The rocky slope crunched under their steps, ten long minutes of silence stretching between them. The gates of the Underworld had long vanished behind jagged peaks, leaving only the open mountain path and the faint smell of brimstone that clung stubbornly to Hades like a second skin.
Helios walked ahead at an unhurried pace, hands loose at his sides, head tilted slightly as if listening to a song only he could hear. Behind him, Hades' chains jingled with every step, the god's flame sputtering low in the collar's enchantment.
Finally, Helios slowed, planting himself on a flat ridge overlooking the vast drop below. Without turning, he reached into the small pouch at his hip and, with deliberate care, drew out a shaft of pure, crackling power.
A lightning bolt of Zeus.
The air around them instantly snapped and hissed, strands of electricity licking at the ground like hungry serpents. Hades froze, his eyes narrowing. "...Well, well. Look who's been doing a little grave-robbing."
Helios turned, the bolt balanced lightly in his palm, arcs of gold and white crawling across his knuckles. "You remember our first deal, don't you?"
Hades' smirk was automatic, though thinner than usual. "Oh, you mean the one where you were supposed to get that from Hecate for me? The one you conveniently forgot about when you decided playing her lapdog was a better career choice?"
Helios' smile was cold and deliberate. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the bolt underhand toward Hades. It landed just short of the god's feet, sizzling a shallow crater in the stone.
"Deal fulfilled," Helios said, his voice like the edge of a blade. "Your turn."
Hades glanced down at the bolt, then back up, his smirk sharpening. "Mm. See, I'm thinking the deal's void. You betrayed me, kid. That kind of tears up contracts."
Helios chuckled — a low, dangerous sound. "And you can prove that?"
The god's flame flickered, irritation spiking. "You're wearing the proof around my neck," Hades said, jerking his chin toward the collar. "You're the one who—"
"Attacked me first," Helios cut in smoothly. "Without checking if what you believed was true. That's called acting on assumption. And in deals, assumptions mean nothing."
The corner of Hades' mouth twitched. "Cute. You sound like a bad lawyer."
Helios took a step forward, his shadow falling over the god. "Funny you say that. My mother was a great lawyer. Could strip everything crime bosses and probably even heartlesses owned without even raising her voice. And compared to them, you're easy pickings."
For the first time, Hades didn't have a retort ready. The silence that followed wasn't comfortable.
"So," Helios continued, voice almost lazy, "if anyone here had the right to void the agreement, it would be me — the assaulted party. But I am not going to, so the deal stands. And that means you have to honor it."
Hades looked at him for a long beat, then down at the bolt. The faint crackle of power reflected in his narrowed eyes.
"You really think you've got me cornered, don't you?" he said finally.
"I don't think it," Helios said, stepping past him so they were shoulder to shoulder, speaking low. "I know it."
The weight of the words lingered like a closing cell door.
Hades bent slowly, fingers curling around the lightning bolt. It flared in his grip, almost resisting, but he straightened with it in hand, jaw tight.
"Fine," he said. "Letter to Hephaestus. One request, one build. That's the bargain."
Helios' smile widened, just enough to be unsettling. "Good. I like it when gods keep their word. Make things easier on me."
They stood there for a moment — Hades holding the king of Olympus' weapon like it was both a prize and a reminder of his own fall, Helios calm as a man sealing the final clause of a contract.
Then Helios turned back toward the path, the air shifting with the movement. "Now," he said without looking back, "we talk about our second deal."
Hades barked a laugh, though it lacked its usual swagger. "Kid, if your second deal's anything like the first, I should just save myself the trouble and throw myself back in chains."
Helios glanced over his shoulder, the glint in his eyes promising that whatever was coming next, it was going to make the first deal look like a handshake.
Helios let the silence hang for a beat, the faint hum of the lightning bolt still in Hades' grip buzzing like the background tension of a negotiation gone deadly serious.
"Now," Helios said, tone shifting into something almost conversational, "about our second deal."
Hades' brows lifted. "Ah, the one we never actually finalized."
"That's right," Helios replied, his voice calm but carrying the weight of someone who already knew the answer to the test. "The promise to introduce you to Maleficent… and her little gathering of like-minded individuals."
Hades gave a short laugh, though his eyes were calculating. "A club for villains. Cute. And why would I—"
"Because," Helios cut in, his smirk sharp, "in your current position, you need allies. Desperately. You've been knocked off your throne, collared, humiliated. You can stew on a random world for nine years, or…" He let the word linger in the air like bait on a hook. "You can spend those nine years building an army, making friends in very dark places. Friends who might just help you walk back into your kingdom and regain you position when the time comes."
Hades tilted his head, flame flickering faintly as if weighing the thought.
"I promised Hecate you wouldn't set foot in Olympus for nine years," Helios went on, "but where I banish you? That's my discretion. Accept the deal, and I'll send you somewhere useful — to Maleficent. Refuse, and I can drop you in some nameless void where you can chat with the walls until your sentence is up."
For a long moment, Hades said nothing. Then, with a begrudging exhale, he muttered, "What do you want in exchange?"
Helios' smile softened into something deceptively light. "Oh, nothing much. Just… a favor. A small one. Something you'll absolutely have to agree to when I ask for it."
Hades barked a laugh, though there was no humor in it. "You're playing a dangerous game, kid."
"I've learned that those are the only games worth playing," Helios replied.
He extended his hand.
Hades stared at it, then slowly reached out, his grip tightening like a vice, knuckles whitening, the chains on his wrists rattling as if he could crush Helios' bones through sheer will. Helios didn't flinch. And when the handshake ended, he withdrew his hand with the same easy composure he'd had all along.
"Deal," Helios said simply.
With a lazy flick of his wrist, a swirling dark corridor bloomed into existence. Helios turned toward it, then looked back at Hades with a faintly mocking bow. "After you."
The god's eyes narrowed, but he stepped forward all the same, the crackle of Zeus' bolt still in his hand as he vanished into the darkness.
Helios followed, the corridor sealing behind them.