CHAPTER IV: FUCKING FATES

CHAPTER IV – FUCKING FATES

“My lord.” Minthe’s voice brought him out of his reverie. “Your first appointment has arrived.”

Fuck. He was definitely in the wrong headspace to entertain another bargain. He frowned and went to drink from his glass, but realized it was empty. When he looked at the nymph, her brow was arched.

“Smitten, my lord?” Her voice dripped with judgment.

“Yes,” he said. He saw no reason to lie. “I am.”

Minthe’s shock registered in her eyes as they widened, then her lips flattened.

“Desperation isn’t flattering, Hades.”

“Neither is jealousy,” he replied, shoving the empty glass into her hands.

She scowled.

“Where is the mortal?”

Her eyes flashed as she answered, “The Diamond Suite.”

By the end of the night, Hades had won three contracts. Two men in search of wealth, one young and one old, and a woman in search of love. All now faced the challenge of overcoming what burdened their souls most.

The younger of the two men sought to replace his college funds, which he had drained to support his cocaine addiction. He would have to kick his habit before Hades would grant his wish. The older man was seeking to pay for his wife’s chemotherapy, and the greatest burden on his soul? He had been cheating on her prior to her diagnosis. Hades’ terms were that he had to come clean about the affair.

The woman asked for love, or rather, she asked for a specific man to fall in love with her. A co-worker she had been pining after for years.

It was a request Hades heard often, and one he could never grant.

She sat across from Hades, looking desperate and tired, and as he peered at her soul, he saw that it was so twined with the man she loved, she no longer resembled her true self. She was a tangle of vines, marred with thorns, that had grown sharp from years of rejection.

“Change your terms,” he advised.

Her eyes narrowed, and she gritted her teeth, daring to raise her voice. “But he is who I want!”

It was the second time he had heard that plea tonight, and both times, it had been a lie.

“I cannot make another mortal love you,” Hades said. “You either ask for love or nothing.”

She had glared at him for a while, trying to hold back her tears, before agreeing. He supposed she had decided it was better to be loved by someone in the end. Except that she did not win their game, and upon her loss, Hades met her terrified, watery gaze.

“Cease this pointless desire for your co-worker,” Hades said.

She glared. “I can’t just…stop loving him.”

“You must find a way,” he said. “Perhaps when you do, your eyes will be opened to a new love.”

Hades started to rise to his feet.

“Haven’t you ever been in love?” she asked, and when he paused, her eyes widened with the realization. “You haven’t.”

Hades pressed his lips together. “Careful, mortal. This life is fleeting. Your existence in the Underworld lasts an eternity.”

He started to rise again, and the woman grabbed his hand. “Please! You don’t understand! I cannot help who I love!”

Hades jerked his hand away. “You waste your words and feelings, mortal.”

He could have said more. He could have explained that her love for this indifferent man made her resentful, that the moment she decided to release him from her affections, the better her life would be, but he knew she would not hear him, so he did not speak. Instead, he vanished, retiring to the Underworld.

But not to rest.

He teleported to the Library of the Souls, located in the mirrored palace of the Fates. Hades had gifted the three goddesses a portion of his realm—an island that floated in the ether of the Underworld. It was inaccessible to all but him, and the Fates were unable to leave it.

A gilded cage, Lachesis had called it.

A glorified prison, Clotho spouted.

A mirrored cell, Atropos said.

The Fates may have chosen to describe it as a cage, a cell, a prison, but they knew just as well as Hades it was built to their specifications and for their protection.

“Would you prefer to live among the souls and deities of the Underworld?” he asked them every time they complained. “They would stone you, and I would not stop them.”

None of them liked his reply, and they had responded by demanding that he change the gardens outside the palace—a request they made often, and one he obliged.

There were no windows in the library, save for a glass dome ceiling that let in a greyish light. The walls were floor to ceiling bookcases, full of tomes bound in black velvet. Each volume detailed the life of every human, creature, and god.

Hades held out his hand and called for Demeter, the Goddess of Harvest. The book came to him, landing in his grasp with a thump. As he opened it, a projection of threads illustrated a timeline from the goddess’ birth to the present, which could be read or watched like a film.

Hades chose to watch, following her thread from her battle worn birth to her vengeful existence after Titanomachy, to the creation of her nurturing cult, until her thread branched off, signifying the creation of another life-thread.

“Show me who this thread belongs to,” he said, and the gold broke apart until it formed the image of the girl from Nevernight.

As Hades looked at her, his chest tightened.

No wonder she smelled like Demeter—she was her daughter.

“Curious about your future queen?” Lachesis appeared, dressed in white, her face framed with long, dark hair, her head crowned in gold. She was the middle sister, and in her hand, she held a gold rod with which she measured mortal life.

Future queen. The words shuddered through him, and he had to clench his teeth to keep from reacting.

“Her name?” Hades asked.

He did not look away from her shimmering image.

“She is called Persephone,” Lachesis replied.

Persephone, he mouthed her name, testing it upon his tongue, surprised by how right it felt, how perfect it sounded.

“The Goddess of Spring.”

Hades’ gaze snapped to the Fate. Her dark eyes stared back, bottomless, emotionless.

“You wish to taunt me.”

Goddess of Spring, Goddess of Rebirth, Goddess of Life. How could a daughter of spring become death’s bride?

“Ever suspicious, Hades,” Clotho said, appearing out of thin air. The youngest of the three Fates, she looked no different than Lachesis, clothed and crowned in gold. “Perhaps we wish to reward our favorite god.”

“You like no gods,” Hades replied.

“We dislike you least.”

“Flattered,” he snapped.

“If you are displeased, we will unweave the thread,” Atropos said, appearing before Hades and snatching the book from his hands. She was the oldest and still looked no different than her sisters, dressed in blood-red, a pair of abhorrent, gold shears hung from a chain around her neck.

Hades glared at the three of them.

“I know you well, Morai,” he said, addressing all of them at once. “Who are you punishing?”

They exchanged a look. Finally, Clotho answered, “Demeter begged for a daughter.”

“A wish that was granted,” Lachesis said.

“You are the price she paid,” Atropos added.

“I am punishment,” Hades stated.

The Fates were aware of Demeter’s hatred for Hades. He had been right when he suspected a trick.

“If that is how you prefer to perceive it,” Clotho said.

“But we like to think of it differently,” Lachesis said.

“It is the price paid for our favor,” Atropos explained.

It was how the Fates worked, and the gods were not immune.

“Demeter is aware?” Hades asked.

“Of course. We are not in the habit of keeping secrets, Lord Hades.”

Hades grew quiet. If Demeter was aware, no wonder he had never heard about the Goddess of Spring.

“You think to punish Demeter, but you are really punishing Persephone,” Hades said.

The irony was not lost on him, because he had done the same thing to her. She was bound via their bargain—the greatest bargain he had ever made, because in the end, she did not have to love him. Thousands of mortals and Divine alike had destinies woven by the Fates. It did not guarantee a love match, and one between him and Demeter’s daughter was even less likely.

Lachesis narrowed her eyes. “Are you afraid, Hades?”

The god glared, and the three Fates laughed.

“We may weave the Threads of Fate, my lord, but you retain control over how your future unfolds.” Clotho vanished.

“Will you rule your relationship as you rule your kingdom?” Lachesis disappeared.

“Or revel in the chaos?” Atropos faded.

And when he was alone, their merry laughter echoed around him.

Haven’t you ever been in love?

The mortal’s words returned to him, burrowing under his skin like a parasite.

No, he had never been in love, and now he would always wonder… Would Persephone have chosen him if given the freedom?

***

Hades left the Fates’ mansion and found himself outside Hecate’s cottage. The Goddess of Witchcraft was a long-time resident of the Underworld. Hades had allowed her to settle wherever she wished, and she had chosen a dark valley to build her vine-covered cottage. After, she spent months cultivating a wealth of poisonous nightshade.

Hades had merely raised a brow when he had discovered what she had done.

“Do not pretend as though my poisons have not been useful, Hades.”

“I have had no such thoughts,” he had replied.

Hades smirked at the memory. Since then, Hecate had become his confidant, probably his closest friend.

She was outside, standing beneath a patch of moonlight that streamed through an opening in the canopy of trees. Early on, the goddess had praised his ability to create what she referred to as an enchanted night, but it was hardly surprising. Hades was a god born of darkness. It was what he knew best.

“What troubles you, my king?” she asked as he approached. “Is it Minthe? May I suggest lye to remedy the situation? It is quite painful when swallowed.”

Hades raised a brow. “Murderous thoughts already, Hecate? It isn’t even noon yet.”

She smiled. “I am more creative at night.”

Hades chuckled, and they fell into a comfortable silence. Hades, lost in his own thoughts. Hecate, staring at the moon. After a moment, she asked him again, “What troubles you?”

“The Fates,” he said.

“Oh, the besties. What have they done?”

“They have given me a wife,” he said, raising both his brows. “Demeter’s daughter.”

Hecate laughed and quickly covered her mouth with her hand at Hades’ arched glance.

“S-Sorry,” she said, and cleared her throat, composing herself. “Is she horrible?”

“No,” Hades said. “That’s probably the worst part. She is beautiful.”

“Then why are you so glum?”

Hades explained the trajectory of his evening in as few words as possible—Aphrodite’s bargain, seeing Persephone for the first time, realizing his primal reaction to claim her was unusual, and uncovering the thread that connected them.

“You should have seen how she looked at me when she realized who I was. She was horrified.”

“I doubt she was horrified,” Hecate said. “Surprised, perhaps—maybe even mortified if her thoughts were anything like yours.”

Hecate gave him a knowing look, but Hades was not so sure. Hecate had not been there.

“I have never known you to back down from a challenge, Hades.”

“I haven’t,” he said. He had done the opposite—he had, essentially, bound her to him for the next six months.

Hecate waited for him to explain.

“She played me.”

“What?”

“She invited me to her table for a game, and she lost,” Hades explained.

By tomorrow morning, his mark would appear on Persephone’s skin, and when she returned to him, he would offer her the terms of their contract. If she failed, she would be a resident of the Underworld forever.

“Hades, you didn’t.”

He just looked at the witch-goddess.

“It is Divine Law,” he said.

Hecate glared, knowing that was not true. Hades could have chosen to let her go with no demands upon her time, and he had chosen not to. If the Fates were going to connect them, why not take control?

“Do you not want her love? Why would you force her into a contract?”

After a moment, he admitted aloud, “Because I did not think she would come back.”

He did not look at Hecate, but her silence told him she pitied him, and he hated that.

“What will you ask of her?” she inquired.

“What I ask of everyone,” he said.

He would challenge the insecurities of her soul. By the end of it, he would create a queen or a monster. Which, he did not know.

“How do you feel when you look at her?” Hecate asked.

Hades did not like that question, or maybe he didn’t like his answer, but he spoke truthfully, nonetheless.

“Like I was born from chaos.”

Hecate grinned.

“I can already tell I’m going to like her.” Then her eyes flashed with amusement. “You must tell Minthe you are to wed when I am present. She will be furious!”