Chapter Seven Hades
Chapter seven
Hades
Was it really possible that Persephone has no concept of awareness?
Of danger? Was it that muted light of dusk, the background noise of the party she had found respite from in the garden and therefor numerous gods nearby that nullified the instinct, or was it truly not there?
Was it her mortal upbringing, or was that just simply Persephone?
I’d deposited her at the party an eternity ago, but even when my eyes weren’t on her, my mind couldn’t stray from her.
My shadows coiled around me, the cool silky touch of them keeping me comfortably, blissfully hidden amongst the relative quiet, the flowers and white stone.
Zeus always insisted I attended these revels, but truly I hated them.
The frivolity, the extravagance, it was entirely unnecessary.
It’s truly no wonder the mortals both hated and feared us so much.
Not everyone sees the worst of beings like you do, a snide voice within my head reminded me as I sank deeper into the shadows that concealed me.
I pondered her in her green flowing dress.
There was no worst of her, which was as fascinating to me as it was frustrating.
She had to have a side of her that lived for shadow.
Everyone did, and when they died, those wicked sides they hid so well in life were laid bare for me to judge.
The soul itself bared itself to me in fractions, in glittering light and simmering darkness colliding together, undulating in an internal struggle of good intentions and evil.
Some had more darkness, others had more light but every soul had both.
Persephone’s was so bright it looked as though she had no darkness to speak of.
Impossible.
Light could glow so brightly to hide shadow, but that does not mean shadow doesn’t not exist, lurking where it can.
She smiled sweetly, glowing in the receding sunlight, basking in her flowers.
Persephone’s golden arm circlets shimmered with the setting sun.
Her sandaled feet carried her from rose bush to rose bush as she beheld each one with tender, loving care and appreciation.
Her hands wove over them, brightening them even more, and the roses themselves turned to her as if to love her in return.
Her dark hair fell in waves down her back, warm espresso strands catching the fading sunlight and the fire filled sconces on the alcove.
Even Apollo himself couldn’t have painted a more beautiful scene.
Roses, gold and white stone, and a mirror still pond at sunset became Persephone, and she wore her surroundings like any accessory.
Her delicate features were relaxed, happy, and carefree when she was alone.
Or perhaps it was relief after being so overwhelmed by the gods.
Persephone stiffened, her back going rigid as if ice had been splashed on her. Did she sense my presence again? She turned, not towards me as I had anticipated, but to the right of her. Feeling my jaw grind tight, I followed her line of vision, searching for any potential threat. None existed.
Gooseflesh erupted along her body, chilled despite the warmth of the early evening.
I felt my lips curl. Maybe she did on some level know I was here.
Boisterous laughter from the ballroom caught both of our attention.
My smile widened at her grimace. It sounded like Dionysus had consumed enough wine that the liters within him now outnumbered his brain cells.
He was never seen without his flagons upon flagons of wine, the only thing he was good for in my opinion.
At least the more he drank, the less you could understand him.
What he said wasn’t worth listening to most of the time.
Persephone seemed to settle, though her face never donned that same sense of calm now that the shadows closed and lengthened around her in the thickening dusk.
I stepped out of the darkness, two flutes in hand. I saw the exact moment she felt my presence, that stiffening of her spine again before she whirled on me. Her eyes widened when she’d seen I’d joined her from the party.
“You looked like you could use a drink, Goddess of Spring,” I said by way of greeting and handed her a flute of red wine.
“You again, God of the Dead,” she replied with cool practiced politeness.
“She says with an air of uncertainty.” I winked.
“That’s good. Smart.” She took the flute slowly as if the gold rimmed glass might bite her.
She may not have known why she was so on edge, but I did.
Why everyone was on edge. The shadows whispered of the new god’s movements, omens that could not be ignored.
Zeus thought the one who called himself Morningstar would swear fealty and be brought to heel beneath him, but the shadows suggested otherwise.
It was possible the little goddess was more perceptive than I’d thought.
Who would have thought that one so innocent, one doe eyed goddess brought up in the light could be so acutely sensitive to the shadows.
“How are you faring, Hades?” Persephone glanced up at me after taking a polite sip of her drink. “I was surprised to see you still here, Zeus’s parties aren’t really your scene, I understand.”
“What is it you understand about my scene?” My words and sidelong gaze unnerved her, bringing a shade of pink to her face.
“Is it really so easy to make you blush?” The way her cheeks turned from a dusty pink to a sharp red in a matter of seconds forced a chuckle from my throat.
My mind filled with images of other ways I would make her blush—
“Hades, how interesting to see you.” Came a voice like a grate to my every nerve.
The would-be usurper. A squatter. The one who would pretend to have power over death.
I kept my face cool as the Morningstar approached, wisely not engaging long with me.
“And you Persephone, looking like the dawn chasing a waterfall.”
I ground my teeth. Persephone stiffened, the gooseflesh returning, and I realized the new god must have been watching for a time.
The Morningstar. The anomaly. The one who shouldn’t exist but somehow conjured and solely controlled the existence of two entirely new realms, Nirvana and Hell.
Peace and Punishment. He stole my souls for an Underworld all his own.
The wrongness of it would never not grate on everything I was.
The Morningstar sung the song of a god on the run from his own realm after a hostile coup, but even as I observed him, he didn’t carry himself like a god on the run.
He dressed himself in arrogance, the opposite of someone learning to live without fear.
Zeus thought he could control him, but my shadows whispered to me that something was off.
The way his eyes—black like the void between stars—slid from my face to hers made every protective instinct flare to life, though I refused to move.
“Thank you, Morningstar. You’re too kind,” Persephone responded, her back straightening. “I trust the festivities are to your enjoyment.”
“Admittedly, this is my first party in Olympus,” the new god whispered conspiratorially. “Might you indulge me in another dance? I fear I find myself nervous coming to a place I know so few faces, and you feel like a kindred spirit, not being from here too.”
Persephone stiffened next to me, my signal that she was uncomfortable, though her face brightened as if on cue.
She was too kind to say no, I could see the polite acceptance forming on her tongue.
Kindred spirit? I couldn’t tell if I were more appalled or amused by that.
Those two had nothing in common that I could quickly discern.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait your turn, Morningstar.” My tone was slyer than I intended as I reached to take her hand. “This dance belongs to me.”
“I suppose I’ll need to be quicker next time.” He bowed his head respectfully, a gesture I didn’t buy for a second. The tension surrounding his eyes confirmed that, and the only other thing I was certain of was that I wanted to get Persephone away from the new god immediately.
“Come, little shadow,” I said to her, leading her back into the golden light of the party, “Dance with me.”
“Until later, Persephone.” The new god’s promise was innocent enough at our backs, but my muscles tensed hearing a threat between the words I couldn’t name.
Persephone
Warmth seeped into my hand where Hades still held it, guiding me back to the party where the current dance was sweeping to a slow conclusion. Bodies swayed, dresses rustling quietly in cadence.
“Why did you do that?” I asked him as we swept across the floor. Our palms met as we spun, not quite touching, sending a jolt of exhilaration through my limbs.
“What did I do?” Hades feigned confusion, like he was searching for my version of events.
“You stole me from the new god.” I chewed over each word, careful about my tone, my volume, only for the accusation to fall harmlessly flat between us. Hades’s hand lifted my other hand, spinning us the other direction. This close, with nothing between us but our breath, but still not touching.
If he were the God of the Dead, why did his proximity make something inside me bloom?
“Anyone could see that you were uncomfortable. And I don’t like the way he looks at you.”
There was a sharpness in his tone, a dark edge that smothered the small, foolish spark in my chest, but also set my heart galloping within it in a strange opposition that left me vibrating. “How does he look at me?”
His eyes glanced up over my shoulder where the new god in question watched us with interest, my eyes flickering discreetly that direction when we turned. “He looks at you like you’re an acquisition. A tool to use, not a prize to win.”
A prize to win.
I turned my head away to hide the color blooming on my cheeks, but his cough assured me I wasn’t successful.
His lips skimmed my ear, his arms drawing me closer.
The heat of his body was warm before he’d touched me, but now that his arms encircled me?
Budding warmth crackled and fizzed blissfully over my skin.
“What entrances you so, Goddess of Spring?” Hades’s dusky voice in my ear made me jump. I had been staring, enough that the God of the Dead had to break my thrall.
“What makes you think I would tell you?” I raised an eyebrow as roguishly as I could manage, fearing failure at witnessing him choke on his own roguish chuckle. It was my best attempt at a recovery. “Was it not your advice not to trust anyone here?”
“Glad to see you listen so well.” His voice dropped to a purr, which shook my very being, forcing my breaths to come in increasingly shallow. He was an earthquake, leaving me trembling and completely in awe.
“Hades,” I hissed, “what are you doing?”
“Testing a theory.” He pulled me closer still, until his warmth leeched into every facet of me as he led me around the dance floor.
“And that theory is?”
“The Morningstar has an infatuation, Persephone. Perhaps if he thinks you’re mine, he’ll leave you be.”
“He can’t be that infatuated!” I hissed in his ear. “We’ve only just met tonight.”
Hades eyes narrowed and darkened. His grip on my waist tightened in a show of possession. “I know that look in his eye, and I don’t like it.”
“The look of someone infatuated?” Males. Aphrodite was going to love this.
“The look of someone obsessed,” he corrected, his voice staying low between us. “He covets you. You need to stay away from him, Persephone.”
I had the distinct feeling that he was right.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do, God of the Dead,” I warned with a reproachful smile as the music softened, stretching into the final notes and we slowed with it. My warning hung in the limited space between us, lingering like smoke in the air.
“No,” he agreed, his eyes brightening in amusement before sweeping over my shoulder, “but she does.”
“Persephone!”
My thrall faded like petals in a storm at my mother’s voice. I could feel her glare, digging and poking. It wasn’t dissimilar to the one Hera gave me in my minds’ eye. Perhaps Zeus had a type. It wasn’t until I turned around to face her that I saw her glare wasn’t primed for me, but for Hades.
“God of the Dead, you will do well to remove your hands from my daughter.”
Hades’s lips twitched and pressed together, as though he were trying not to show his chagrin. His feet retreated three steps, and his hands went up in defense.
“Lovely to see you, Demeter. When I say Persephone inherited all your best qualities, what I mean is I believe she stole them from you and left you with just your bitterness.”
I gaped while my mother’s arm covered my shoulder and turned me towards her. “Find somewhere else to slake your urges, Hades. Or I fear what little will remain of you.”
He didn’t get a chance to respond as my mother left her threat dangling between them as she dragged me back into the courtyard.
In front of everyone.
I have never known true mortification until now.