"In front of the court of Troy on this day of victory and celebration," announced Hector formally, extending his hand to the man standing next to him, "do you, King Odysseus of Ithaca, find the preliminary terms of our alliance satisfactory?"

"So far," answered Odysseus with a wry smile. He reached out, grasping Hector's wrist, and they shook in agreement for all the noblemen there to witness. It was only a few hours after their triumphant march into the city – certainly not enough time to negotiate an alliance of this magnitude. Usually Odysseus would have been leery of a ruler's insistence that some sort of agreement between them be decided immediately, since there were many men in the world and not all of them could be trusted. However, he did trust Hector and he understood the urgency: realms that had just experienced civil war and turmoil were notoriously unstable. It was very important that the new king establish that he was a good and honorable man who would uphold the law and without an alliance in place the law did not extend to the Ithacan and Myrmidon troops; if a citizen of Troy were to do anything to the foreign visitors and if Hector punished him as if the crime had been committed against another Trojan, he would come across as a tyrant who favored his foreign supporters over his people.

Thankfully now the Ithacans, and soon the Myrmidons, would have some sort of protection against any lunatic in the city who was reluctant to let go of old grudges. "As do I," declared Hector grandly, "and I declare Ithaca to be our friend and ally during times of peace and war. You and your men may go about the realm of Troy and enjoy the privileges and protections that accompany such a title."

Now that the danger was over and the long-sought after (and almost lost) alliance all but secured Odysseus found that he was having a difficult time not laughing at the stuffiness of the whole occasion. It was an almost unheard-of situation for the normally dignified and controlled king and something that he might have, in the past, attributed to spending too much time with Achilles. He understood, though, what was causing it at that moment on that day: after all they'd been through together – seeing Hector at his very worst, playing host to the former fugitive prince – hearing him speak so formally now was just like seeing Achilles do something like take great pains to greet him in a manner appropriate for a foreign dignitary. All of it felt so hilariously ridiculous!

This was actually a quite comforting realization. Somewhere during their grand, foolish adventure Hector had ceased to be another ruler that Odysseus needed to figure out for the sake of his people and had become a friend. It was a nice feeling; an added bonus to finally attaining peace with Troy. Now he didn't feel the need to tread diplomatically around the Trojan king. Most relationships, he found, worked much better when their participants favored honesty over trying not to offend each other.

Still, there were times and places to exercise their new friendship and in front of the court while they agreed on political negotiations was not one of them. "I look forward to maintaining a mutually beneficial relationship between our two lands," said Odysseus with an appropriate mixture of respect and charm. "May the futures of Troy and Ithaca be all the more prosperous because of it."

"I have no doubt in my mind that they will be," replied Hector with a smile that was almost out-of-place in its informality.

Releasing Odysseus from his grip Hector turned his gaze toward Achilles, who was standing a few steps behind the Ithacan king. Odysseus stepped aside so that Achilles could take his place and Hector felt a surge of trepidation course through him. Paris' lover looked amused by the court proceedings – an attitude that the noblemen would certainly not appreciate – and not particularly thrilled to be there. The latter at least Hector could understand; being there meant that the Myrmidon wasn't with Paris. The two had been separated a long time when they journeyed back to Troy on separate ships and had looked forward to their reunion once they reached land. The battle and ensuing politics, however, had further delayed that from happening.

It didn't help that being back in the city was bringing up many bad memories of the last time that they were there. Achilles had made it abundantly clear that he very much disliked being apart from Paris for any amount of time in the exact place that had caused the boy so much grief for years. Paris, however, had decided that his presence would only be a distraction and opted not to attend in favor of sending messages to those still on the beach before spending some time with Andromache and Astyanax. The Myrmidon was growing more and more anxious and Hector could only hope that they would get through all of the necessary formalities as quickly as possible.

"Lord Achilles of the Myrmidons," he addressed him. "We have discussed our respective stipulations for creating a treaty between our two realms."

Achilles crossed his arms. "I remember," he said a little rudely.

"Do you accept them?" pressed Hector as the noblemen glowered and Odysseus twitched. "Are they satisfactory enough to forge an alliance between Troy and Pthia?"


Of course this wouldn't be simple. Nothing could be simple when Achilles was involved. "No?" Hector repeated, resisting the urge to smack his forehead in exasperation. Did the warrior care that he could be jeopardizing the welfare of his men and the future relations with his lover's homeland? "You have decided not to seek this alliance then?"

"I didn't say that," replied Achilles with maddening casualness. "I just make it a point not to agree to anything until at least the most important details are discussed and decided upon. There have been too many times when a ruler used an advantage he held to make others sign away the most precious things in their lives. I do not wish to become one of those fools, being rushed too quickly into a seemingly desirable agreement with someone that I don't have enough reason to trust."

Hector was impressed with how close Achilles had come to calling him a liar without actually saying the words. "And what do you want me to promise you right now?" he asked, torn between grudging respect and a little annoyance. After all, Achilles had spent very little time with him and didn't really have a reason to believe that Hector would actually follow through on the unofficial and understood agreements after a formal alliance was declared. Still, Hector was doing this to protect Achilles and his men; he found that he didn't appreciate the warrior's rather open distrust.

"Must you first be promised the use of Trojan troops for Myrmidon warfare?" he pressed on. "Do you desire gold, jewels, and fine cloth from the palace treasury? Will you only be satisfied with open access to the city's weaponry?"

"Nothing like that," said Achilles dismissively, not noticing or else just refusing to acknowledge the indignant gasps from the nobles when they heard Hector's questions and wondered if they were offers. "All I want from you is your word and for you to keep it when the time comes: you must promise me that you will not interfere with my relationship with Paris, nor allow anyone else to do the same. He will be with me when I leave these shores and I don't feel like dealing with whatever pests that may follow for the rest of my life. One adventure is tolerable, but it gets tiresome."

It was a final test and Hector knew it. "I will agr –"

"My king," interrupted one of the noblemen before Hector could finish. "I must advise against making such promises at this moment. While I grant that Lord Achilles has proven his loyalty and worth today, this concession is too much. Prince Paris is your firstborn son and heir; it is therefore imperative that he wed a female and sire children."

"The prince is not necessarily King Hector's heir," disagreed another member of the court. "He is the firstborn – no one disputes that – but he is also an illegitimate son, the result of an affair with a servant. He cannot be the next king of Troy, but as rumors of his beauty have spread all over the Aegean the prince should be used to strengthen new alliances. It would be advisable to allow Lord Achilles to take Prince Paris as part of the treaty."

Achilles' nostrils flared angrily and a distressed Odysseus cradled his forehead in his hand. "Paris is not something that can be given away like that, you scum," he growled. "By the gods, I thought that the refugee army expelled of all of the people like you!"

"That attitude might have been tolerated – even encouraged – by my father," agreed Hector with a subdued but powerful furor, "but it has no place in my court."

"Sire?" spoke up Linus, father of Lucius. "The most important things to consider now are your feelings and those of Prince Paris. Have the two of you discussed the possibility of you naming him your heir?"

"I haven't even thought about it," confessed Hector wearily. Until that morning his future appeared to be that of a penniless beggar who would be forced to wander in search of a realm that would dare to withstand the might of Troy for so little in return – who his heir was going to be felt like a moot point. "I must speak to both Paris and Andromache before I can make any final decision on the matter. In the meantime I will promise you, Lord Achilles, that I will allow my son to make up his own mind about continuing his relationship with you. If he wishes to remain with you, as I expect he will, I will not try to stop him – though not even the gods will be able to save you should you harm him in any way."

"Now that is something I can agree to," said Achilles with a smile that was surprisingly free of sarcasm.

Hector let out a wistful sigh as the two men grasped each other's wrists. "I do hate to lose him again," he explained when Achilles cocked an eyebrow at him. "I just got Paris back and soon he'll be leaving with you again."

"Who says you're going to lose him?" demanded Achilles wryly. "The sea is my home and Paris is my home. I'm content to be anywhere as long as I can be with both of them and am not attached to any one piece of land that I would object to leaving it for long periods of time when necessity didn't require it. Pthia would be our main residence for the sake of my men, of course, but I don't see why I would have a problem with staying in Troy whenever Paris wants to."

The nobles murmured amongst themselves. "Are you saying, Lord Achilles," questioned one of them carefully, "that when the time comes you will give up command of the Myrmidons for the prince? That is a noble gesture but if you do so then any alliance agreement made today would be worthless…"

"I didn't say that I wouldn't be leading the Myrmidons," Achilles told him in his blasé manner. "When we're in Troy they'll just make camp on the beach, like they're doing right now."

Every person in that room looked horrified except for Hector and Odysseus, how were fighting to repress their smiles. "Oh for the gods' sakes, what?" snapped Achilles. "All that means is that there will be long stretches of time when the finest warriors in Greece will be stationed between the sea and your city. I can't see how that would be a threat to Troy's security as long as the terms of the alliance are maintained accordingly." He rolled his eyes in the direction of the nobles one last time and looked to Hector. "What about you, oh king of Troy? Are you starting to regret agreeing to this?"

"Most certainly not," answered Hector, who understood the Myrmidon better and better with each passing second. "Welcome to the family, Achilles."


Achilles slipped out of the court hall some time later, once the discussion had turned away from pleasant things – like Paris going away with him to things that he had no interest in – like the funeral rites for Priam and Isidore. Theirs were the only two bodies that had gone unclaimed after the battle; Isidore having no family and no friends left to speak of and Priam being a delicate matter best left to the new king. Now everyone was fretting about what should happen to them. As far as Achilles was concerned they deserved to have their rotten corpses torn apart by wild birds and animals, thus making it impossible for Hades to deliver his final judgment on them. Being doomed to an eternity of tormented wandering without even knowing their true identities sounded like a fitting punishment to him. However, no one seemed to be interested in making that happen and Achilles didn't care as much about correcting that as he did about finding Paris.

He was so preoccupied with how wonderful but odd it was to be able to go almost anywhere in the palace, including the royal quarters, without restriction that he didn't see a young man coming from the other direction until they'd collided. "Pardon me," apologized the young man even though it was him who'd fallen while the Myrmidon had managed to stay on his feet. "I was not watching where I was going, my lord…Lord Achilles?"

"I –" Achilles halted his prideful boast when he looked at that flustered face and recognized its owner, right down to his hooked nose. "I know you; you're called Hook, right?"

"I'm flattered that you remember me," said Hook honestly as he took Achilles' offered hand. The warrior pulled him to his feet. "I guess by the way you're heading straight for the prince's chambers that things have worked out in your favor?"

"You guess right," Achilles told him, "though I'm surprised that you had to guess at all. I thought that everyone heard about what happened this morning."

"The servants here have only heard of the final defeat of King Priam and his army; the rest has been just rumors and hopes." Hook glanced nervously around before leaning in to whisper: "Is it true that Lord Isidore is dead?"

"Yes; I saw his bloodied corpse with my own eyes," assured Achilles. An overwhelming sense of relief took over Hook's entire body. "And your new king saw fit to strip him of his title posthumously. I even spat on his body for good measure," he added with a vengeful twinkle in his eye.

The young man smiled shakily and closed his eyes. "Good," he declared with a nod. "He was an awful, awful man…"

"He doesn't even deserve to be called a man after all he's done," said Achilles darkly. "Odysseus told him what he did to you; and the risk that you took to assist Paris and myself the night we escaped from the palace. I find myself in the awkward position of owing you, and believe me I don't say that lightly. How can I ever thank you?"

"Don't bother," replied Hook. "I did what I did to get revenge on that man just as much as I did to help the two of you. That night with – with those horrible guards and the whipping by Lo- by Isidore was just the price I had to pay for it."

Achilles didn't want to know what Hook had endured at the ends of those perverted guards that would make him compare sex with them to being on the receiving end of a vengeful Isidore's – a man who was infamous for his enthusiasmfor inflicting pain – whipping. "But still you did help us and there must be something – "

A light went on in Hook's eyes. "There is," he said suddenly. "You can come with me now and tell the other prostitutes about Isidore's death. I don't think that they'll believe it until they hear it from someone who actually saw him afterwards."

"All right." Achilles fell in step beside the young man and they walked for a full minute before something occurred to him. "Other prostitutes? You're still a member of the palace harem?" Hector must have known about what Hook had done to help his son; he would have thought that the king would have at least freed him from that servitude because of it.

"Yes – no – I don't know," Hook sighed awkwardly. "No one's told me otherwise, but then again so much has been going on that no one's had the time to do anything with the harem since we took refuge in the mountains. King Hector never seemed to approve of the whole concept, but I doubt he'll be able to do away with it altogether without some ruckus being raised."

"I think everyone here in this city will be surprised what Hector is capable of doing in the face vehement objections," Achilles told him. "But even if the harem remained I'm sure that no one would say a negative word if he released you from it."

"But then what would I do? The stigma of having been a palace prostitute would follow me whether I was reassigned to another duty within the palace or sent to do whatever in the world outside of it. Besides, I take care of the others – they need me." Hook stopped walking for a second and gave Achilles a brave, hopeful smile when the lord did the same. "No matter what happens, I think King Hector will make people treat us better. Why, we've even started calling ourselves by our real names again."

Achilles recalled how one battered prostitute who'd collapsed at his feet had called himself Green and declared that his real name had ceased to be important. To hear that all of them were reclaiming their identities felt like a step in the right direction. "And what is yours?"

"It's…well, it's Ganymede, my lord."

After the boy who had been raped and carried off by Zeus himself – how wretchedly fitting, considering how the young man's life had unfolded so far. "That's a nice name," lied Achilles, finding the need to be polite more important than the truth for one of the first times in his life.

"No it's not," responded the former Hook wistfully. "But it's my name."


Hector had made up his mind to speak with Paris immediately after the court gathering no matter what he was interrupting between his son and Achilles. The question of who was going to be his heir was hanging over all of them; it could have a profound affect on Paris' future and he deserved the chance to consider all of the options carefully with as little input from the Myrmidon as possible. Whatever doubts that Hector had that the boy would even want to be named his heir at all, he couldn't make the final decision without consulting him.

He was surprised to come across Paris alone in the royal quarters, sitting outside the closed door to his bedchamber. "Paris," Hector called to him, returning the boy's smile when he looked up. "What are you doing out here? Is Achilles making you wait while he prepares something?"

"I haven't seen Achilles since he went to court with you," replied Paris. Hector could tell by his tone that something was bothering him. "I'm not waiting for anything; I just can't…"

"Can't what?" Hector frowned worriedly at him and glanced over at the door. "Can't go in? Paris, did someone threaten to do something to you if you went into your bedchamber?"

"No! I'm just…well, afraid isn't the right word," Paris attempted to explain. "It's more like – I have a lot of good memories of this chamber. It's where you used to spend time with me, where Achilles and I first" – he coughed and blushed –"were first together, and the only place where I felt safe to be myself for most of my life. But those guards – the ones that Achilles had to kill the night we left – they, I don't know, they tainted it somehow. It's like they brought all of the horrible things that I had to deal with in the real world into my one refuge. It's hard to go back in after all of that."

Hector sat down next to his son and slid an arm around his shoulder. "You don't have to," he hedged; he didn't want to make Paris do something that he didn't want to do, but if he coddled him too much the boy wouldn't be able to grow stronger. "If it's truly too difficult I can have another chamber made up for you. I must counsel you though not to let the ghosts of the past keep you away from something that you hold so dear. What do you want to do?"

"This is my bedchamber," Paris decided after a moment's thought. "You're right, Father; I won't have a couple of painful shadows chasing me away every time I come back to Troy. I just need another minute or so to collect myself."

More than ever it sounded like Paris wouldn't be interested in being made his heir; it wasn't unexpected but Hector still needed to present that possibility to him. "Paris," he said delicately. "I came to talk to you about a matter that was brought up at the court meeting today that concerns you: it was about my heir."

"What about Astyanax?"

"That's just it," replied Hector. "Astyanax is my first son with my wife, but you are my firstborn son." Paris stared emotionlessly at him – something the king found to be a little unnerving. "This is entirely your decision and I can't guarantee that it would happen if you did decide to, but you do have a legitimate claim if you want to take on the position of my heir."

"Ah, but I don't have a legitimate birth," said Paris dryly. Hector opened his mouth to protest but the boy hushed him with a wave. "No matter how you feel about me, or how you felt about my mother you weren't married to her and in many people's eyes that mean that any claim I might have had to the throne is forfeit. Honestly, Father, the fact that you considered it to be an issue means more to me than the title itself. I have no desire to play political games to get it, especially since the result would be me having to stay here and marry a female to produce heirs of my own. As much as I love Troy I love Pthia and the Myrmidons too; the heart of the heir to the king of Troy should belong to this realm alone. Let Astyanax continue to be your heir, Father; that way I can stay with the man I love and divide my heart between two realms without causing a scandal – or a major scandal, I should say."

"You've grown into such a wise young man," smiled Hector, kissing his brow. Paris smiled and rose to his feet and his father followed suit. "It shall be done as you decided. Now, do you want me to go in with you?"

Sighing, Paris shook his head. "I have to do this on my own," he determined. "But do send Achilles this way if you see him."

With a slightly shaking hand, Paris grasped the door knob and turned it, letting out a deep breath when the door opened. 'It's just my bedchamber,' he told himself as he walked slowly inside. 'This was my safe haven for years. It's just my bedchamber…with someone in it –"

"Julian!" he gasped.

The ten-year-old servant boy was so startled that he dropped the water jug that he was carrying, spilling its contents all around him. "I'm so sorry, my prince!" the child cried. "Everyone was saying that you were coming back and all and I just wanted to get everything all nice for you in here and now I've gone and messed it up – I'm sorry!"

"No need to apologize; I just wasn't expecting anyone else to be in here." Paris concentrated on getting his breathing under control while his servant hastened to clean up the mess. When he was sure that he wasn't going to hyperventilate the prince sat down on the floor, his back up against the side of the bed. "Julian, my I speak with you?"

That was a silly question as far as Julian could tell; after all, the prince had the right to tell him to do anything and didn't need to ask his permission first. "Of course, sire," he responded promptly.

He walked over until he was a respectful distance away and stood expectantly with his hands clasped in front of him and his head bowed. Paris shook his head and patted the floor next to him, silently indicating that he wanted the boy to sit down next to him. Julian, uncertain how to act in the face of this strange breech of protocol, inched forward hesitantly until he was standing beside the prince. Realizing that he couldn't comprehend doing any more, Paris gently pulled him down into a sitting position.

"I owe you an apology, Julian," stated Paris solemnly. The young servant looked down in shock; the prince tenderly took the boy's chin and raised his head so that he could look into his eyes. "What happened in this chamber on that night – you shouldn't have had to witness any of it."

Julian couldn't believe his ears. "But I was here without your permission!" he protested. "You didn't know! I deserve to be whipped, not to hear you say you're sorry –"

"Don't ever say that you deserved to be whipped," Paris broke in. "Very few people deserve that. It's true that I never intended to cause you any pain but I did so anyway and I'm sorry for that. I know that you only came back because you dropped the toy that I told you not to lose; and that you stayed because you were worried about me. I hope you can forgive me one day."

"I'll forgive you right now if it makes you feel any better, but there's really nothing for me to forgive you for," replied Julian. He was very uncomfortable with this odd conversation and wanted badly to change the topic. "Are – are you here to stay or are you going away again?"

"Well, I'll be here for a little while," answered Paris kindly. "Everyone needs to rest, recover, and get some things settled after everything that's happened. However, when the Myrmidons leave again I'll be going with them."

"And will you tell me when you're going before you have to leave?"

"I promise – we'll get to have a proper goodbye next time."

The little boy had the most sincere, earnest, and innocent expression on his face that Paris had ever seen. "No, sire; I need to know when you're going so that I can get ready to go with you."

"I can't do that to you, Julian," said Paris, imagining how frightened the boy would be if he actually tried to take him away from the only home he'd ever known.

"You need a proper servant!" exclaimed Julian. He covered his mouth, embarrassed by the outburst, and focused on keeping himself calm. "You're a prince of Troy, sire, and only a servant of Troy will know how to attend you. Please, Prince Paris – I don't want to be parted from you again."

Paris was rendered speechless, so moved was he by the child's loyalty. The only thing that he could think to do was embrace him, giving Julian yet another shock in a very short amount of time. Indeed, it took a moment or two for the boy to return it.

"Ahem," a person cleared his throat to get the duo's attention.

They broke apart and looked up. Paris smiled when he saw the identity of the newcomer but Julian's eyes grew wide and he shrank a little against the prince. "Your father directed me here," Achilles informed his lover while eying the child with him. "And who is this?"

"Julian," replied Paris with a meaningful glance.

"Julian?" repeated Achilles, searching his memory. His face brightened. "Our little voyeur! Unintentional, of course – I can understand your need to protect the prince, but you weren't supposed to see any of that. I guess you've paid in spades for it, though. Can I trust you to leave me alone with your master now?"

"Yes, my lord," the little boy squeaked. He looked at Paris and whispered, "Remember what I said" before rushing behind the dressing curtain to the servants' corridor.

Achilles waited to hear the servants' door slam before he practically threw himself on the floor and gave Paris a passionate kiss. "Where were you?" asked the prince when they broke apart, panting.

"Telling the harem about Isidore's death," explained Achilles as he planted kisses all along Paris' jaw. "At the behest of the brave soul who helped us escape here, even if we didn't know it at the time."

"Really?" Paris grinned suggestively at him. "That was nice of you – I'm impressed enough to give you a reward."

That had the desired affect on his lover. "It's been so long," breathed Achilles in a needful tone.

Paris slid onto his lap and put his arms around him. "Then is there any reason why we should wait any longer?"

"Absolutely none," declared Achilles as he ran his hands down his lover's back, cupping his rear and urging him closer to his body. "But I'd be interested to know what it is that you're supposed to remember."

"Hmmm?" moaned Paris as he started to grind against Achilles. "Oh, I'm supposed to tell him when I'm leaving again – he wants to come too."

Achilles shifted Paris onto his knees and hiked up his waistcloth before adjusting his own. "Excellent," he said as he began to prepare his lover.

"Oooohh – excellent?" Ecstasy and confusion warred within Paris. "You – you don't mind if – if he comes? I d-d-did-didn't – oooohhhh, there – know you – liked children."

"Why does everyone find that so hard to believe?" wondered the Myrmidon. "I can be a nice person when people aren't stupid enough to make me angry. That boy can't be more than a year or two younger than Patroclus was when he came to live with me and look at how good my cousin turned out."

Paris swallowed hard as Achilles removed his fingers. Several thoughts were running through his mind: Achilles' implication that he was more interested in raising Julian rather than keeping him as a servant; how he would be able to reward Julian's love and loyalty by effectively freeing him to become a member of his family; and how much he'd like to have the opportunity to raise a child with this unpredictable yet protective and loving man. "Achilles," he tried to start to say something, but found that no words would do. Feeling more love in his heart than he ever felt possible Paris chose instead to bring his body down, impaling himself fully on Achilles' arousal before the older man could start his cautious penetration.

Achilles moaned loudly as he found himself unexpectedly – but happily – surrounded by Paris' tight heat. As they started to move in time with the rhythm of each other's bodies, the rest of the world fell away and the past was smothered by all of the memories that they would make in that bedchamber that day and well into the future.


That night the royal family, honored guests, nobles, and many curious onlookers gathered around as the former King Priam and Lord Isidore laid on side-by-side funeral pyres. Hector stood on the platform, watching Odysseus place the coins on their eyes so that they would be able to pay the boatman to take them to Hades. He was grateful to Ithaca's king for understanding why he couldn't perform the task himself and volunteering to do the job.

Even while surrounded by all of that death and the devastating reminders of a childhood lost, Hector counted himself among the luckiest men in the world and he could see the reasons for that beyond those defeated demons. On the royal platform his beautiful wife Andromache sat on the long-empty queen's throne with Astyanax nestled in her arms. Standing beside them was Paris, tall, proud, and surging with a confidence that he'd never had before while Priam and Isidore had lived. Achilles was right next to him, wrapping Hector's son in a supportive embrace. Hector decided that he liked the Grecian warrior despite his odd humor and quick temper. Anyone who loved Paris so wholly had the king's approval.

Last but not least there was his new friend Odysseus, who'd completed the ritual and stepped back beside Hector. "You didn't have to do this," the Greek told him. "No one would have blamed you for leaving them to rot."

"I am no god," replied Hector. "I am not fit to pass eternal judgments on men. If I'd left them to rot they would have always been on my mind, haunting me. No; it's best to hand them over to Hades and forget them. We can't let the past destroy us when we have a bright future to look forward to."

"A future with an alliance between Ithaca and Troy," said Odysseus almost dreamily. "And now Achilles fights for you."

A memory from another time and life flitted into Hector's mind and he heard Menelaus claim to control the warrior echo through his head. This time he did snort. "Achilles fights for Achilles."

Odysseus smiled knowingly. "He fights out of love for Paris," he responded as the two kings walked away from the fires and toward Hector's family. Behind them the pyres burned, sending Priam and Isidore to the judgment and punishment of Hades.

The end.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who took the time to read this story, especially to those of you who reviewed. I'm glad I had the chance to revise this, and I really enjoyed doing so!