Underworld’s Princess Chapter 1- A Game of Gods and Hunters
Chapter Summary: Selene Rivers is a hunter bound by secrets she can never reveal, walking the fine line between mortal and divine. As she struggles to suppress her true nature, the gods watch in silence, knowing she is more than she appears. Meanwhile, the Winchesters pursue their latest hunt, unaware that their path is about to collide with something far more dangerous than they ever expected.Pairing: Dean Winchester x Selene Rivers / Illiara
Warnings: Language, Blood, Violence, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn
Beta: @superfanficnatural
Book Cover by: @talesmaniac89 and Dividers by @firefly-graphics
Underworld’s Princess Masterlist
The little violet Camaro darted down the road, its tires humming against the pavement as Selene Rivers raced toward her next destination.
She had been running for twenty-two years, surviving in the mortal realm by weaving herself into its shadows. But the truth was—she wasn’t meant to be here.
Her grip tightened on the steering wheel. Hades had warned her that breaking away from Olympus would come at a cost. And still, she had tried to sever herself—to split her goddess form from her mortal body to hide.
She was supposed to be human now, just another hunter drifting through endless towns. But the echo of divinity still clung to her, remnants of what she had been. Shadows shifted strangely around her. She healed too quickly. The pull of the Underworld lingered in her bones, whispering that she was not whole.
She exhaled sharply, pushing the thoughts aside as she sped past a river, its surface reflecting the moonlight like liquid silver.
Selene. A name tied to the moon, to Athena’s wisdom—the goddess who had trained her in secrecy, helping her sharpen her mind and hone her independence. A name that reflected her mother’s light but carried the cool resilience of her father’s domain.
And Rivers—flowing, untamed, slipping past barriers.
The irony wasn’t lost on her. She had tried to control her own fate, but the gods refused to loosen their grip.
She smirked slightly to herself.
If Zeus wanted to reclaim her, he would have to work for it.
As she arrived in town, she lifted her chin, squared her shoulders, and stepped into the dim glow of the motel’s neon sign.
The world would know her as Selene Rivers.
‘Is this really what we’re doing?’ a voice echoed in her mind.
“You know we have no choice,” she replied aloud, firm in her conviction.
Glancing into the rearview mirror, she didn’t see her own reflection staring back—instead, piercing violet eyes gazed into her soul.
‘We wouldn’t be running if—’
“You know as well as I do that we couldn’t have taken him on,” she countered sharply. “Besides, what better way to train than as a hunter? Artemis trained us well. We can blend in.”
‘With a name like Selene Rivers’ the voice sneered. ‘We are not from this realm.’
“No,” Selene admitted, “but it doesn’t hurt to embrace a culture influenced by Greek and Roman roots, mixed with Arab traditions.”
The voice scoffed. ‘And what do I do? Sit around inside your head?’
“No,” she sighed, “you can help me. We both have power—unstable, yes—but together, we can control it. It’s worth a try.”
‘It might be,’ the voice muttered, doubtful.
Rolling her eyes, Selene pressed her foot on the gas, driving straight toward the town where people had been vanishing.
She arrived at the nearest motel just as the sun began to dip below the horizon. Time ticked away as she prepped for her mission—there was no room for hesitation.
Dressed in her best FBI disguise, she made her way to the police station. The visit was long and grueling, but she managed to make headway. Fortunately, the chief was willing to cooperate.
Still, alarm bells rang in her mind when she learned about a house tied to the disappearances. And worse—her powers vibrated with warning.
There was only one explanation. Lost souls had broken free onto Earth.
The echo of laughter bounced off the motel walls, followed by the rhythmic squeaking of a bed and loud moans—someone was clearly having the time of their life.
Selene groaned, grabbing her pillow and pressing it over her head, trying to block out the sounds. But the rustling of papers around her only added to the chaos.
She had fallen asleep on top of her research—documents detailing the identities of the missing people. Exhaustion had kept her from making it to the bed after finishing her work. Restoring the lost souls had drained her, but replacing the missing took even more power.
Using that level of magic was dangerous. It cost her energy and made her presence flicker on the radar of anyone watching. But rest was a necessary risk—if she wanted to leave town unnoticed, she needed at least a few hours of sleep.
Selene had just dozed off when the noises grew louder, ripping her from the edges of sleep. She groaned, pressing a pillow over her ears. Why couldn’t they have picked a room far, far away?
With a frustrated sigh, she rose onto her knees, pounding her fist against the thin motel wall. “Can you two be any more obnoxious?” she yelled.
Silence. Then—the bed squeaked harder, faster, the wall shuddering violently as the headboard slammed rhythmically.
Selene gritted her teeth, fists tightening at her sides. “Some of us have work in the morning!” she snapped.
“Fuck you!” the woman hollered back, breathless, never missing a beat. Whatever the guy was doing, he was clearly skilled, because another loud moan echoed through the wall.
“Yeah, baby!” she screamed. “Love the way you pound into me!”
Selene clenched her jaw. They were doing this on purpose. She knew better than to march next door—causing a scene would only make it worse. With one last defeated pound against the wall, she sank back onto the bed, pressing the pillow even harder against her ears, praying for the noise to end.
“Loud as you want, sweetheart!” the man praised, laughing. “I want noise complaints from the diner across the street!”
It took almost an hour before the final cry of pleasure rang out, followed by blessed silence. Selene sighed in relief, finally letting sleep pull her under.
When she woke up, exhaustion still clung to her limbs, a heaviness she couldn’t shake. She never wanted another sleepless night like this again. Gathering her things, she packed up her car, heading to the motel office to turn in her key.
As she stepped outside, she paused at the sound of a door opening beside her.
She turned her head—and there he was.
The man responsible for all the noise, stepping out of his room.
But just as she was about to dismiss him, another man followed him out.
Both men were dressed sharply in suits, but that didn’t stop her from heading straight for her car.
“Thanks for letting me have the room last night, Sammy,” the shorter man said, slapping the taller man’s shoulder with a smirk.
“Dean,” the taller one sighed, “next time, just splurge for a second room.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “See, this is why you need to get laid.”
His brother gave him a deadpan look, unamused.
“Look,” Dean huffed, “let’s just solve this case and move on to the next gig, alright?”
He strode toward the black 1967 Chevy Impala, parked right beside Selene’s car.
Selene shook her head as she clenched her jaw. So it was the short-haired one who had ruined her sleep. She gritted her teeth, pressing her lips into a tight line. Cocky, arrogant—and likely terrible in bed.
As she walked to her car, her keys jingled in her hand, the sound breaking the morning silence. She glanced up for just a moment—and suddenly, her breath hitched in her throat.
His green eyes glinted with amusement, a smirk curling his lips as he lifted a hand in a small wave.
“What was that?” Illiara mused in the depths of her mind. “Your heartbeat just jumped.”
Selene glared at him, hating the smug look he wore.
She climbed into her ‘67 Camaro, ignoring the low whistle he let out, and started the engine, peeling away from the motel. She never wanted to see that man again. And yet… she couldn’t shake the thought of what he had done to that woman last night.
The way she had moaned. The way she had screamed.
It had been a long time since Selene had been with anyone.
With a frustrated growl, she shoved the thought from her mind and focused on her next destination—a quick salt and burn in Idaho, where an angry spirit had been tormenting a lovely family.
The empty highway stretched before her, and she cranked up the volume, letting the music consume her. She sang at the top of her lungs, wind whipping past her as she raced down the road. She felt free. She felt alive.
Living wild and untamed was the only way she knew how.
She knew that moving town to town was exhausting—but it was necessary.
She pulled into town, finding a decent motel to shower and prep before heading out. She failed to notice the black Impala pulling in behind her. The same car from the previous town.
Walking outside in her FBI pencil skirt, crisp white button-up, and blazer, she felt eyes on her. She ignored them, slipping her sunglasses on, settling into her Camaro, and driving off. She had work to do.
Selene’s investigation proved useful—the house belonged to one of the first families to settle the town. Now, it was steeped in dark history.
She pulled up, frowning at the sight of two figures moving inside. With practiced ease, she drew her pistol, stepped forward, and pushed through the door.
“Hands in the air!” she commanded, voice sharp and authoritative.
The two men immediately complied.
“Who are you? And what are you doing in an active crime scene?”
“Officer, we can explain,” one of them said, turning around.
The moment she locked eyes with him, her stomach dropped.
The man from the former town.
The odds of them both chasing the same case were slim—but two different cases in two different towns? Even rarer.
“We can explain everything,” the taller one added.
Selene kept her grip firm on her gun. “I’m Agent Mac. You two need to vacate the premises.”
With her free hand, she flashed her badge quickly.
“Agent, this is a misunderstanding with the home office,” the shorter one said. He kept one hand raised, reaching slowly for his pocket.
Selene kept her gun trained on him, flicking her gaze toward his badge.
“Agent Plant?” she raised an eyebrow at him.
He shrugged, completely unbothered.
“You realize that impersonating a federal agent is a capital offense?” she said, watching the taller man’s eyes widen slightly.
Suddenly, a low groaning echoed through the house.
She cursed under her breath.
“Get down!” she yelled, firing a salt round at the entity.
The men dodged out of the way, shock evident on their faces.
“Damn it,” she snarled, pushing past them, ignoring their stares.
“FBI, huh?” the gruff voice murmured beside her.
She turned her head sharply, only to be met with playful green eyes and that damn smirk.
“Impersonating a federal agent is a capital offense,” he said, throwing her own words back at her.
“Hey, I’m not the one trespassing on another hunter’s hunt,” she retorted, stepping away from him.
“Who does this mortal think he is?” Illiara sneered in her mind. “Does he understand who he’s speaking to?”
“This is our hunt, sweetheart. You’re just gonna have to deal.”
He flashed that self-satisfied smile.
“Ugh, you’re one of those guys, aren’t you?”
He tilted his head, feigning confusion. “What guys?”
“The kind that thinks he can get any chick he wants,” she scoffed, firing another salt round at the ghost as it lunged.
She felt his eyes linger on her, watching the way she moved swiftly through the house.
Ignoring him, she focused on finding the one item every piece of research pointed to—a butterfly hairpin.
She could feel them following her, and sighed.
“You boys can go ahead and let a professional handle this,” she announced, stepping into the master bedroom.
She made sure they weren’t watching as she let her hands glow blue.
She hated using her power.
But this wasn’t just any ghost.
This was a lost soul—a being that had escaped the River of Lost Souls from the Underworld.
She cursed under her breath the moment she heard the men step inside the room.
Quickly, she extinguished her power, resuming her search.
“Don’t think so, sweetheart. Besides—we’re men, not boys.”
The gruff voice came closer, standing just behind her.
“Could’ve fooled me,” she muttered, smirking when she heard him scoff.
She let out a small cheer when she spotted the hairpin tucked between the bed and nightstand.
She searched for a spot to salt and burn it when the ghost returned, furious.
Its anger struck her like a wave, her chest tightening as she collapsed, struggling to fight back.
She growled, channeling her power just enough to push it away—hoping the men hadn’t noticed.
With them distracted, she grabbed the hairpin and whispered her incantation.
“ψυχή που έχει διαφύγει την επιστροφή στον ποταμό σας περιπλάνηση, έως ότου μπορείτε να συνειδητοποιήσετε όπου ανήκετε.”
(Soul that has escaped the river, return to your wandering until you realize where you belong.)
She felt her power shift the wind, burning the hairpin just as the ghost flung the tall hunter backward.
A moment later, the soul vanished—returning to the River of Lost Souls.
“Did you have to take so long?” Dean growled.
“Well… sorry for saving your sorry ass,” Selene shot back, extinguishing the fire and striding toward the exit. She heard the brothers scramble to follow her, and a low whistle carried through the air as she reached her car.
“If I had known you had good taste in cars, I would’ve asked you out.”
She turned to find green eyes scanning her, that same insufferable smirk curling his lips.
“Like I’d give you the time of day,” she scoffed, walking around to the driver’s side.
“Dean Winchester, by the way.” He gestured to the taller man beside him. “This is my brother, Sam… Maybe we could grab a beer next time we see you?” His voice carried something almost hopeful.
“In your dreams,” she said, swinging the door open. “I don’t ever want to meet you guys again.”
She climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut.
Starting the engine, she pulled onto the road and exhaled slowly. That was close. The last thing she needed was a pair of mortals seeing her use her power.
“Why were you acting like that around that pathetic mortal?” Illiara’s voice curled into her thoughts.
“Like what?” Selene muttered, glancing toward the mirror, where violet eyes gleamed back at her.
“Don’t act as if the vagabond didn’t intrigue you,” Illiara huffed. “You cannot fool me. I feel everything you do—did you forget?”
“He doesn’t interest me,” Selene denied. “He’s nothing but a revolting, bowlegged, too-cocky-for-his-own-good asshole.”
“Your insults betray you, Selene Rivers,” Illiara countered. “Don’t tell me you actually feel for that sickening mortal.” Her reflection twisted into disgust.
“I’m not arguing with you,” Selene sighed. “I know how I feel, Illiara. And Dean is nothing more than someone who will never, ever touch me.”
“Huh,” Illiara mused, arching a brow. “Calling him by his name now?”
“Fuck,” Selene muttered under her breath. “Shut up, Illiara. I’m never seeing him again. This was just coincidence.
As she sped down the highway, thoughts churned inside her. Her entire life had unraveled into chaos.
Being the daughter of Hades and Persephone, she had been a well-kept secret—a blend of her father’s darkness and her mother’s promise of spring. The Parthenon had uncovered her existence by accident only recently.
She had been playing with Cerberus, following the pull of spring alongside Persephone, when Zeus caught her scent. He summoned her to the Parthenon, and on her sixteenth birthday, she was told she would fulfill his command.
And she had been running ever since.
Now, at thirty-eight, all she wanted was to stop running and simply live.
Just as she merged onto the highway, something in the rear-view mirror made her slam the brakes.
A figure sat in her back seat.
The voice sent a chill down her spine.
“Father,” she said flatly.
Dressed in a sleek black three-piece suit, jet-black hair slicked back, his sharp angular chin complemented eyes that burned an eerie blue—like flames in the dark.
In the blink of an eye, he was in the front seat as she pulled out of the parking lot.
“Stopping for even a second is dangerous, Illiara,” he warned gently.
“My name is Selene Rivers,” she snapped, hands gripping the wheel tightly. “I stopped being your daughter the moment Zeus tried to claim me for Aphrodite’s son—and I split myself in two.”
“Illiara, now is not the time for childish rebellion,” he sighed. “Come home. Your mother misses you. We need you, To louloúdi tis Levántas mou—my lavender flower.
Zeus sat upon his golden throne, his piercing gaze sweeping over the gathered deities. The air crackled with tension, the scent of divine power thick around them.
“Where is she?” he demanded, voice dripping with impatience. “I want her found and brought to me. I will not tolerate disobedience.”
Hermes stepped forward, shifting uneasily. “She is in the mortal plane,” he reported. “She tried to make herself mortal—but failed.”
A murmur spread through the crowd.
“What was she hoping to accomplish?” a voice called.
“Who knows,” another scoffed. “She is nothing but a product of the Underworld—a stain upon the world.”
Demeter’s eyes gleamed with cold satisfaction, but before she could add to the insult, Artemis stepped forward.
“Enough, Demeter,” she said sharply. “She is part of Persephone, and I suggest you choose your words carefully.”
The Harvest Goddess glared, but Artemis did not waver. She had seen the truth—the one the old tales refused to tell.
The myths claimed Hades stole Persephone away, dragging her into the Underworld. But Artemis knew better. She had been there, watching as Persephone wandered curiously into the land of the dead. She had seen her fascination, the way she studied the Underworld with something like wonder.
Most of all, she had seen how Persephone looked at Hades—not with fear, but with intrigue.
“That monster took her from the realm of light and trapped her in darkness!” Demeter spat. “For six months, she suffers in his domain while I mourn her! And you dare tell me to hold my tongue?”
Artemis’s jaw tightened. “You are mourning nothing.” Her voice was firm, unyielding. “She is happy. She is safe. Hades treats her with respect and kindness.”
“Watch your tongue!” Demeter snarled. “He took my light and smothered it!”
“Enough!” Zeus thundered, lightning flashing across the skies. The room fell into a heavy silence.
His eyes locked onto Demeter. “There is no changing the past. What’s done is done. Persephone consumed six pomegranate seeds. You know the laws of the Underworld. There is no reversing it.”
“Illiara was born without my knowledge, and I will not let her roam freely. She will obey.”
Demeter smirked at Artemis, satisfied.
Zeus straightened in his throne. “Send the harpies to track her down and bring her back. And if she escapes, send more. I will summon Echidna’s children if I must—she will not defy me.”
One by one, the gods dispersed, leaving Olympus behind.
Artemis sighed, her thoughts heavy as she turned toward her brother. Apollo stood with his arms crossed, watching the sky shift as the meeting ended.
“What do you think, brother?” she asked.
He exhaled, shaking his head. “I think there will be war.” His voice was low, grave. “It is as foretold, Artemis.”
“The daughter of the herald of the dead shall split in two,” she murmured.
“And thus will begin the struggle of the gods,” Apollo finished.
Artemis’s expression hardened. “That prophecy speaks of Zeus’s downfall.”
She strode forward, Apollo walking beside her. “Illiara’s prophecy is different. It holds more details—and only Hades and Persephone know what it says.”
Apollo’s lips curled in amusement. “Given to them by the Fates.”
He pulled his car keys from his pocket, sliding into the driver’s seat of his bright yellow Mustang.
“And kept in the Lake of Forgetfulness,” he added.
Artemis nodded, eyes flickering with memory. “I saw him place it there with the guardian.”
“But—” she started, then stopped.
Apollo’s window rolled down as he watched her. “But?”
She lowered her voice, as if the air itself might listen. “There is more to the prophecy,” she admitted. “And so far, the details remain… vague.”
Apollo chuckled, slipping on his sunglasses. “That is interesting.” His smirk deepened. “I’m sure everything will work out. And if not…” He grinned as he turned the engine. “…then I’ll make sure to get a front-row seat to the show.”
“You ever seen that chick before?” Dean asked, casting a glance at his brother.
The slick 1967 Chevy Impala rumbled down the highway, its engine humming beneath them as they headed toward their next destination.
Sam ran a hand through his hair, frowning slightly. “She doesn’t look familiar.” He glanced at Dean. “Why?”
Dean shifted in his seat, debating his answer. “Just—” He exhaled. “Just weird that she shows up, and I’ve never heard of her.”
Sam snorted. “You just want to know who she is so you can track her down and get her in bed with you.”
“What?!” Dean shot his brother a look of utter disbelief. “No, that’s—no.”
Sam sighed, leaning back against the seat. “I’ll ask around, see who knows her and what her name is. But she seems like someone who prefers to hunt alone.”
Dean huffed, drumming his fingers against the wheel. “I don’t care. I just want to know who she is and what her deal is.”
His grip tightened slightly, his thoughts lingering on the woman who had vanished just as quickly as she had appeared.
He leaned forward, shaking his head. “I don’t think I can get any chick I want.”
Then, with a knowing glint in his eyes, he added, “I know I can.”
As the Impala sped into the night, Dean’s smirk lingered—but beneath it, a flicker of curiosity remained.
There was something about her.
And something told him this wouldn’t be the last time they crossed paths.
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