Chapter 6 Hades
Hades
My andron grows warm as the hour I am to speak to Persephone approaches.
I’ve done my best to keep busy. I’ve walked my realms for hours. I’ve taken Cerberus with me, and we have gone to every place I can think of. I’ve repaired as much damage as I could hunt down, my throat closed with guilt.
It is only the thought of her that provides me with such calmness and intent for justice and balance. Even as the screams of the dead continue to pour through my realm and disrupt what little peace the four corners of the Underworld held.
I’m the cause of much of the damage, but it is not only my doing. It is Demeter’s as well. Hecate’s.
Zeus’s. The righteous anger is barely tamed within me. Like a dog tethered to a collar, I maintain the semblance of control knowing I may see her soon. I must have my Persephone, my queen, my love, my life.
And I cannot promise, even to myself, that I will not cause more damage to my realms. I’m not myself without Persephone. She has changed me. My love for her feels more desperate, and more volatile, than it ever has. To know such loss is a torture that should be saved for the worst of the dead.
Zeus begrudgingly agreed to give Persephone the scry of Olympus.
As I understand it, he suffers the wrath of Demeter still.
The god of gods has betrayed Demeter, and she’s sure of it.
But I’ve agreed to keep what’s been between us secret so long as he agrees to uphold the law of the gods.
She’s eaten the forbidden fruit, I’m sure of it.
She will be returned. She must. It is only time that keeps us apart.
Unless he makes a very ill-advised decision, I’ll speak to her soon.
The wait feels longer than the years I spent alone, hopeless, on the edge of madness.
I lit the fires an hour ago, when I could no longer keep myself away from the andron, then walked around the large space, lighting the fires in the smaller grates as well.
The entire room dances with warm reflections.
And in them, the memory of her beauty, her sadness and fright, her delight and power.
All of her and all she will become. The fire licks into the perfectly polished obsidian, forcing the reflection to look as if I am standing among the flames.
I wish the sight could comfort me. Cerberus whines beside me at the thought. His howling pain echoes the emptiness in my chest.
I pace across the room more slowly, breathing deeply to calm myself.
Impatience makes my muscles ache, so I stretch my arms above my head as I go, trying to ease the tension from my shoulders.
In those eons I spent alone, there was nothing to sense but my own body in the dark, so I became accustomed to focusing deeply on each movement.
To keep what little sanity remained in the pits of despair.
I do that now. It is not much more effective at passing the time, but it is something.
I will see her soon. The promise of reunion is far more motivating than any other offer.
I need to know she is well.
Persephone is the only person, god or mortal, who is fit to rule beside me.
She is the only soul who is fit to hold my hand.
My queen. My love. She is my heart and soul. If she is not returned—
Abruptly, I stop at the far end of the andron. Cerberus pads up behind me, his nails clicking on the obsidian floor, and nudges my leg. I lower my hand to pat his middle head, then the one on the left, then the one on the right.
Cerberus gives a soft, questioning bark, then bounds away, leaving the andron for elsewhere. An open field is his most likely destination. He will spend an hour or two chasing after the creatures of the forest and guarding the gates.
And I will see Persephone. The thought brings a warmth to the chill in my bones.
When Cerberus’s barks have become too distant to hear, I take measured steps back to the mirror and gesture for the fire in the largest hearth to burn a little brighter. I need Persephone to be able to see my face. I will not leave it dim, as I do when I speak with Zeus.
I approach the mirror with a pounding heart. What is this feeling? It is a strange giddiness. Almost violent, but—not. Powerful. That’s what it is. I have a powerful urge to see her.
To kiss her.
To fuck her. To claim her once again and ensure she is mine.
Although I cannot do those things through the mirror, my body responds as if it is possible. I groan deep in my throat at the very thought of having her returned to me.
The glass remains black. I clench my fists, release them, and take one more step forward.
The black disappears in a silent vortex. For a few moments, it is clear, like a mortal mirror. I grit my teeth. If it stays clear, and Zeus denies me this contact—if he denies Persephone this moment—my rage will be uncontained.
Just when I think that madness will take over, the glass ripples, and the white walls of Olympus appear. Thump, thump, thump. My blood pounds in my ears.
I involuntarily suck in a breath and move an inch closer. I will not touch the mirror—I will not—but my hand rises as if I might.
More of the walls appear. White, with blue accents. The arched frame of a trellis. A gauzy curtain blowing in the breeze. And—
Persephone.
She sits in front of the mirror, her face illuminated by firelight just as mine is, dressed in delicate white with gorgeous braids. The sun is going down outside Olympus. A pale blue dusk is filling the window behind her. The glowing stars will be out soon. A sight I only see in the scry.
Her eyes go wide and light with pleasure at the sight of me, looking every bit my beautiful queen and companion. With my throat tight, I long for her. To touch her and know she is well. My heart misses a beat as my hand presses against the scry.
It’s not been long at all, and yet I drink the sight of her in, hungry for the smallest changes in her.
She stares back at me, her lips curving in a sensual smile. “Hello, my king.”
“My queen,” I answer, my voice calmer than I thought it would be. My tone deep and even. “You’re scrying.”
“I am,” she agrees, reaching up to touch the end of her braid, and all at once, she looks young and unsure. It is only a flicker, however. It does not last. Persephone draws herself up and becomes my queen again. “And you…are there, wanting me still?”
I do not hesitate. “Always.” Her shoulders fall with what seems like relief. Did she think I would lose my love for her so quickly? So easily? Even centuries of tortures in the darkest and deepest pits of hell could not tear my desire for her away from me.
The weight of her words travels through the mirror and into my heart. Not even the space between Olympus and the Underworld can stop me from feeling it.
You…are there. Inside those three words are all the things Persephone hesitates to say. Where I cannot touch you. Where I cannot speak freely with you. Where we are apart.
With a deep breath, I attempt to quell the burn of raving in my chest. The sight of Persephone’s face in that flickering light has woken every part of my body.
My fingers ache to touch her. To give her pleasure.
To make her come. I want my tongue on her.
I want to be inside her. I want to lift her over me and hold her hips while she rides me.
I want her. I need her.
My mouth is dry with how intensely I need to have her. I swallow and find Persephone doing the same.
She looks over one shoulder, then the other, then slips out of her chair to the floor, moving closer to the mirror with a sigh.
“No one will enter,” she says softly. “But I do not know—”
“We do not need to speak of private things between us, my queen.”
A heat from deep within me burns for her. Nothing else matters. I can barely think of anything but her beauty, her softness, her powerful touch, and everything I wish to do to her decadent curves.
Her brow raises, and her pupils darken with her curiosity. Persephone bites her full bottom lip, her teeth digging in. “If we are not scrying to speak, what else is there for us to do?”
“I’ve needed to know if you are well,” I tell her in the same, soft tone.
“I can see you are, but much of you is hidden from me.” My cock hardens at the thought of seeing more of her.
Of sating her from a distance. I do not know how long it will be until I have her again, but I will make the most of this moment and every vision of her I have.
She nods, solemn yet playful, and the flush on her cheeks deepens. It’s made even warmer by the firelight. I love my queen in the firelight, with the shadows tracing the lines of her nose and her brow and the slope of her shoulders.
“What would you like to see?” she questions innocently. “I want to put your mind at ease.”
“Everything,” I say hoarsely, desperately. “Everything.”
“Hmm.” Persephone folds her legs to the side and reaches for the top of her dress.
She pulls it down over her arms, revealing her breasts.
Her nipples peaked. Persephone gazes down at them with a sultry look, then leans toward the mirror.
“I am well here,” she murmurs, slipping a finger around one of her nipples. “Can you see?”
Yes, I mean to answer, but no sound comes from my parted lips.
“Yes,” I manage to say finally. “Cup them my love. Touch yourself as I would.”
She does, her lips pursed in concentration.
The pads of my fingers are on fire. I know how the tender flesh of her nipples would feel if I ran my thumb over them.
I know how they would feel if I were to pinch them.
I could make her moan. If only I could give her pleasure myself… but this will have to do.
“Pluck one,” I order her gently. With as much desire in my tone as I can offer. “Between your thumb and forefinger. I crave to watch you.”
“Like this?” she asks softly. Obeying beautifully. So beautifully cum leaks from the tip of my cock.
“Yes,” I answer in a dark murmur.