“Our separation?” Persephone repeated, looking to Hades. “Are there not more pressing issues? Like Triad murdering a goddess and attacking another?”
“I only gave you one reason Zeus called Council,” Hermes said. “That does not mean we will not discuss other concerns.”
“I will be along shortly, Hermes,” Hades said, who had made no attempt to cover himself.
Hermes nodded and then he looked at Persephone.
“See you later, Sephy,” he said, winking. He vanished, and she thought that perhaps he was trying to soften the guilt she felt at seeing his face scarred.
Persephone turned to Hades. “Did you do that to Hermes face?”
His jaw tightened. “You ask and yet you know.”
“You didn’t have—”
“I did,” he cut her off. “His punishment could have been worse. Some of our laws are sacred, Persephone, and before you feel guilt for what happened to Hermes’ face, remember that he knew the consequences even if you did not.”
His words felt like a reprimand. She averted her eyes and said quietly, “I didn’t know.”
Hades sighed, sounding frustrated, but he took her hand, tugging her to him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, pressing a palm against her cheek. “I meant to comfort you.”
“I know,” she said. “It must be trying…to constantly have to teach me.”
“I never tire of teaching,” he said, his voice quiet. “My frustration comes from another place.”
“Perhaps I can help…if you told me more,” she offered.
Hades held her gaze, considering before he spoke.
“I worry my words will come out wrong and that you will find my motives barbaric.”
She frowned. She was not surprised he felt this way. She’d called him the worst sort of god. She’d assumed his bargains with mortals were merely for his amusement, not real attempts at saving souls.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I think I gave you this fear when we met.”
“No,” he said. “It was there before you, but it only mattered when I met you.”
“I understand Hermes’ punishment,” she said. “I am comforted.”
Despite her words, she felt his expression remained uncertain, guarded. Still, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. She closed her eyes against his kiss, feeling the warmth of it through her body. She met his gaze as he pulled away.
“Would you like to accompany me to Council?” he asked.
Her eyes widened. “You are serious?”
He offered a small smile. “I have conditions,” he said. “But if the Olympians are to discuss us, it is only fair you are present.”
She grinned.
“Come, we must prepare,” he said, and she felt the brush of his magic as they teleported.
She’d expected to appear in their bedroom so they could dress, but instead, Hades had brought them to a room full of weapons.
“Is this…”
“An arsenal,” Hades said.
The room was round, the floor black marble like the rest of the castle. Most of the walls were fixed with what looked like bookcases, only they held a variety of weapons—blades and spears, javelins and slings, bows and arrows. There were modern weapons, too—guns and grenades and other artillery. There were also shields, helmets, chainmail and leather breastplates on display, but what drew her attention was the piece at the center of the room—a display of Hades’ armor. It looked both threatening and deadly. Sharp metal spikes covered the shoulders, arms, and legs. A black cape hung over the left shoulder, and a dark helm rested at its feet.
Persephone approached and brushed her fingers along the cold metal of the helmet. She tried to imagine Hades dressed in this. He was already large and imposing—this would make him…monstrous.
“How long has it been?” she asked quietly. “Since you wore this?”
“A while,” he answered. “I do not need it unless I am fighting gods.”
“Or against a weapon that can kill you,” she said.
Hades did not respond. He reached around her and picked up the helm.
“This is the Helm of Darkness,” he said. “It grants its wearer the ability to become invisible. It was made for me by the cyclops during the War of Titanomachy.”
She knew of the Three Weapons—Hades’ Helm of Darkness, Zeus’s Lightning Bolt, and Poseidon’s Trident. There were always turning points during battle—a time when the tide changes for better or worse for either side. These weapons had changed fate for the Olympians and allowed them to defeat the Titians.
Seeing the helm made Persephone feel dread. She suspected Triad wished for war. Would she see Hades clad in this armor soon?
“Why do you need this helm?” She asked. “One of your powers is invisibility.”
“Invisibility is a power I gained overtime as I became stronger,” he said, then he offered a wry smile. “Outside of that, I prefer to protect my head during battle.”
He thought he was funny, but Persephone frowned as he handed the helm to her. She held it between her hands, staring at the scratches and small dents upon its surface. She always imagined no one getting close enough to Hades to hurt him during battle, but the marks on this helm reminded her otherwise.
“I want you to wear this while at Council,” he said.
Persephone lifted her head. “Why?”
“Council is for Olympians,” he said. “And I am not eager to introduce you to either of my brothers, especially under these circumstances. You will not like everything that is said.”
“Are you worried my mouth will sabotage our engagement?” she asked, raising a brow.
Hades grinned, and it was refreshing considering he’d been so serious the past few days since her injuries in Club Aphrodisia.
“Oh darling, I have faith your mouth will only improve it.”
They stared at one another for a long moment before her gaze dipped, trailing over his muscles to his still erect cock.
“Are you going to Council naked, my lord? If so, I insist on watching.”
“If you keep staring at me like that, we will not go to Council at all,” he said, and with a flick of his wrist, they were both dressed in black—Hades in his suit and Persephone in a sheath dress. It made her wonder how the other gods dressed to attend Council. Would they wear the finery of ancient gods?
Hades held out his hand.
“Ready?”
Truly, she wasn’t certain, but she was comforted by Hades and his helm. This would be one of the last times she ever had time to consider if she was ready. There would come a point when there was no time, when everything depended upon quick action.
She placed her fingers into his palm, still cradling the helm, and they teleported.
They landed in shadow, her back was to a large column, and when she looked to the side, she could see more curving off to the left and right. Persephone could hear voices—booming and frustrated.
“This storm must end, Zeus! My cult begs for relief.”
Persephone did not know who spoke, but she guessed it was Hestia judging by the still-gentle tone.
“I am not eager to see the storm go,” Zeus said. “The mortals have grown too bold and need to be taught a lesson. Perhaps freezing to death will remind them who rules their world.”
Persephone met Hades’ gaze. Zeus’s words were an issue. They were why Harmonia had been attacked and why Tyche had died. It was behavior mortals were growing tired of and they were rebelling.
Hades placed his finger to his lips, took the helm from her and placed it upon her head. She did not feel any different once it was on, except it was heavy and did not sit on her head properly. Hades lips brushed against her knuckles before he let her go. He moved through the darkness undetected. She only knew when he appeared before the Olympians because he spoke—his voice dark, dripping with distain.
“You will be reminding them of nothing save their hatred for you—for all of us,” Hades said, responding to Zeus’s earlier statement.
“Hades,” his name came out as a growl from Zeus’s mouth.
Persephone crept along the outside of the columns. Beyond them, she could see the back of a set of thrones—and the front of three others—Poseidon, Aphrodite, and Hermes. Each throne represented a piece of the gods. For Poseidon, it was a trident, Aphrodite, a pink shell, for Hermes, his herald’s wand.
Her gaze lingered longest on Aphrodite, recalling how she’d stood with Okeanos’ heart in her hand, unfazed by the savagery of her magic. Would she face consequences for killing one of Zeus’s sons? Persephone did not know the rules of the Olympians, but she thought the goddess must have justified herself to the God of Thunder because she sat here among the twelve as if nothing had occurred.
Persephone crept closer, until she touched the edge of one of the thrones—one she guessed belonged to Apollo, as golden rays shot out from the very top.
“From what I understand, Hades, the storm is your fault. Couldn’t keep your dick out of Demeter’s daughter.”
“Shut up, Ares,” Hermes said.
Persephone noted the darkness shadowing the god’s eyes and the set of his jaw which made his cheekbones look sharp.
“Why should he? He speaks the truth.” A voice said from the right—Persephone thought it sounded like Artemis.
“You could have fucked a million other women, but you chose to stay with one, and the daughter of a goddess who hates you more than she loves humanity,” Ares continued.
“That pussy must be gold,” Poseidon mused.
Persephone felt something sour in the back of her throat and then a dark sense of dread as Hades’ magic flared, strong and vibrant.
“I will personally cut the thread of any god who dares to speak another word about Persephone.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Persephone recognized Hera’s voice. “The consequences of killing a god outside of the Fates will are dire. You could lose your dear goddess.”
A tense silence followed as Persephone tried to imagine the look upon Hades’ face. It probably communicated something along the lines of—try me.
“The fact remains that the snowstorm is causing great harm.” Athena’s silky voice, calming and commanding, entered the fray.
“Then we must discuss solutions to ending her rage,” said Hades.
“Nothing will convince her to end her assault except the separation of you from her daughter,” said Hera.
While that was true, it also implied there were no other ways to end Demeter’s wrath.
“That is out of the question.”
“Does the girl even wish to be with you?” Hera challenged. “Is it not true you trapped her in a contract to force her to spend time with you?”
Persephone’s fingers rolled into fists.
“She is a woman,” Hermes said. “And she loves Hades. I have seen it.”
“So we should sacrifice the lives of thousands for the true love of two gods?” Artemis said. “Ridiculous.”
“I did not come here so that Council could discuss my love life,” Hades said.
“No, but unfortunately for you,” said Zeus. “Your love life is wreaking havoc upon the world.”
“So is your dick,” Hades said. “And no one’s ever called Council about that.”
“Speaking of dicks and the problems they cause,” Hermes interjected. “Is no one going to speak about the trouble your offspring are causing? Tyche is dead. Someone is attacking us…succeeding in killing us…and you want to bicker about Hades’ love life?”
Persephone couldn’t help smiling at Hermes’ words, but it didn’t take long for the other gods to steal it away.
“We’ll have nothing to worry about if Demeter’s storm continues,” said Artemis. “Mortals will be frozen to the ground. It will be Pompeii all over again.”
“You think Demeter’s wrath is the worst that could happen?” Hades asked, his tone menacing. “You do not know mine.”
It was a threat; one Persephone knew would take the conversation nowhere. Hades had asked her not to reveal herself, but the fact was, these gods were having a conversation about her—her thoughts, her feelings, her choice—and they were making no progress toward what really mattered and that was whatever Demeter was planning with Triad. She left the spot beside Apollo’s throne and made her way around the arc. When she came to the edge—where Ares sat, she took off Hades’ helm and set it aside. Shaking off her glamour, she stepped into the center of the arc and was suddenly surrounded by eleven Olympians.
Her gaze connected with Hades’ and held. He sat rigidly; his hands curled around the edges of his throne. Beneath his gaze, she was able to straighten her shoulders and lift her chin. She had no idea how she looked to these ancient gods—probably young and inexperienced, but at least they would see her and know her and by the end of this, respect her.
“Hades,” she spoke his name and it seemed to calm him. She offered him a small smile before her attention was drawn to Zeus whose voice seemed to rumble deep beneath her feet.
“Well, well, well. Demeter’s daughter.”
“I am,” she said, disliking how the God of Thunder’s eyes gleamed when they were upon her. She’d seen the king many times, an imposing and large figure, his body filled his throne. Despite being the younger of his two brothers, his hair had a silver tone to it that made him looked older. She did not know why—perhaps he felt it gave him more authority or he’d bargained away some of his youth in exchange for power. Beside him was Hera who looked upon her with judgement. Her face, beautiful and noble, was carved and cynical.
She glanced to her left, finding Athena’s passive, golden face, her mother’s empty throne, and then Apollo and Artemis. Apollo inclined his head a fraction. It was the only acknowledgement she received—there was no light in his eyes or tilt to his lips. She tried to not let his mood disrupt her as she looked to her right where she found Poseidon staring openly and hungrily. Then Hermes, Hestia, and Ares.
Hermes smiled, his eyes gentle.
“You have caused a lot of problems,” Zeus said, drawing her reluctant attention. She met his lack-luster gaze.
“I think you mean my mother has caused a lot of problems,” she said. “And yet you seem intent upon punishing Hades.”
“I merely seek to solve a problem in the simplest way possible.”
“That might be true if Demeter were only responsible for a storm,” Persephone said. “But I have reason to believe she is working with the demi-gods.”
There was a beat of silence. “What reasons?”
“I was there the night Tyche died,” Persephone said. “My mother was there. I felt her magic.”
“Perhaps she was there to retrieve you,” Hera suggested. “As is her right by Divine Law. She is your mother.”
“Since we are basing our decisions on archaic laws, then I must disagree,” Persephone said.
Hera’s gaze hardened and Persephone got the distinct impression she did not like being challenged. “On what grounds?”
“Hades and I fuck,” Persephone stated. “By Divine Law, we are married.”
Hermes choked on a laugh, but everyone else remained quiet. She looked to Zeus. As much as she hated it, he was the one she needed to convince.
“It was my mother’s magic that kept Tyche restrained.” Persephone said.
The god stared at her for a beat and then looked to Hermes for confirmation.
“Is this true, Hermes?”
Her fingers curled into fists.
“Persephone would never lie,” he replied.
“Triad is a true enemy,” Persephone said. “You have reason to fear them.”
There were a few laughs, and Persephone glared around her. “Did you not just hear what I said?”
“Harmonia and Tyche are goddesses, yes, but they are not Olympians,” said Poseidon.
“I’m sure the Titans thought the same of you,” she shot back. “Besides, Demeter is an Olympian.”
“She would not be the first who attempted—and failed—to overthrow me,” Zeus said, and she noted how he glanced both to his left and right. Despite how the Olympians sat—in this circle, unified, they were divided. There was hatred here and it permeated the air like smog.
“This is different,” Persephone said. “You have a world ready to shift their alliance to a group of people they believe are more mortal than god and my mother’s storm will force the decision.”
“So we return to the real issue,” Hera said. “You.”
Persephone glared; her jaw tightened.
“If you return me to my mother, I will become a real issue,” Persephone said. “I will be the reason for your misery, for your despair, for your ruination. I promise you will taste my venom.”
No one laughed. No one spoke. There was only silence. She glanced at Hades whose gaze burned into hers. She did not sense that he was disappointed with her, but he was on edge. Poised. Ready to act if necessary.
“You speak on what we will not do,” Zeus said. “But what would you have us do? When the world suffers beneath a storm of your mother’s creation?”
“Were you not ready to watch the world suffer minutes ago?” Persephone countered. It was not what she wished for, of course. It was the last thing she wanted, but she felt as though these gods were seconds away from sending her back to her mother, and Persephone would not go. She would have Hades. She would have the world—one way or the other.
“Are you suggesting we allow it to continue?” Hestia asked.
“I’m suggesting you punish the source of the storm,” she said.
“You forget. No one has been able to locate Demeter.”
“Is there no god here who is all-seeing?”
There was laughter.
“You speak of Helios,” said Artemis. “He will not help us. He will not help you because you love Hades and Hades stole his cattle.”
Still, she stared at Zeus despite the other replies.
“Are you not King of Gods? Is Helios not here by your grace?”
“Helios is the God of the Sun,” Hera said. “His role is important—more important than a minor goddess’ obsessive love.”
“If he were so great, could he not melt the snowstorm that ravages the earth?”
“Enough!” Zeus’s voice echoed in the chamber; his eyes gleaming as they fell upon her. Persephone felt her insides shake. She did not like Zeus’s gaze, did not like whatever thoughts were churning inside his head. Still, when he spoke, she was pleased by his words.
“You have given us much to consider, goddess. We will search for Demeter—all of us. If she is in league with Triad, let her admit it and face punishment. Until that point, however, I will defer judgment on your wedding to Hades a little while longer.”
Hera glared at her husband, clearly unsatisfied with this choice.
“Thank you, Lord Zeus,” she said, bowing her head.
She hated speaking the words or thinking too long upon why he’d made this decision. She had a feeling he hoped to somehow gain her favor.
Persephone’s eyes shifted to Hades as Zeus continued.
“On this night, we will say goodbye to Tyche.”
One by one, the gods vanished from the room.
“See you later, Sephy!” Hermes said.
Hades left his throne and Persephone spoke as he approached.
“I’m sorry. I know you asked that I stay hidden, but I couldn’t. Not when they wished—”
He silenced her with a kiss—it seared her lips and her mouth and when he pulled away, he held her face.
“You were wonderful,” he said. “Truly.”
Her eyes watered. “I thought they would take me from you.”
“Never,” he whispered, and he spoke the word over and over again like a prayer—a desperate plea—until she almost believed it.
