Chapter 34 - Hades
Hades
The Underworld has never felt more like a prison.
I stand in the throne room of my palace, staring at the river Styx as it flows past the obsidian windows, and all I can think about is her.
Seven days.
She's been gone for seven days, and I'm losing my mind. I lived a thousand years without her, and yet this somehow feels worse.
Perhaps it's because I fear she will never return to me. Perhaps she will decide to live like a mortal. After all, she lived that way for over two decades.
"Still brooding?" Thanatos appears beside me, arms crossed, interrupting my thoughts. "You know, for the God of Death, you're remarkably bad at accepting loss."
"She's not lost." I don't look at him. "She asked for space. I'm giving it to her."
"You're also driving yourself insane." He moves closer, studying me with those too-knowing eyes. "When's the last time you slept?"
"Technically, I don't need sleep."
He rolls his eyes. "When's the last time you ate?"
"I don't—"
"You don't need food, yes, I know." Thanatos sighs. "But you're acting like a mortal who's been dumped, and it's getting pathetic."
I finally turn to glare at him. "She didn't dump me. She needed time to process. To figure out who she is now." A very mortal sentiment that I frankly do not understand. She is who she is. Persephone, Ophelia, they are the same.
"And you're respecting that by working yourself to death, ironic considering, and searching for a Titan who's clearly not in your realm."
He's right, which makes it worse.
I've been searching nonstop. The Underworld, the palace, every shadow and corner of my domain. Interrogating souls who might have seen something, heard something, felt some disturbance in the natural order.
Nothing.
I've checked the wards on Tartarus personally, twice, making sure the other Titans remain contained. They do. The prison holds. But Cronus is out there somewhere, and I can't find him.
And every moment I spend hunting for him is a moment I'm not with her. Right now, that is a good thing. The mission sustains me.
"The wards are solid," I say, more to myself than Thanatos. "The other Titans are secure. Whatever allowed Cronus to be freed, it didn't extend to the rest of them."
"Small mercies." Thanatos leans against the window frame. "But that doesn't explain where he is or what he's planning."
"No." I run a hand through my hair, exhaustion pulling at me despite my divine nature. "It doesn't."
My shades report the same thing they've been reporting for days: nothing unusual. No Titan signatures. No disturbances in the natural order of death. Just the standard flow of souls and the eternal darkness I've ruled for millennia.
It should be comforting.
Instead, it feels like the calm before a storm.
"She'll come back." My voice lacks conviction.
"Will she?" Thanatos tilts his head. "Because from where I'm standing, you gave her an out. A chance to choose the mortal life over the god one. And you have no guarantee which she'll pick."
"She loves me." I'm sure of that. "She brought me back from the dead."
"Does she love you enough to give up everything else?" Thanatos asks. "Because Persephone didn't."
"Persephone was torn."
"So is Ophelia."
I snort. "You know there is a difference," I say, because he does. "Ophelia never experienced Demeter's influence. She's conflicted by memories of before. She will work through that, and she will return."
Thanatos grunts in acknowledgement but says nothing.
I'm giving her what she needs. What she asked for.
Even though it's killing me.
Even though every instinct I have screams at me to go to her, to use our bond to find her, to pull her back into my world and never let go.
"I'm going back to Vegas," I say abruptly. "I need to check the Strip, see if there's any unusual divine activity. Cronus wouldn't stay hidden forever."
"You're going to Vegas to be closer to her," Thanatos corrects.
"I'm going to Vegas to do my job."
"Right." He doesn't even try to hide his smirk. "Because you don't have thousands of employees, mortal and otherwise, to do things for you."
I dissolve into shadows without dignifying that with a response.
The penthouse is exactly as I left it.
Clean. Empty. Too quiet.
I chose this place for the view, but I never spent a great deal of time in it.
Not before her.
Now I see parts of her everywhere. I feel her absence.
No warmth. No life. Just expensive furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows showing the Strip below.
Seven days of this, and I'm not sure how much more I can take.
I should be working. Should be coordinating with the others, checking leads, doing something productive.
Instead, I pour myself a drink I don't need and sink onto the couch.
My phone buzzes.
I check it hoping, stupidly, that it's her.
It's Poseidon: Any luck?
Me: No. You?
Poseidon: Nothing. Starting to think dear old dad is smarter than we gave him credit for.
Me: He was always smart.
Poseidon: Comforting. Hecate says the wards are holding, no one is experiencing interference. But Athena's got nothing from her intelligence network. We're blind.
Me: For now.
Poseidon: You okay?
I stare at the message. My brother, asking if I'm okay. As if he doesn't know exactly why I'm falling apart.
Me: Fine.
Poseidon: Liar. She'll come back. She brought you back from permanent death. You don't do that for someone you're planning to leave.
I set the phone down and stare at the ceiling.
Somewhere in this city, Ophelia is living her mortal life. Working at her flower shop. Sleeping in her apartment. Existing without me.
And I have no idea if she's happy.
No idea if she's figured out what she wants.
No idea if—
There's a knock at the door.
I freeze.
It's nearly midnight. No one knocks at my penthouse. People either call ahead or materialize directly if they're gods.
The knock comes again. Tentative. Almost nervous.
I'm on my feet before I consciously decide to move, crossing the room in three strides and pulling open the door.
Ophelia.
She stands in the hallway wearing jeans and a t-shirt, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, and she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Hi." Her voice is soft.
I don't respond with words.
I pull her into my arms so fast she gasps, holding her against my chest like I'm afraid she'll disappear if I let go.
She's real. She's here. She's—
"Hades," she murmurs against my shirt. "I can't breathe."
I loosen my grip but don't let go. Can't let go.
"You came back," I finally manage.
"I did."
I pull back just enough to look at her face. To confirm this isn't some cruel dream.
Her eyes are wet, but she's smiling.
"Can I come in?" she asks. "Or are we doing this reunion in the foyer?"
I step back, pulling her inside and closing the door behind us.
Then I kiss her.
Not gently. Not tentatively. I kiss her like I've been drowning for seven days and she's air.
She melts into me, her hands fisting in my shirt, and gods, I've missed this. Missed her. Missed the way she fits against me like she was made for this.
When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, she rests her forehead against mine.
"I need to tell you something," she says.
"Okay."
"I'm not Persephone." Her voice trembles slightly. "Not really. I have her memories, but I'm not her. And I'm not Ophelia either: not the mortal girl who worked in a flower shop and barely paid her rent."
"I know."
"I'm something new. Something in between. Something that doesn't have a name yet." She pulls back to look at me. "And I don't know if you can love that. If you can love me when I'm not really either of the women you knew."
I cup her face in my hands, making sure she's looking at me.
"I don't love your name," I say quietly. "I love your soul. And we share a soul, Ophelia. Persephone. Whoever you are now. Whatever you want to be called. We've shared it across lifetimes, across deaths, across every version of yourself you've ever been."
Tears slip down her cheeks.
"You could become someone entirely different tomorrow," I continue. "Change your name, your appearance, your entire personality. And I would still love you. Because what I love isn't the packaging. It's the essence of who you are. The thing that makes you you."
"I want a boring life," she says. "Not all the time, I know that's not realistic with Titans and prophecies and divine politics. But sometimes. I want mornings where we argue about coffee. I want lazy Sundays. I want normalcy mixed in with the chaos."
I laugh, actually laugh, because it's so perfectly her.
"I can't promise boring," I admit. "I'm the God of Death. Chaos tends to follow me. But I can promise you love. Real love. The kind that survives death and resurrection and identity crises and everything else the universe throws at us."
She smiles through her tears. "That works too."
"Good." I kiss her again, softer this time. "Because you're stuck with me now. Boring or not."
"I missed you," she whispers against my lips. "So much. I thought space would help me figure things out, but mostly it just made me realize I don't want to figure things out without you."
"I missed you too." I press my forehead to hers. "Every second. It was torture."
"Good." She pulls back, and there's that familiar defiance in her eyes. "You deserved it for lying about the prophecy."
"I know."
"And for trying to protect me when I didn't need protecting."
"I know."
"And for being an overprotective, brooding—"
I kiss her to shut her up.
She laughs against my mouth, and gods, I've missed that sound.
"Are you done listing my flaws?" I ask.
"For now." She grins. "I'm sure I'll think of more later."
"I'm sure you will."
We stand there in the middle of my living room, holding each other, and for the first time in seven days, I feel like I can breathe again.
"So," she says eventually. "What now?"
"Now," I pull her closer, "you tell me what you want. Stay here? Go to the Underworld? Live in your apartment? I don't care where we are as long as you're with me."
She considers this. "Can we do all of it? Split time between worlds?"
"We can do whatever you want."
"Even boring domesticity?"
"Even that." I kiss the top of her head. "Though I'm warning you: I'm terrible at doing dishes."
"I noticed." She looks up at me, and there's so much love in her eyes it takes my breath away. "But I love you anyway."
"I love you too." I run my hands through her hair, memorizing the feel of her. "My queen. My wife. My everything."
"Not your wife yet," she corrects. "You still owe me a proper wedding."
"Then marry me." The words come out before I can think about them. "Properly. In the Underworld. Let me crown you queen in front of everyone who matters."
"Is that a proposal?"
"It's a reminder." I smile. "We're already bound. Already mated. But if you want the ceremony, the crown, the official coronation, I'll give you everything."
She's quiet for a moment. Then: "Ask me again when we're not dealing with Titans and prophecies and world-ending threats."
"That could take a while."
"Then I guess you'll have to be patient." She grins. "Think you can manage that?"
"For you?" I kiss her softly. "I can manage anything."
She pulls back slightly, her expression shifting to something more serious. "Did you find anything? About Cronus?"
"Nothing." The admission tastes like failure. "I've searched the Underworld top to bottom. The wards on Tartarus are holding: the other Titans are still imprisoned. But Cronus..." I shake my head. "It's like he vanished."
"He's planning something."
"I know." I pull her closer. "Which is why we need to be careful. Whatever he wants, whatever Demeter promised him—"
"We'll face it together." She says it with such certainty that something in my chest loosens. "Not you protecting me. Not me saving you. Together. As equals."
"Together," I agree. "Though I reserve the right to be overprotective sometimes."
"And I reserve the right to call you out on it."
"Deal."
She smiles, then glances toward the bedroom. "So. You said you've been working nonstop for seven days?"
"Yes."
"And you look exhausted."
"I'm fine—"
"Liar." She takes my hand, pulling me toward the bedroom. "Come on. We're going to sleep."
"Just sleep?"
She looks back at me, and there's heat in her eyes that makes my breath catch. "I didn't say that."
Later, much later, we lie tangled together in my bed, her head on my chest, my shadows wrapped around us both like a blanket.
"I can feel the bond," she murmurs. "It's different now."
"How?"
"Stronger. More balanced." She traces patterns on my chest. "Before, it felt like it was pulling me toward you. Like gravity. But now it's just there. Part of me. Like breathing."
"The integration," I realize. "The bond recognized both halves."
"Is it weird?" She looks up at me. "That I'm technically your reincarnated wife but also a completely different person?"
"No." I kiss her forehead. "It's perfect. You're perfect. All of you: past, present, whoever you become."
She's quiet for a moment. "The Fates knew this would happen. Didn't they? When they made you the bargain."
"Probably." The thought sits heavy between us. "They see all possible futures. They knew what the price would be."
"The Titans."
"Yes."
"Do you regret it?" Her voice is small. "Knowing what it cost?"
I tilt her face up to look at me. "Never. I'd pay it again. A thousand times over."
"Even if it means war?"
"Even then." I run my thumb across her cheek. "Because you're here. You're alive. You're mine. Everything else: the Titans, the prophecy, whatever comes next, we'll handle it."
"Together."
"Together."
She settles back against my chest, and I feel her breathing even out as she drifts toward sleep.
I lie there, holding her, and let myself feel something I haven't felt in a millennium.
Hope.