CHAPTER XXIII: OLYMPIA

CHAPTER XXIII – OLYMPIA

Hades was not looking forward to council. He hated his fellow Olympians, and he hated the pageantry and the drama. He would much rather spend his evening with Persephone, buried inside her, exploring her body again, discovering new ways to fuck her that pleasured them both. Instead, he would be forced to sit through council, to hear his brothers argue, to hear Athena attempt peace, to hear Ares demand war, and he would have to face Demeter, knowing he’d fucked her daughter.

He sighed and materialized in the Garden of the Gods on the campus of New Athens University, using his magic to locate Persephone.

He found her faster this time, and he thought it might have something to do with the faint echo of power inside her. His darkness was drawn to that light, wanting to embrace it and foster it.

He teleported her to him. As soon as she appeared, he gripped her by the neck and kissed her. She made a sound in the back of her throat that encouraged him to part her lips and bury his tongue in her mouth. He wanted the taste of her upon his lips when he arrived in Olympia; it would be a wicked secret he would take with him.

He pulled away reluctantly, nipping at her bottom lip.

“Are you well?”

“Yes,” she answered, breathless. “What are you doing here?”

He smiled, almost sad, eyes falling to her lips again. He should answer with the whole truth, even the part where he’d been thinking about fucking her in this garden.

“I came to say goodbye.”

“What?” Her voice was sharp. Clearly, she had not expected that, but her surprise made him chuckle. He liked the idea that she would be disappointed in his absence. Perhaps that would mean a passionate reunion.

“I must go to Olympia for council.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “How long?”

“If I have anything to say about it, a day and no more.”

He was not like the other Olympians, who would stay for parties and revelry.

“Why wouldn’t you have a say?” she asked.

“It depends on how much Zeus and Poseidon argue,” Hades replied, rolling his eyes. As he did, he caught sight of what she was holding. A copy of the Delphi Divine with a bold, black title that read, “God of the Underworld Credits Journalist for The Halcyon Project.” Hades snatched it from her arms, where it was stacked atop her books, skimming the first few lines.

Hades, God of the Dead, astounded everyone Saturday night when he announced a new initiative, The Halcyon Project, a rehabilitation facility for mortals to be completed in the next year. The state-of-the-art facility will be located on ten acres of land and cater to a variety of mental health needs. Lord Hades went on to say his generosity was inspired by a mortal, Persephone Rosi, the journalist responsible for writing and releasing a scandalous article about the King of the Underworld. Now people are asking just how legitimate Rosi’s claims were, or is the God of the Underworld merely in love?

Hades’ jaw tightened. This was why he hated the media—they could never stick to facts. They had to include speculation and commentary, and worse, he knew these words were getting to Persephone because of her question.

“Is this why you announced The Halcyon Project at the gala? So people would focus on something other than my assessment of your character?”

“You think I created The Halcyon Project for my reputation?” He tried to keep the disappointment and anger from entering his voice, but it was a challenge. She should know he of all people cared nothing for what others thought of him. She was the exception.

She shrugged her shoulder. “You didn’t want me to continue writing about you. You said so yesterday.”

It took him a moment to speak, a moment to relax his jaw so the words could form on his lips.

“I didn’t start The Halcyon Project in hopes that the world would admire me. I started it because of you.”

“Why?”

“Because I saw truth in what you said,” he snapped. “Is that really so hard to believe?”

She did not answer, and Hades hated the way this made him feel. Like something heavy was sitting on his chest. Perhaps he had been wrong to come here to say goodbye, or to think their reunion would be sweet.

“My absence will not affect your ability to enter the Underworld,” he said, preparing to leave. “You may come and go as you please.”

Something changed in her expression, and he sensed that she suddenly felt just as desolate as he did. She stepped into him, reaching for the lapels of his jacket, her hips pressing into his. He wanted to groan, but he settled for wrapping his hands around her wrists.

“Before you go, I was thinking I’d like to throw a party in the Underworld…for the souls.”

He raised a brow, eyes searching hers.

“What kind of party?”

“Thanatos tells me souls will reincarnate at the end of the week and that Asphodel is already planning a celebration. I think we should move it to the palace.”

She was referring to the Ascension. It was an event that took place about every three months, a time when souls who were ready would be reborn. The residents of Asphodel always celebrated, as it symbolized new life, a second chance.

“We?” Hades asked.

He liked the way Persephone bit her lip. “I’m asking you if I can plan a party in the Underworld.”

He blinked, slightly confused. How had they gotten here? She’d just questioned his motives for The Halcyon Project, yet she was now planning to celebrate with his people in his realm.

“Hecate has already agreed to help,” she added, as if that would sway him, her palms flattening on his chest.

That amused him, and his brows rose. “Has she?”

“Yes. She’s thinking we should have a ball.”

He was not doing a good job focusing on the words coming out of her mouth. The only one he really heard was we, and she kept using it. He wanted to use it, too. We should go to bed. We should make love for hours. We should bathe together and fuck some more.

“Are you trying to seduce me so I’ll agree to your ball?” he asked.

“Is it working?”

He smirked and wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her against him, pressing his hard length into her stomach.

“It’s working,” he whispered against her ear, lips brushing down the side of her neck before closing over her mouth. His hands moved over her bottom, and he cupped her ass, pressing into her. When he released her, her eyes were alight with desire, and he wondered if she would pleasure herself tonight, thinking of him inside her. He knew he would.

“Plan your ball, Lady Persephone.”

“Come home soon, Lord Hades.”

He smiled at her words before vanishing and held onto them as he appeared in the shadows of the golden-floored Council Chamber, where the gods were gathered. Columns lined the room in the shape of an oval, and within those columns, were twelve thrones, one for each of the Olympians. They were all distinct in creation, composed of symbols unique to the god.

Zeus’ sat at the head of the oval upon a throne made of oak, a thunderbolt and a gold scepter crossed on the back. His eagle, a golden bird, was perched upon the scepter, his name Aetos Dios. He was a spy Hades would prefer to roast on a spit, but he’d rather not be the cause of drama at council, so he refrained. Zeus looked the most like their father, a large man with wavy hair and a full beard. Upon his head, he wore a crown of oak leaves, one of his many symbols.

Beside him sat Hera. She was beautiful but rigid, and Hades always thought she looked uncomfortable beside her husband, something Hades could not really blame her for. The God of the Skies was known for fornicating across eternity, and descending to the modern world had made no difference. The Goddess of Women sat in a throne of gold, save for the back, which resembled the colorful feathers of a peacock—brilliant iridescent blue, turquoise, and green.

Next came Poseidon, whose throne looked like his weapon, the trident, made for him before the Battle of Titanomachy by the three Elder Cyclopes. Beside him was Aphrodite, whose throne mimicked a shell, pink in color and draped with pearls and blush-colored flowers. Then came Hermes, whose throne was gold, the back made to look like his herald’s wand—a winged staff with two snakes intertwined.

After, was Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth, whose throne was ruby red and made in the form of flames. Ares flanked her, sitting upon a pile of skulls, some white and others yellowed from age. They were all from people—mortal and immortal—and monsters he’d killed.

Beside him was Artemis, to her great dismay, as she—no one—got along with Ares. Her throne was simple, a gold-toned half-moon. Beside her sat Apollo, whose seat mimicked the sun’s rays in the form of a glimmering aureole circling behind him. Next was Demeter, whose seat looked more like a moss-covered tree, rich with white and pink flowers, and ivy spilling to the floor. Beside her, Athena, whose throne was a set of silver and gold wings. She sat, beautiful and poised, face expressionless, crowned with a gold circlet set with blue sapphires. Lastly, between the throne of Athena and Zeus, was Hades’, a black obsidian seat made of lethal, jagged edges, much like his in the Underworld.

The only god who spoke was Zeus, and everyone else looked angry or bored, except Hermes. Hermes looked amused.

Probably still laughing at his joke, Hades thought.

Hades wasn’t sure what Zeus was talking about, but he thought he must be telling a story because he was saying, “I mean, I am not an unreasonable god, so I said—”

Hades stepped out from his hiding spot and walked down the center of the oval. Zeus’ voice boomed, echoing all around.

“Hades! Late as usual, I see.”

He ignored his brother’s judgement and took the seat beside him.

“You are aware of the allegations against you?” the God of the Skies asked.

Hades just stared. He wasn’t going to make this easy. He knew there would be repercussions for his actions and could admit that his choice to steal Helios’ cattle was petty, but Helios had prevented Hades from Divine Judgement. Wasn’t the Titan only here by the grace of Zeus himself?

“He says you stole his cattle,” Zeus continued. “And he is threatening to plunge the world into eternal darkness if you do not return them.”

“Then we shall have to launch Apollo into the sky,” Hades said.

The God of Music and the Sun glared. “Or you can give Helios’ cattle back. Why take them anyway? Don’t you condemn the rest of us for such…trivial behavior?”

“Do not be too hard on Hades. It is how he feels he must act, given he is the most dreaded among us.” Those were Hera’s words, and they made Hades clench his jaw.

“Not anymore!” Zeus boomed. “Our resident grump has gone and fallen in love with a mortal. He has the whole world swooning.”

Zeus laughed, but no one else did. Hades sat, his fingers curled over the edges of his throne, the obsidian biting into his skin. He could feel the anger radiate from Demeter. None of these gods save Hermes knew Persephone’s true origins. He wondered if the God of Lightening would laugh, knowing Hades had fallen in love with a goddess. There were greater implications when gods united, because it meant sharing power.

“Be kind, Father.” It was Aphrodite who spoke, her voice dripped with sarcasm, her anger over Adonis still apparent. “Hades does not know the difference between attention and love.”

“Do you speak from experience, Aphrodite?” Hades challenged.

Her expression turned sullen, and she crossed her arms over her chest, sinking into her seat.

His response to Aphrodite silenced the rest, because as much as they liked to make fun, they knew Hades was dangerous. Stealing Helios’ cattle had been a kindness, revenge in its most basic form. If he had wanted to, he could have plunged the world into darkness himself. Helios need not threaten it.

“You will return his cattle, Hades,” Zeus said.

Again, Hades said nothing. He would not argue with Zeus in front of the other gods.

“Since we are assembled. Are there any other matters you wish to bring forth?”

This was the part Hades dreaded. Council was only supposed to be four times a year, and yet Zeus would call it for a trivial reasons and then ask to hear grievances, as if he had nothing better to do than mediate arguments between Poseidon and Ares—the only two who ever spoke.

Except this time.

“Triad is being led by demi-gods,” Hades said, and he looked at Poseidon as he spoke. “I have reason to believe they are planning a rebellion.”

This time, Zeus was not the only one to laugh. Poseidon, Ares, Apollo, even Artemis laughed.

“If they wish for battle, I will bring it,” Ares said, always eager for bloodshed. Hades hated him, hated his lust for death and destruction. He knew not one other god who wished to revel in the horror of war.

“I suppose you laugh because you think it is impossible. But our parents believed the same of us and look where we sit,” Hades said.

“Do I hear fear in your voice?” Ares challenged.

“I am the God of the Dead,” Hades said. “Who am I to fear battle? When you all die, you come to me and face my judges, the same as any mortal.”

Silence followed his statement.

“It would take great power for these demi-gods to defeat us,” Artemis said. “Where would they get it?”

From Divine favor, Hades thought but did not say.

“We are no longer living in the ancient world,” Athena said. “There are weapons other than magic at their disposal.”

It was true, and the longer mortals studied the magic of the gods, the more they understood how to harness it and potentially use it against them.

“I’m merely stating that it would be in our best interest to observe,” Hades said. “Triad will grow in numbers and strength if their high lords are as predictable as I think.”

“And who are these high lords?” Zeus asked.

Hades looked to Poseidon, and Zeus’ gaze followed, eyes narrowing. “Is this some scheme of yours, brother?”

“How dare you!” Poseidon’s first clenched the arms of his throne, cracking the shell it was made from.

“You’ve tried to take my throne before, you meddlesome prick!”

“Prick? Who are you calling a prick? Need I remind you, brother, just because you sit upon the throne as King of the Gods does not mean I am less powerful.”

Suddenly, everyone was glaring at him, save Zeus and Poseidon, who were locked in a verbal battle. Hades just chuckled.

“Imagine this as your torture in Tartarus,” he said. “For it is the sentence you’ll all receive for making me sit through this fuckery.”

Hours later, Hades found himself in Zeus’ office. It was a traditional space, furnished with a large oak desk that sat before a set of bookcases lined with leather-bound volumes he most definitely used for show. Large windows overlooked Zeus’ vast estate, where he kept a heard of bulls, cows, sheep, and swans. That was where Hades stood, while Zeus poured them a drink.

“So you stole Helios’ cattle,” Zeus said.

“He prevented me from carrying out Divine Judgement,” Hades said. “He had to be punished.”

“But you agree that his punishment has gone on long enough, yes?”

“If you are asking for confirmation that I will return his cattle, yes.” Hades paused. “In due course.”

Zeus sighed.

“Helios can threaten darkness all he likes, but he forgets that I am the darkness. It answers to me.”

Zeus had nothing to say to that. He took a drink and swished the alcohol in his mouth before saying, “Alright, but if push comes to shove, I’m not intervening.”

“I would be offended if you did,” Hades replied.

He drained the drink Zeus had offered and sat the glass down with a click, preparing to leave.

“Tell me of this woman who has turned your head.”

Hades froze.

“It is as I said at the gala and nothing more.”

“I do not believe that is the case,” he said. “If this had been any other mortal, you would have sought retribution for the things she said. Instead, you entertain her, dedicate a whole fucking building to her.”

“She had valid points,” Hades stated, ready to leave.

“And she has caught your eye. Admit it, brother!”

Hades did not.

“Bah! I should not expect you to be vulnerable, though I do wish you happiness.”

Hades raised his brows. “Remember those words, brother.”

You will not think them long, he thought.

“As such, I feel it is my duty to warn you of the deception of women, mortals in particular.”

“Says the god who seduces women in the form of animals.”

“That was not deception. I could not approach them in my Divine form, as it is a form mere mortals cannot truly grasp.”

And yet none of us have the same issue, Hades thought.

“You disguised yourself because they had already rejected you,” Hades countered. “Do not attempt to lie to me, little brother. We both know it is futile.”

Zeus’ lips flattened, his eyes narrowed.

“Women only want one thing, Hades, and that is power.”

Hades had no doubt it was one of several things women wanted, and among them, freedom to exist without worrying about predators like Zeus.

“Perhaps you fear women in power because of the way you use your own—to rape, abuse, and torture.”

This conversation had not gone the way Zeus expected, but Hades would not hear his brother speak ill of women.

He turned from him and left his office. Outside, he found himself in a courtyard that was open to the sky. A path cut through the center, flanked by marble statues of nymphs. At the center was a simple fountain in the shape of a hexagon. As Hades started down the path, he was stopped by Demeter, who stepped out from behind one of the columns lining the boundaries of the yard.

She was full of hate for him. It built in her eyes, making them murky in color, like water in a swamp. Hades knew this confrontation would come. While Demeter had been ignorant to her daughter’s presence at the gala, she knew Hades spoke of her when he had given his speech, and now it haunted her. She’d probably relived it in every paper, in every magazine, on every news station. She could not even escape the knowledge at council. It was quite possibly the best torture Hades had ever doled out.

“Stay away from my daughter, Hades.” Her voice was even but menacing. It was the voice she used to strike fear in the hearts of her nymphs and to curse mortals.

But it only gave Hades pleasure.

“What’s the matter, Demeter?” he challenged. “Afraid of the Fates?”

His words were an acknowledgment. I know of the prophecy, they said.

“If you truly care for her as you so publicly claim, then walk away,” Demeter said. “She stands to lose everything if you do not.”

“And those are the actions of someone who cares for her?” Hades asked.

Demeter stepped toward him, her voice shaking. “I am doing this because I care! You are not right for my daughter.”

“I think she would disagree.”

Demeter glared, and after a moment, she stepped back, laughing. “My daughter would never betray me.” Hades got the feeling Demeter was only trying to convince herself of that. “She would never choose you over me.”

“Then you have nothing to fear,” Hades said.

Except she had everything to fear, because Persephone had already betrayed Demeter. She betrayed her every time she’d come to Nevernight, every time their lips met, every time she put her mouth on his cock, spread her legs, and let him taste her. Persephone had betrayed Demeter every time they came together, calling each other’s names, and it was that thought that had him smiling as he vanished from the grounds of Olympia.