He missed his wife. The King, the God of the Dead, in all his power and glory felt like a miserable slob without his wife. Persephone, Bringer of Death, Bringer of Light in his life. She had gone to live with her mother up on the mortal realm. Such was their agreement. She’ll come back to him in a few months - but before that happened, he was to live in The Underworld by himself. At least, that was what he’d assume. Pompeii had been devastating. All those dead - all those people crowding his realm. All the extra work he’d been faced with. All the pain. The Dead of Pompeii had not died peaceful deaths. He knew he should be back on his throne. He had other Dead to attend to. Other Dead to sort out. He was The King, The God - and he had a duty to fulfill. Yet he cannot help himself from enjoying this walk. The Child’s still bouncy steps beside him - despite what horrors she had faced. The way she constantly tried to meet his gaze; and he would meet hers. Her eyes. Reminded him of his dear Persephone. Perhaps that was why he found himself to be relaxed, despite the multitude of tasks that hung above his head. “To find your Mama,” Hades said, glancing down towards Agata’s wide eyes. “You’ll have to go through The Process.” Agata’s eyebrows furrowed just slightly. Her fear picked up, tinging the air with an unpleasant smell. “The...process?” she echoed. Her grip on his hand tightened slightly. “What process?” Hades glanced away, back towards their path. It occurred to him suddenly that she might not know... Should he tell her? Should he meet The Child’s gaze squarely, look at her, and tell her what had happened to her when Mount Vesuvius erupted? Or maybe, he ought to let her cling onto that Children’s Ignorance for just a little bit longer? What should The King do?