The first thought I had coming out of a random lady's womb was, What in the seven hells is going on?—ohmygod is that—is that? AMICOMINGOUTOFAUTERUS WHATTHEFUCK.

It was a gross, traumatic experience that I neither want to expand on or repeat again.

In any case, I was a baby, and apparently a twin now.

(There was another baby lying right next to me, neither crying nor screaming. Just staring.

Just like me.

Except, I would find out later, not really. She wasn't like me at all.)

The woman who had birthed us was alone. It was a dark house, with shadows lingering around every corner, and we had no one but each other in that somber, unsettling house.

She was kind, and cooed to us in a husky, mellow voice that reminded me of lost dreams and skies full of stars too far away to light up the night. She was beautiful.

In my previous life, it had just been my father and me. Now, I had a mother and a twin sister. I didn't know how to feel about this, because, what the hell—I had a mother and a sister.

It was already confusing enough being reincarnated, and now I had to adjust to having a new family and a new family.

At first, I was an unpleasant baby, always acting out however I could, and screamed and cried whenever I wanted to—which was often. I hadn't wanted to be reborn; I hadn't wanted any of this.

But I realized—I hadn't wanted to be dead either. In a way, my impulsive curiosity had turned this into a blessing than more of a curse. Being alive was much better than being dead, and I had a whole new appreciation for life now that I had experienced death once.

For one thing, the world of the living was a lot more vibrant, filled with sounds and colors and tastes and smells and I could actually feel. And so that settled that. I was going to live, and I was going to make the best of it.

Living wasn't hard, besides the obvious limitations of being a teenager stuck in a baby's body, and I actually liked having a mom that cared about me. I was still iffy about having a sister—Bianca, as I later learned— but I hoped I would get used to it.

In all honesty, it wasn't difficult to become adjusted to this new life. I literally just ate, shit, cried, and slept all the time. And having a family was something I'd always yearned for in my previous life. To have people that I could always rely on, that loved me and cared about me; people I could form bonds with and go through life knowing that they'd always be there for me. It was a fairy tale like view of family, I know, but it was something I wanted. And now I was getting it.

My mother's name was Maria, and I had assumed that she was a widow until a man calling himself my father came to visit.

It hadn't been hard to figure out who he was—even though Maria spoke a language different from English, the clues were all there.

He was a tall, elegant man (just like Maria) and wore the most expensive clothes I'd ever seen. I'm pretty sure his whole suit was made of silk.

As he stepped closer, I could see shadows melting off of him, and he had a haggard, gloomy look to him that was extremely disconcerting. I could see death in his eyes.

He leaned towards the crib, and I caught a whiff of a rich, flowery perfume that was mixed with an ancient, earthy scent that somehow seemed fresh and old, all at once. His eyes were an ominous black, the black of the abyss, and his hair as dark as night. Honestly, he was just all death and darkness.

Reaching with a hesitant hand, he brushed Bianca's cheek in an achingly tender gesture. His hand was trembling. Maria stepped next to him and took a hold of his other hand, their fingers intertwining in a loose, loving hold that echoed a subtle comfort on Maria's part.

"Bianca, Francesca, questo è tuo papà." She whispered and her eyes glittered with warmth. The man let out a shaky exhale and took Bianca and my hands in his, and ours were dwarfed by his. "Sì." He breathed, almost reverently, "Io sono tuo papà."

Bianca giggled softly, and I removed my hand from the man's grip, choosing to burrow closer to Bianca. It was awkward, having this man all of a sudden introduce himself as our father. Where had he been? Why did he only choose to come now?

Hurt flashed on the man's face and he looked to Maria, unsure of what to do. She placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled gently. "Va bene, non sono abituati a te. Dai tempo a loro."

The man's furrowed brows relaxed and he leaned into Maria's touch, and he no longer seemed like a frightening force of darkness, but rather a simple man who loved Maria and his children. The air around us seemed a hundred times lighter, and the harsh angles of the man's face were softened by the quirk of his lips.

It was like watching the sunrise—swirls of pastel pinks and blues and oranges slowly illuminating the sky as the sun warmed the chills of the night and rose to wake the world.

Very grudgingly, I decided to give the man a chance. Next to me, Bianca waved her fists in the air and cooed contently, drool bubbling from her lips as she gurgled pure joy. It was kind of gross, but it was kind of cute. I smiled.

Later that night, when Maria and Bianca were asleep, the man took me out of the crib I shared with Bianca and held me in his arms. "So. You're the little runaway soul I heard about."

At that moment, my heart seemed to stop in my chest, and it became a lot harder to breathe. How did he know? My mind raced with questions and frantic thoughts, and fear surged through my veins. How?

The man must have noticed, because he placed a soothing hand on my forehead, his skin cool and smooth, and spoke gently. "Don't worry, you're not in trouble. Usually, before reincarnation, souls must go through the river Lethe. You, however, did not, and thus retain your memories from your previous life. But this doesn't change the fact that you're my daughter, and I will treat you as such. Your soul is the same; the only difference is that you still remember your past life. I won't bring you to the Underworld and erase your memories, so relax. It's too late for that, so just take care of your mother and sister as best you can when I'm not here, okay?"

My eyes were wide as I listened, and I nodded solemnly. But who was this man? How did he know that I was reincarnated? Questions screamed in my mind and the man smiled enigmatically. "I am Hades, Lord of the Underworld, and you are my daughter."

I blinked. And then processed the words. I wanted to scream, "What?!", but all that came out of my mouth was a strangled gurgle, as my vocal cords hadn't yet developed for speech.

Hades' eyes crinkled and he placed my back in my crib, kissing Bianca's and my foreheads before leaving.

His lips left a tingle of power against my skin, and I thought I saw something deeper than death his steps; something wild and strong, all the matter of the universe combined into one. It was not only death, and it was possibly love, and it was a lot more than that.

So this was a god.

As I grew older, I found myself wishing that Hades had at least given me the ability to speak and understand Italian. I mean, if he was a god, why couldn't have given me this one little thing? My lack of ability to speak Italian had given me hell. But I powered through it, and with a lot of picture books and constant care from Maria, I was able to get a basic grasp on the language.

Bianca and I were learning how to walk now, and I was glad that Bianca was the opposite of me in terms of temperament and personality.

I was easily pissed off, and because Bianca had been a baby, I'd found her annoying. Every time she cried, it kept me up when I wanted to sleep, and her diapers didn't exactly smell like flowers. But she kept the crying and the screaming to a minimum, and it helped me find her more adorable and sweet.

Since I'd been an only child, I wasn't used to sharing. And in the beginning, I didn't want to share Maria either. But Maria made sure to divide her time between us evenly and always made me share everything with Bianca. I hated it, but when Bianca reciprocated, it made me feel happy and loved. So I tolerated the sharing.

And then I realized that I really, really loved my family. I'd finally realized it when Maria had taken Bianca and me in our stroller for a walk through the nearby park.

Maria was a full time stay at home mom, and devoted all of her time to taking care of us. I figured that her being the lover of a god guaranteed a steady income. Because of that, she didn't go out very often and wasn't really friends with any of the neighborhood moms.

Single mothers with two children weren't exactly respected. (From the lack of televisions, cell phones, and computers, I was guessing that this wasn't modern times. Women with children out of wedlock were really looked down upon during this time period.)

I think Maria was really lonely, and probably unhappy at times, but she never showed it in front of us, and I really respected her for that. Maria was a strong woman, and she knew her own worth.

But we'd gone out to the park that day, and as Maria sat down to rest on a bench, I heard a few women near us whispering and staring.

My Italian was still pretty basic, but I got the general gist of what they were saying, and I learned how to say "whore" in Italian that day.

Maria's face turned stony cold, but her hands trembled slightly and I could see a hint of shame in her eyes.

And I was angry. Because she shouldn't have had to feel shame for loving her children. She shouldn't have had to endure the verbal assault. She was wonderful and amazing, and she didn't deserve any of that.

It was at that moment, when fury roared through me and made the ground tremble, that I knew that my family was mine, and I loved them, and no one was allowed to hurt them.

I started screaming at the top of my lungs, waving my arms and legs; my face turning red from the effort, and the ground shook beneath my feet. I was a conqueror; a king of Rome with armies behind me, with power surging below me and the shadows of day and night in my grasp.

The women scattered like ants and I smirked with a cruel sort of triumph. My family was mine, and I was more than enough protection for them.

(It was hard to feel small when I had that much power.)

And then it stopped.

In the course of a second, I went from a queen of the shadows to a one year old crying in a stroller.

Maria came and held me in her arms, murmuring sweet words as she calmed me down. "My beautiful Francesca." She dipped her head and kissed my cheeks, "So strong and brave. Thank you."

I grinned unabashedly at her, glowing from the praise, and Bianca stared at me with wide eyes.

"Fran!" Bianca cheered, and she reached for Maria, who picked her up and held the both of us tightly, and I could see a bold, brilliant smile on Maria's face.

In the end, I found that I was unable to replicate what I'd done in the park, no matter how much I tried, but I was starting to really understand that my father was a god, and I had some of that in me.

(I watched the shadows curl around Bianca as we played; heard the whispers of the night sing us to sleep.)

A/N: And so it's painfully apparent that I don't know how to speak/write Italian and used Google translate for this. I'm sure the translations are all off, but here was what I was trying to say.

THANKS SO MUCH TO Ketsueko FOR TRANSLATION HELP!

Bianca, Francesca, questo è tuo papà = Bianca, Francesca, this is your father

Sì.Io sono tuo papà = Yes. I am your father.

Va bene, non sono abituati a te. Dai tempo a loro = It's fine, they're not used to you. Give them time

(This all sounds incredibly cheesy in retrospect. ;-;)

Anyway, I spent less time going through the psychological repercussions of forcing to grow from a baby with the mentality of a teenager, and focused more on family interactions. Because yes, this is shamelessly indulgent with the main focus on the di Angelos. Sorry (maybe not sorry). This isn't really one of my serious fics (probably) so I'm throwing in all the fluff I want. Woot.

Just as clarification—Francesca (as Kate is now called) has a lot more anger and angst in her right now, as she was thrown into a whole different life with things she can't understand around her. She's in a totally different time period, a different country, and is now coming to understand her powers. But now that she's coming to an understanding, it'll be less angst and more fluff and happiness and joy. (Especially with Nico on the way.)

Anyway, thanks for reading and let me know if you have questions or comments!