Deep in Hades, Hades sat upright on his obsidian throne, his fingertips involuntarily tapping on the armrest.
Before him hung a mirrored curtain, and what was reflected in the mirror was not a war scene, but a scene in a temple.
Freyja held an infant emitting a faint divine light, quietly humming an ancient lullaby, her face filled with a complex and contented maternal radiance.
However, the child, that is, Freyr, who had been 'reborn' in some incredible way, always kept his eyes closed, showing none of the ignorance and curiosity an infant should have, only a melancholy and silence that could not be dissolved.
A rare flicker of elusive irritation appeared on Hades's face.
He understood Freyja's obsession with never being separated from her loved ones, and he didn't even have a particular moral judgment about such 'creation' that violated ethical norms—in the long life of gods, ethics were a vague concept.
What troubled him was the result.
This newborn 'Freyr' was clearly not in the right state.
He hadn't lost his memory; rather, he had felt too much indigestible past and had fallen into some kind of autistic depression.
This was not conducive to his growth, let alone to any role he might play in the future.
After all, as a god of abundance and peace, how could he possess the corresponding authority if he himself was lifeless?
The question was whether this melancholy stemmed from his inability to let go of the grief over Frigg's death in the Old World, or from the ethical impact and self-identity confusion caused by being 'born' to his sister?
Even Hades couldn't understand for a moment.
"Still worrying about those troublesome siblings... Or rather, what that mother and child are going through?"
Metis's lazy voice sounded from the side.
At some point, she had approached the throne, leaned on the armrest, and watched the scene on the mirror screen with interest, a smile on her lips, as if she saw everything.
Hades did not deny it, but simply fixed his gaze on his Queen of the Underworld, awaiting her wisdom, which always hit the mark.
Metis extended her slender finger and gently tapped Freyr's furrowed brow in the mirror, her voice as sharp as if discussing how to prune a plant that wouldn't bloom:
"What are you so worried about? It's better to let the air out of his body than to let it be trapped in his heart. The best way to solve depression is to fight!"
"Fight?" Hades's brows shifted slightly.
"Yes, fight!" Metis nodded affirmatively, her eyes shining with cunning.
"Find an opponent who is tough enough, can give him enough 'thrills', and defeat him soundly! Or get beaten by him. The most primitive emotions, like pain and anger, can often break down the pretentious barriers of melancholy."
She paused and uttered a name that made Hades look askance:
"I think Perses, the God of Destruction, is a very good candidate."
Perses, the descendant of the Titans, father of Hecate, possessing the power of destruction.
Hades was silent.
His deep gaze was fixed on Metis, as if trying to penetrate the true thoughts behind her beautiful smile.
Let Perses 'fight' Freyr?
On the surface, a powerful ancient god could indeed bring Freyr enough 'stimulation' and could indeed break down his closed state of mind.
But Metis's goal was probably not Freyr from the start.
Hecate.
The magic goddess, punished by Hades for her repeated 'mistakes', had her workload increased tenfold, and even her father Perses couldn't lift his head in the Underworld.
Where did Metis want to treat Freyr?
This was clearly an excuse to drag Hecate and her father into the water!
Today, under the banner of 'healing', you could ask Perses to 'beat up' Freyr; tomorrow you could find a reason to say Hecate was 'neglecting discipline' and needed her father to 'teach her a lesson', or simply let Perses 'test' Hecate's recent magical progress?
The goddess held a grudge; how could it be so intertwined and endless?
She wouldn't even let the old father of the family off?
Hades looked at Metis's seemingly innocent eyes, but in fact, hidden in the depths of her eyes were calculation and a slight pleasure, and he couldn't help but feel a slight sense of helplessness in his heart.
His wise queen, the Queen of the Underworld, was in a sense really cute.
"What do you think, my dear king?"
Metis leaned closer, her breath like orchids, but her tone was undeniably confident.
"It's a winning strategy that can not only 'help' Freyr, the sibling, but also 'tame' those troublesome subordinates."
Hades averted his gaze and looked again at the melancholy infant in the mirror, then recalled Hecate's face, full of grievance lately, and Perses's straightforward personality.
He spoke slowly, with a hint of agreement:
"Do as you say. Let Perses 'guide' Freyr."
As for how many sparks would fly during the process of 'guiding' and what chain reaction would be triggered—that was not something he needed to worry about immediately.
Perhaps making this pond even murkier wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
A bright smile bloomed on Metis's face, like a cat whose plan had succeeded.
"I'll arrange it all."
Whether Freyr healed or not, we don't know, but Hades looked at the impatient light of destruction in Perses's eyes and Freyr's worried, helpless look in the mirror, and his thoughts involuntarily drifted elsewhere.
Fatherhood.
This thought circled in his mind like a phantom.
In the long and chaotic ethics of the gods, 'father' often symbolizes the source, authority, and the power to correct children who have gone astray, if necessary.
Especially when a son commits ugly acts that disgrace the family and violate order, the father's punishment seems natural.
He thought of Zeus.
The younger brother, whose behavior was increasingly devoid of profit, and who even harbored filthy thoughts about his own son.
This was not only a corruption of power, but also a disgusting depravity.
With Zeus's character, no matter how Hades, the elder brother, punished him, he would be full of resentment and die without repentance.
Hades needed a more 'fundamental' deterrent, a force capable of instilling fear in Zeus's very bones.
His figure vanished from the throne, and the next moment he found himself in the deepest part of Tartarus.