Chapter XXXVIII: Hades

CHAPTER XXXVIII

HADES

Hades split his day between Inequity and Nevernight. It had been a long while since he had time to focus on day-to-day matters—there were bargains to strike and deals to be made. After all these years in this role, Hades knew there was one constant in the world, and it was the predictable desires of gods and mortals. No matter the threat of war, they would always seek love, wealth, and power.

He was no different.

He had spent his life yearning for love, aware of its absence like a sharp thorn in his side. He used to think it was a selfish desire, but it was the only thing that made any of this tolerable. It was the only thing that would carry him through his war.

While he planned for it daily—and had done so for a long time—he had not had the time to sit long and dwell on what it would mean to return to the fold. Perhaps that was best, because when he did think too long on it, he remembered the heaviness of his armor, the way it trapped heat and burned him alive. He remembered the wet sound of bodies being speared and smashed and the smell of fire and festering death. He remembered blood—the color and consistency as it pooled and dried—and he remembered the day he no longer noticed its scent, so used to how it permeated the air.

War was inevitable when great power was at stake; it was inevitable when great love was at stake too. In the end, he would face it, and he would fight for Persephone while she fought for the world.

“You look terrible.”

Hades turned to see Hecate standing in the doorway of his Nevernight office.

“I feel terrible,” he said.

He hadn’t gone to bed, even after Persephone had asked. He’d upset her and she’d gone to the queen’s suite to sleep, which meant he hadn’t seen her when she’d risen for work either, and her absence weighed on him.

He should have conceded; he should have gone to her. He had essentially punished her for his own failures. He wasn’t sure why he thought space and distance were best. Only a few days ago, he had hated those words.

“Good,” Hecate said. “I need you.”

Hades’s brows rose. “For what?”

“I’ve made a suit,” she said. “I need to see you in it so I can decide if I like it.”

“Is it black?” he asked.

“No, it’s yellow,” she replied.

Hades sneered.

“Of course it’s black,” she said. “Why would I ever attempt to dress your dark soul in anything else?”

“If it’s black, why do I have to try it on? You know how it will look.”

“On second thought, I am certain I will like the suit. It’s you I take issue with.”

Hades smirked and rose to his feet. “Fine, Hecate. Work your magic.”

---

“Stop fidgeting!” Hecate commanded, speaking around the pins in her mouth. She was on her knees messing with the hem of his jacket.

Hades couldn’t help it. He had expected this suit to look like all the others he wore daily, but once it was on, he realized it did not even resemble his usual wardrobe. That wasn’t why he was fidgeting, though. It was because trying it on made him realize that he was really getting married.

“Is this silk?” he asked.

“It’s wool,” Hecate hissed. “If you do not stop moving, I will freeze you in place.”

“Wool?” he asked. “Why is it shiny?”

“Because it’s soft.”

He chuckled. “Why are you so frustrated?”

“I do not know if you are aware, Hades, but your very presence is frustrating.”

“Can’t you use your magic to tailor this? It would be easier.”

“Easier, yes,” she said. “But this project is special to me, and I prefer to hand stitch.”

Hades swallowed hard. As much as he joked, he was very grateful for Hecate.

“There,” she said, rising to her feet and stepping back to observe her work.

“It’s perfect, Hecate,” Hades said as he stared in the mirror. “I don’t know how I could ever thank you enough.”

“You can thank me by actually getting married,” she said. “I have written a speech.”

“You know it isn’t a matter of wanting.”

“You’re going to do whatever you want,” she said. “You always have, no matter the consequences. The important part is that Persephone will need your magic for what is to come.”

That was the real reason Zeus wanted a say in their marriage and why he would consult the oracle about their marriage. What would come from the union of life and death? They were the beginning and the end, the dawn and the night. They were never-ending, and their magic would be too.

“What is to come, Hecate?” Hades asked, arching a brow.

She was the triple goddess, able to view the past, present, and future, but even with that great power, Hades never inquired. He just trusted that Hecate would guide him, and she did, but now that she had acknowledged the threat and the unknown, he had to ask.

“You know what is coming,” she said and met his gaze. “You feel it in your bones. It is why, as much as you wish to fight for Persephone, you keep pushing her away.”

He considered her words.

It was true there was a part of him that he was trying to keep buried—a part of him that felt too deeply.

“It will not serve you to be cold in this war, Hades,” she said. “This is a battle best waged with passion.”

The goddess stared a moment longer and then dropped her gaze to his suit.

“I like it…but it’s missing something—a boutonniere on the breast. What flower, Hades?”

She stepped aside so he could look in the mirror, but he didn’t need to. He knew which to choose, and he touched the pocket, where a red, star-shaped polyanthus unfurled. It was the flower he’d worn when he first met Persephone, the one she’d let wither beneath her touch.

“Perfect,” said Hecate.

---

After Hecate’s interruption, Hades finished a few more mundane tasks before heading into the gardens. He wandered until he came to the Asphodel Fields where he was met by Cerberus, Typhon, and Orthrus. The three had been busy, given so many souls had made their entrance to the Underworld, and they seemed to vibrate with pent-up energy.

“Eager to play, boys?” he asked.

Hades did not order Cerberus to drop his red ball, and when he went to reach for it, the Doberman dug his teeth in and yanked against Hades’s grasp. Since he was locked in a game of tug-of-war with one, Typhon and Orthrus began to grow restless, barking at them as they fought over the ball.

Hades waited until Cerberus had put enough tension on the ball and let go. Unprepared, Cerberus dropped the ball. Typhon and Orthrus pounced, but as they did, they kicked the ball away, and it rolled to Hades’s feet.

The three charged, ramming into him. He stumbled back and fell into the grass, and still none of them had managed to obtain the ball.

“Sit!” Hades commanded, and the three instantly listened.

He got to his feet and picked up the ball, their eyes following his every move, muscles tensing as they prepared to launch themselves across the Underworld for the sake of this red toy. He didn’t blame them—it was their one reprieve from their duties.

“Stay,” he said and tossed the ball, which went soaring through the sky and disappeared somewhere in Persephone’s meadow.

None of them moved, except Orthrus, who had the least control over his excitement when it was time to play.

“Go—”

The word was barely out of his mouth before the three bolted for the grove. Hades chuckled, watching them practically fly through the grass, leaving a flattened trail as they went. Sometimes it was hard to remember that these three were in fact scary monsters.

As he watched them race for the grove, he noticed something different about it. The trees, which were usually full and a muted silvery green, were skeletal and sparse, as if his magic had been drained from that part of the Underworld.

Strange.

He teleported, and it was like he’d arrived at a battleground. Stretches of land were disturbed by deep fissures and chasms. Clusters of thorns shot from the ground, tangling into trees so thickly, it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended, though most of them were gone, just piles of ash that swirled and blew in the wind.

He could feel Hecate’s magic, but he could also feel Persephone’s.

It seemed they’d had quite the training session.

As he stood there, he watched as Typhon pounced on the red ball, bright against the gray backdrop that Persephone’s grove had become.

Hades took his time restoring it, calling up his glamour to make the trees grow taller, their foliage thicker, covering the ashy ground with a carpet of periwinkle and white phlox—the same flowers he’d helped Persephone grow here when he’d taught her how to channel energy for her magic. Those memories gave way to far more passionate ones—the ones where she’d taken him into her body beneath these trees and on this ground. He wanted more of that.

When he was finished, he left the grove, returning to the fields. Typhon still had the ball and refused to relinquish it, and the dogs ran in circles around his feet. Their excitement made him laugh, and he followed their movements, even as Cerberus tore away, followed by Typhon, then Orthrus, to greet Persephone.

She stole his breath as she approached, wreathed in an aura of moonlight. She looked wild and her energy was raw. It scraped against him, not uncomfortable but inflaming.

She seemed to hesitate as she held his gaze and stopped a few paces away. It felt like a chasm had opened up between them. He wanted her closer.

“I haven’t seen you all day,” she said.

“It was a busy day. As was yours. I saw the grove.”

“You do not sound impressed.”

“I am, but to say I am surprised would be a lie. I know your capabilities.”

Hades watched as Persephone drew her bottom lip between her teeth in the silence that followed. He wanted her mouth against his—on every part of him.

“Did you come to say good night?” he asked.

She took a breath. “Will you not come to bed with me?”

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. It was that they still had so much left unacknowledged. He swallowed hard.

“I will join you shortly.”

He wasn’t sure what he expected, but she didn’t leave and instead seemed to grow frustrated.

“I want to talk about the other night.”

Hades’s chest tightened as he considered whether he was ready to face this.

“I did not mean to hurt you,” he said, unable to meet her gaze. He cleared his throat when the words came out in a rasp.

“I know,” she whispered.

“I was so lost in my desire, in what I wished to do with you, I didn’t see what was happening. I pushed you too far. It will never happen again.”

There was a beat of silence.

“What if that’s what I want?” Hades’s eyes snapped to hers, and she continued, “I want to try so many things with you, but I am afraid you will not want me.”

He was taken aback by those words.

“Persephone—”

“I know it isn’t true, but I cannot help how I think, and I thought it was better to say what was on my mind than keep it to myself. I don’t want to stop learning with you.”

He closed the distance between them and cradled her face, tilting her head back so he could look at her. She seemed so fragile within his grasp and yet so fierce.

“I will always want you,” he said, his voice quiet. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

She braced her hands on his forearms as if she wanted to hold him in place. “I know you hurt for me, but I need you.”

“I am here.”

Her hands slid down to his, and she guided them to her breasts.

“Touch me,” she said. “We can go slow.”

He swallowed thickly. A rush of dizzying heat went straight to his head, and his cock grew thick and heavy between them. He touched her, letting his head rest against hers as her nipples grew harder beneath his touch.

“What else?”

“Kiss me,” she said, breathless.

He tried to go slow, to kiss her sweetly, their mouths locked in a delicate exchange, but fuck, it was hard. She was so soft and receptive, and each sweep of her tongue made him harder and more aware of the fact that he wanted her warmth fisting his cock.

He shifted closer, one hand anchoring against the back of her head. He bent her back, kissed her harder, faster, losing himself to the desperate tangle in the pit of his stomach, until he froze and pulled away.

“I’m sorry. I did not ask if that was okay.”

“It’s okay,” she said, her eyes bright and present. “I’m okay.”

She led this time, and her mouth was hot and demanding. He liked when she took control, and in this instance, it made him feel less like he would fuck this up.

Her hands tangled in his hair as she pulled him closer, then skimmed down his body until they rested on his cock. He pressed against her, grinding his teeth against the friction of her body.

“Touch me,” he said.

She spent a few moments rubbing him through his clothes before unbuttoning his pants and taking his flesh into her hand.

Gods, it felt good.

He kissed her harder, consumed by the feel of his cock in her hand. It was like all sensation in his body came from this one place, and she had all the control—she could bend him and break him, and he would let her.

“Kneel,” she said, and the breathless order sent both of them to their knees.

Persephone urged him onto his back and crawled up his body, her slick heat settling over his arousal as she straddled him.

His hands splayed across her thighs, digging into her skin as she lifted herself and guided him inside her. He could barely contain himself, and as she slid down, he thrust his hips upward. Their bodies slammed together, moving the same or at different times. It didn’t matter so long as they were inside each other, so long as they were drowning in this ecstasy that moved through their bodies like blood.

“Yes,” he hissed. “Fuck.”

He sat up, gripping her with one hand while the other moved between them so he could stroke her clit. Her body wound so tight that when she came, she shuddered around him, and it was enough to coax him to release. He groaned and fell back, bringing her with him as he continued to thrust deeply into her. After, they lay there for a while, quiet and content, until Persephone rose to her feet, legs shaking.

“Are you well?” he asked, holding on to her as she steadied herself.

“Yes,” she said with a smile, laughing a little. “Very.”

He stood and dressed and then took her hand.

“Are you ready for bed, my darling?”

“As long as you are coming too,” she said, arching a brow.

He smiled. “Of course.”

They cut through the garden, and he was pleased with the easy silence between them, though as they continued toward the palace, he thought more on what she’d said in the field—about wanting more and fearing he would not want her.

“What is it?” she asked as his steps slowed.

“When you said you wanted to…try…things with me. What things, exactly?”

He liked that she still blushed.

“What are you willing to teach?”

“Anything,” he breathed. “Everything.”

She studied him, tilting her head as if considering what to do next. “Perhaps we should begin where we failed. With…bondage.”

There was something about this that felt completely unreal, like every fucking fantasy he’d ever had was coming true in this tempting form.

He’d never had any doubt that she was made for him, but she proved it every day.

“Are you sure?” he asked, brushing a stray piece of hair from her face.

“I will tell you when I feel afraid.”

He was glad they could begin again, even if it meant standing on the ruins of trauma. He drew her closer, his hand on the back of her neck, his forehead against hers.

“You hold my heart in your hands, Persephone.”

“And your cock too, apparently,” said Hermes, amused.

Hades tore away from Persephone, growling Hermes’s name, but his frustration quickly turned to dread when he saw what the god was wearing—gold robes.

“I thought interrupting now was probably better than a few minutes ago,” Hermes explained.

“You were watching?” Persephone asked, cringing noticeably.

“To be fair,” said Hermes, “you were having sex in the middle of the Underworld.”

“And I have thrown you just as far,” Hades said. “Need a reminder?”

“Ah, no. If you are going to be angry at anyone, be angry at Zeus. He sent me.”

“Why?” Persephone asked, apprehension already seeping into her voice.

“He’s called for a feast,” Hermes said.

“A feast?” She looked at Hades, and he ground his teeth. “Tonight?”

“Yes. In…exactly an hour,” Hermes said, looking at his wrist, which conveniently bore no watch.

“And we must be in attendance?”

“Well, I didn’t just watch you have sex for nothing,” Hermes replied.

Hades was already thinking through how he would punish the god for that.

“Why must we attend? And why at such short notice?” she asked.

Hades knew why—because this was meant to be their engagement feast. A misnomer if there ever was one, given that at the end of the event, Zeus would decide whether they could wed.

“He did not say, but perhaps he has finally decided to bless your union.” Hermes chuckled. “I mean, why would he call for a banquet if he was going to say no?”

“Have you met my brother?” Hades asked.

“Unfortunately, yes. He’s my father,” Hermes said, and then he clapped his hands, rubbing them together—eager for drama, no doubt. “Well, I’ll see you two soon.”

Hermes left, and Persephone turned to Hades.

“Do you think it is true? That he is summoning us to bless our marriage?”

Blesswas a generous word.

“I will not venture to guess,” he said.

She frowned and paused a moment before asking, “What do I wear?”

He almost laughed, but considering they were about to present together at an Olympian feast for the first time, the way they dressed needed to make a statement, to convey they were already united even if Zeus said no.

“Let me dress you.”

She narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “Do you really think that is wise?”

“Yes.” He hooked an arm around her waist, bringing her flush against him. “For one, it will not take long, which means we have approximately fifty-nine minutes for anything you may desire.”

“Anything?” she asked, rising higher on the tips of her toes.

“Yes,” he whispered, his blood roaring to life beneath her stare.

“Then I desire,” she said, voice quiet and breathy, “a bath.”

Hades laughed, grinning wide, and it felt good to laugh given the evening they were about to have.

“Coming up, my queen.”