The letter came without fanfare, but when Hermes told him he might want to sit down before reading it, Hades listened. Stooped in his chair and recognizing the address as Persephone's, he swallowed hard. He'd just let her back in time for spring a few months ago; were those mortals too demanding of her now, expecting more than she could give? Hades knew it could take a while for the seasons to readjust to being in order, and the same went for those living up top.

He had half a mind to go gather some new souls to make sure his wife remained undisturbed when Hermes cleared his throat. "Maybe open it before you get any wild ideas," he said. Then he added, "Demeter told me to hand it over personally, and if she's writing you I doubt it's good news."

Hades tore open the envelope, unfolded the letter, and stared.

To Mr. Hades, the letter began in a flowery script, our Persephone has fallen ill. It will likely pass in time, but she wished to see you in hopes of recovering quickly. We've had our differences in the past, but my daughter's well-being is important to both of us, and if she wants you here I'm in no position to argue.

The letter continued, but Hades barely registered the rest of Demeter's words, focused only on the beginning. Persephone, ill and wanting to see him? A sick feeling began to gnaw inside him—what if he was responsible for this somehow?

From the moment she'd arrived down below last fall, she'd complained of Hadestown's unnatural light and sweltering heat, and he'd brushed her comments aside in favor of comparing them to the heat and light of day up top. It was entirely possible his thoughtless behavior had contributed in some way to her illness, not to mention Hadestown's smog-filled streets, the endless wall to keep trespassers out and his workers in, coal dust flowing out from the mines, and who knew how much else. For all Hades knew, anything he'd commissioned down here could have adversely affected the goddess of spring.

She'd never been sick before Hadestown's expansion, he knew that much. And now she wanted him, needed him, to try and make it right.

"When did you get this," Hades demanded. "Just a while ago," Hermes answered, and laid a hand on his shoulder as the God of the Dead began to pack.

"Hold on a moment there," the messenger god began. "I know you want to go on top as soon as possible, but we don't know how long she'll need you to stay. Without you or Persephone down here to keep things in line, it could get…chaotic."

"And you're incapable," Hades growled, and Hermes nodded gravely.

"I conduct the train and deliver the souls, and that keeps me busy enough. You'd have to find someone else to fill in for you."

Hades took in the situation and gave a small, desperate grin. "I know just the man."

In no time Hades was out on the floor, searching bodies until he found the worker he was looking for—one of the first men to come to his Underworld, and one of the most loyal. At one time he'd had another name, but Hades called him Zagreus, and the name stuck as much as names did down here. The most prominent feature about him was his height, as when he stood up in full he even eclipsed Hades. It was one more reason to keep his head low as he worked.

Hades gestured for the other workers to scatter, and they instantly obeyed. "Zagreus," he called, and the worker started to attention. "Yes, sir," he said, trying to hide the oncoming rush of fear; even after Orpheus's song, renovating Hadestown took time, and the workers were unsettled at the thought of speaking to Hades as an equal. It would be a while before old habits broke completely.

"An emergency has occurred up top that needs my full attention," Hades began, and Zagreus nodded seriously. "I'll be away for a while; I'm not sure how long. But until I get back, you're in charge."

Zagreus looked like someone had struck him down where he stood. "In charge, sir?"

"Of Hadestown, and everyone in it. In short, you'll be replacing me until I return."

With that Hades snapped his fingers and a change came over the taller man. A pinstripe suit settled around his body, coal dust and dirt vanished in an instant, snakeskin boots adorned his legs, and the shape of his hair altered until he was essentially a copy of the god standing before him, albeit still taller than normal. Zagreus stared down at himself, then back at Hades in disbelief. "Y-you're serious," he finally choked out, his voice now a gravelly rumble from deep below.

"Always. Don't let me down. Everything else you need for the job should be in my office, and don't contact me unless the whole town's burning down or something."

And without another word, Hades stepped onto the train platform, entered the train, and was gone, leaving Hadestown in Zagreus's care.

Zagreus straightened his suit, climbed up the heavy metal stairs to Hades' office, sat in the nearest chair, and promptly fainted from stress.


The train ride from Hadestown to the world up top had felt long on the best days, but with Persephone sick it felt interminable. Hades drummed his fingers on the seat for want of anything to do with himself, his mind spinning with worry. As the gloomy roads began to fade to spring countryside, where Persephone's mother waited, he braced himself for the worst.

Finally, the train slowed and came to a halt, and before Hermes could give the all-clear Hades was up and out the door, nearly tripping off the platform in his haste to reach his wife. Hermes helped steady him and watched with mild amusement at just how fast the Lord of the Dead was at the moment; even as the god of speed, he was no match for Hades when Persephone's health was at stake.

"I'd like to stay and help, but this old train's always got more souls to deliver. Hope things go well," Hermes called, and Hades gave a quick wave back in response as the train chugged away.

Still tingling with adrenaline, Hades tried to compose himself before heading to the rustic house and its surrounding gardens and knocking; Demeter greeted him at the door and waved him in with an awkward glance. "Hello," she said finally. "Persephone is resting in bed upstairs, but I know she'll be glad to see you."

Before she could even point out which set of stairs Hades had bolted up and into Persephone's bedroom, then kept going and crashed into her closet door. The resounding crash made Demeter give the world's third-ever facepalm (the first two went to Hermes) and, more importantly, woke Persephone. Briefly stunned from running headlong into the door, Hades staggered back and toppled onto the bed, where Persephone gave a weak smile.

"Hey, lover," she teased, her voice uncommonly raspy. "Knew that big ol' boom had to be you. You never were one for subtlety, were you, Mr. Hades?"

"Persephone," he breathed. "What exactly is wrong?"

Persephone's face clenched in what seemed to be pain, which alarmed him. "Got a headache the size of Mount Olympus, had a couple coughing fits and am somewhere between too tired to move and being completely unable to get any shut-eye, plus mom says I'm running a fever. But boy, am I glad you're here," she added. Hades put a hand to her head and recoiled at the warmth he felt, which seemed nearly as bad as the heat of Hadestown.

"It's my fault you're sick," Hades whispered, and Persephone's brow wrinkled in confusion. "What do you mean? Just you being here is enough to make me feel better."

"It must have been Hadestown," Hades explained. "All that smoke, and the heat and light—you're the goddess of spring, you said they weren't natural, and I kept on going. If it weren't for Orpheus I might never have stopped, and even then you're ill. It has to be my fault."

Persephone pulled him into a weak but tight hug. "Hades, don't blame yourself. Even if that dusty old town is what caused this—" she paused to cough into her sleeve, which made his stomach knot with worry "—you're making up for it by being here for me now. Trust me, I was way worse off before you got here."

Hades hugged her back, carefully so as not to disturb her, and they both jumped at Demeter's voice from downstairs. "Mr. Hades? If you're able, I could use your help in preparing my daughter some food to aid her recovery. Something healthy, like a salad."

Persephone wrinkled her nose. "And this is half of why I invited you. Momma's sweet, but the last thing I want right now is to munch on some dry leaves and bitter herbs. She can make all the 'but you bring spring, you should love salads' comments she can. Still hate 'em."

Despite himself Hades grinned; his wife had always been picky when it came to food, and seeing her acting like her old self reassured him. "And what was the other half?"

"Your company," Persephone said with a smile, refraining from a kiss only due to her illness.

"Hades," Demeter called again, and the God of the Dead sighed. "Suppose I'd better go help your ma. Maybe I could talk her into something more to your tastes, say a fruit salad?"

At that Persephone's grin grew wider. "Lover, you know me too well."

As it happened, not only did Hades make a splendid fruit salad that earned Demeter's praise (after some initial wariness with the knife), he used her herbs to make a healthy soup, which Persephone tasted once and declared her undying love for, and more specifically her husband that prepared it.

After the meal, which Hades insisted on bringing to her so she wouldn't have to get up, Persephone settled on the bed. Her breathing deepened as she was lulled into sleep, and her voice already seemed better than it had. After making sure his wife was as comfortable as he could make her, Hades fell asleep on the chair beside her.


Meanwhile, in Hadestown, Zagreus woke up and panicked, having momentarily forgotten what he was supposed to be doing. When it all came back to him, he panicked more—how long had he been unconscious? Hadestown depended on its boss to keep going, and here he was filling in for him without much clue as to what he should be doing.

He did know a little of how the place was run, though, or at least he hoped so. Fixing a scowl on his face, he turned to the desk and the piles of paperwork that needed filing, then shuffled them while making angry mumbling noises without actually getting any work done. When that was done, Zagreus turned to look out the office window and saw many shades milling about in confusion; there was no clock in the Underworld, per se, but without reminders nothing would get done.

So he threw open the doors and gave them the meanest glare he could muster. "Alright," Zagreus shouted, "That wall ain't gonna build itself! Everyone back to work!" He then pantomimed pulling the rope for the steam whistle, the official signal to get back to work, just as he'd seen Hades do countless times. Unfortunately, since Zagreus wasn't Hades and didn't have Underworld magic, nothing happened until he went to the rope to pull it manually.

The workers scattered at the sound, eager to avoid his wrath, and Zagreus breathed a sigh of relief. "Being the boss is harder than I thought," he muttered. "Hope I can pull this off til he gets back…"

Then he thought of something that always cheered him up, and could maybe help him think of more ways to keep going—the little bar tucked away in a corner of the Underworld. Usually run by Persephone in winter, once Eurydice was here to stay the goddess had made her its proprietor in summer. It was a way to keep her busy through the summer months without mindless work in the mines or factories, and it was rumored that sometimes Persephone snuck messages and memories from Orpheus to her, and vice versa.

No matter who ran the bar, all of the workers enjoyed the wares that were offered, especially with the relaxed prices once Hadestown had begun to change—a hint of an autumn breeze, the feel of sunlight coming through a canopy, even the smell of summer rain. Memories like that didn't have much use in running Hadestown, at least not that Zagreus could tell, but maybe they'd help him remember something that would help. It couldn't hurt to try.

So he strode right in without a second thought, forgetting that for all intents and purposes he was Hades at this point in time. Everyone in the bar instantly panicked at the sight of him, drinks spilling and workers scrambling for safety under the nearest tables and chairs.

"M-Mister Hades," gasped a shorter shade that Zagreus belatedly recognized as being one of his friends from the mine. "There's nothing to see here, nothing at all! We were just getting back to work! Sir."

"…I hope it's soon, and by soon I mean now," Zagreus sneered, the learned anger in his voice overriding any concern. "I seem to remember that whistle ringing," he continued, and the workers were quick to obey, shuffling out of the bar and steering well clear of his path.

Only Eurydice, who was manning the counter, stayed behind. She seemed to be sizing him up, and as Zagreus approached she gave him a sly grin. "You're not Hades."

"O-of course I am," he protested, but Eurydice only grinned more. "Last I checked, Mr. Hades wasn't quite so tall."

"Y'ever hear of a growth spurt, little miss," he growled, and Eurydice's eyes lit up. "See, that's another thing! Hades always calls me 'songbird' or something like that."

Zagreus's face fell. "You got me all figured out. I ain't Hades, just a worker wearing his skin til he gets back. And I am in a heap of trouble—he got on that train and put me in charge, and I'm lucky Hadestown hasn't collapsed on itself by now."

"Well," Eurydice began, "it's not like you've done a terrible job. You've got the yelling and work ethic down for sure. But Hades has been working on helping the workers too, so the jobs aren't as harsh. Maybe you could supervise the mines for a bit; you used to work there, right?"

At that his eyes lit up, and he gave a very un-Hades-like smile. "Yeah! My friend Pirithous and I, oh, we were a team! He was shorter than me, but man could he swing a pickaxe."

Then he looked sad. "I think I may have just chased him out of here."

"He'll be back," Eurydice said, reaching up to pat his shoulder in a comforting manner. "I'll tell them you had no idea what they were doing and things should be back to normal here soon. And if I see your friend," she said with a wink, "I'll let him in on your little secret so he doesn't freak out—he was chugging memory bottles trying to figure out where you went!"

"Thanks, little miss—er, songbird," Zagreus corrected, standing up and straightening out his suit. "Looks like it's time for Hades to head to his mines."


Time passing was much easier to gauge on top than underground, and with help from Demeter and Hades, Persephone was soon on the mend. Her fever was the first thing to go down, to Hades' eternal relief, and in due time she had enough energy to move around and make her own meals when she was able. Persephone still had a bit of a cough, however, and being stuck in bed had gotten old fast. To entertain her, Hades made the shadows on the wall move as he wished while he re-enacted stories from early in their marriage.

This particular tale was one that had been frightening at the time, but became something to look back on and laugh at later—the time Persephone, still new to the Underworld, had almost fallen into the great pit in the center of Hadestown.

"And then," he continued, "that old hole in Hadestown yawned before you, without anything there to save you from its depths. You teetered on the edge and flailed your arms like so, and you know what happened then?"

"My brave, gallant husband swept me off my feet, tossed me clear, and broke half the bones in his immortal body when he landed at the bottom," Persephone finished. "Soon as you got better, we made sure to put safety rails and warning signs so no one else fell in."

"Aw, you finished it for me," Hades teased. "Who's telling this story here, you or me?"

"Considering I was there for half of it? Let's say both of us," Persephone grinned, turning as Demeter came in with a bowl of soup. Persephone turned to appraise the dish and was impressed at the amount of work it must have taken; it was chock full of freshly cooked vegetables, sliced to perfection.

"More soup, momma? You must have your hands full down there!"

"Oh, you'll have to thank your husband for that," Demeter said with a sly grin. "Mr. Hades can't keep his hands still for long, and without work to do that apparently translates to making every bit of food he can until you get well. There's eight more bowls just like it in the fridge, not to mention at least four fruit salads, and too many sandwiches to count. And trust me, hon, if the goddess of the harvest loses count, there's officially too much there."

"I may have gone overboard a tad," Hades admitted, and Persephone looked like she wanted to kiss him. "You're fine, lover. When I get better and you're gone for the rest of summer, the love you put in that food will keep me going!"

At her words, Hades' face fell. The time he'd spent here, even given the circumstances, was so full of everything he loved about Persephone that he didn't want to leave at all. If he couldn't stay, maybe she could—no, he reminded himself. Asking her to leave early would just repeat what had caused the rift to begin with, and he wasn't ready for that yet.

"That's right," he said with a tinge of sadness to his voice. "It will."

In response, Demeter moved forward and pulled him into a hug. "I was wrong about you, Hades," she began. "Old girls like me, well, we just want what's best for our daughters. With all those rumors flyin' 'round that you'd kidnapped her, even when Persephone came to bat for you I was still suspicious."

"And those extra months I kept her down below only seemed to confirm it," Hades realized.

Demeter nodded, but then she smiled. "But having you here like this, putting your city aside to help Persephone get well? You truly are a devoted husband to her, and someone I'd be proud to call my son-in-law. And as far as I'm concerned, next time she's up top you're welcome to visit—just not for too long; she has work to do up here too."

"I'd be honored, ma'am," Hades said, a true smile breaking across his face, so unlike him it put Apollo's rays to shame. "But for now, well, I'd best head back to Hadestown. Persephone's in good hands with you, and my children can only go so long without their father."

"Hold it, lover. Before you go, take this with you," Persephone said, and got up and smooched him on the lips.

Hades promptly fainted from joy.


The lonely whistle sounded as the train pulled in to Hadestown. Hades appraised his city with a miner's eye, searching for any tiny imperfections, and when he saw none at first glance he smiled. "Maybe Zagreus didn't do that bad of a job."

His smile faded somewhat when he saw an order for a pile of bricks laying carelessly atop said pile, though at least it was notarized in all the right places. Still, a small clerical error was nothing like what he worried could happen, and the workers seemed attentive as always.

Hades spied Zagreus out of the corner of his eye, still dressed like he was, and with a snap of his fingers the glamour magic faded until he was an ordinary worker once more.

Zagreus noticed the change and seemed to smile as he worked, but his smile faded when he saw someone short barreling towards them, his pickaxe forgotten at his side.

"Pirithous," he called, "Wait—"

But before he could finish the smaller man had wrapped his arms around Hades in a crushing hug and buried his face in his chest. "Miss Eurydice told me everything," he said with a happy sob.

"I thought you were gone forever and I was so worried but then she said you were filling in for the boss and that's why no one could find you! You did a great job—we were all completely fooled! In fact, I think I liked you more than the real boss! Just don't let him know, okay?"

Hades looked at the short worker that had latched onto him, looked at Zagreus, and finally held his gaze on Eurydice, who looked somewhere between stifling laughter and expecting a one-way trip to Tartarus.

On a bad day Hades would've punished her, punished them all for their insolence, and while the itch tugged at him he ultimately decided he was in too good a mood to let it be spoiled. Besides, what would Persephone think?

"Well," Hades finally said, "it's good to see some morale-boosting around here. Keep up the good work, and I won't let the boss know what you were up to while he was away."

In due time, Hadestown fell back into its rhythm, now changed for the better thanks to Orpheus and Eurydice's efforts.

And up top, Persephone sipped at bowls of soup and smiled, knowing it wouldn't be too long now before her lover took her in his arms once more.