The days and weeks that came after that little. . .incident, were nothing much to note. Your father was getting more and more eager to have gods offend him, just so he had an excuse to let you do the dirty work for him. And with each heart that you took from somebody's chest, each one he offered for you to eat. And each one getting stopped by your mother who absolutely did not hold back from scolding him for even attempting to hurt you once again when he knew himself the consequences of consuming another god's heart.

          He listened to his dear wife of course, but you knew it was only a matter of time before he lost his patience and took advantage of his influence and power to shove the hearts down your throat himself.

          "At this point, you can only hope that Zatz will be successful. It'd be a shame if I had to eat him, mi amor." Mictlan laughs loudly on his throne, the day a slow one as he shakes his dual-head. "Unless. . .unless of course you'd agree to let Y/N have it. After all, we've always said that they had a special sort of connection, don't you think?"

          "Haha, hmm," Micte hums with a forced grin, her head tilting to look at him with the best fake smile a Goddess of Death could offer. "Why don't we just not kill him, and not torment our daughter with having to consume her only friend's heart? Hmm??"

          "Oh pish posh, cariño, I'm sure she wouldn't mind! Wouldn't you, dear?" He tilts his head to the opposite side, where you remained quietly seated on your throne, eyes glazed over and distant like a man on a mission. Your glare burned holes into the stone floor, and with a shaky breath you mumble, "No, father."

          "See?? She said she'd be fine with it!" Mictlan goes right back to conversing with his wife, missing the very obvious look of disdain on her face as she glances at you in worry. She could do nothing but hope that you were fine.

          . . .

          And you could do nothing but the same.

          Life went on once again, but taking a path you weren't too sure you wanted it to take.

          Things got too fast-paced. Too many things happened all at once, too many gods forced to be killed under your hand and too little left to form an elite army to rule under your father on his day of sacrifice. Many of the ones left were many who never liked respecting you, and you knew all too well that many would no doubt jump at the opportunity to drag you down.

          "I think I'll have an early night in, father." Your voice barely broke above a whisper as you descended the small steps of your throne, Mictlan raising what would've been a brow as he looks at your bowing form. "Are you sure? I was just planning on sending you on a mission—"

          "Ay, the girl is tired, husband!" Micte quickly cuts in, standing up herself and approaching you with a smile. It fades just as quickly as she turns to look at him. "I'll send her off to bed. Maybe you could ask the illusions girl to do that mission instead."

          "But. . .but, mi amor!"

          "Goodnight, husband!!" Your mother was quick to hook an arm around yours as she basically drags you off to the hallway, making little effort to keep up with her as her headpiece dangled with each step. She walked with all the grace of a queen fitting her title, but her hold on you was soft in a way only a mother could really give. "Are you okay, hijita?"

          "Never better." You mumble quietly, letting her lead the way to your bedroom as you two walked the empty halls. Torches swung and shadows danced as you walked past door after door, and you almost stumbled when she stops suddenly and turns to you. "Mija, the truth."

          You stop as well, forced to look at her in the eyes as she held onto both of your hands. "Mi vida, I'm sorry that you have to feel like you have to constantly agree with your father, even if you don't want to." Her grip tightens as you inhaled deeply. "But he's not here, and you don't have to lie to me. So please, dear, tell me what's wrong."

          . . .

          "Thank you, mami." You mumble, not being able to find it in you to stare at her head-on without outright bursting into tears. "But there's nothing to tell."

         . . .

         . . .

         . . .

          She sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose as she nods. "Alright, only you can know how you truly feel, darling." She pauses, turning to look down the hall where you just came from with a look of steely determination. "I'm gonna have to go now. You sure you'll be okay?"

          You nod, and are forced to actually look at her when cold hands hold onto your face. You nod again as she inspects you. "I'll be fine, mama. But I am getting tired."

          Bless your powers because you ended up yawning, looking away to avoid breaching the laws of etiquette by doing it to her face. Micte only chuckles as you did, never letting go of your face as she places a kiss on your forehead. "Alright. Goodnight, mi amor."

          "Goodnight."

          She finally lets you go and you summon your cloud, floating your way to your room as you miss the way she looks back at you over her shoulder. She bites her tongue in thought, but eventually steels herself as she fixes her posture and is once again back to her stick-straight stance. Right. She was the Goddess of Death first. . .

          "And a mother only second." She mumbles to herself, before she continues walking back to the throne room.

          The hallway that led to your room was just as quiet as everything else in the temple. Palace? You weren't sure, and the term 'home' didn't exactly sit right with you when you were treated less like a daughter and more like a weapon for your father to exploit.

          The halls were getting darker as you approached closer to your room, and you were eventually met with the complete darkness that led to the large doors of it. A single circular window provided what little light the outside of the underworld could give you, but before you could even approach the entrance you were met with a presence far too familiar for you to fully ignore.

          "What are you doing here, Zatz?"

          The prince was leaning on the wall beside your bedroom doors, and upon announcing his presence his armor glowed a neon green. "I'm here to reinstate my offer."

          You scoffed, fighting off the very strong urge to roll your eyes as you glared at him. "I already told you, I refuse to be involved in this whole 'half-sister debacle' that Lord Mictlan has started." The demigod chuckles, his armor glowing brighter for a second before it slows into half-blinks of sort. "Lord Mictlan? That's new. He isn't your father anymore?"

          . . .

          "It's none of your business." You mumble, finding yourself crossing your arms and glaring at him from your cloud. His teasing is quick to dissipate as he sighs heavily, approaching you and sort of blocking your way to your room.

          "Alright, that I understand. But what I am going to force to be my business is asking you why you refuse to help." His armor glows brighter, tinting his eye in the same green as he furrows his brow. "She's your sister, Y/N. If you're concerned that they don't stand a chance against your father, we can help those odds. You know that we can."

          . . .

          "I can't betray family."

          "Yet you're okay with hurting them?" He scoffs loudly, taking a step closer to your cloud as you refused to go backwards again. This felt too familiar of a scene. "What part of sister is so hard to comprehend, Y/N? Maya is your flesh and blood!"

          "Why are you so obsessed with helping her? And why are you so adamant on forcing me to do the same?!" Now your cloud had disappeared into mist, now standing toe to toe with the prince who held a couple inches over your own height. Still, you refused to back down. "I don't know her. She doesn't know me. We don't have any sort of connection, and I don't want there to be! We will remain strangers, Mictlan sacrifices her, and my life goes back to normal!"

          "Again with the Mictlan! You don't even want to call him your father anymore!"

          "You don't get to judge what I do and don't do in my life, Zatz! Now either you drop this subject and leave me alone," You jabbed a finger to his armored chest, and he does nothing but only glare harder, "or you'll find out firsthand just how well of a grasp I have over my domain."

          . . .

          . . .

          . . .

          "You're not the same girl that I met all those years ago." His voice is low as your eye twitches and your fist clenches tighter. "Well maybe that girl had no choice but to grow up."

          . . .

          . . .

          . . .

          "Adios, princesa." He mumbles as he finally steps aside, having no hesitations on your part as you walked past him. You headed for your doors without another word, and it would've stayed that way had he not spoken again.

          "Can you control dreams?"

          . . .

          The question hung in the air longer than it usually did for his questions. Most of the time people were too afraid to wait to answer him, even if it meant those answers were not true. Yet you let it hang, and the prince had no choice but to let himself be patient as he sees your hand shake on the handle.

          "No." You lied, head turning just the slightest bit to glance at him. "Only make my own."

          . . .

          You opened the door and entered your room, leaving Zatz to stare at the blank space where you just stood. The hall was quiet as night falls in the land of the living, and he could do nothing but disappear into bats and fly off to continue his mission. You didn't want to help. That's fine, he and his father could do it themselves.

          What hurt him though, was the fact that you just so openly lied to him.

          He goes back to human as he lands on the top of the God of War's large estate, balancing on a ledge that overlooked the entirety of the surrounding lava lake. He could still feel the ghostly touches in his previous dream, a hand holding his own where there so clearly was none. He might not remember all of the dream's details, but Zatz never forgets a face.

          And he knows damn well that it was yours that he saw.

• • •

          Time flies fast for an ageless immortal being.

          But time slows for those who do nothing but watch.

          All your life that's all what you've ever had true control over. Watching. It was the one thing you could do where your father had no say in it whatsoever. Here you could sit back quietly and assess. You could do nothing but assess and watch and judge everything that happens around you, living your life as a watcher that had no real agency.

          It was a sad life to live, but the only one you've ever known.

          Always the observer, never the instigator.

          You watched familiar faces come and go. You watched the side-eyes the gods gave one another each time Mictlan complimented one. You watched as your mother kissed up to him, having no choice but be the trophy wife everybody assumed and saw her to be. You watched as the gods murmured and talked behind each other's backs. You watched as they send you fake smiles and bows whenever they caught you staring at them.

          And you watched as Zatz kicks down the throne room's doors with four new prisoners behind him.

          The tiredness that had been settling in you the past few days had gone almost in an instant, back straightening slightly as you sat on your cloud next to your mother. She was sat back as regal as ever while you fiddled with the bandages around your wrist. Something had spooked the twin headed snakes that slithered about your lance's staff and they ended up biting you. It did nothing but leave tiny marks and drain your blood slightly, but Micte had insisted on dressing them herself.

          So she did, and you had yet to return to your throne. And maybe it was for the best, because you watched as Mictlan's grin grows only wider while the prince leads the newcomers.

          "Bravo, Zatz! You've succeeded." He announces with his voice booming, a hand extending and letting a golden ritual table emerge from the floor. It rumbled loudly all across the hall. "You finally brought me that half-breed."

          "Zatz did not bring me." You watched as the girl behind him. . .Maya, grabs a weapon. "Zatz stands with me."

          "I have joined her quest, you monster!" You watched as they all grab their respective weapons. You even watched as the prince glances at you, his brow furrowing deeper. But even with that his eye told but a different story, growing softer as his fingers gripped the handle of his sword tighter. He was still hoping that you'd help them.

          You started scratching on the bandages now. Your mother beside you had to lightly slap it away.

          "I send you out to fetch her, and you join her?" You watched the confusion grow on your father's. . .Mictlan's face, eyes widening as he tilts his head. "And I see you've brought mortals from Luna Island. . .The Jungle Lands, and the Golden Mountains."

          You watched the fear settle all too quickly on their faces. Steely determination clouded better judgement, and you disobeyed your mother when you started scratching again. Gods, you have gotten weaker! Just the sight of them standing against the God of War asking for a fight was enough to make your heart tighten for them.

          Had. . .had you made a mistake refusing Zatz's offer?

          . . .

          You send a glance to the prince, and he stood his ground glaring at Mictlan in a righteous intensity you've never seen him ever possess. You wanted nothing more than to jump off your cloud and do. . .do something!

          Your mother was holding your wrist now, stopping you from further ruining your bandages as you swallowed a lump in your throat.

          Always the observer, never the instigator.

          You watched as Maya jumps onto the table and declares a fight. You watched as your father mocks the princess and her posse. You watched as Zatz summons his helmet.

          "Maya, let me show you and your friends just how pathetic you are." You watched as Mictlan stands, and your hand twitches to try and escape your mother's grasp and back to your wrist to scratch. "I'll start with Zatz."

          You watched as two translucent red snakes leave his hand and head straight for the prince. It sends him flying off into the nearest wall to trap him.

          You jolt in your seat, your mother's grip only growing tighter as you fought off the urge to yell for him alongside the other mortals. The snakes bit him, and marigold flowers were quick to shut you up when your voice attempts to sound out.

          "Please. . ." Your mother mumbles only for you to hear, the flowers fading into orange smoke as you look at her staring straight ahead, determined to keep the both of you out of the way and in line. "Please, mi vida. . ."

          You inhale deeply, head swerving back and forth at your father and at your friend.

          Always the observer. . .never the instigator. . .

          You watched as Maya throws her weapon at Mictlan.

          Always the observer. . .

          You watched as Zatz's father jumps to fight him himself. You watched in horror when Mictlan catches him by the throat, and laughs when he tells him just exactly how easy it was for him to figure out his planned betrayal.

          Always. . .the observer. . .

          You watched as Mictlan grabs the general's heart, you watched as his body fades into a pile of gold by his feet and the violent god laughs as he goes to consume it.

          You watched as Zatz yells in pained protest, you watched as Maya jumps to fight your. . .as Maya jumps to fight Mictlan. You watched as he's quick to throw her away, you watched as he transforms and mocks the room.

          You watched and you watched and you watched. . .you could do nothing but just fucking watch as your life takes another turn for the worst and all you could was pathetically let it happen.

          At one point your mother had joined in the conversation, and at one point Mictlan had talked of putting on a show.

          You watched. . .as Mictlan takes control of the other three mortals. Your fingers shook as your mother's grip gets tight enough to hurt you. But you didn't care, breathing getting heavier as the mortals go to fight the half-god princess.

          Always. . .the observer. . !

          "Mama. . !" You finally managed to breathe out, your bandaged hand going to grip her own that held onto your undamaged wrist. "Mama. . ! Please. . !" You felt pathetic as you weakly cried out to her uselessly, not even knowing what you wanted to beg her to do. All you could do was watch, and you felt her grip loosen just the slightest bit. It tightens just as quickly as she refuses to answer.

          You watched as the fight only gets worse. You watched as the mage boy's magic is taken advantage of by Mictlan, wind whipping away your own dress and hair as red dust and debris swirled around the room.

          You could feel your own magic wanting to break free, your own dust clogging and swirling around your hands as you fought off the urge to blast it. . .somewhere!

          "Y/N." Your mother could only quietly scold, not hearing the way her voice broke just the slightest bit when she did.

          Always the observer. . .nothing but an observer!

          "Just an observer. . .just an observer. . ." You've taken to mumbling the same three words like a mantra, your reasoning being that maybe if you did that enough times you could convince yourself to truly believe it.

          The three mortals break free from the trance. At some point the mage boy had taken control back and was replacing it with purple magic of his own. At one point hope returned that maybe they had a chance of winning against him.

          At one point they all charged at Mictlan the same.

          At one point the mage boy made a dome of purple magic.

          At one point you felt your mother's grip shake as she responds to her husband in worry. At one point there was an explosion.

          At one point. . .Mictlan regains the upper hand once more.

          "I am just an observer. . .just. . ." Your voice had long since died in your throat as time sped by you in a blur. They fought and fought and fought, you were getting dizzy just watching them do so. It seemed that Mictlan had no plans of ever stopping until he got what he want, and the mortals with their borderline baseless courage kept landing blow after blow enough to make some part of you believe that maybe they had a chance. Even the tiniest chance. . .

          But as all things were in this world, that chance can very easily turn the other way.

          And that was exactly what happened when Mictlan grabs hold of the princess and drags her to the table.

          You watched as the mage boy gets thrown away. You watched as she struggles to release Mictlan's hold on her.

          "Maya?" Your mother speaks in a hushed tone, feeling her grip tighten