Underworld, City of Nox.
Bone Appetit, the crown jewel of the underworld's fine dining, gleamed with subtle opulence even in its private rooms.
Black crystal lanterns gave off a soft glow, their light reflecting off polished obsidian walls carved with intricate scenes of myth and memory.
It was a place designed to impress not through grandeur, but through an elegance that even the dead could envy, a restaurant so refined that Aphrodite herself had given her personal certification.
The irony was not lost on Hades, as he now sat across from Hera in one of its secluded chambers, their table draped in black silk, with gold utensils and dishes steaming with delicacies rare even for gods.
This was not his idea.
He would not have chosen this path, not when he himself had yet to understand what it truly meant to love Aphrodite, or anyone for that matter.
He had promised her, though.
