Chapter XIII

Chapter XIII

At the Island of Euboea

Hades was almost asleep. His mind focused only on the continuous circles he drew on Persephone’s skin, whose weight made his body heavy. They had stopped speaking when their responses had grown languid and short, and now they rested in a content silence.

“I’ll mentor Leuce.”

Hades opened his eyes and peered at her. She stared back, almost sheepishly, probably unsure of what he would say. Hades had to admit, he didn’t really know what to think. How long had she been considering this, and what exactly had brought it on?

“I’m not sure how I feel about this,” he admitted.

“Me either,” she said but did not elaborate. Instead, she added, “And I need you to give her a place to stay and her job back. Please.”

Of course he would agree. Still, he wanted to know why she’d offered to help his former lover.

“Why do you wish to mentor her?”

It took her a moment to respond, and she averted her eyes as she searched for her answer, her chin resting on her hands.

Finally, she said, “Because I think I know how she feels.”

His mood darkened a little. “Explain.”

She shrugged and the movement caused a lock of her hair to fall over her shoulder. “She’s been a tree for thousands of years. Suddenly, she’s normal again and the whole world has changed. It’s…scary…and I know how that feels.”

He could see how she might believe they had something in common. Persephone’s mother had kept her hidden away from the world until she was eighteen, only letting her explore beyond the borders of her glass greenhouse on a short leash. She was just now learning what she wanted to believe and who she wanted to be as a woman and a goddess.

Still, while they might have this in common, Hades could not imagine two more different people than Persephone and Leuce.

“You want to mentor my former lover?”

She groaned. “Don’t make me regret this, Hades.”

“I don’t want you to, but are you sure?”

Hades liked the way her lips pouted as she frowned. Still, she didn’t look at him as she spoke. “It’s weird, I admit, but…she’s a victim. I want to help her.”

He might have winced at her words, but he knew she was right, and even when Leuce had returned, he had failed to help her the way she deserved.

Yet Persephone was willing.

Hades drew her gaze back to his. “You amaze me.”

She smiled and shook her head. “I am not amazing. I wanted to punish her at first.”

“But you didn’t,” he said, letting his hand fall to her jaw. “There are no other gods like you.”

“I haven’t lived long enough to be jaded like the rest of you,” she said and laughed. “Perhaps I’ll end up like the others before long.”

“Or perhaps you will change the rest of us,” Hades replied.

They were still for a few seconds, then Persephone sat up, her hands planted on his chest, which made her breasts bounce. She rocked back so that her soft, wet center slid over his full, hard cock. Hades gritted his teeth, suppressing the urge to groan, to grip her hips and help her move.

“Eager for more, my lady?” he asked.

When she smiled, he smiled too.

“Actually, I’m afraid I must make a few demands,” she said, lifting herself and guiding him into her body with a pleasurable sigh.

Hades could no longer stand not touching her. His hands dug into her thighs. He’d give her anything if she just kept moving.

“Yes?” he hissed.

“I don’t want to be placed in a suite on the other side of the palace, ever.”

Never , Hades thought as she slammed down on him.

“Not to get ready for balls. Not when you are angry with me. Not ever.”

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, gathering thoughts that were so scattered, he could barely string a sentence together.

“I thought you would want privacy,” he managed to grit out.

She paused, and Hades opened his eyes to find her bent over, lips hovering just over his. He took the opportunity to lift his knees, settling into her just a little more.

“Fuck privacy. I needed you, needed to know you still wanted me despite…everything.”

He drew her to him, and as their lips met, he rolled, pinning her beneath him. He resettled himself inside her but did not move, laughing when Persephone wiggled in an attempt to make him.

She glared, but her expression softened as he spoke.

“I will always want you, and I would have welcomed you to my bed any night.”

“I didn’t know,” she whispered.

He touched her lips, parting them beneath his touch.

“Now you do.”

Their mouths collided and Hades’s hips surged forward. Persephone’s moans encouraged him, drove him deep, and she clung to him like he clung to her until they drove each other to the edge and over.

* * *

Hades woke sometime in the evening. A day had passed since Apollo had come to collect retribution for his slight, a day since he and Persephone had made up on the floor of her silvery meadow, and the thought that pressed heavily on his mind as she slept soundlessly beside him was losing her.

He had never had much to lose, but she was everything, and since they had found each other, it felt like every god had tried—or would try—their hand at tearing them apart, and Hades would be damned if anyone succeeded.

He rose and dressed, taking a few straight shots of whiskey. While the drink didn’t do much to intoxicate him, it did take the edge off his nerves.

Before he left the Underworld, he watched Persephone sleep, eyes following the outline of her body beneath the sheets, the way her chest rose and fell with her breaths. He placed his hand on her head and bent to kiss her forehead, then vanished, appearing on the island of Euboea.

It was an island off the coast of Attica. Once, long ago, it had been attached to the mainland, but earthquakes had separated the landmass and now it stood apart in the Mediterranean Sea. The island itself was not Hades’s ultimate destination. It was one of three volcanic islands off its coast. They were each relatively small, made of layers of volcanic rock, visible from all sides of the island. Despite its rocky foundation, a sheet of green grass made the island look emerald next to the sapphire ocean, and in the fading twilight, it was beautiful.

The islands were connected by a wood rope bridge, both to the mainland and to each other. Hades started toward the one at the center, Lea, named after Briareus’s wife, Cymopolea, Poseidon’s daughter and Hades’s niece.

The thought made each step heavier, yet he kept going, and when he made it to the island, he followed a path of round stones to a small cottage, nestled between two hills. The windows were full of warm and inviting light, and a plume of white smoke rose from a chimney atop its thatched roof.

Hades hesitated a step, his insides twisting mercilessly. It had been a long time since he had reaped a soul, an innocent one at least. Doing so never got easier, and this one was somehow made worse by the fact that Briareus was merely a victim of a war between gods.

Still, he continued to the door and knocked.

He would give Briareus dignity, especially in his own home.

Hades was surprised when Briareus answered the door cloaked in glamour. He had taken on the guise of a middle-aged man with graying hair, face worn into happy lines, a mark of how content he had lived his life since ancient times. Still, Hades could see beneath his glamour, to the giant who towered above him, to his many heads and hands.

“My Lord Hades,” Briareus said. His smile was so wide, deepening the lines around his mouth and making his cheekbones stick out sharply. The giant bowed.

“Briareus,” Hades replied quietly with a nod. He could not raise his voice to match his enthusiasm, given his morose reasons for his visit.

There was a moment of silence, then Briareus’s jovial expression faded. “It’s time, isn’t it?”

Those were cruel words given how Hades had come to be at this door. Still, he lied.

“It is.”

The giant nodded and looked at his feet. Hades hated it, to see the peace leak from his eyes as he processed his impending death. “I could feel it, you know? In my bones.”

Hades said nothing, but there was a part of him that wished Briareus would cease speaking, because each word was another knife to his heart.

After a moment, Briareus collected himself and took a breath, an ounce of his previously joyful demeanor returning.

“I was just finishing up a meal,” he said. “Care to join?”

Hades had no expectations when he had come to the giant’s door. He had not known if Briareus would be distraught or angry, beg for his life or beg for it to end quickly.

But he had not at all expected to be invited to dinner.

“Sure, Briareus,” Hades said at last. There was something morbid about accepting his hospitality, but Hades did not want to take away these last wished-for moments.

The giant smiled once more and stepped aside to hold the door open, allowing Hades entrance.

As soon as he entered the cottage, he was in the kitchen. It smelled of salt and fish and spices, though not unpleasant. There was a round, wooden table at the center of the room, and on it sat a small, clear vase with a handful of wildflowers.

Briareus returned to the stove and pulled on a white apron. As he tied it off, he offered, “Anything to drink, my lord?”

“Whatever you have, Briareus. It would be an honor to drink with you.”

The giant chuckled. “You honor me, my lord.”

“Hardly,” Hades replied. “I am here to take your life.”

“ You are,” Briareus agreed. “Not Lord Thanatos, nor another with ill intent. I am pleased.”

Hades stared as the giant turned to his work, pouring Hades a glass of wine.

“It’s sherry,” he said. “I’ll serve you something different with the lamb.”

“Thank you, Briareus.”

Hades accepted the glass and walked to the window. The view from his cottage was beautiful, mostly green hills, but the city of Euboea peeked through, still warmed by the golden light of the fading sun.

“You have lived here a long time,” he said.

“Yes. I have not been beyond the bridge in some time. I imagine I would not even know the world now.”

“It is very different,” Hades said.

“I suppose in some ways it is fitting you are here,” Briareus said. “I cannot imagine continuing to exist as the gods do, indefinitely.”

There was a long pause, and when Hades looked at Briareus, he found the giant staring back.

“Are you not tired, my lord?”

“I am,” Hades replied.

But he had been tired since the beginning. He just chose what to live for each day, and recently that happened to be Persephone.

The giant served a meal of lamb and roasted carrots. He held to his promise of serving fresh wine, choosing a red blend for dinner, and while Briareus had served Hades a healthy portion of food, it remained untouched.

“Are my brothers next?” Briareus asked.

“No.”

“So I am the first.”

Hades said nothing, guilt weighing heavily on him. He wished he had something to say, something to contribute to this conversation, but he rarely had anything to say and even less when he faced a person he liked and had to kill.

After a moment, Hades cleared his throat. “Your wife,” he said, but before he could continue, Briareus spoke.

“Cymopolea spends most of her time in the ocean with her sisters. She visits now and then.” He hesitated. “It’s likely…she will find me.”

“I won’t let that happen,” Hades promised.

“There is no one else,” the giant replied.

Once more, Hades said nothing, but he did take a drink of the wine and tried not to grimace at the taste. They did not speak until Briareus finished eating. Hades wished he could be better company, but there was a thickness growing in his throat and a pressure building behind his eyes.

He did not want to do this.

Briareus sat back, his hands on his thighs, and spoke. “I’m not upset, you know? I understand.”

You don’t , Hades thought, and his jaw tightened. He wanted to explain that he had tried to think of ways out of this, that he had delayed it for as long as possible.

There were a few more beats of silence.

“How shall we proceed?” Briareus asked. “Do you want a knife?”

Hades should have winced, but he remained expressionless as he answered. “No.”

He held out his hand, and Briareus took it. After a moment, shadows began to move beneath the creature’s skin, breaking the surface like vines to wrap around Hades’s own arm. It was the tendrils of the giant’s soul coming out of his body.

He met Hades’s gaze. “You’re a good man, Hades,” he said. “A great god.”

The shadows disappeared into Hades’s skin. If he were to drop his glamour, the giant would see a myriad of fine, black lines marring his body—a tale of the many bargains he’d made with the Fates, among them Briareus himself.

Briareus sat back in his chair and took a breath.

He was dead.

Hades remained for a few moments before he stood, turned, and punched straight through the wall. With his aggression spent, he drained what remained of the wine and left the cottage, only to come face-to-face with Hera.

The goddess looked triumphant, a smile curving her cold face.

“Well done, Hades,” she said. “Your next trial will not have the luxury of time.”

Hades’s anger felt like a storm inside his body.

“Then stop wasting mine,” he said.

Her smile widened. “Await my summons, Lord Hades, and don’t forget what’s at stake.”