For the Love of Hades (The Loves of Olympus) (16 page)

She tapped her finger to her lips as she thought, drawing his gaze to her full mouth.

“I know.” Her face grew animated as she spoke, “The song of the trees.”

“The trees sing?” he asked.

She shook her head, sighing. “Of course they do. Though the language might be too old for even your ears.”

He laughed as she stood to retrieve the lyre Hermes had delivered. She could play well enough, but her voice… her voice wrapped about him more sweetly than any binding.

She opened her mouth, the words washing over him. She was wrong; he knew this song. He bit back his smile. He smiled too much in her presence.

He sat back, allowing himself the pleasure of watching her. Her eyes closed, as they always did when she sang, and her brows lifted. The higher the note, the higher her brows went. Her braid slipped from her shoulder, pushing the fabric with it. Her golden skin begged for his touch, he felt the pull of it upon his fingers…

His eyes met hers. The song was over.

He cleared his throat.

“A story?” she asked.

He lifted a brow, nodding slightly. “You owe me a story.”

He saw her hesitate, her eyes flashing at his. She shook her head then, smiling at him with unconcealed merriment. “I do. Well then, what will you hear? Would you hear of Gaia and her children? How mortal man came about?” She tilted her head as she spoke, waiting for his answer.

“Mortals hold little interest for me.”

She nodded, sitting up. “It is said that before order was found, chaos reigned. In it, all was knotted together. The elements of life, earth, sea, and sky ran seamlessly with no beginning or end. But chaos gave way to creation, for the elements’ need for order would not be denied. And from their seed the land took shape. Soil turned thick and rich, birthing all things green and clean. It rose and fell, etching valleys and jutting high above as the peaks of great mountains. The seas filled with water, overflowing into the lakes, rivers, and marshes and feeding the soil and its children. The sky, struck by such beauty, stretched as wide as it could… drawing the earth and seas into an encompassing embrace. It rained when the seas ran shallow, it shone when the earth was too wet, and it thundered when the earth’s children should be scolded.”

He listened, hearing the words with new ears. She painted their history with such a gentle brush. “What of the stars?” he asked softly.

She reached up, unbraiding her hair and running her fingers through its silken locks as she continued. “The sky could not bear to lose sight of the earth or the seas. The sky drew the stars forth, to light the skies and ease the fear of night’s darkness. Well pleased, the three wanted to share their bounty. Fish found water, birds found the sky and the beast of the field were content upon the earth.”

Hades looked at her. Her copper hair hung free, falling about her shoulders in the fading sunlight. She gazed off into the distance, lost in thought. Her shoulder, smooth and gold, caught his eye again. The moon had come and gone since he’d last touched her. And yet he could still feel her beneath his hand. He fisted his hand, tearing his gaze from her.

“Is that how you imagine it?” he asked her.

She turned to him, brows raised in consideration. He could tell her thoughts without her words, her face hid nothing. If he was uncertain, her eyes told the rest.

“Why not? It is a peaceful tale.” She smiled. “I am fond of peace.”

He nodded. “As am I. Even the mortals seem eager for it. I only hope it will hold.”

“Is there news? I know Hermes has come and gone since last I saw him. I see the boats passing by and know their purpose. How fares Greece?”

He sighed. “It is over. Persia met defeat at Salamis. The enemy flees, but they leave true destruction in their wake.”

“It is some comfort that they
do
go?”

He nodded.

Hermes carried news that disturbed him. The champion Ariston was soon to meet an ill fate, if Olympus did not intercede. And he knew better than to hope for such benevolence. Greece was done with the soldier, soon Olympus would be too. It was the loss of his wife, so ill used and cast aside, that concerned him most.

“What troubles you?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I pity them.”

“Mortals?”

He nodded. “Their lives are not their own.”

She pulled her legs into her chair, resting her chin on her knees. “No?”

His eyes found hers. “Olympus interferes. Too many souls cross over because they’ve lost favor with the Gods.”

“You see gaining the Gods’ favor as unfortunate as losing favor?” Her brow furrowed at his words.

“I am too jaded to answer well.” He paused, considering. “If I likened those on Olympus to those toiling aimlessly in Tartarus, you’d think ill of me. But there are times I see that idleness about them. Mortals are but a piece of the game.” He clasped the Tavli dice, tossing it in his hand. “Such is the case with the mortal I returned.”

“The soldier? The hero of Greece? But Olympus was well pleased with your decision. Hermes and my mother spoke of your … reward for such action.”

Hades stared at her, wondering if she knew he’d rejected his
reward
. He hoped she did. “He’s served his purpose. And now he will return to me, more broken that he was before. He will lose his beloved wife not once, but twice, at the hands of our brethren. And his lady wife, sacrificing all to keep her husband safe, will be lost forever in Tartarus…” He heard her sharp intake of breath at the mortal woman’s fate. “This honorable man will never find the peace we speak of.”

He could feel the unflinching weight of her eyes upon him. He’d said too much, revealed too much.

“Oh, Hades.” Her voice was unsteady and she shook her head. When he looked at her, he was startled by the tears sparkling in her eyes. “Such an end, after enduring so much? I share in your grief.”

He shrugged, not daring to say more. It was a puzzle he’d not yet answered, but he would find a way to appease the Gods, the Fates and himself.

Persephone watched him, her lovely face lined with worry. “Such sadness.” Her whispered words were anguished. “I do not envy you such matters. But I am in awe of your sense of justice. A lesser being might use the wealth you mine, the shades you govern, for selfish purposes.”

“I have no interest in power, Persephone. My only interest is order. I have order in my realm and I do what I must to maintain it.” But her praise warmed him, deeply.

“’Tis a shame such order cannot be taught to those in the Land of the Living. Or Olympus.” She smiled at him, then looked down at the Tavli board, her voice lowering, “We must hope that Greece will find some time for peace. In peace, one might find the time to establish order.”

He swallowed. “Will you go, then?” He knew she would. He’d kept her too long already. He tossed the dice onto the board and sat back. He did not care for the tightening in his chest. He’d expected Demeter to come for her long before now.

Persephone did not look at him, but picked up the Tavli dice he’d discarded and studied them. “I suppose I have little choice. My mother has undoubtedly found me a new husband to wed.”

He said nothing. Her words cut deeply, for they were the truth.

She put the dice down and stood. “Though why she insists on such a course of action, I cannot fathom,” she mused, glancing at him over her shoulder.

He stood too, coming to her side. “She would protect you.”

“I am an Olympian.”

“One who does not reside on Olympus.”

“Yet she would see me married to Hermes.”

He glanced at her. “Hermes is the best of them. He is a wise match.”

“But he refused me. And no other will have me, so it seems. And she sent me to Erysichthon.” She drew in a deep breath.

“Who was, by all accounts, a good and capable man–”

“Until he went mad, you mean?” She glanced at him with arched eyebrows.

He bit back a smile, shrugging. She had a sharp wit, a good mind. He enjoyed their talks, for she did not shy away from plain speaking.

Persephone waved her hand, dismissing her question. “I know she longs to see me safe. But I hunger for more. Surely there is someone who might care for
me
? Not the power I bring, as an Olympian and Goddess.” She looked at him, sincerely asking, “Is it foolish to wish for such things? Is it foolish for me to want to look upon my husband with fondness?”

Her words pressed heavily upon him. She deserved such a husband, if he existed. He met her gaze, unable to offer her the assurance she sought. “’Tis a good dream, Persephone.”

“A dream?” She looked crestfallen. “Only a dream? So I should go home and accept whomever my mother has found for me. Is that what you think?”

He held his breath. Her words were soft, but each struck him. He did not want her to go. He would have her stay here with him, play Tavli, share stories, walk his realm, and laugh over shared meals. But he knew better.

He nodded.

She scowled at him. “Then summon Hermes, I implore you. I bid you good night.”

He watched her go, admiring her graceful movement and the sway of her fiery hair. He waited until she’d left, then sank into his chair and let his head fall into his hands. He must prepare himself. It had been too long since he’d felt anything. And yet she’d given him no choice.

The pain of her leaving would be near unbearable.

Persephone had not slept at all. Each time she closed her eyes, she’d imagined him coming to her. Words of love had been on his lips while his body had been most eager to show her his ardor.

“More dreams,” she muttered to the empty room, pushing the furs from her legs angrily.

She draped her tunic about her, tying it once, and combed her hair. Her head ached mildly, so she left it loose and headed to the hall. They took their breakfast on the balcony, enjoying the warm sun and pale blue sky.

“Good morning,” she greeted him, taking an ambrosia cake.

He nodded at her, his face almost hostile. She blinked, startled by the ferocity of his gaze.

“I’m needed elsewhere,” he murmured as he left her.

The cake she had chewed seemed to stick in her throat. She watched his progress from the rail as he crossed the heavy stone bridge and made his way across Asphodel. Her frustration rose up, demanding she call out to him. But she knew better. 

He stopped suddenly, and turned back.

She hesitated, taking in his posture rigid with apprehension, before raising her hand. She felt close to tears, but forced a smile to her lips.

He turned away and disappeared behind the boulders around Tartarus’ entrance.

She sighed. Her words had been rash but she’d been angry. She was still angry.

A bark caught her attention. The hounds ran in the fields, their long bodies flexing as they covered the ground with broad sweeping leaps. She smiled, watching the eldest trip the youngest. They tumbled in the grass, circling each other and running again.

Persephone grabbed her cloak and headed out, running from the house and across the bridge to the fields. The youngest greeted her, panting heavily and wagging his thin black tail.

“Good morning,” she murmured, rubbing its broad head.

It felt good to stretch her legs. Before she knew it, she was running with the hounds. They were much faster than she was, but they circled back, racing circles around her when she’d slow.

She eventually collapsed, letting herself fall back on the soft, thick grasses of Asphodel.

Why was he making this so difficult?

She’d hoped that his control would falter, that he would finally accept their fate as she had. But it was not to be. He rejected that their fates were intertwined together, forever.

The clouds grew grey, thickening strangely as she watched.

“I’m like that cloud,” she whispered to the hound at her side. He turned his head and looked at her, ears cocked. “Whatever is inside of me is building and growing until I fear I’ll burst from it.”

The hound lay down again, but she sat up. She knew the truth of it. Her mind and body ached for him, consumed by some sort of throbbing fever. She would tell Hades the truth, what was in her heart. She stood, heading towards the fortress with renewed purpose. The sky grew ever darker as she crossed the bridge, and she glanced up. The clouds thickened, rolling in strange patterns overhead.

She headed to the hall. Mayhap it wasn’t too late? If he had not sent for Hermes she might be able to stay. And she would be thankful for every day she had with him. She turned into the hall, ever hopeful.

“Can he save her?” A woman’s voice brought her up short. A woman? She did not care for the twist of her stomach or the flash of anger tightening her throat.

In her time here, Hermes had been the only guest. Only shades and ghosts roamed the Underworld, and they never entered Hades’ home. She moved forward, her bare feet silent on the cold stone floor, to peer around the doorway. But seeing the creature that spoke offered little comforted.

This woman was true perfection.

“Is there nothing else to be done for him?” The woman’s massive blue eyes were fixed upon Hades.

Even her voice was lovely.

Persephone watched, unable to tear her eyes away from Hades. He said nothing. His face, his beautiful face, remained impassive. It was an expression she was all too familiar with. He was hiding something. But what?

The woman whispered, “You would deprive him of her?”

“No…” Hades’ voice was hard. “I control all within my realm.”

The woman’s long blond locks swayed, emphasizing the shake of her head as she spoke again. It was the woman’s words, not her voice or face or curves that held Persephone’s attention now. “No… you would tamper with the firestorm. You would ensure he catches her when she falls…You champion them still. Hades, had I known you to be so merciful…” the woman sounded close to tears.

He championed who? A man… and his woman?

“It matters not, Aphrodite,” he spoke quickly, his tone even and strong.

Aphrodite? The Goddess of Love?
She
saw the good in Hades… Persephone’s heart tightened at his words. Perhaps his heart was not so untouched?

“It matters a great deal.” Aphrodite moved forward, placing her small hand upon his arm. Persephone felt jealousy churn hot in her stomach. “To Ariston and his Medusa. They’ve been sorely abused. But you....”

Persephone smiled. He had championed the soldier and his lady wife. Her heart swelled in her chest, pressing against her lungs and throat.

Of course he had.

“They will never know of it.” His words were a command. “And neither will those on Olympus. I demand your vow on this, Aphrodite.”

He was merciful, though none would suspect it. His modesty astounded her. He seemed well pleased to let the worst be thought of him. It was an injustice, for this god was worthy of tributes and fealty. She shook her head. He was worthy of that and much more. But he needed, wanted, none of that.

Hades’ hooded eyes bore into those of the Goddess, waiting.

“You have it.” Aphrodite’s words eased her.

Persephone watched as he nodded and then moved towards the fire. He stared into it, as if mesmerized, standing rigid… anxious.

How she longed to go to him.

“You’ve fulfilled your purpose for visiting my realm, Aphrodite. You’ve bestowed Olympus’ gift upon the soldier. I doubt you find any more pleasure in the Underworld than I do on Olympus.” He was dismissing her, sending her away. And Persephone was glad.

“I leave you then.” Aphrodite sighed. “And will recount only Ariston’s part in this.”

“Fare thee well.” He did not turn as he spoke.

“Your heart should not be left in this place,” the goddess said in parting. “It is too full, too warm for such a lonely and dismal existence.”

He is not alone. He will never be lonely.

She waited until Aphrodite was gone before she stepped into the room. But then he did something that stopped her.

He stared at a white flower… It was the lily she’d given him in the meadow, resting atop the mantle. Her heart tightened. He’d kept it?

He reached up, tracing one petal with an unsteady finger. The tremor of his hand, the look on his face, made her rejoice.

He turned abruptly from the fire to his chair and sat heavily. He leaned forward to cover his face with his hands, his breath unsteady and ragged.

She could bear it no longer. He suffered. She suffered.

For what purpose?

She ignored the wild beating of her heart. Warmth coursed through her, burning low and hot in the pit of her stomach. She wanted him, all of him. And she would make certain he knew as much.

Her feet carried her to him, each step more daunting than the last.

Be brave, Persephone.
His words echoed in her head.

“My lord.” Her voice was too soft. Had he heard her?

He lifted his head from his hands, surprised by her presence. He recovered quickly, straightening rigidly. The haunted look she glimpsed was shuttered away and replaced by his careful mask of indifference. Oh how she longed to touch his face, to cup his cheek and hold him close to her. He had no need to withhold himself from her, no need to be careful with her.

“Persephone.”

She was not deterred by his coolness. Her steps were cautious, but she made her way to him. She would not stop now. Her voice was steadier. “Aphrodite?”

His eyes narrowed, briefly. “Aphrodite is gone.”

She drew in a slow breath. “I thought as much.” Finally, she stood before him. Surely he could sense her agitation? Surely he could hear her heart? Her tunic, the front of her peplos, seemed to quiver in time with its frantic beating.

He clutched the arms of his throne. The line of his jaw grew tight. Tension rolled from him, making her swallow. How to begin?

“I’ve not asked you for anything in my time here.” She paused. “Have I?”

He shook his head once, all the while his deep blue eyes boring into hers.

I must tell him I love him, tell him I need him, as my love… or my husband.
But his gaze unnerved her. The words that poured from her lips were not what she planned, “Nor would I trouble you now, if my need were not so great.” Her voice was no steadier than her pulse. She was making no sense.

He swallowed, then asked harshly, “What is it?”

His tone almost made her wince, but she forced herself to meet his gaze – so he would know her intent. Her mind raced, searching for the words she needed, as she sank to her knees before him.  His hands were taut, his fingers white as he clenched the arms of his throne. She reached up and covered his hands with hers.

It felt better then. She felt better. She could go on.

Yet he no longer looked at her face. His eyes stared at her hands on his. His chest rose and fell. The muscle in his jaw bulged.

She drew in another deep breath. “Show me mercy. Show me the same mercy you’ve bestowed upon your mortal… the soldier Ariston.” Her hands clung to his.

He glanced at her, his hands gripping the throne harder.

“Have I been cruel? That you feel the need to beg for anything from me?” His voice was low. She shook her head, and he continued, “Then why do you kneel before me?” His words were a harsh whisper, testing her resolve.

“It is a selfish request, one that may turn you from solicitous to … sickened.” Words failed her. His hostility was quickly stealing her determination. She glanced at him, but his eyes were fixed upon her hands, wrapped about his. The slight crease settled on his brow. She stared at his brow, knowing she was failing miserably to explain the necessity of their union.

“Ask me,” he murmured, huskily.

“My lover… Release him.” Her eyes burned, the well of unshed tears surprising her. “Release the man who loves me, please.” There, she’d said it. But he tensed, his eyes closed.

What had she said?

When he looked at her, pain filled his deep blue eyes. Pain the depths of which she’d not expected. He did not conceal it from her. For one brief moment, he looked a broken man. And she could not bear such a sight. Her hands tightened about his, pulling them from the arm rails.

“Who is this man? What…what mortal… who is it?” He spoke, a rasping, anguished whisper.

She frowned. She’d made a mess of things. “No… no…”

Hades’ home shook, the very mountain it was carved into trembling. Thunder, louder than any she’d ever heard, set the very air vibrating. “What is happening?” Another tremor rattled the mountain, sending her reeling. He caught her, the strength of his arms easing her panic.

“A firestorm,” he spoke softly.

“A firestorm?” she asked. His hands held her shoulders, distracting her.

His hands slipped from her shoulders as the room stilled.

“Is it done?” She waited, wondering what would happen next.

“No. Not yet.” He did not look at her as he hurried to the balcony.

She ran after him, frustration and curiosity warring within her. She stepped onto the balcony, eager to express herself. But the sight that greeted stunned her into silence. The murky skies of the Underworld were full black. Strange clouds, churning and twisting, hovered over the fields of Asphodel. The wind roared, bowing the grasses flat before sending the tree limbs sharply upward.

She gasped. Within the clouds, pockets of red and orange leapt and fell. Fire. She glanced at Hades, looking for reassurance. But he stood, staring into the fields before them. His hands gripped the stone of the balcony, his stance at the ready.

But ready for what? She moved to his side, growing ever concerned by the roar of the wind, the flashes of strange fire and lightening. His attention did not waver. She shielded her face from the winds and followed his gaze. The fields were empty, save one.

A man stood, peering up.

Another tremor shook them. But Persephone’s eyes remained fixed upon the man. The sky snapped, thunder boomed, and a large hole appeared at his feet. He slipped, one foot sliding forward, before he jumped back from the edge. It gaped angrily, casting a red glow on the grasses lining the sudden gash.

Persephone moved forward, gripping the railing of the banister at Hades’ side. Fire rose from below, lightening forced from above, both caught in the spiraling winds. The man braced himself as the gust of fire wrapped and twisted about him. Orange flames seared, lightening licked and pricked, yet he did not move. The wind picked up, the flames rising with it. His wheaten curls lifted and fell, but the billowing folds of his exomie burned away. And still his gaze remained constant on the clouds above.