10. Hades #2
Aiden doesn’t even hesitate. “Not the way that mortals understand it, no. Does it have a bite when the gods and goddesses drink it? Then yes.”
“Then no, thans. I’ll stick with water.”
For the first time since I sat down, the corner of his mouth twitches. “Fair enough.”
I set the nectar aside and reach for the goblet of water he poured for me instead. It’s cold and impossibly clear, and after everything that’s happened, it may be the best thing I’ve ever tasted. I drink half the glass before lowering it.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
He frowns. “You don’t have to thank me for giving you something safe to drink.”
“Okay. I’ll try not to bury you with thanks. Just so you know, though… I might forget.” I shrug, trying to sound light-hearted, keeping up my spirits because what else can I do? “I like to think I’m polite.”
And, apparently, I’m supposed to be his wife.
Aiden waits silently for me to eat one of the wafers.
Ambrosia, he called it. Hoping I can trust him—and a little weirded out because I think I can—I pop one into my mouth.
It melts almost instantly, leaving a sweet, sugary taste behind.
It’s kind of like marshmallow fluff of all things, but if it means I’m not trapping myself here… I’ll take it.
And that’s when Aiden says almost off-handedly, “So you know… if you do remain in the Underworld, you will want for nothing. You will have all the ambrosia and water you require, but Hades will give his wife everything she desires.”
If you do remain… everything she desires.
Except for her freedom.
I wipe my hand on the skirt of my chiton.
“Do I have to stay? Like how I couldn’t get back through the mirror,” I add, just so he understands what I’m asking.
“Am I really stuck here? And I don’t really mean the Underworld.
I’m pretty sure that, as long as I don’t eat the wrong thing, I can go.
” Maybe. “But I don’t know exactly how I got here.
I don’t know if I can leave if I even figure out a way to go home… but… can I?”
“I wish I could tell you that you can. For you, Willow, my lovely blossom, I’ll do whatever I can to make you happy because that’s what I was born to do.
” I, he just said. Not Hades… “But the truth is that the Other won’t release you to the mortal realm until you pay the price of the magic that led you to this realm, and there isn’t any way for me to change that.
” He pauses. “If there was, I would’ve gone back to Brooklyn after I first arrived here all those years ago.
But I couldn’t. I had to wait for you, and now… we have to satisfy the magic together.”
I wait for him to elaborate.
He doesn’t.
“Okay. I need a little more info than that. What do you mean, ‘magic’? And ‘price’? What price?”
His face becomes unreadable. “I don’t know what it expects of us, only that we’ll be in this realm together until our story is told and then… only then… will a portal appear to bring you home.”
I think about what he said. About how he must’ve fallen through a mirror, too, and he wanted to go back to Brooklyn—and I freaking knew that’s a New York accent he’s trying so desperately to hide—but he couldn’t.
If all it takes is us paying this ‘price’ he’s talking about…
“What about you? Do you get to go home, too, if we pull this off?”
Aiden looks away from me. My stomach twists when he does, and I do everything I can to not examine that reaction too closely.
He sighs. “It’s been eighty mortal years since I’ve been in the Underworld.
When the spell breaks, I’ll have to stay.
But don’t you worry about that.” He slyly slants a look my way, as thought he couldn’t quite stay away.
“I’ve made my peace with my fate. Whatever it takes so that you’re happy about yours…
I’ll do it. So don’t be afraid of me. I’m here for you.
That’s all. And, like I said, I will never keep you with me against your will. ”
Is it pathetic that I want to believe him? Then again, he seems to be the only one—besides Sir—who wants to help me… and when you think that Sir is his puppy…
I shake my head. “Let me get this straight. The magic drags me through a mirror, drops me in the Underworld, decides I’m Persephone, and won’t let me go until I play its games and pay some mysterious price?”
“I know it’s not what you want to hear,” Aiden says, “but thank the Fates. The old stories must be told, and it seems as though it’s our turn to relive the legend of Hades and Persephone.”
And that’s exactly why there was a pomegranate, I think.
Only, if he wants to re-run the myth of Hades and Persephone so we can get this over with, why did he send it away?
I think of the dark shadows that appeared, and the fire, plus the white eyes and the feeling that someone far older than this man was suddenly in the room with us…
I think of how I can’t deny who he is, and what that means when I think of who I am…
I think of how he said he waited eighty years for me, and wonder how long it’ll take before we finish this story of ours and I get to go home…
Most of all, I think about the way he keeps calling me “Blossom”, like he’s already decided I belong to him, even as he tries to convince me that he’ll never keep Willow against her will the same way that Hades once captured Persephone.
And then, because I almost want to laugh so that I don’t start crying instead, I grab a handful of the ambrosia things and shove them into my mouth.
After I choke down enough ambrosia that I at least feel somewhat human—even though, apparently, I’m not—Aiden leads me back to my room.
I get the feeling that he wants to say more to me, but that he’s also not the sort of man who talks all that much.
He probably used up his annual allotment at dinner, answering all of my questions, and now he’s ready for bed.
Me? I’m more than ready.
How long have I been awake? All day today plus all day yesterday before I had any idea that any of this was real…
I’m freaking exhausted. I also really, really want to find somewhere safe to lay my head down, go to sleep, and hope like heck that, when I wake up again, it turns out this was all a dream.
True, I might be a little sorry to say goodbye to Sir—and, well, Aiden, too, for some reason—but I… I can’t be a goddess, can I?
I wait until the door closes behind Aiden before I stomp over in my fancy sandals and plop down on the bed that’s supposedly mine now. Then, because I can’t help myself, I mutter to the empty room, “So… I’m Persephone?”
It comes out as a question because I… I don’t know. I want to believe, but how can I?
This is so surreal, but it gets even more surreal when Persephone answers me again.
You are. Aren’t you lucky?
Um. No. I’m not so sure I am.
There are a lot of stories in Greek mythology.
Zeus had approximately a billion children.
Athena sprang out of somebody’s forehead.
Dionysus was sewn into someone’s thigh. I don’t know if any of those stories have to be reenacted, but it looks like the one involving me and the most gorgeous, yet untouchable man I’ve ever seen has to be one of them.
Persephone clicks the tongue she doesn’t have. You make it sound so tragic. Hades and I… we’re not a tragedy. Not once I learned to love him.
Yeah. Because that makes me feel so much better…
“So this is real?” I ask. I don’t know how this works. Do I just think the thoughts and Persephone hears them, or should I speak out loud—
Either. You forget, I’m part of you, Willow.
You’re the mortal soul. I’m Persephone, the goddess of spring, and I share some of my immortal soul with you.
When you die… if you die… I will move on.
Or you can stay in the Other with Hades and live with him the way I should’ve if the old magic hadn’t faded to the point that none remembered us. None believed in us.
I guess that makes sense. If gods and goddesses only existed as long as someone remembered them, and the world moved on from believing in the Greek pantheon thousands of years ago, they could’ve faded away only to return as reincarnates or something like that.
I’m figuring the “worship” element ranks a lot higher than people just doing Broadway retellings of old legends, plus books about half-bloods and demigods, and movies about the Odyssey.
We know of the Greek gods and goddess, but no one believes in them anymore.
Exactly. And that’s why the Other exists. To breathe magic into life, and give the mythos another chance to survive. To restore the balance, too… it’s all about that.
Okay. So I am Persephone. Got it.
“I know who I’m supposed to be. But if Aiden is Hades...” I hesitate, not sure if I really want to put out into the universe the thought that’s been running through my head since I first saw the pomegranate… Ah. Screw it. “Is he my husband?”
I hesitated.
Persephone doesn’t.
He’s mine. She pauses. But he can be yours, too. I won’t share him with a nymph, Persephone continues, amusement coloring her voice. But I’ll share him with you.
I stare at the ceiling for a long moment, wondering how I got myself into this mess before I say, “Thanks.”
I guess.