Hades walked a circle around Persephone.
She stood still, the center of his world, wearing a gown he had manifested with his magic. It was soft and black, accentuating the curve of her body. An elegant sweetheart neckline, and long, caped sleeves created a regal silhouette. A shiver vibrated down her spine, causing her shoulders to straighten and her back to arch slightly. She thought that Hades might have noticed when he spoke, because his words came out in a low, sensual growl.
“Drop your glamour,” he said.
She obeyed without hesitation, letting her glamour slip away to reveal her Divine form. Like Hades, she didn’t use this form often, save for events in the Underworld. It felt most natural here, among the people who recognized and worshipped her as a goddess.
As Hades came to a stop before her, the force of his presence stole her breath. He was stunning, robed in black and crowned with iron. His bright blue gaze trailed from her horns to her feet, snagging on her breasts and the curve of her hips.
“Just one more thing,” he said, lifting his hands, and as he did, a crown appeared. It matched his—all jagged, black edges.
Her lips curled as he placed it upon her head. She was surprised by how light it felt.
“Are you making a statement, my lord?” she asked as his hands fell to his sides.
“I thought that was obvious.”
“That I belong to you?”
Hades placed a finger beneath her chin as he spoke.
“No, that we belong to each other.” He kissed her, and as he pulled away, his gentle gaze connected with hers. “You are beautiful, my darling.”
She traced the shape of his face, the curve of his nose, the bow of his lips. She was certain she had memorized every dip and hollow and curve, but suddenly, she felt the need to be sure she had internalized all parts of him for fear of never seeing him again.
Hades’ brows drew together, his fingers brushed down the side of her face.
“Are you well?”
“Yes. Perfect,” she replied, though they both knew she wasn’t being completely honest. She was afraid. “Are you ready?”
“I am never ready for Olympus,” Hades said. “Do not leave my side.”
She would have no problem with that—unless, of course, Hermes pulled her away.
Her grip tightened on his arm as he teleported, her heart stuttered in her chest, anxious at returning to the ancient home of the gods, even though a few of them were friends.
They arrived in the marble courtyard upon Mount Olympus where an arc of twelve statues rose before them, each carved to resemble the Olympians. Persephone recognized it as the space where Tyche’s body had been burned. It was the lowest part Olympus—the rest of the city was built into the mountainside and accessed by a number of steep passages. Stories above them, there was a loud clamor of voices and music. At the very top of the mountain was a temple where warm light streamed from the arched columns of an open porch.
“I am assuming that is our destination?” Persephone asked.
“Unfortunately,” Hades replied.
The walk was pleasant—a winding stair that took them passed pretty doors and exceptional views. Up this high, the clouds were close, the stars brilliant, the sky inky blue. She found herself wondering what the sunrise and sunset looked like from here. She could just imagine—the burning bronze of the sun probably bathed the marble in gold, and all around would be clouds of the same color. It would be a gilded palace in the sky, beautiful and unworthy of those who ruled it.
The final ascension to the temple was a wide set of stairs flanked with two large basins of fire that lead to an open porch. At the top, Persephone found a room crowded with gods, demi-gods, immortal creatures, and favored mortals. She recognized all the gods and a few of the favored—Ajax and Hector, in particular, who wore short, white chitons and gold circlets in their hair. Other guests were dressed more extravagantly and more modern—in gowns that glittered with sequins and beads, suits with velvet or a sleek sheen.
There was laughter, excitement, and an electricity charged the air that had nothing to do with magic—until they appeared.
Then, one by one, heads turned to stare, and silence swept through the crowd. There were a number of expressions—intrigue, fear, and disapproving frowns. Though her heart hammered in her chest and she squeezed Hades’ hand tight, she kept her head held high and looked at him, smiling.
“It seems I am not the only one who can’t help staring at you, my love,” she said. “I think the whole room is enthralled.”
Hades chuckled. “Oh, my darling. They are staring at you.”
Their exchange encouraged a wave of whispers as they made their way onto the floor. The crowd parted for them, as if they feared the brush of either god would turn them to ash. It reminded Persephone of a time when she’d been frustrated with Hades for letting the world think he was cruel. Now she considered that it was probably his greatest weapon—the power of fear.
“Sephy!”
She turned in time, releasing Hades’ hand as she did, to find Hermes zipping through the crowd. He was wearing the brightest suit she’d ever seen—in a shade of yellow that resembled the skin of a lemon. It had black lapels and flowers embroidered on the jacket in colors of teal, red, and green.
“You look stunning!” he said, taking her hands into his and lifting them as if to inspect her gown.
She grinned. “Thank you, Hermes, but I should warn you—you are complimenting Hades’ handiwork. He made the dress.”
There were a few gasps—the crowd, still quiet since their arrival, were listening.
“Of course, he did, and in his favorite color,” Hermes observed, a brow raised.
“Actually, Hermes, black in not my favorite color,” Hades said, his voice quiet but somehow resonate, and Persephone felt as if the room was collectively holding their breath.
“Then what is it?” The question came from a nymph Persephone did not recognize, but judging by her ashy hair, she’d guess she was a meliae, an ash tree nymph.
The corner of Hades’ lips lifted as he answered. “Red.”
“Red?” Another demanded. “Why red?”
Hades’ smile grew, and he looked down at Persephone, his hand settled on her waist. She imagined he did not like this attention, but he was doing well under the scrutiny.
“I think I began to favor the color when Persephone wore it at the Olympian Gala.”
She blushed—she couldn’t help it. That night had been the night she’d given in to her desire for him and in the aftermath, she’d felt life for the first time—a faint heartbeat in the world around her.
A few people sighed longingly while some scoffed.
“Who would have thought my brother to be so sentimental?” The question came from Poseidon who stood nearly halfway across the room. He wore an aqua blue suit, his hair was thrust back into a wave of blond and corkscrew-like horns jutted from his head. On his arm was a woman Persephone knew to be Amphitrite. She was beautiful, regal, with bright red hair and a delicate face. She clung to Poseidon and Persephone could not tell if it was from devotion or fear of his wandering eye.
Once Poseidon spoke, he offered a laugh, devoid of any humor, and drank from his glass.
“Ignore him,” Hermes said. “He’s had too much ambrosia.”
“Do not make excuses for him,” Hades said. “Poseidon is always an ass.”
“Brother!” Boomed another voice and Persephone cringed as Zeus’s large frame barreled through the crowd. He was dressed in a light blue chiton that clasped over one shoulder, leaving part of his chest exposed. His shoulder-length hair and full beard were dark in color but threaded through with silver. Persephone could not help thinking that his boisterous manner was all an act of deception. Beneath the surface of this god was something dark. “And gorgeous Persephone. So glad you could make it.”
“I was under the impression we did not have a choice,” Persephone said.
“You’re rubbing off on her, brother,” Zeus laughed, jabbing Hades in the side. His eyes ignited, angry by the touch. “Why wouldn’t you come? This is your engagement feast, after all!”
Persephone thought that was ironic, given their quiet welcome.
“Then that must mean we have your blessing,” Persephone said. “To marry.”
Again, Zeus laughed. “That is not for me to decide, dear. It is my oracle who will decide.”
“Don’t call me dear,” Persephone said.
“It is only a word. I mean no offense.”
“I don’t care what you intended,” Persephone countered. “The word offends me.”
Stark silence stretched between all the gods, and then Zeus laughed. “Hades, your plaything is far too sensitive.”
There was a blur as Hades’ hand move to grip Zeus by the neck. The whole room went silent. Hermes grasped Persephone’s arm, ready to pull her away the second these two went to battle.
“What did you call my fiancée?” Hades asked.
Then Persephone saw it—the look she’d been waiting to see. The truth of Zeus’s nature beneath the facade. His eyes darkened, burning with a light so fierce and ancient, she felt fear in the very depths of her soul. The jovial expression he usually maintained melted into something evil—darkening the hollows of his cheeks and the space beneath his eyes.
“Careful, Hades, I still rule your fate.”
“Wrong, brother. Apologize.”
A few more seconds ticked by and Persephone did not think Zeus would cave. He seemed more like the kind of god who would go to war over a few words than what really mattered—the death and destruction her mother was wrecking on the world below.
But after a few moments, the God of Thunder cleared his throat.
“Persephone,” he said. “Forgive me.”
She did not, but Hades released his throat.
Zeus regained his composure easily, his rage melting away into his usually jovial expression. He even laughed, energetic and full. “Let us feast!”
***
Dinner was held in a banquet hall adjacent to the porch. A large, horizontal table rose above the rest on the far side of the room at which most of the Olympians were already seated.
Persephone looked at Hades.
“It appears we will not be sitting together,” she said.
“How so?”
She nodded toward the front of the room.
“I am not an Olympian.”
“Being one is overrated,” he said. “I shall sit with you. Wherever you’d like.”
“Won’t that make Zeus angry?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to marry me?” Persephone asked. Making Zeus mad didn’t seem like the best way to gain his blessing.
“Darling, I will marry you despite what Zeus says.”
Persephone did not doubt that, but she did have a question.
“What does he do when he does not bless a marriage?”
“He arranges a marriage for the woman,” Hades said.
Persephone ground her teeth and Hades placed his hand on the small of her back, directing her to a chair at one of the round tables on the floor. He her sit and then took his place beside her. There were two others at the table Hades had chosen—a man and woman. They were young and looked similar, like siblings—their hair curled in the same pattern, golden in color, and their green eyes were wide. Both appeared to be petrified and awed by their presence.
Persephone smiled at them. “Hi,” she greeted. “I’m—”
“Persephone,” The man said. “We know who you are.”
“Yes,” she said, her voice a little high, unsure of what to make of the man’s words or his tone. “What are your names?”
They hesitated.
“That is Thales and that is Callista,” Hades said. “They are children of Apeliotes.”
“Apeliotes?” Persephone did not recognize the name.
“The God of the Southeast Wind,” Hades replied mildly.
Again, their eyes widened.
“Y-you know us?” Callista asked.
Hades looked annoyed. “Of course.”
The two exchanged a look but before they could say anything else, they were interrupted.
“Hades, what are you doing?”
The question came from Aphrodite who had paused at their table. She was dressed in a beautifully pleated gown with an empire, belted waist. The fabric was gold and glistened beneath the light as she moved. Beside her was Hephaestus, who stood stoic and quiet, dressed in a simple gray tunic and black trousers.
“Sitting,” Hades replied.
“But you are at the wrong table.”
“As long as I am with Persephone, I am right,” he replied.
Aphrodite frowned.
“How is Harmonia, Aphrodite?” Persephone asked.
The goddess’s sea-green eyes shifted to meet her gaze. “Fine, I suppose. She has been spending much of her time with your friend Sybil.”
Persephone hesitated. “I think they have become very good friends.”
Aphrodite offered a small smile. “Friends,” she repeated. “Have you forgotten I am the Goddess of Love?”
With that, the two departed. Persephone watched as Hephaestus walked Aphrodite to the Olympian’s table, helped her sit, and then left to find a table for himself.
She turned to Hades. “Do you think Aphrodite is…opposed to Harmonia’s choice of partner?”
“Do you mean is she opposed because Sybil is a woman? No. Aphrodite believes love is love. If Aphrodite is upset, it is because Harmonia’s relationship means she has less time for her.”
Persephone frowned, and for a moment, she thought she could understand how Aphrodite felt. Harmonia’s attack had brought the goddess back into her life and that had meant companionship, and as much as Aphrodite liked to pretend she did not mind her independence, Persephone—everyone—knew she craved attention—specifically the attention of Hephaestus.
“Do you think Aphrodite and Hephaestus will ever reconcile?”
“We can all only hope. They are both completely unbearable.”
Persephone rolled her eyes and nudged him with her elbow, but the God of the Dead only chuckled.
Dinner appeared before them—lamb, lemon potatoes, roasted carrots and eliopsomo—a bread baked with black olives. The smells were savory and made Persephone realize just how hungry she was.
Hades reached for a silver pitcher on the table.
“Ambrosia?” He asked.
She raised a brow. “Straight?”
Ambrosia was not like wine. It was stronger than mortal alcohol. Persephone had only had a small amount in the past—and that had been due to Lexa, who had bought a bottle of Dionysus’s famous wine which had been mixed with a drop of the divine liquid.
“Just a little,” he said, and poured a small amount in her goblet.
Hades filled his own to the brim.
“What?” He asked when he noticed Persephone staring.
“You are an alcoholic,” she said.
“Functioning.”
Persephone shook her head and sipped the ambrosia. The taste filled her mouth with a cool, honeyed sensation.
“Do you like it?” Hades asked, his voice was low, almost sensual, and drew her attention.
“Yes,” she breathed.
Callista cleared her throat and Persephone turned to look at her.
“So, how did you two meet?” She asked.
Hermes snorted, appearing beside Persephone holding his plate and silverware. “You sit before gods and that is the question you choose to ask?”
“Hermes, what are you doing?” Persephone asked.
“I missed you,” he said, and shrugged.
As soon as the God of Mischief sat beside her, Apollo left the Olympian table to sit beside Ajax.
“I think you started a movement, Hades,” Persephone said. One Zeus did not seem happy about as his lips twisted into a scowl.
Hades looked at her and smiled.
“I have a question,” Thales said, grinning, his eyes glinting as he looked at Hades. “How will I die?”
“Horribly,” Hades replied.
The young man’s face fell.
“Hades!” Persephone elbowed him.
“Is-is that true?” The man asked.
“He is just kidding,” Persephone said. “Aren’t you Hades?”
“No,” he replied, his tone far too serious.
They ate in silence for a few awkward minutes until Zeus stood, clanking a gold spoon against a goblet of ambrosia so loud, Persephone thought the glass would shatter.
“Oh no,” Hermes muttered.
“What?” Persephone asked.
“Zeus is going to give a speech. They’re always horrible.”
The room went quiet, and all eyes turned to the God of Thunder.
“We are gathered to celebrate my brother, Hades,” he said. “Who has found a beautiful maiden he wishes to marry, Persephone—Goddess of Spring, Daughter of Dread Demeter.”
Dread Demeter was right. Just the sound of her name made Persephone’s stomach twist.
Hermes leaned over. “Did he just say maiden? As in a virgin? He has to know that isn’t true, right?”
“Hermes!” Persephone seethed.
Zeus continued.
“Tonight, we celebrate love and those who have found it—may we all be so lucky and Hades—”
Zeus lifted his glass and stared directly at them.
“May the Oracle bless your union.”
After dinner, they returned to the open porch. Music began again, a sweet sound that swept through the air. As she searched for the source, she found Apollo played upon his lyre, his eyes were closed, his face relaxed, and she realized she had never seen him without tension in his face. She watched him for a long moment, until he opened his violet eyes and saw that they darkened with jealousy. Her gaze shifted to where Ajax stood across the room, signing animatedly with a man she did not recognize. Persephone was sure Ajax was just happy to communicate with someone without having to read their lips, but she was also not aware of how Apollo’s conversation with him—or Hector—had gone, or rather, if he’d had it at all.
“Shall we dance?” Hades asked, offering his hand to Persephone.
“I would like nothing more,” she said as the God of the Dead led her into the crowd. He drew her close, and she felt his need press into her stomach. She met his gaze, heavy with desire, and raised a brow.
“Aroused, my love?”
Hades smirked—and she did not know if he smiled because of her candid question or her term of endearment.
“Always, my darling,” he replied.
Persephone reached between them, grasping his cock, her hands hidden in his robes.
“What are you doing?” He asked, a sultry edge to his voice.
“I don’t think I need to explain myself,” she said.
“Are you trying to provoke me in front of these Olympians?”
“Provoke you?” Persephone’s voice was breathy as she stroked him. She hated the fabric between them and wanted to feel his warmth in her palm. “I would never.”
Hades’ jaw ticked and he grit his teeth. His arms tightened around her; the closeness made it hard for her to move. She stared into his eyes as she spoke.
“I am just trying to please you.”
“You please me,” he said.
Their faces were inches apart, and as Persephone’s eyes dipped to Hades’ lips, he closed his mouth over hers. The kiss was savage and demanding and not appropriate, and when he tore away, he spoke.
“Enough!”
The whole room grew silence, and Persephone’s eyes widened.
But then he was kissing her again, his hands grasping low beneath her ass as he drew her legs around his waist, grinding into her so hard, she gasped.
“Hades! Everyone can see!”
“Smoke and mirrors,” he mumbled as he left her mouth, trailing kisses down her neck and shoulder. In the next second, they had teleported to a dark room, and Hades had her pinned against a wall.
“Not so interested in exhibitionism?” she asked.
“I cannot focus on you the way I wish and maintain the illusion,” he said, as his fingers parted her hot flesh. Persephone moaned.
“So wet.” He hissed. “I could drink from you, but for now, I’ll settle with tasting.”
He pulled his fingers free and placed them into his mouth before planting that hand against the wall and kissing her.
“Hades, I want you inside me,” she said, reaching between them. His robes seemed endless and were far more frustrating to part. “You once told me to dress for sex. Why can’t you?”
Hades chuckled. “Perhaps if you were not so eager, darling, finding my flesh would be much easier,” he said as he easily unclasped his robes, revealing his muscled chest and engorged flesh.
Her fingers closed around him greedily, and then he was inside her. They both groaned, and for a moment, neither moved.
“I love you,” Hades said.
She smiled, brushing pieces of his hair from his face. “I love you, too.”
Then he thrust, his fingers digging deep into her skin.
“You feel so good,” he said.
She could only manage one word as she focused on the feel of him pushing inside her.
“More.”
Hades groaned. “Come for me,” he said. “So that I may bath in your warmth.”
His command was reinforced with the movement of his thumb against her clit—a few teasing pulses and she was undone, her legs shakily hanging on, her body so heavy, she would have fallen had Hades not been holding her.
“Yes, my darling,” Hades said, his fingers biting into her ass as he pumped into her harder, faster, coming inside her so hard she felt the warmth of it, thick and heavy inside her. After, Hades let her legs go, keeping her upright with an arm around his waist. He brushed her hair away from her face, smoothing it into something that did not look so mused.
“Are you well?” he asked, still breathless.
“Yes, of course,” she said, and giggled. “And you?”
“I am well,” he said, and kissed her forehead before releasing her.
Hades clasped his robes and helped Persephone clean up. Then her eyes shifted to the room where he had brought them. Though it was dark, the moonlight streamed in through windows all around, illuminating the entryway of a house. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen—partially open to the sky, with a floor of black and white marble that led to a staircase and other interior rooms.
“Where are we?” She asked.
“These are my accommodations,” he said.
She stared at him. “You have a house on Olympus?”
“Yes,” he said. “Though I rarely come here.”
“How many houses do you have?”
She could tell he was counting—which meant he had more than the three she was aware of—his palace in the Underworld, the home on the island of Lampri, and this one here on Olympus.
“Six,” he said. “I think.”
“You…think?”
He shrugged. “I don’t use them all.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Anything else you want to tell me?”
“At this very moment?” He asked. “No.”
“Who manages your estate?” she asked.
“Ilias,” Hades replied.
“Perhaps I should ask him about your empire.”
“You could, but he would tell you nothing.”
“I am certain I could persuade him,” she said.
Hades frowned. “Careful, darling, I’m not opposed to castrating anyone you decide to tease.”
“Jealous?”
“Yes. Very.”
She shook her head, and then there was a knock on the door behind them. Hades groaned and opened the door. The God of Trickery stood opposite them, grinning.
“Dinner wasn’t satisfying enough?”
“Shut up, Hermes,” Hades snapped.
“I was sent to retrieve you,” he said.
“We were just on our way.”
“Sure,” he said. “And I am law-abiding citizen.”
The three left Hades’ residence. Outside the home, they found themselves in a narrow alleyway. The stone walls on either side were covered in flowering ivy. She could hear the music of the celebration, the laughter and murmur of the crowd. They were not far from the temple.
“Why do I get the feeling Zeus does not want Hades and I to wed?”
“Probably because he’s a creep,” Hermes replied. “And would rather have you himself.”
“I am not opposed to murdering a god,” Hades said. “Fuck the Fates.”
“Calm down, Kronos,” he said. “I’m just pointing out the obvious.”
Persephone frowned even deeper.
“Don’t worry, Sephy. Let’s just see what the oracle says.”
Once they had returned, Zeus’s response was immediate.
“Now that you have decided to rejoin us,” he said. “Perhaps you are ready to hear what the oracle will say about your marriage.”
“I am very eager,” Persephone said, glaring at him.
The god’s eyes glinted.
“Then follow me, Lady Persephone.”
They exited the temple, making their way across a courtyard full of beautiful flowers, lemon trees and statues of cherub faced children surrounding goddesses of fertility—Aphrodite, Aphaea, Artemis, Demeter, and Dionysus.
Once they exited, they came to a narrow passage that let out into a barren marble courtyard. At its center was a round temple. Twenty columns surrounded the structure, and it was set high upon a platform. Wide steps lead straight to oak doors—the left engraved with the image of an eagle, the right with the image of a bull. Inside the temple, a basin of oil sat at the center and a set of ten lit torches hung in holders around the room. Overhead, there was an opening in the ceiling where the dark sky peaked through.
Persephone was surprised to find that Hera and Poseidon joined them. Neither of them looked particularly pleased—not Hera with her head tilted stoically, or Poseidon with his thick arms, crossed over his chest.
“My council,” Zeus said, when he saw Persephone hesitate.
“I thought the oracle was your council,” she said.
“The oracle speaks of the future, yes,” Zeus said. “But I have lived a long life and I am aware that the threads of that future are ever-changing. My wife and brother know that, too.”
That was far wiser than Persephone expected—which, she reminded herself, was the danger of Zeus.
She watched as the God of Thunder retrieved a torch from the wall.
“A drop of your blood, if you will,” Zeus said, standing beside the basin. Persephone looked to Hades, who reached for her hand. They approached the basin and as she did, she noticed a sharp needle-like object protruding from the edge. Hades placed his finger upon it and pressed until his blood slide down the gleaming metal. Holding his hand over the basin, he let a drop of blood fall into the oil. She followed his example, wincing as the needle pierced her skin. Once the blood was in the basin, Hades took her hand into his, drawing her finger into his mouth.
“Hades!” She whispered his name, but when he released her hand, the cut was healed.
“I do not wish to see you bleed.”
“It was only a drop,” she whispered.
The god did not reply, but she knew there was no way she could understand how he truly felt, seeing her injured, even so small.
They stepped away from the basin, and Zeus lit the oil. It blazed quickly and burned in an unearthly shade of green. The smoke was thick and billowed. Slowly, the flames began to resemble a person—a woman cloaked in flames.
“Pyrrha,” Zeus said. “Give us the prophecy of Hades and Persephone.”
“Hades and Persephone,” the oracle repeated. Their voice was clear, cold, and ancient. “A powerful union—a marriage that will produce a god more powerful than that of Zeus himself.”
And that was it—with the prophecy given, the fire vanished.
There was a long silence where Persephone could stare at nothing but the basin.
A marriage that will produce a power greater than that of Zeus himself.
They were doomed. She knew the moment the words were spoken. Even Hades had stiffened.
“Zeus,” Hades’ voice was dark, a frightening tone she had never heard before in her life.
“Hades.” Zeus’s tone matched.
“You will not take her from me,” he said.
“I am king, Hades. Perhaps you need reminding.”
“If that is your wish. I am more than happy to be the end of your reign.”
A tense silence followed.
“Are you pregnant?” Hera asked.
Persephone’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“Need I repeat myself?” Hera asked, annoyed.
“That question is not appropriate,” Persephone said.
“And yet it is important when considering the prophecy,” she replied.
Persephone glared at the goddess.
“Why is that?”
“The prophecy states that your marriage will produce a god more powerful than Zeus. A child born of this union would be a very powerful god—a giver of life and death.”
Persephone looked at Hades.
“There is no child,” Hades said. “There will be no children.”
Poseidon chuckled. “Even the most careful of men have children, Hades. How can you possibly ensure that when you cannot even get through a dance without leaving to fuck?”
“I do not have to be careful,” Hades said. “It is the Fates who have taken my ability to have children. It is the Fates who wove Persephone into my world.”
“Do you wish to remain childless?” The question came from Hera. Persephone could tell she was curious.
“I want to marry Hades,” she said. “If I must remain childless, then I will.”
But as she spoke the words, her chest ached—not for herself but Hades. When he’d told her of the bargain he’d made, he had agonized, and she had quickly recognized that it was Hades who had wanted children.
“You are certain you cannot have children, brother?” Zeus asked.
“Very,” he gritted out.
“Let them marry Zeus,” Poseidon said. “Obviously they wish to fuck as husband and wife.”
Persephone really hated Poseidon.
“And if the marriage produces a child?” Zeus asked. “I do not trust the Fates. Their threads are ever-moving, ever-changing.”
“Then we take the child,” Hera said.
Persephone held onto Hades’ hand so tight, she thought his fingers might break. All she could think was do not speak—do not protest.
“There will be no child,” Hades repeated, adamant.
There was a long moment where Hades and Zeus stood opposite one another, glaring. It was so hot in this room, and each breath Persephone took felt like it was clawing its way out of her throat. She needed to get out of here.
“I will bless this union,” Zeus said at last. “But if the goddess ever becomes pregnant, the infant must be terminated.”
At Zeus’s words, Hades wasted no time leaving. One second, they stood in the temple on Olympus and the next they were in the Underworld.
Dizzy, Persephone hit the ground and vomited.
