Persephone and Hades left the island of Lemnos and returned to the Underworld. When they appeared in his bedchamber, Hades grasped her shoulders and crushed her against him as he took her mouth against his, kissing her as if he were claiming her soul. For a moment, she was stunned. She’d had it in her head that they’d return and argue. Hades knew she was angry with him and he did not like to let it simmer. She gave way to the feel of his lips, the thrust of his tongue, the smell of ash and pine clinging to his skin. He shifted his arm, cradling her head in the bend of his elbow while the other went to her face. With a final sweep of his tongue across her lips, he pulled away.
Her eyes fluttered open to find Hades gazing at her tenderly, as if he were realizing his love for her all over again.
“What was that for?” she asked, breathless.
“You defended me to Aphrodite,” he said.
Persephone opened her mouth to speak but had no words. She’d snapped at the Goddess of Love because her words had been cruel, and Hades was not deserving of her censure. It hurt her to think she’d once done the same.
“I am thankful,” he added.
She smiled up at him and his gaze lowered to her lips, before his brows knitted together over his hardening, dark eyes.
“I hurt your feelings,” he said, frowning.
His words were an arrow to her chest, stealing her smile as she recalled what had made her ache outside Aphrodite’s home. She looked away for a moment, her thoughts a little chaotic, but she thought it was best to just be direct. She met his gaze.
“Do you trust me?” she asked.
Hades’ eyes widened.
“Persephone—”
“Whatever you’re about to do, stop,” Hecate said, appearing in the room, her hand covering her eyes.
The two turned to look at her. She was dressed more formally than usual, wearing robes the color of midnight roses and her hair in braids.
“Shall we undress before she opens her eyes?” Hades asked, gazing down at Persephone.
Hecate dropped her hand and glared. “The souls are waiting. You two are late!”
“Late for what?” Persephone asked.
“Your engagement party!”
They exchanged a look as Hecate reached for Persephone’s hand and dragged her toward the door. “Come, we don’t have much time to get you ready.”
“And me?” Hades said. “What shall I wear to this party?”
Hecate looked over her shoulder.
“You only have two outfits, Hades. Choose one.”
Then they were out the door, heading down the marble hall toward the Queen’s Suite where she usually prepared for events. Once inside, Hecate summoned her magic. The smell of it made her stiffen, perhaps because the last time she used it in Persephone’s presence, she’d ordered her grim to attack. It was the smell that triggered her—blackberry and incense—and the feel—something old and ancient and dark—but when it touched her, it was a caress, a faint prodding that felt like silk unfurling over skin. She relaxed beneath it, closing her eyes and letting it take hold, tangling around her body and in her hair. It wasn’t long after that Hecate spoke.
“Perfect,” she said, and Persephone opened her eyes to find the Goddess of Magic smiling.
“No lampades this time?”
“Unfortunately, we do not have time for leisure,” she said. “Come—look at my handiwork.”
The Goddess turned Persephone to face the mirror and she released a breath. She wore a dusty pink gown with a fitted bodice and a skirt made of tulle. It was simple and beautiful. In the process of using her magic, Hecate had stripped away Persephone’s glamour and she stood in her divine form, slender white horns twisted from her head and white camellia flowers formed a crown at their base. Her hair curled down her back, all varying tones of gold. Her eyes—bottle green and gleaming—made her look wild, untamed, menacing.
She’d always known there was darkness inside her. Hecate and Hades had both seen it when she could only feel it.
Now she saw it, too.
There is darkness within you. Anger, fear, resentment. If you do not free yourself first, no one else can.
She met Hecate’s gaze in the mirror, and the witch offered a gentle smile. She’d heard her thoughts.
“This darkness is not the same. This darkness is toil and trauma, grief and loss. It is the darkness that will make you Queen of the Underworld.”
Then Hecate leaned forward, holding Persephone’s lithe shoulders between her hands, settling her chin upon her shoulder.
“Look long at yourself, my love, but do not fear the change.”
She stared for a moment longer and found that she wasn’t afraid of the person staring back at her. In fact, she liked her despite the pain and the grief. She was broken and somehow better for it.
“Come,” Hecate slide her fingers through Persephone’s and teleported.
They appeared in the middle of Asphodel, beneath an ethereal canopy of lights and glimmering white cloth. Lanterns and bouquets of white and blush roses, delphiniums, stock, and hydrangeas flanked either side of the road. There were candles in every window and tables outside each home crowded with an array of food, all various specialties of the souls who resided inside. The smells were varied and mouth-watering. The souls themselves were out in droves, all well-dressed and gleeful.
“Lady Persephone has arrived!” Hecate announced and after they bowed, they cheered, approaching her to hold her hand or clutch her dress.
“We are so excited, Lady Persephone!”
“Congratulations, Lady Persephone!”
“We cannot wait to call you queen!”
She smiled and laughed with them until Yuri approached, throwing her arms around Persephone.
“What do you think?” she asked, smiling so wide, Persephone was certain she hadn’t seen the soul this happy since meeting her.
“It is truly beautiful, Yuri,” Persephone said. “You outdid yourself.”
“If you think this is beautiful, you have to see the meadow!”
Yuri took Persephone’s hand and guided her down the long road, past homes and flowers and lanterns to the emerald green of the Asphodel Meadow. From the center of town, she’d seen orbs of light in the distance, but now that she approached, she saw what they really were. The lampades hovered a few feet from the ground, their unearthly light igniting the whole, narcissus-covered meadow where white blankets were arranged. Each space had a picnic basket decorated with the white delphiniums from the bouquets she’d seen in town.
“Oh, Yuri, it’s perfect,” Persephone said.
“I thought of it because you like picnics,” she said and beside her, Hecate snorted.
Persephone arched a brow at the Goddess. “What? I do like picnics.”
“You like picnics alone. With Hades. You like Hades,” she said.
“So? This is my engagement party.”
Hecate threw her head back, laughing.
“Do you like it?” Yuri asked. She seemed to take Hecate’s words to mean Persephone might not like the décor.
“I love it, Yuri. Thank you so much.”
The soul beamed. “Come! We have so much planned—dancing and games and feasts!”
They returned to the crowded center of town and Persephone found herself marveling at the diversity of the souls—there were people here from all walks of life, and she wanted to learn from each. They were all dressed differently, had different skin tones and accents, cooked different food and made different tea, had different customs and beliefs, they’d lived different lives, some without advancement and others with, some only a few years and others, long lives—and yet here they were, at the end of all things, sharing their eternity with no hint of anger or animosity.
“Look who’s arrived—and in new robes, too,” Hecate said, pulling Persephone out of her thoughts. She turned, eyes connecting with Hades’ who had manifested at the end of the road—the entrance to Asphodel. His presence halted her steps and made her heart drum painfully in her chest.
He was stunning, a King of Darkness, cloaked in shadow. His robes were the color of midnight, trimmed in silver, and draped over only one shoulder, leaving part of his muscled chest and bicep exposed. She tracked his bronzed skin, the contours and the veins that trailed up his arm and disappeared beneath his long, silken hair. This time, he wore half of it up, and his black horns were crowned with iron spikes.
Standing on opposite ends of the road, Persephone was struck by how similar they were—not in appearance, but something deeper—something that threaded through their hearts and bones and souls. They’d began in two very different worlds but wanted the same thing in the end—acceptance and love and solace—and they’d found it in each other’s eyes and arms and mouths.
This was power, she thought as her body flushed and fluttered with a chaotic tangle of emotion—the passion and pain of loving someone more than the air in her lungs and the glimmer of stars in the night sky.
“Lord Hades!” A chorus of voices rang out as several children rushed toward him, hugging his legs. Others hung back, too shy to approach. “Play with us!”
He grinned and it hit her hard in the chest, the laugh that followed shook her lungs. He bent and swept a small girl named Lily into his arms.
“What shall we play?” He asked.
There were several voices all at once.
“Hide and Seek!”
“Blind man’s bluff!”
“Ostrakinda!”
It was strange, almost heart-wrenching, to hear their requests, mostly because Persephone could tell how long they’d been in the Underworld by their choices.
“Well, I suppose it’s just a matter of which we shall play first,” Hades replied.
Then he looked up and met Persephone’s gaze. That smile—the one that made her heart stir because it was so rare and yet so genuine—remained in place.
With his gaze, came many others. Some of the children who had been too shy to approach Hades, came to her, taking each of her hands.
“Lady Persephone, please play!”
“Of course,” she laughed. “Hecate? Yuri?”
“No,” Hecate said. “But I shall watch and drink wine from the sidelines.”
They moved to an open space close to the picnic area Yuri and the souls had arranged and played most of the games the children had suggested—hide and seek—which was far too easy for Hades as he liked to turn invisible just as he was about to be found which meant by the time they moved on to playing Blind Man’s Bluff, Persephone had declared that Hades could not be ‘it’ as he would use his powers to find them on the field. Their final game was Ostrakinda, an Ancient Greek game where they split into teams—one representing night and one representing day which corresponded with the white and black colors on a shell that was tossed into the air. Depending on which side turned upward, one team would chase the other.
Persephone had never played the game before, but it was simple enough. The biggest challenge would be escaping Hades—because as he stood opposite her on team night, she knew he had his sights set upon her.
Between them, a boy named Elias held a giant shell in his hand. He bent his knees and jumped, sending it flipping into the air. It landed with a thud in the grass, white side up, and there was chaos as the children dispersed. For a second, Persephone and Hades remained in place, eyes locked. Then, a predatory grin crossed the god’s face and the Goddess of Spring whirled. As she did, she felt Hades finger’s ghost across her arm—he’d already been so close to capturing her.
She sprinted—the grass was cool beneath her feet and her hair breezed behind her, she felt free and reckless as she turned to glance over her shoulder at Hades who was gaining on her, and she suddenly recalled that she had not felt this way since before Lexa’s accident. The thought faltered her steps, and she came to a stop, altogether—her high crushed beneath the weight of guilt.
How could she have forgotten? Her face heated and a thickness gathered in her throat that brought tears to her eyes.
Hades came to her side. Recognizing something was wrong, he asked, “Are you well?”
It took her a moment to answer—a moment where she worked to swallow the tears gathering behind her eyes and suppress the tremble in her throat.
“I just remembered that Lexa was not here.” She looked at Hades. “How could I have forgotten?”
Hades’ expression was grim, his eyes pained.
“Oh, darling,” he said, and pressed his lips to her forehead. It was enough because it was comfort. He took her hand and lead her to the picnic area where the souls had now gathered to feast. Yuri showed them where they were to sit—at the very edge of the field upon a blanket that was weighted down with the same lanterns and bouquets that decorated the road. The basket was full of foods and wineskins, offering a sampling of the culture in Asphodel.
They feasted, and the meadow was full of happy chatter, laughter, and the delighted screams of children. Persephone watched the scene, her heart full. These were her people, but most importantly, they were her friends. The urge to protect and provide for them was almost primal—it was that impulse that surprised her, but it was also how she knew she wanted to be Queen of the Underworld—because taking on that title meant something far more than royalty. It was responsibility, it was caring, it was making this realm an even better, more comforting space.
“What are you thinking?” Hades asked.
She glanced at him and then at her hands. She held a wheat roll and had been breaking off pieces, her lap was covered in crumbs. She sat it aside and brushed them away.
“I was just thinking about becoming queen,” she said.
Hades offered a small smile. “And are you happy?”
“Yes,” she said. “Of course. I was just thinking of how it will be. What we will do together. If, that is, Zeus approves.”
Hades’ lips thinned. “Just keep planning, darling.”
She did not ask him any more questions about Zeus because she knew what he would say—we will marry despite Zeus—and she believed him.
“I would like to speak about earlier,” Hades said. “Before we were interrupted, you asked if I trusted you.”
She could tell by his expression that her question had hurt his feelings. She hesitated to speak, searching for the words to explain herself.
“You did not think I’d come to you when Hermes summoned me to Lemnos,” she said. “Tell me, truthfully.”
Hades clenched his jaw before answering, “I did not.”
Persephone frowned.
“But I was more concerned about Aphrodite. I know what she wants from you. I worry you will try to investigate and identify Adonis and Harmonia’s attackers on your own. It isn’t because I don’t trust you, but because I know you. You want to make the world safe again, fix what is broken.”
“I told you I wouldn’t do anything without your knowledge,” Persephone said. “I meant it.”
Persephone wanted to find Adonis and Harmonia’s attackers as much as Hades and Aphrodite, but that did not mean she was going to be rash. She’d learned a lot from her mistakes. Not to mention, seeing Harmonia and how she’d suffered gave her even more pause. This threat was obviously different. Gods with control of their powers weren’t able to fight it, which meant she’d have an even harder time.
“I am sorry,” he said.
“You once said words had no meaning,” she answered. “Let our actions speak next time.”
She would show Hades she meant what she said, and she could only hope he’d do the same.
***
Later, after the souls had retreated to their homes for the night, they remained in the meadow. Hades rested on his back, his head in Persephone’s lap. She played with his hair, smoothing her fingers through it as it spilled over her thigh and into the grass. His eyes were closed, his thick lashes grazing the high points of his cheek. He had faint lines around his eyes that deepened when he smiled. If there were any around his mouth, she could not see for the stubble on his face.
Gods did not age beyond a certain point in their lifetime. It was different for everyone, which was why none of them looked the same, and probably a decision made by the Fates. Hades looked as though he had matured into his late thirties.
“Hades,” she said his name and then quieted, hesitating.
“Hmm?” He looked up at her and she held his gaze.
“What did you trade for your ability to have children?”
He stiffened and shifted his eyes to the sky. It was something she’d been thinking about since playing in the meadow. One day, after they’d greeted souls at the Gates of the Underworld, Hades admitted that he could not give her children because he’d bargained away the ability. She did not know the details, and in that moment, she’d been more concerned about easing his anxiety. He’d seemed to think that this admission would mean the end of their relationship.
But Persephone was not sure she wanted children and she was no closer to making that decision now even though she asked.
“I gave a mortal woman divinity,” he answered.
The words made her throat feel tight and her fingers stalled as they threaded through his hair. After a moment, she asked, “Did you love her?”
Hades offered a humorless chuckle. “No. I wish I could claim it was out of love or even compassion,” he answered. “But…I wanted to claim a favor from a god and so I bargained with the Fates.”
“And they asked for your…our…children?”
This time, Hades rolled into a sitting position, twisting to face her, eyes roaming her face.
“What are you thinking?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. I just…am trying to understand Fate.”
Hades smiled wryly. “Fate does not make sense, that is why it is so easy to blame.”
The corners of her lips turned upward, but only for a moment as she looked away. Her thoughts were muddled as she tried to sort out how exactly Hades’ bargain made her feel.
He reached to brush his fingers along her cheek.
“If I had known—if I’d been given any inkling—I would have never—”
“It’s alright, Hades,” Persephone interrupted. “I did not ask to cause you grief.”
“You did not cause me grief,” he answered. “I think back on that moment often, reflect upon the ease with which I gave up something I would come to wish for, but that is the consequence of bargaining with the Fates. Inevitably, you will always desire what they take. One day, I think, you will come to resent me for my actions.”
“I do not, and I will not,” Persephone said, and she believed that despite a strange feeling knotting her chest. “Can you not forgive yourself as easily as you have forgiven me? We have all made mistakes, Hades.”
He stared at her for a moment and then kissed her, guiding her backward, to the pillowy ground. She relaxed beneath his weight and let him devour her mouth with slow, heated strokes. She drew her knees up, caging him between her thighs as she sought his hard length beneath his robes. Once she had him in hand, Hades pulled back to position himself against her heat. She arched against the feel of him thrusting into her. He settled there for a moment, buried deep and filling, kissing her once more before setting a languid pace. Their breaths were slow to quicken, their moans soft, their words whispered, and beneath the starry Underworld sky, they found release and refuge in each other’s arms.
***
“Persephone,” the voice was melodic—a soft whisper across skin.
Her breath caught in her throat as hands drifted up her calves. Her fingers fisted in the silk sheets and her back arched, restless, her body still half-buried in sleep.
“You will like it,” he whispered, his lips brushing her lower abdomen. She twisted and wriggled beneath the breathy touch.
“Open for me,” the voice coaxed. The words were a request, but the hands that forced her knees apart were a command.
She wrenched her eyes open, recognizing the sunken face and bleeding eyes staring into hers.
“Pirithous,” she said, hating the way the name sounded and felt in her mouth—a horrible curse that didn’t deserve the breath it took to speak. She screamed, and his bony hand clamped down upon her mouth. He shifted so that he straddled her, his thighs pressing into her body tight.
“Shh, shh, shh, shh, shh!” he cooed, his face bent close to hers, his dark hair caressing her cheek. “I’m not going to hurt you. I will make everything better. You’ll see.”
She clawed at him and yet he did not seem to notice.
When he pulled his hand away, she could no longer make sound—he had stolen her voice. Her eyes widened and tears spilled down the sides of her face. This was another one of the demi-god’s powers.
He offered a horrible grin that seemed to tear across his face.
“There,” he said. “I like you better this way. Like this, I can still hear you moan.”
There was a sour taste in the back of her mouth, and as Pirithous slipped down her body to settle between her thighs, she began to kick and thrash. Her knee rose, hitting Pirithous in the face and as he fell back, she lurched into a sitting position.
She scurried back, kicking against the mattress until she was pressed into the headboard. Her body felt hot and cold at the same time, her clothes soaked through with sweat. For a moment, she stared blindly into the darkness, her breath ragged—then she noticed a shadow move toward her and she screamed.
“No!” She jerked back, head thudding against the headboard painfully as vines split her skin, sending a bone-shattering pain throughout her whole body. She screamed, the sound piercing even to her own ears.
“Persephone,” Hades’ voice cut through the darkness—and then the hearth blazed to life, flooding the room with light, illuminating the mess she had made of her body and the bed. There was blood everywhere, thick vines protruded from her arms and shoulders and legs, flaying her skin. When she saw them, she began to sob.
“Look at me,” Hades snapped, and the sound of his voice made her flinch. She met his gaze, her face stained with salty tears.
There was something in his eyes, a glint of panic she had never seen before. It was as if, for a moment, he did not know what to do. He grasped the thorns and they dissolved into dust and ash, then his hands were on her skin, sending warmth and healing through her body. The flesh she had mangled with her magic fused together into a pink puckered line until it smoothed. When he was finished, he stood.
“I will take you to the baths,” he said. “Can I…hold you?”
She swallowed thickly and nodded. He scooped her up gingerly and left the bloodied bed.
They did not speak as Hades wandered down the corridor. The smell of lavender and sea salt was comforting. Instead of taking her to the main pool, Hades navigated along a separate path, down a hall with walls that glistened. As he eased her to her feet, she found that they had come to a smaller room with a round pool. The air was warmer here and the light easier on her tired eyes.
“Can I undress you?” he asked.
She nodded, and yet it took him a moment to move, to slip his fingers under the straps of her bloodied gown and draw it down her arms. His robes followed. He stared at her for a moment, and then reached to brush a piece of her hair over her shoulder and she shivered.
“Do you know the difference?” he asked. “Between my touch and his?”
She swallowed and answered honestly. “When I am awake.”
He paused a long moment before asking, “Can I touch you now?”
“You don’t have to ask,” she answered, and Hades’ jaw tightened.
“I wish to,” he said. “In case you aren’t ready.”
She nodded, and he scooped her up and entered the pool, holding her again him. The blood upon her skin colored the water crimson as it danced away in ribbons. He did not ask about her nightmare and she didn’t speak until the tension in his body had lessened.
“I don’t understand why I dream about him,” she whispered. Hades stared down at her, frowning. “Sometimes I think back to that day and remember how afraid I was and other times I think I should not be so affected. Others—”
“You cannot compare trauma, Persephone.” Hades’ tone was gentle but firm.
“I just feel like I should have known,” she said. “I should have never—”
“Persephone,” Hades said, his voice gentle, and yet there was an edge beneath it, a frustration that made her eyes burn. “How could you have known? Pirithous presented himself as a friend. He played upon your kindness and compassion. The only person who is wrong here was Pirithous.”
Her mouth began to quiver, and she covered her eyes with her hands. Her body shook hard, and Hades shifted, holding her against his bare skin, her head tucked beneath his chin. She was not sure how long she cried, but they remained in the pool until she was finished. They dressed and returned to bed where Hades poured two glasses of whiskey. He handed one to Persephone.
“Drink,” he said.
She accepted and downed the alcohol.
“Do you wish to sleep?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Come, sit with me,” he said, and took a seat beside the fire. He guided her into his lap and she rested her head against his chest, comforted by the heat at her back and the smell of Hades’ skin.
Sometime later, Persephone felt Hades’ magic stir the air. She opened her eyes, realizing she had fallen asleep and now lay in bed. She rolled and rose into a sitting position, startling when she saw Hades. There was some something completely feral about him—as if he’d been able to drown his humanity in the depths of his darkness and all that remained was a monster.
This is a battle god, she thought.
“You went to Tartarus,” she said, her voice low.
Hades did not speak.
She did not need to ask what he’d done there. He’d gone to torture Pirithous and the evidence was all over his face—streaked with blood.
Again, Hades was silent.
After a moment, Persephone rose and approached him, placing a hand on his face. Despite wild look in his eyes, he leaned into her touch.
“Are you well?” she whispered.
“No,” he replied.
Her hand dropped, slipping around his waist. It took Hades a moment, but he finally moved, arms wrapping around her, holding her tight against him. After a moment, he spoke, and his voice sounded a little more normal, a little warmer.
“Ilias and Zofie found the woman who assaulted you,” he said.
“Zofie?” Persephone asked, drawing back.
“She has been helping Ilias,” he answered.
Persephone was curious about exactly what Hades meant by that, but it was a conversation for another time.
“Where is the woman?”
“She is being held at Iniquity,” he answered.
“Will you take me to her?”
“I’d rather you sleep.”
“I do not want to sleep.”
Hades frowned. “Even if I stay?”
“There are people out there attacking goddesses,” Persephone said. “I’d rather hear what she has to say.”
Hades cupped her jaw, and then threaded his fingers through her hair, grimacing. She knew he was worried, wondering if she could handle this confrontation so soon after the horror of her nightmare.
“I’m okay, Hades,” she whispered. “You will be with me.”
That only seemed to make him frown more. Still, he finally answered.
“Then we will do as you wish.”
