Chapter 1
If Wednesday could forfeit her divinity to avoid attending any more of these asinine Olympian parties, she would be sorely tempted.
For their loyalty to Zeus in the war against the Titans, Gomez and Moticia Addams were granted the domain of Death and twin thrones in the Underworld. When they abruptly decided to retire in favour of another honeymoon in Tartarus, they left their Kingdom in the hands of their eldest child and dynasty heiress , Wednesday.
As Queen of all things Macabre, Wednesday enjoyed her rule and roles that came with it; her deceased extended family provided exquisite company, and she enjoyed thinking of new punishments for the souls her brothers collected, though she admittedly struggled when rewarding the moral few. The mortals revered her so much they named a day in her honour, and feared her just enough that foolish heroes saw fit to challenge her to 'free' souls they believed were taken too soon.
Fatal injuries were much more satisfying when inflcted on the living, after all.
The catch, unfortunately, was that she was technically an Olympian in title, and was forced to attend insipid social gatherings like the one she currently found herself immersed in. The numerous assorted blades she kept visible between the folds in her dress did disappointingly little in dissuading drunk gods and particularly brave nymphs from trying to involve her in conversation. Once upon a time, when she was new to her throne and perceived as vulnerable, those same gods and goddesses would have been vying for her hand.
After the fifteenth ichor stained blade, they began to realise their own arrogance.
Wednesday lived in the stale air of the underground, but somehow these events always left her quietly gasping for breath in the gardens outside. It was there she learned to appreciate the serene nature of Nature, evetnually cultivating some plants of her own using what little sunlight reached the fields of Asphodel - poisons and carnivorous plants, of course.
"I finally managed to get some nightshade to bud, if you'd like to come see?" A soft voice spoke, interrupting Wednesday's musings amongst the thorned bushes. Eugene, God of Summer, may be the only person among the living she considered a friend. Despite being synonymous with the life she was responsible for snuffing, Eugene and Wednesday found solace in the others' quiet demeanour, and their shared passion for deadly insects. He would often find her shrouded in the shadows of the gardens on Olympus he lovingly managed.
Nodding silently, Wednesday stood and followed him toward the promised plants, pausing once she noticed something odd. For the century she had known him, Eugene had grown his plants as orderly as he could, often resulting in grids and symmetrical patterns. Yet as she passed the bustling flowerbeds, she failed to spot any rhyme or reason to the way in which the flowers grew; stem intertwined as roots competed for space, craning their petals to the sky in silent competition. Wednesday realised in a startling moment that she found the chaotic display strangley alluring.
"Eugene," she deadpanned, the boy stopping at her unspoken command, "Where is the order in life you take such pride in?" Her question caused him to pause in confusion.
"Huh?" He responded, seemingly caught off guard by the question, "Those aren't my-" he stopped suddenly, eyes widening in realisation. "You haven't visited Olympus since the winter solstice, right?"
"I try to avoid the volatile nature of those found up here, yes."
"There's a new season", he explained, pausing to examine the bark on a uniform row of trees. "Between winter and I, the mortals are calling it Spring."
"Who did the council elect to control the domain?" She asked, a few options coming to mind. Xavier, the messenger god and recurring pain in her ass, would presumably appreciate the season for his artwork, and as a son of Zeus he would be among the first considered. Or perhaps Posideon's favourite daughter - Vianka? Bianca? She didn't care enough to recall.
Eugene winced, anticipating her distate for the answer, "One of Esther Sinclair's children, actually." The ancient goth felt her face shift in involuntary disgust. The Moon goddess was one of the few immortals who openly despised the Addams family for their deathly passions, as though her mortals followers weren't entwined with their own.
"Her names Enid," the boy continued, hoping to quell her ire, "and I think you might actually get along - she's nothing like her mother, much more energetic and colourful, lots of pinks and pastels."
Colourful. The word swirled around the Queen's head like an insult. Her monochromatic empire was sparsely coloured, sans the gemstone lining every cavern wall. For Eugene to insinuate she would enjoy the presence of such a headache was somewhat hurtful. Turning around wordlessly, Wednesday began journeying back up the cracked marble paths towards the party and, more importantly, the exit.
"Hey, are you alright there? You seem kinda upset." A melodious voice rang out to her left. Distracted, Wednesday turned to see a lithe figure draped in a silver hourglass of a dress, accentuated and supported by writhing vines of blossoming flowers. A pair of vibrant blue eyes amongst a curtain of dyed blonde met her own obsidian irises, and the undying woman was horrified to feel her heart begin to beat for the first time in her immortal life.
Enid Sinclair was the antithesis to everything she stood for, filling Wednesday with revulsion.
She had never seen anyone so beautiful.