Hades stood before the mirror, staring at his reflection with quiet disbelief.
His silver hair had been brushed and tied neatly behind him, a few loose strands falling gracefully around his sharp features.
His robe was black as the deepest void, embroidered with intricate golden patterns that shimmered faintly with divine energy, like starlight trapped in silk.
The weight of the fabric felt strange on him—it was heavy, regal, yet unfamiliar.
He adjusted the collar slightly, his purple eyes glowing faintly as he exhaled a slow breath.
He was getting married.
The thought still didn't feel real. For countless millennia, he had ruled, judged, and endured, but marriage had always been something distant, something he believed was meant for others.
Yet here he was, wearing his finest robe, about to stand before eternity itself and vow his heart to three women who had, somehow, broken through the walls of his soul.
He allowed himself a faint smile.
