The Grand Temple of the Underworld stood resplendent beneath a sky of shimring onyx, its towering gothic spires wreathed in a gentle radiance born not of sunlight, but of the countless souls who had gathered to witness the impossible—the marriage of the King of the Dead.
The great obsidian pillars glowed faintly with blue ethereal light, and streams of luminescent petals, conjured by nymphs of the Styx, drifted through the air like glowing snow.
The entire realm seed to hold its breath, the weight of reverence and anticipation almost tangible.
"Ah, I still can’t believe the king is finally getting married." A heroic spirit sighed, gazing at the majestic figure standing on top of the alter.
Beside, a goddess smirked teasingly, "If you don’t give a wedding as grand as this, I will curse you."
The heroic spirit shuddered. Maybe proposing that bet was a wrong choice.
A re mortal really shouldn’t provoke a goddess.
At the very front, standing beneath an arch woven from soul-fla lilies and black roses, was Hades himself.
Clad in a robe of immaculate black silk trimd with gold, his every movent carried the quiet dignity of a ruler who had never bowed to fate.
His silver hair was tied neatly behind his head, his athyst eyes glowing with restrained divinity.
Yet beneath that calm, divine composure, there was sothing almost human—a flicker of nervousness, a trembling heartbeat that betrayed a soul touched by love.
His mother, the Titaness Rhea, stood nearby, regal and radiant, her presence commanding both respect and warmth.
As Hades requested of her, she was the one who have the honor to preside over this wedding, her smile softening the solemn atmosphere.
Around them, the gathered host of underworld denizens—heroic spirits, shades, divine spirits, and gods—watched in awe.
Even the rivers themselves seed to hush, the flas of Phlegethon dimming, the flow of Acheron slowing, as if the underworld itself paused to bear witness.
Then, at the sound of soft, ethereal music that floated through the temple like a divine lullaby, it was announced that the brides had arrived.
The great obsidian doors opened, and the people gasped.
In that mont, while watching the brides walked towards the alter, they all thought:
’Beauty exists, to describe these three.’
First ca Hecate, veiled in silver and shadow, her gown shimring like moonlight over still waters.
Each step she took left faint trails of starlight behind her, her threefold aura shifting subtly—mystery, wisdom, and tenderness intertwining.
Her eyes, a quiet storm of depth and light, found Hades, and for the briefest mont, her stoic lips curved into the smallest, most knowing smile.
Beside her was Hera, her every movent the definition of grace and majesty. Draped in a gown of white and gold, her presence filled the hall like the warmth of dawn.
Her crown glimred faintly, the divine aura of the Queen of the Gods humbling even the fiercest shades.
Yet her eyes—those sharp, golden eyes that had once only known pride—now softened when they found Hades, glowing with sothing pure, vulnerable, real.
And finally, Aphrodite, radiant as the first breath of creation, the goddess of love herself.
Her golden hair cascaded like liquid sunlight, and her gown of soft rose and pearl seed woven from the very essence of affection.
She smiled as she walked, every step a gentle ripple through the hearts of all who saw her.
Even Persephone, seated near the front, puffed her cheeks in silent envy while the other goddesses sighed at the sheer, impossible beauty before them.
Hades stood transfixed.
In that mont, he felt like the world dimd.
The voices, the murmurs, the sound of divine music—all faded into silence.
In that mont, the colors of existence seed to vanish, as if reality itself yielded to the brilliance of the three walking toward him.
His gaze could not, would not, leave them. His immortal heart, usually calm as the depths of the Styx, thundered wildly in his chest.
His stomach fluttered, his mind blanked, and for a fleeting instant, the King of the Underworld—cold, composed, and calculative—felt the dizzying, vulnerable warmth of being human.
And as their eyes t—Hecate’s subtle tenderness, Hera’s proud devotion, Aphrodite’s radiant love—he rembered.
He rembered the confessions whispered under starlit skies, the promises made in silence, the warmth of their hands that reached for him when all others feared to.
He rembered the laughter, the quarrels, the affection that grew from shared eternity.
And in that mont of divine stillness, Hades finally understood what all his long, immortal existence had never taught him.
’Ah,’ he thought, as a small, rare smile touched his lips, ’so this is love.’
The three brides, radiant as dawn reborn, finally reached the altar—each step echoing softly against the vast marble floor, a sound so delicate it seed to reverberate through the hearts of every soul present.
The petals of soul-fla lilies drifted down from above, falling like glowing snowflakes that never lted, each one a blessing whispered by the Underworld itself.
Before them stood Rhea, the Mother of Gods, her serene expression carrying both divine majesty and tender warmth.
Her presence filled the Grand Temple like a soft, golden tide—gentle yet absolute.
She raised her hands, and the murmuring crowd fell into perfect silence. Even the rivers of the Underworld seed to pause in reverence, their eternal flow stilled by the sanctity of the mont.
Her voice, calm and lodic, resounded throughout the temple, ancient and beautiful, as though the very world listened.
"Before the eyes of the living and the dead, before the rivers that bind this realm, before the stars that have watched since the birth of all things—I, Rhea, bless this union. May it be written upon the threads of Fate itself, that no hand, no god, nor ti shall sever what is joined here today."
And so, under the shimring radiance of the temple lights, the vows began.
Hades, voice low yet steady, looked at each of them in turn, his athyst eyes softer than they had ever been, filled with sothing eternal.
"Hecate, Hera, Aphrodite—my pillars in the endless dark. I, who have ruled silence and shadow, have known no warmth greater than your light. I vow, before the endless rivers and the stars above, that I shall never let the fires of my devotion fade. From now until the end of eternity, my heart, my power, and my soul are yours—united as one, undying and indivisible."
The words seed to ripple through the very air, a quiet tremor of truth.
Then Hecate stepped forward first, her gaze deep and unwavering, her tone carrying both mystery and tenderness.
"To the King who walks between shadow and fla, I offer my light. I vow to be your guide in the nights of uncertainty, your strength when the weight of eternity grows heavy. I will walk beside you, through every silence and storm, until the last star burns out—and even then, my love will echo through the dark."
Hera followed, her proud composure trembling just slightly, her erald eyes glistening with unspoken feeling.
"To my husband, my equal, my eternal. You have shown what love ans beyond the bonds of pride and throne. I vow to stand beside you—not above, nor beneath—but as your partner in all things. Let our bond be sacred, our trust unbroken. Wherever you stand, I shall stand too, for my heart has found its kingdom within yours."
And then Aphrodite, smiling through tears that shimred like starlight, placed her hand gently over Hades’ heart.
"To the one who tad the loneliness of my immortal heart—I vow this: to love you beyond reason, beyond ti, beyond every rebirth. I will be the warmth that greets you when the world feels cold, the laughter that softens your burdens, the beauty that reminds you life is still worth feeling. My love will not fade—it will only grow, even in the stillness of eternity."
The air itself seed to tremble with power—divine, pure, eternal. Their oaths wove together like golden threads of fate, binding heart to heart, soul to soul.
And then Rhea, smiling with tears glimring in her eyes, raised her hands once more. Her voice carried across the realm—gentle yet absolute.
"Then, by the power of Heaven, Earth, and Underworld alike, by the blood of Titans and Gods, and by the will of eternity—I declare you now bound as one. Husband and wives, united in heart, vow, and destiny."
At that proclamation, a surge of divine light erupted from the altar, cascading like a wave of dawn through the dark.
The petals rose, glowing brighter, swirling around them like the blessings of a thousand souls.
Hades reached out, his hands trembling as he took theirs—three hands, three hearts, bound forever to his own.
And in that mont, as the temple thundered with applause, cheers, and divine music, the King of the Dead smiled quietly, tenderly, as though the weight of all eternity had just turned into warmth.
The Underworld, for the first ti in its immortal history, shone.
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