Episode 29: Of Nobility and Normalcy

There are two kinds of grandparents.

Mother says this like it’s a philosophical truth.

Father says nothing, but nods like it’s obvious.

Hades says, “It’s a controlled experiment.”

We visit Grandmother Monica and Grandfather Viktor first.

Their home is… excessive.

Tall ceilings. Marble floors. Chandeliers that look like they could fall and crush a lesser family.

I approve.

“Persephone, Hades,” Grandmother Monica says, arms already open.

She smells like lavender and something sharper beneath it. Power, I think.

She pulls us both into a firm embrace, then immediately inspects us.

“You’ve grown.”

Mother, from behind us: “They’ve been warned about that.” She then pokes us with a pen.

“Good,” Grandmother says.

Grandfather Viktor kneels slightly to our level.

“Still observing?” he asks.

“Yes,” I reply.

“Still judging?”

“…Always.”

He smiles.

We are seated at a long table. Everything is precise. Silverware aligned. Tea poured perfectly.

Hades leans toward me. “…They would survive a war.”

“They probably caused one,” I whisper back.

Grandmother Monica watches us carefully.

“Posture,” she says lightly.

We adjust immediately.

“Good,” she nods. “Presentation is everything. Even in stillness.”

She places a hand under my chin, tilting my face slightly.

“You have your mother’s gaze,” she says. “Use it wisely. People unravel when they feel seen.”

I nod. “…I’ve noticed.”

Meanwhile, Hades is listening to Grandfather Viktor.

“Never raise your voice unnecessarily,” Viktor says. “If you must correct someone, let them realize the mistake themselves. It’s far more… permanent.”

Hades nods slowly. “…Efficient.”

Mother watches all of this with quiet approval.

Father stands slightly behind her, as always, observing, silent.

Grandmother notices him.

“Beckett,” she says, suddenly pulling him into a hug.

He stiffens. Then—carefully—hugs back.

“…Hello mother,” he mutters.

She kisses his head and nudges his mask gently anyway to give him a peck on the lips too and he then quickly puts it back on.

“You’re too thin.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

Mother smiles faintly.

Later, Hades and I explore the house.

Everything is perfect.

Too perfect.

“…This place would break weaker people,” Hades notes.

“Yes,” I agree. “It’s efficient.”

But then—

We leave after spending time with mother’s family for the day.

Grandmother Cordelia and Grandfather Robert’s home is… different.

Smaller. Warmer.

Lived in.

“Grandbabies!” Grandmother Cordelia calls, pulling us into a much less controlled hug.

There is no inspection.

Only affection.

Grandfather Robert pats our heads.

“You kids eating enough?”

“Yes,” Hades says.

“No,” I add.

He laughs.

There is no perfect table here.

No precise alignment.

Just food.

Warm. Slightly chaotic.

Father relaxes here.

I notice it immediately.

His shoulders drop slightly. His posture softens.

He still wears his mask. Still stays in the shadows.

But… he is comfortable.

“You did those logos for your cousin, right?” Grandmother Cordelia asks him.

“…Yes.”

“They were beautiful.”

“…Thank you.”

He says it quietly.

But he says it.

Hades nudges me. “…He accepted a compliment.”

“…Rare,” I whisper.

We sit at the table.

There are no rules spoken aloud.

But there are still rules.

Just… softer ones.

Grandfather Robert leans back.

“You don’t need to be perfect all the time,” he says. “Just… do your best. That’s enough.”

Hades considers that.

“…That’s inefficient.”

Robert laughs. “Yeah. But it works.”

Mother watches this interaction carefully.

She says nothing.

But I can tell—

She approves.

Later, Hades and I sit between both worlds in our minds.

Grandmother Monica’s sharp precision.

Grandmother Cordelia’s warm chaos.

“…Which is better?” Hades asks.

I think.

“…Both,” I say.

Because one teaches control.

The other teaches comfort.

And we?

We learn both.

That night, back home, Father sits in the shadows with his drink.

Mother beside him, relaxed.

Hades and I curl near them.

“We are… balanced,” I say.

Father glances at me. “…Explain.”

“Precision and chaos. Control and comfort.”

Hades nods. “…Optimal upbringing.”

Mother smirks slightly.

“Good,” she says. “Then you’re learning.”

Father takes a sip of his drink.

“…Humans are still idiots,” he mutters.

Hades and I nod.

“…Of course.”

But not all of them.

Some of them—

are ours.