk with his now oddly demure wife in the fruit orchards that her powers had restored, he saw the dark red pomegranate on the lush green grass, and slowly, as if in a trance reached for it.

His subconscious controlling his movements, he ripped apart the flesh (his fingers glad for the chance to physically harm something) and held out the seeds towards Persephone in a stained palm, eyes averted, looking absently towards the trees, seeing, but not comprehending Ascalaphus.

And though he did not look at her, did not watch her eat the damning seeds, he sensed that when she reached for the first one her eyes were full of the pity that he so loathed.

8.

It was when he was waiting for the end of summer in the world of the living, did he first encounter Minthe.

She was so different from Persephone. Whereas his queen was gentle and tender, slowly growing to return his affections, Minthe was bold, her comments sharp, her movements simultaneously scalding and freezing.

The first time they were together he had been bored. But soon after he grew addicted to her pungent scent, her lingering taste.

Persephone, although quiet, was not stupid. She took notice and at first convinced herself that it was only natural, that all the other gods did the same to their wives.

But Minthe grew too strong, and Persephone’s forgiving, restoring nature failed.

Hades did not receive solely the brunt of Persephone’s anger, but of her heartbreak as well. For years, she ignored his pleas, his gifts and his agitation at her stubbornness.

Their marriage and the friendship that had formed suffered a rift that would take an entire age of man to repair.

And all that was left of Minthe was a sharply fragrant sprig of green leaves.

9.

Hades knows that he is forever bound to the cold. The warmth that Leuce, Persephone and Minthe had provided for him had been superficial at best; the burning effects of Persephone’s touches had long since faded, leeched by the cold of the Underworld.

The dead mortals that come to his domain still cower in fear at his gaunt, youthful face, though when he stands on his pathetic legs, his shoulders not broadening for effect, he sees the confusion distort their countenances.

He is not ashamed of his stature, but rather bitter. His influence has faded with time, but as an Olympian, he has not.

Time and death do not stop for one another, and the memory of death, which is what he embodies, is something eternal.

And though he may no longer intimidate, he knows the cold surrounds him, and that forever he will last, invisible to all eyes.