“Always contributing to my work, eh, brother?” said a melancholy voice from the shadows behind.

His concentration broken, the God King lowered the lightning shaft and turned to see the illuminated eyes of his brother.

“Illuminated” is perhaps the incorrect term; as they did not shine, but rather, anti-shined. They were black, but stood out of the shadows because they were the opposite of light, rather than the absence of it. Even Zeus couldn’t stare into them for too long.

“Hades, always a pleasant surprise to see you meander up to my pearly gates,” Zeus greeted.

“I think we can negate the formalities; we have bared our souls to one another and your true thoughts of me are not unknown.” The Underworld Lord stepped forward into the light, revealing a plain, emaciated, middle-aged man in multiple simplistic drapes. His well-groomed hair, moustache and beard were lighter versions of his eyes, forming a dramatic contrast with his paper-pale skin.

The God King sighed. “Why is it you insist upon upholding such a somber attitude?”

Hades shrugged, causing a complicated pattern of movement with his multi-layered robes. “Just fits my gimmick, I suppose.”

“Peachy. Then be blatant; why are you come, brother?”

“I felt you’d never ask,” Hades stepped forward again. “I am in misery.”

“Oh?” Zeus lifted an eyebrow. He was surprised; Hades was a god who always looked miserable, but certainly never validated it. He just seemed to exist…in a constant state of purgatory.

“Yes,” said Hades, “It’s Persephone.”

“Ah.” Women. This was Zeus’ home field. “Those types can certainly be a headache.”

“You miss the point, as usual,” Hades coolly explained. “I courted her and offered her an entire World…everything I have to give…and yet, because I became somewhat engulfed in a moment of passion, I am recorded as a villain.”

“Bummer,” said Zeus in a failed attempt to be empathetic for the first time in his existence.

“Undeniably,” Hades shuddered, “ ‘Bummer’. And despite the fact that the mortals KNOW that I fairly judge them before allowing them to pass into My Underworld, I still remain the archetype for evil.

Essentially, I’m the only god unquestionably devoted to his wife, never mind the fact that I’m the only god who respects her decisions and beliefs – no offense, brother–”

“None taken,” said Zeus, who could suddenly feel Hera’s seemingly-omniscient glare from the opposite side of Olympus.

“—but I’m also the single truly considerate, democratic god, and still, I’m less idolized than Ares. Ares! The boy’s idea of a good party is hacking into his girlfriend’s shoulder with a broad sword and then serving the innards in paper cups to the remaining guests!”

“True, but you have to admit…those were some good innards,” said Zeus optimistically.

“They came from a good girl.”

Zeus shifted his sandaled feet uncomfortably, “Ermm…yeah.” He quickly changed the subject, “So what is there I can do for you? Want me to smite the scribes who portray you as the bad guy? I’ve got quite good aim, you know.”

“No. I want what the mortals want; contentment. I want an end.”

Zeus’ eyebrows fought one another for height as he did the addition, “So…you want me to smite you?”

“Again, no. I know what lies after the smiting takes place. You only care for those souls in the singular instant that you consider them; after that, they are under my CONSTANT supervision, and moreover, conscience. It is not death I long for…simply an ending.”

“Alas, brother,” Zeus softly approached, “I know no such method of doing so, nor do I believe you anticipated me to.”

“I would be lying if I said otherwise.”

“But I can, however, orchestrate a creation that will help soothe your despondent problems.”

He whistled a quick and complex tune, and in flew Hermes, seemingly before the God King had time to reach the second note.

“Herm, I want you to obtain the following; a flask of spirits from Dionysus, several potatoes from Demeter, a fine olive from Athena, and two delicate glasses from Hephaestus.”

The little god wiggled his ears twice in recognition, and quicker than one of Zeus’ love affairs, he had returned with all the ingredients, readily mixed. He handed both Zeus and Hades a glass and disappeared so swiftly, it looked as though he was still there when he had, in fact, left quite a while ago.

“That’s a rather disconcerting side effect,” observed the Underworld Lord.

“Indeed. Now, brother, this drink is an elegance; not nearly as crude as a common brew, for the sorrow in your heart should never be common, and therefore, it is also strong and sad. It is a drink I make for you, but it still needs a personalized touch,” Zeus offered his glass.

Hades took them both, set them down on a nearby table, and waved his long fingers over them. As he did this, a light shower of minerals fell into the glasses from the grooves in his hands.

“I’ve made them dry as my heart and salty as my World. A toast,” proposed Hades.

“Certainly, a toast,” agreed Zeus.

“To forgetting oneself.”

“To the Martini.”